Something
Loki had seriously debated the merit of getting out of bed that morning. Staying in and shutting the rest of the world out had seemed like a very good idea. Unfortunately, despite being a prince, he was not allowed the privilege of making that decision. Servants arrived promptly at eight in the morning and threw open the curtains, letting in horrid sunlight and forcing Loki from sleep. A tray of breakfast options was set on the table in his sitting room. As usual, he had sent them away rather than let them help him dress, but he did get up.
Now, he was seriously regretting not claiming an illness that morning as Thor invited him to spar.
“Not today, I have other things to do,” he lied. No, it wasn’t a lie. There were plenty of other things for him to do. He just wasn’t sure which one he was going to partake in yet. He glanced down the long hallway, scanning for an exit, longing to flee. No, he wasn’t fleeing. He didn’t flee, and besides there was nothing that made him want to run in the slightest. He edged down the hall.
“What other things?” Thor asked, “You don’t have other things.”
“Of course I do. Mother has given me a new magic assignment that I was hoping to get started on.”
Thor thought about it for a moment, and then he said, “Liar. She has done no such thing. Why don’t you want to come with us?”
Loki looked over his brother’s shoulder at the ‘us.’ The usual cast of characters. Hogun, Volstagg, Sif, and a set of piercing blue eyes that made him look away. A knife twirled through his fingers. “Why would I?” Loki shot back, “When have I ever enjoyed a day with you and your friends?”
His brother frowned and Loki almost felt bad, but it really hadn’t been a lie. And today was bound to be even worse than usual if he went with them.
“It doesn’t usually stop you,” Sif grumbled, but as soon as she said it she lit up. Her brain had finally put together the opportunity in front of her. “Thor, let it go. We’ll have more fun without him.”
Loki was too relieved for the words to sting, “Yes, listen to her just this once.”
Sif bristled, but Thor was speaking before she could respond.
“I have never seen you two agree. Something must be thoroughly wrong,” he looked to his friends for help or suggestions and received none.
Fandral stared at the ground like there was something different about the marble in this hallway as compared to the marble in all the others, and he needed to figure it out. Loki wasn’t sure if he was glad to see that Fandral was in a similar predicament, or if it hurt to see such an obvious display of regret. He should feel honored that he got what he got. From a prince, no less.
“Well that’s decided. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Loki took his chance and escaped, using magic to fade from view just in case any pesky siblings got any ideas about following him.
He sped down the hall with no true destination in mind. Just somewhere peaceful and safe. His feet brought him to the library. The heavy doors were shut tight, and unlikely to be opened by anyone else. Perfect. He pushed inside, immediately feeling more at ease once he was out of the bright exposing light of the marble halls and surrounded by dusky heatless candles, magic to void fire-hazards around the books. He magiced the lock-less doors closed to any other hands but his, and burrowed deep into the shelves where he collapsed on a reading chair.
If he hadn’t been sick that morning he certainly was now. He rubbed his temples, tilting his head back to ease the headache. The library was always a safe space, quiet and empty-
He heard the sounds of struggle coming from beyond the shelves. Someone was trying to get in. Or out. He might have unwittingly trapped someone inside with him. Who else used the library? The doors rattled as someone struggled against them. It couldn't be his mother, she would have no issue. He stood with a sigh and resigned himself to being helpful for once.
“Stupid doors, I thought you didn’t lock!”
Loki’s lips curled into a smile as he recognized the voice. He rounded the shelves to confirm his suspicions. A pile of books lay at her feet where she had probably dropped them to increase her assault against the wooden barrier. She gave up with a final kick and pushed messy hair from her face. The hem of her dress was fraying, and some of the seams had obviously been repaired at least once, probably more. She needed a new one. That wasn’t important.
“Are you in distress, My Lady?” Loki teased.
Sigyn jumped and then groaned, “Of course. I should have known.”
“Trapping you here wasn’t purposeful,” he admitted.
She turned to face him with narrowed eyes, “I’m not sure I believe that.”
Loki shrugged. “I’m not sure I care what you believe.” He stooped to pick up some of the books she had dropped. “This is a large selection.” It looked like she had been trying to escape with at least 10 new stories. None of them contained the sort of content her previous selections had. He wondered if there was a reason for the change in taste. If Theoric had done anything to hurt her he would be wise not to show up at the palace anytime soon. Or ever.
She flushed a delicate pink, suddenly bashful. “I may have gotten greedy with this new privilege.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it. Though, do I detect a change in taste?” He rifled through the pages of one, putting on a show of looking for trashy scenes.
Her flush deepened to a bright red and she crossed her arms in front of her. “No. Well, sort of. I’m just branching out for the moment. My mother has grown suspicious.”
“I see.” Loki searched her face for any sign that something had happened. He pressed the books he had picked up back into her arms. Their hands brushed for a short moment and an eternity all at once. He flinched back. The physical contact sent a wave of shame and nausea over his head. His hand itched and burned where they had touched. The feeling spread to cover his entire body. He felt dirty and slimy and covered in fingerprints, evidence of a crime committed. His crime committed. It felt obvious, clear as day. Could she not see all the places he had betrayed himself.
Of course she noticed, concern at once evident in the furrow of her brow. “Are you alright?” Sigyn asked, a finger brushing the spot on her hand where they had made contact.
“Of course I am,” he waved it off, attempting to ignore the headache that had restarted between his ears.
“Loki?” she didn’t buy it.
“I’m fine,” He snapped. Why was she so irritating? Why couldn’t she ever just listen the first time. Why did she care anyways, it’s not like they were friends, they didn’t like each other. They hated each other. She should be celebrating the fact that something was wrong with him. She should be the reason something was wrong with him, and she probably would have been if she gave him the time of day anymore.
“I don’t believe you,” Sigyn said, taking a challenging step forward.
“I don’t care what you believe,” he retorted, taking a step back in spite of himself. The temperature in the room must have dropped, that was the only way he could explain the cold he felt as memories crashed down around him, attempting to bury him in their avalanche.
She took another step and he mirrored it in the opposite direction. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing!”
“It’s not nothing!” She argued, continuing her advance. “Do you know how often you get in my space and pull my hair or shove me around? Now it’s like I’m poison to the touch. What happened?”
“So what?” He spat, “Now you want me to touch you?” He forced himself to stop his retreat and took a dangerous step towards her. She didn’t move. “Now, that is a change in taste. Did you like it when I cornered you in the alley?” he came forward until they stood almost chest to chest, breathing each other in. Her body was so warm. It cut through the icy wind howling in his ears. Was everyone that warm? Was he just cold? He was so cold.
After what felt like minutes, but was probably only moments, she hit him with the book she was holding, sending him a couple steps back with a grunt. It was a heavy book, the impact forced the breath from him. And the itching. He no longer felt the fingerprints.
“Why are you so impossible?” She asked, enunciating it with another hit from the book. He took it from her on the third swing, rubbing the sore spot on his torso as she continued. “I just wanted to be there for you. If you needed it. There are some things no one deserves to go through, especially not alone, but I forget how much I hate you sometimes. Now, tell me what’s wrong!”
Loki stared at her, she wasn’t budging. He didn’t speak for the longest time and she just waited, dark eyes fixed patiently on his face. The wind howled outside, or inside, he couldn’t tell. He was filled with sounds of glaciers cracking and moaning. Thin ice. Too thin. This was dangerous. How did he explain it? Where did he even start? The snow fell heavily, burying him up to his chin. No, he wasn’t entertaining this. He didn’t want to explain it, he didn’t want to revisit it and piece it all together for her. He didn’t want her to look at him with disgust and pity, like he was broken. He had done it to himself anyway. It was his fault. He started it. And she didn’t care. His heart raced in his chest, his mind swirling, frigid and cold like the snow outside. Or inside, he couldn’t tell. The words he needed stuck in his throat, but he wasn’t sure they would come out as words at all if they broke free.
“Loki did someone hurt you?” Sigyn asked him in the softest voice, studying him with the most heartbreaking care in her face. The kind of care he had never expected to receive from anyone. She wasn’t covered in ice. Her lips weren’t frost bitten and blue. She was warm and the library was quiet.
The blizzard stopped. “It was consensual,” he said, the words sounding hollow and broken even to his ears.
“And now you regret it?”
He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Maybe he wasn’t a man. Maybe he should keep the shape of a girl forever. He had never known another man to regret getting off with someone. Except for Fandral, who regretted him.
“Did you know you were going to regret it when you said yes?” Sigyn asked him, books all but forgotten. Didn’t she want her books?
“Yes,” Loki admitted. He remembered the sick feeling touching and being touched had given him, knowing it meant nothing. Exposing himself completely for the first time, and knowing that the witness was only using him.
“Why did you do it?”
“I was angry, and lonely.” He laughed, bitter and cold. “And drunk. Possibly a little drunk.” But he wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t go around flaunting her stupid affair with a stupid little rich boy. It was her fault he was alone. She was supposed to be his. They were supposed to make each other miserable and think of nothing else. How dare she build a life with someone else, how dare she even entertain the idea. How dare she strip from him the lie he’d been telling himself for years. He didn’t care about her, but he did, and he missed her when she wasn’t there. Gods, he hated her.
“Can I hug you?” Sigyn asked, shocking both of them.
He stumbled a few more steps away from her, leaving the pile of snow behind, and stared at her like she had two heads. “Absolutely not. Stay away from me.” The words were out before he had even fully registered her request.
She looked somewhat relieved at his response. “Loki, I know we don’t get along, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care-”
He interrupted, panic beating in his chest for a different reason now. “Sigyn, stop talking. I do not want you to say another word to me. Gods, I hate you.”
And just like that she was irritated with him again and he could breathe easy. Her eyes narrowed on him. “I was trying to be kind and provide support. Why are you so awful?”
He rolled his eyes. “Save yourself the trouble. I don’t want your kindness. I didn’t want to talk about this in the first place. I asked you to shut up.”
“Fine.” She spun around and began picking up her books. “Whatever you want, Your Highness. Let me out of this stupid library.”
“Figure it out yourself.”
She stared at him, an incredulous look in her eyes. “I can’t.”
He shrugged, tossing her the heavy book. “Consider it a lesson.” Her attempt to catch it caused her to lose all the others and they scattered back across the floor. He smiled with spiteful satisfaction.
She growled at him like he had done it on purpose. It wasn’t entirely purposeful. If she was better at catching it wouldn’t have happened.
“A lesson? A lesson in what?” She demanded, “You can’t keep me here, you have to let me out.”
He raised his hand to signal his innocence. “I’m not stopping you.”
“You used magic!” she reminded him like he forgot.
“You have magic too,” He reminded her because it seemed like she had forgotten.
“Mental magic, Loki. I have mental magic, I can’t force open a door!”
He sighed and smiled at her like she was stupendously slow. “All magic is mental, Sigyn,” He told her, repeating something his mother had said once. “It is willing your thoughts into existence. Is it easier to do that on the metaphysical plane? Yes, but it’s about time you figured out how to work physical magic too.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” she accused, like he made the rules. “Let me out!”
He shrugged and said no more, leaving her by the door and disappearing back into the shelves. He heard her groan his name in frustration and kick her books around the floor. He wondered how long it would take her to figure it out. The farther into the shelves he went, the quieter her protests became until he could barely hear them at all. He collapsed in his reading chair once more and closed his eyes, willing the aches and pains and memories to leave him alone. The phantom traces of fingers on skin, and the unshakable feeling of being seen and judged wanting. The look in Sigyn’s eyes and her offer of comfort that he had turned away. Why had he turned her away? Because she was a traitor, and she shouldn’t care anyways. They weren’t friends. If they weren’t friends and they cared that much, what were they? Nothing. That’s what. It was all nothing. It all meant nothing, no matter who it was, it was nothing. The library was cold.
What must have been hours later, Loki was shaken from thoughts by an excited squeal.
“I did it!”
He was up, and immediately at Sigyn’s side, observing the door that was cracked open. She had figured it out. She had sliced through his enchantment, quite clumsily, leaving frayed edges and remnants of green magic. It would not be a pleasant door to use, but she could open it. “Needs work,” He commented as she picked up her books. He wondered if she had figured out how to see the magic, or if she had just guessed what to do with a burst of power.
Sigyn rolled her eyes. “I’ll keep practicing.”
“What did you do?” asked a voice that sent dread spiraling into Loki’s stomach.
Sigyn’s eyes widened with fear of discovery. He was reminded of the way she jumped when he had cast the illusion of her mother. She was looking at him now like he would save her. He wished she could save him.
“Absolutely nothing of note,” Loki drawled, pushing the door wider for her to exit. Fandral waited outside. “She’s a servant girl who read her first sentence, that’s all. What wonders do you think she’s capable of?” He said it with a sneer like she was worthless.
“I hate you,” She hissed as she left.
“Good.” He went to slam the door shut again, but Fandral caught the heavy wood, wedging himself inside the library with Loki.
“We need to talk,” Fandral said, pushing curls out of his nervous eyes. His shirt was half laced. Loki wished he didn’t know what was underneath.
“I thought we had nothing to say to each other,” Loki replied, wishing for an escape.
Fandral ignored him and began speaking. “I was not trying to disrespect or- or objectify you the other night. Truly. I thought… if there was anyone I could be open with, it was you. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He said it all to the floor. It was a pretty floor, a map of the nine realms with each planet in a different wood, but that wasn’t why he was looking.
Loki felt sick. “You’re ashamed of it.”
“I’m not, I swear.”
Loki laughed. The liar. He wouldn’t even look at him, and he expected Loki to believe he wasn’t ashamed. “Then why were you so adamant that it meant nothing?” Loki winced at the words. Too much, too vulnerable. He had just pointed right to where it hurt.
Fandral glanced up, eyes searching.“I- I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I was scared, I had never admitted that I like men out loud before. I got nervous.” The deep blues had a depth to them that Loki didn’t want to explore. He had explored enough. He looked away. Fandral continued, “It can mean something, Loki. It does mean something.”
Loki looked at him, eyes narrowed, and assessed the words. He quirked an eyebrow. “What does it mean?” He asked, stepping closer, judging the man before him and finding him wanting. A coward, that’s what he was. Too scared to say what he wanted and too scared to do anything meaningful about it.
Fandral’s eyes widened as he tracked Loki’s step forward, cheeks coloring pink. It was not pretty or delicate like Sigyn’s. The flush was embarrassing and shameful. It made Loki’s skin crawl to see it.
“I- What do you want it to mean?” Fandral asked, slightly breathless, from fear or something else.
Loki knew what he was thinking, and he didn’t want anything else from the warrior. As far as he was concerned they could leave it just like they had been. He still felt disgusting at the idea of touching him ever again. He never wanted those eyes to see him naked, never wanted that skin to brush him. He was done with it. It didn’t need to mean anything, he just wished it hadn’t been nothing. He should have saved himself like was expected from the noble daughters. It didn’t have to be nothing. “Friends?” He offered, backing up again. He understood what it was to be scared.
Fandral blinked. “Weren’t we already?”
“Were we?” How many times had Loki been ridiculed for who or what he was or who he liked? How often had Fandral said anything. When had he stood up for him against Sif? He laughed at his jokes, but that was all the support Loki got, and Fandral knew it.
“Fair enough,” He said, looking apologetic. “ We are now. Friends.”
Loki nodded his acknowledgment. He stepped around Fandral who offered him a timid smile. One that Loki found himself returning before pushing through the library doors.
It didn’t mean nothing. It meant friends, and that was something. That was all he wanted. Something.