Nothing
Loki stalked down busy, crowded streets with her brother and their usual companions, pulling her furred coat closer around her shoulders like it could ward people away. Busy Indeed. Even more people were out this night, despite the cold and snow, since the princes and their warrior friends had been spotted a couple nights before. It was well known that Thor liked to repeat his activities until all the thrill wore off. Of course they would be back again. Nobility and royalty all in one night? She couldn’t blame the peasants for their excitement.
She wondered if Sigyn was out again as well and felt her expression narrow. Visions of her in that green dress with that stupid boy had danced unceasingly and unwanted through Loki’s mind since the night she saw them. Visions of Sigyn and someone else. There was always someone else. Sif and her ponytail, Idunn and her dresses, even Thor and their amiable interactions, turning around the terrace in the garden, ignoring him. Now Theoric. The worst one. Theo, as she called him with such adoration in her eyes.
“My Lady,” a boy touched her lightly on the small of her back, stealing her attention for the moment.
Loki made no effort to soften her gaze for him.
He smiled, undeterred, “If I may be so bold, I wonder if I could treat you to a better night than you seem to be currently having.”
Loki raised a perfect eyebrow. “I doubt it,” she said.
The boy recognized defeat and departed quietly from her side.
Loki returned her attention to her companions only to be met by Sif’s glare. Loki smiled back. She was just jealous that Loki was prettier and had been attracting all the male attention on their nights out. Sigyn wasn’t the only one with options. Not that Loki considered herself an option for a peasant girl. She had plenty of options and always had, Sigyn wasn’t even on the list, actually.
“He wasn’t bad looking,” Fandral commented, “Why did you say no?”
“I’m sure there’s someplace I might better enjoy myself,” Loki replied. She flashed back to Sigyn, pressed against the wall, trying desperately not to touch or look at anything. Why? Was she afraid she’d like it? It didn’t matter. Loki would not dirty her hands with peasant girls.
“I think you expect more offers than you’re going to get.” Sif smiled sweetly, “No one actually wants your company.”
Loki’s insides froze and cracked. You’re alone. She laughed. “Everyone wants my company, Darling,” she replied with a feline smile. Sif opened her wide, ugly mouth to attempt more insults, but Loki cut her off. “Don’t lie to yourself. Even you would love to have a taste. Volstagg would love to have a taste.” she batted her eyelash at the warrior who looked horrified at the implications. “Hogun.” Said companion didn’t react. “Fandral.” She sidled up to the blonde who looked simultaneously terrified and delighted to be involved. “I think you’re jealous,” she told Sif. “I could have whoever I wanted-” she slid her hand up Fandral’s shoulder, around the back of his neck and tangled her fingers in his golden curls, “-man or woman, and you haven’t received an offer all night.”
“I don’t want an offer. I’m not a whore.” Sif spat.
Loki’s eyes glittered with suppressed icy rage. “You’re certainly a slut for my brother.”
Thor closed his eyes looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Loki felt a small amount of guilt for dragging her brother into the middle of things, but not enough to take it back. There was no taking it back.
“Is this whorish?” She yanked Fandral’s lips to hers and kissed him hard, the tension from the last couple of days, weeks, months, who cared, fueling her every action. To her surprise he kissed her back and even parted his mouth enough for Loki to bite down on his bottom lip. He sucked in a breath. From pain or pleasure, who knew. Who cared?
She pushed him away again and smiled at an audience that wasn’t there. Sif had stormed away, looking sick and furious. “Never a pleasure,” Loki grumbled at her retreating ponytail. She barely spared Fandral a glance before she struck out on her own. She was a prince. She could do whatever she wanted, have whoever she wanted. Everyone wanted her company, but not everyone deserved it.
Loki entered a tavern down the street that seemed promising. It was dimly lit, each table crowded with parties and small groups. A couple fled the bar, up the stairs at the back, to what was no doubt a room in the inn above. She strode up to the bar, taking the spot they had vacated and ordered a drink, winking at the bartender. She drummed her fingers on the counter. Conjuring knives was probably frowned upon in public spaces like this. Not that she cared. She didn’t need knives in a place like this. Her fingertips continued drumming, and when she received her drink they danced over the glass, an agitated, dull tapping. She wasn’t agitated. She was calm and completely controlled. The ice in her chest cracked with the first sip of alcohol. It was hard and sharp and stung. The ice or the alcohol, one or the other, she couldn’t tell them apart. Gods she hated them. She hated Sif and Volstagg and Hogun. She hated Sigyn. Theodric was a whiny bastard, where was the appeal? She was a prince, everyone should be scrambling for her favor. Not the heir though. Never first, always second, and what was second? Just the first loser. Nothing more. She was alone and always would be. Good. She hated them.
The stool beside her scratched the floor as someone pulled it out and swung themselves onto it. An arm in a clearly expensive, tailored, blue coat landed on the counter. “Were you looking for company?” Fandral asked. He must have been following her. Loki was embarrassed to admit that she hadn’t realized. She didn’t need to look to know the cheeky grin that was undoubtedly spread across the intruder’s face.
She looked anyways and paused, choking back the immediate snarky response. He looked nervous, despite his efforts to hide it. She found herself saying “I don’t need to look. Company finds me.” Looking him up and down to make her point. Why was she accepting his? She took another sip of wine.
Fandral cleared his throat, “I suppose you’re right.” He flagged down the bartender and ordered his own beverage. He sat silently, his usual golden wit apparently missing. He received his drink and stirred it with a finger, looking agitated. He was the agitated one, not her.
Loki watched, impassive and cold, slowly draining her glass, waiting for him to speak and get on with it. Except she wasn’t cold, she was uncomfortably hot. The fire in the hearth was high, an uncomfortable roaring in her ears. She’d rather be outside without so much as a sweater, snow and all. She shed her coat and continued waiting, eyes never leaving his figure.
Fandral was getting increasingly nervous and Loki was getting increasingly bored. Time to spice things up. She knew what he was here for and her glass was empty.
Loki reached over and pulled Fandral’s finger from his drink. He looked at her, flushing from embarrassment, but then Loki brought his hand to her mouth. Her eyes danced with mischief while his widened. She took her companion’s finger into her mouth and sucked the liquid from it, tracing the lines of his skin with her tongue. Fandral turned an entirely different shade of red, mouth parting in a tiny o of surprise.
She pulled his finger from her mouth, releasing the suction with a satisfying pop. “Why are you here, Fandral?”
“For your company, my lady,” he confessed, “May I have the pleasure of this night with you?”
“Perhaps. What do you want from me?”
He swallowed his nerves and leaned forward. His hand landed gently above her knee. Loki felt his hot breath on her skin and then he placed a single, tantalizingly slow, open mouthed kiss on the curve of her neck. His lips brushed her ear. “Would you be interested in accompanying me somewhere more private?” he breathed, teasing her nerves. She remembered a similar position with someone else. She remembered pressing awfully closer, hips connecting through their dresses. She remembered that it didn’t mean anything. Nothing meant anything. She was alone.
Loki stood from the bar. She tossed a handful of coins on the counter and grabbed her jacket. Then she grabbed Fandral’s hand and pulled him from his seat and to the stairs at the back of the tavern. Loki led him through the hallway above, passing door after door. She used her magic to find one that was vacant and picked the lock with invisible power.
“After you,” she said, holding it open.
Fandral obeyed. He stood awkwardly in the center of the small room as Loki shut the door behind them. He did nothing. Made no moves. It seemed that the nerves were back.
“I thought you were good with the ladies,” Loki teased. She was unimpressed.
He chuckled, turning red again. “I am, but you’re not just some lady.”
“What am I then?” Loki asked, creeping closer.
Fandral was quiet, watching her approach with apprehension and excitement all at once. “Whatever you want to be.” He finally answered, when she was close enough to touch. “A prince.”
“A prince,” Loki repeated, a wicked grin spreading over her features, “Is that how you want me?”
Fear flashed across Fandral’s face and he suddenly looked like he thought this was a mistake. It might’ve been. Loki wasn’t done yet. “What do you mean?” he choked.
“Man or woman, Fandral. I could be either for you.” Loki discarded her coat on the floor as she reached him, and then pushed Fandral’s from his shoulders, and the man himself toward the bed against the wall.
Fandral let it happen without protest. His mouth was open like he wanted to respond but couldn’t. He didn’t move when Loki began unbuttoning his shirt or pulling at his belt. “I like both,” he finally whispered like he shouldn’t.
Loki’s eyes glittered with vicious victory, “Really? Me too. I can give you both.”
“This means nothing,” Fandral interjected like it was some sort of lifeline, like it was true.
If Loki had been anyone else, she might have flinched. Always alone, never first, nothing meant anything. She went cold, ice cutting through the burning sting of alcohol. She looked him over, examining the person half dressed in front of her. “Of course it doesn’t,” she agreed like it was true. She’d make sure it meant something to him, though. This night would live with him forever. She knew why he had sought her out and she would deliver exactly what he wanted. She dropped her dress and pushed Fandral onto the bed for another empty kiss.
When they separated Loki had shifted. Fandral sucked in a breath, taking in his new form and who– what– he had been kissing.
Loki couldn’t help but feel like maybe it would have been pleasant– shifting between forms while being intimate– maybe it could have been pleasant with someone else. Someone who didn’t want to hide it. Someone who didn’t hate themselves for liking it. There was nothing wrong with him. He wasn’t unnatural or disgusting. Why did everyone treat him like it? Ice and bitter resentment festered in his chest. He hated everyone. He hated them and he hated himself.
He bit down and sucked hard on the next bit of skin and despised the gasps he elicited with his touch. He hated the hands tracing his shape. It meant nothing.