Unburdened

Your whole body froze. Every joint was locked, each ligament held firmly in place. Your brows knit together tightly; lips pulled into a fine line. Shit just couldn’t go your way, could it?

“Loki, as in God of Lies Loki? Tried to take over the world with a pointy, glowing stick and aliens? Destroyed half of New York, Loki? Killed about 80 people in a few days? That Loki?” Your voice quivered with each word. Venom filled your chest. You stood sharply, refusing to believe you were having tea with a mass murderer.

Loki’s eyes grew wider as each word escaped your clenched teeth. Each sharp consonant of his name pricked him as your jaw tightened with each repetition. You were clearly holding back the violence in your thoughts, his eyes dropped to your trembling fists. He wasn’t sure what overtook you more, anger or poorly concealed fear. Damn, you were harsh. Not necessarily wrong, but still harsh. He had changed. Each of those mistakes he was working to rectify, but he couldn’t expect an ideal reaction from you. With Thanos’ attack so quick after Ragnarok, the world had no idea of Loki’s redemption. Of how he saved his people from Hela. To the remaining Asgardians, he was dead. Sacrificed his life to save theirs. If only anyone knew his whole story, no matter how pitiful it may seem in the end.

What was he supposed to have said anyway? He couldn’t give the same speech to you that he gave Thanos. Loki Laufeyson wasn’t how he aligned himself anymore. When he rejected his name and took Laufeyson, it was out of pain, a justification of his anger from learning the truth. Learning he was a monster. Becoming that monster was his entire identity then, but it wasn’t who he was anymore. Loki, Rightful King of Jotunheim would make him sound insane given the location the two of you currently occupied. Loki, Prince of Asgard wasn’t quite right either. Were you still truly a ruler when most of your subjects were corpses? Though Loki never truly desired the throne, running away from it as the only surviving heir was despicable. He deserved no throne, no title. By the Norns, even just Loki would set you off. Anyone who had seen the news a few short years ago would know and hate his name.

The only name that he felt still applied was Odinson. The name that connected him to his brother, to his mother and father. To the people who it took him far too long to realize loved him all along. Despite his betrayal, his hatred, all the pain he caused. They loved him whether he would accept it or not. He had denied this part of his identity too much recently. He only had a few moments with Thor, prior to the attack, to truly understand the depth of their bond. Odinson was the last thing left. He needed the connection to his brother, in order to ensure the sun would shine on them again. The sun would shine on the name Odinson once more, and Loki would be its caretaker. So Loki Odinson it was.

“Well,” he finally replied, “God of Mischief really, but I-”

You cut him off “God of Mischief still means I can’t trust you. It still means there’s a killer in my home.”

Loki tried to keep his temper, “Darling, if you jus-”

“Don’t call me darling.”

“Alright, just please let me explain,”

“What could you possibly explain that would justify what you’ve done?” You scoffed. “You’ve killed people, Loki, innocent people.”

His name on your lips with such hate burned. The anger welled up in his chest as he finally snapped. He launched from his seat, face twisted into a scowl. “You think I don’t know that?” He growled brutally as he slowly encroached on your space. “Do you think I don’t regret what happened? That I just expect forgiveness because of my status?”

His voice was low, threatening. The once tucked away fear emerged as you took a shaky step back, the chair scraping across the floor.

“Do you truly believe that I don’t hate myself for what happened? I got my own mother killed because of my hate! My petty need for revenge. My father died because of my selfish choices! Half my people are dead and Asgard was destroyed because I allowed my sister to be freed! Thor is dead! I was too afraid to face Thanos and I ran away, I left my brother for dead at his feet.” His anger simmered, his last thoughts low, almost defeated. “You may see me as a monster, and you’d be right. I’ve done horrible things of my own volition, guided by my spite. But I’ve also done things against my will.” Loki took a step back and began explaining what led to the attack on New York. “In my anguish, I sought vengeance. Thanos promised me just that, he swore I would rule Midgard if I captured the planet in his name.” He sank back into the chair, gaze focused on the floor, “the scepter contained the Mind Stone, and when he gave it to me so that I could accomplish my mission and gain his favor, he used the scepter on me. Being under the control of the Mind Stone is paralyzing. It’s like being frozen and watching the world move around you. While the Reality Stone alters your view of reality, the Mind Stone affects your willpower. You are still awake, watching as you do things against your will. None of the thoughts or actions are your own, but you’re still conscious enough to understand what is happening. Thanos used me, used my anger, my power, to attempt to take Midgard as his own. He never would have let me rule. Even if he did he still would have erased half the planet. I was just a means to an end, and I hate myself for it. For being foolish enough to fall for the trick.”

“That doesn’t prove that you’re innocent. You’re literally the God of Lies, why should I believe a word you say?” You snapped back, ignoring the melancholy in his voice. You turned and walked to the far wall, smoothing your hair away from your face, a light chuckle escaping you. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner! You were all over the news, with that slick black hair and overconfident smirk. I knew the suit seemed weird, but now that I think of it, that’s a very Loki thing to do. Always best dressed, looks can kill can’t they? Your outfit is so similar to the one from the museum when you ripped a man’s eye out.”

Your snide remark threw him into another fit of rage. He had just opened his heart to you, his truth, one that no one knew. He had been too prideful to admit the brilliant plan to overtake Midgard wasn’t his own. His hate still clung tightly to his heart, Frigga knew his truth, but Loki refused to see it. He told you what had never been spoken before, and why in the Nine Realms did he bother? You wouldn’t believe him anyway. Nobody would. Nobody would even believe that he brought that ship from Sakaar to Asgard. His redemption meant nothing. No matter what he did, he would always be the villain. He was wrong about needing friendship, Loki needed solitude.

Loki stood swiftly, chair toppling behind him as he rushed towards you. Conjuring a dagger, he pinned you to the wall with a hand placed firmly on your sternum and the tip of the blade under your chin. “Damaged people are dangerous, Darling, because they know how to survive.” He growled out the words, the pet name an insult now more than ever. “I have survived the Dark Elves, survived the destruction of my home, I survived countless battles across the Nine Realms including those with the pathetic heroes you call the Avengers, and the Mad Titan himself. I have survived pain, loss, grief, and survived my own hands.” His voice slowly rose until he was centimeters from your face, shouting with contempt. “This isn’t who I am anymore. But you could never believe me, could you? The choice is yours. Do not doubt me, dearest. If you want me to be the villain, then I assure you I will be a damn good one.”

He pressed the dagger into your neck, a stream of crimson forging a path to the hollow of your collar bone. You whimpered, a tear slipping as you bit your lip to keep a sob from ripping its way out of your chest. That fear you hid so well when you heard his name was now in full view. You kept your eyes down, they were blown with terror, your breath ragged. Loki paused; you could see his eyes flicker to the blood pooling on your chest. His brows twitched up, a flash of remorse gone in a second. His face relaxed entirely. He pulled the dagger away and turned on his heel towards the door. He grabbed the jacket off the floor, brushing dirt off the back, as he made his way outside, slamming the door in his wake.

Your knees hit the ground first, pain shooting up your legs. The sob you held in so tightly tore from your chest, once the tears started, they couldn’t be stopped. You stayed there, curled up on the floor, for hours. Sobbing, hiccupping, wheezing, terrified. Throat raw from your ragged cries, eyes as red as the dried blood on your neck.

He could’ve killed you. What an idiot, letting a killer into your home because he helped you out? How had you not recognized him? He was attractive, but that shouldn’t have been enough to blind you. Loki had been all over the news, the image of him forcing a crowd to kneel before him shattered your mind again. You were having a pleasant morning with that monster. He was evil. And you were about to let your guard down and be that man’s friend. You felt like the stupidest person alive. You reeled again. That bastard could’ve killed you! He had a goddamn knife to your throat! He made you bleed! Yet Loki dared to say he changed? That he wasn’t a villain? How the hell were you supposed to believe him? He was the God of Lies. The ultimate betrayer. Even his sad story could’ve been faked, how would he have even met Thanos before New York anyway?

The events of the morning had worn you out, everything hurt. Your joints and back stiff from laying on the floor. Darkness was pooling against the wall as the sun was setting. Numbness encompassed you as you cleaned yourself up without realizing you were doing so. You watched your hands as they dipped a rag in the pot of water on top of the woodstove, wiping away the blood and staining the rag a rusty red. Your feet carried you to your small bedroom, a bit of golden sunlight leaking onto the bed. You didn’t feel more than the weight of the blankets as you tucked yourself into bed. No comfort, no safety, just a dull haze clouding your mind. It took only seconds for sleep to draw you in.

Days passed with no sight of the god inhabiting the forest. In that time, the power was restored, and you made an uneventful trip to town for supplies. The numbness had finally passed, and in its place was left agony. You hated knowing the truth, you had thought it may have been time to open up, but the truth was that you were destined to be alone. Fate had given you a hard lesson, the first person you invite in was of course a criminal. Fine, if you were supposed to be alone, then so be it. You were a survivor too. Damaged, but a survivor.

The sky sank with low clouds, an even gray blanket over the earth. The small thermometer on the windowsill read a cool 65 degrees. Your pencil tapped against your cheek as you mapped out your course. With the sun blocked, and the cooler weather, this summer day would be perfect to finally trek into the Jotunheim mountains. A light green map was laid out across your table, one corner held down by your morning coffee, still warm in the cup. You had thought about it since the day you arrived. The mountains and cool blue ravine were quite the popular attraction. With the heat of summer and your low endurance, you had worried about hiking alone. Now, after your encounter with Loki and some time walking the land to fetch water or tend to the garden, you felt more at ease. You could climb the hill just fine, and honestly, you needed a little getaway. You refused to let the recent stress drive you away from your sanctuary, so a small staycation would have to do. This was the perfect chance to clear your head.

You packed some essentials and prepped your map. The trailhead for one of the shorter, easier hikes was only about a mile away, up a nearby hill closer to the main road. With the hike already a short one, you decided to walk there instead of taking your little Subaru.

Loki watched in silence as you left your cottage, pack hefted onto your shoulders. He sighed, turning away from the window and towards his disaster of a home. In the aftermath of your dispute, he was a wreck. Loki was angry and hurt, both at you and at himself. He had worked so hard to be alone, and he let his walls fall for a pretty girl that smiled at him.

He had let his wrath blind him, that fit of rage was supposed to be something of the past, but he was broken. A fragile boy left alone again. He didn’t want to be alone, he never did, but time and time again fate showed that it was his destiny. If he was meant to be alone, then fine. But he refused to be miserable.

The day flew by. Loki had spent the time tidying the home and his mind. One thing you said lingered in his thoughts that first day, his attire was quite, well, egocentric. He loved the way he looked in a suit, yes, but it wasn’t exactly practical. The past days he tested new garments, settling today on an older style he preferred. He donned a pair of basic black pants, a deep green Asgardian-styled tunic with gold embroidery on the cuffs, it was comfortable. There was no reason he couldn’t wear Asgardian clothing while on Midgard. He was hidden alone in the woods anyway, so who cares?

Later he had cocooned himself in a soft, velvet blanket, lounging in a chair near the window that faced your home. Sleep had taken him for a few hours, his book left open and resting face down upon his lap. A half-finished cup of tea had gone cold sitting on the table beside him. Soft black curls draped over the back of the chair, his head tipped back at an angle sure to leave him sore.

Loki’s dreamless sleep was interrupted by the crash of thunder. He shot out of the chair like a bullet, daggers at the ready. The pounding rain assaulted his ears, and as he peered around the shadowy room another roll of thunder made him jump out of his skin. Loki’s eyes bounced around the room until they landed on the window. The storm outside was raging, it was astounding that it had only just now stirred him from his slumber. Rain streaked the sky nearly horizontally, mixed with the hard impact of hail. Wind shook the glass. The once gray sky was purple, lit by lightning flashes and the slowly setting sun. The landscape reminded him of Thor. He never told his brother how proud he was when he saw Thor’s eyes alight with crackling electricity. What he conjured on the rainbow bridge, was like his own Seidr. Mother would have been proud to see him like that.

Loki dragged his long fingers across the glass, admiring the storm. His gaze poured over the forest, shifting to the left where he could usually see just barely through the trees to your quaint cottage. The cabin was enveloped in shadow, no light illuminating your windows.

“That can’t be right,” he said softly.

You always had your lights on in the evening, he could usually see your silhouette at the window. Despite his anger towards you, he still felt the urge to ensure you were alright. Maybe you had come back from wherever you had gone and took a nap? He glanced to the clock, his eyes barely adjusted to the darkness enough to read it. 7:43, it was certainly possible that you were just exhausted, but something in his gut said otherwise. The pit deep within him whispered dark thoughts. He grabbed his coat and boots before rushing out the door.

Loki’s feet moved as fast as the falling rain. His boots squished in the mud as he barreled towards your home. Racing up the steps, he tried the door to find it locked. When his knocks went unanswered, Loki didn’t hesitate to allow a flare of green magic to leap from his hand and unlock it. The house was cold, dark, and desolate. His intuition was correct, you were nowhere to be found. His heart hammered in his chest as he searched the house for clues to where you might be. Thoughts racing from one terrible fate to another in this storm. His green eyes landed on a small book on your kitchen table, a guide to Jotunheimen National Park. He remembered your backpack and quickly pieced the clues together. You had most certainly ventured on a hike in this terrible weather.

Loki scoffed, “The fool is going to get herself killed.” He feigned a nonchalant tone, but his lip quivered at the thought of you in danger. Despite everything you had said to him a few days ago, he couldn’t deny that he cared for you. He was Loki Odinson damn it. Prince of Asgard, God of Mischief, it was who he was. He was a fierce, intelligent, and cunning man. He would not lose anyone else.

Even with these minimal clues, the mountain range was huge, he had no way to tell where you were. He looked back at the book, thinking aloud, “Why can’t you just tell me where she is?” It hit him soon after, a spell he had used to find information faster while studying. Loki opened the book to the center, holding his hand above it. He closed his eyes tightly, brows pulled together in concentration. Loki willed the book with his whole being to reveal your location, the pages flipping rapidly before landing on a description of a short trail. It was close, but without knowing your exact location on the trail he needed to move quickly. Loki had relied for years on the tesseract or bifront to teleport, without either, he was in for quite the journey.

The god traveled quickly, braving the chill in hopes of finding you. He would reach you faster by circling from the end of the trail, assuming you would have made it at least halfway. Loki rushed through the rain, vision clouded as much as his thoughts were. The wind howled, the storm growing more severe by the minute. It took nearly an hour to find you, about two miles from the end of the trail, and far from the path. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted your bright blue jacket standing out in the darkness.

You laid unconscious and shivering down the hill from the trail against several rocks. There was evidence of your slip on the edge of the trail, a wide smear of mud where you must have fallen. Loki carefully made his way down the mud-covered hill, cautious to keep his balance as the wind threatened to topple him. Your body was contorted, shoulders facing the boulder and hips nearly flat against the hill, face hidden in the stone. He delicately turned your shoulders, nimble hands resting your head in his lap, only to see a gash running from the center of your forehead into the left side of your hairline. The blood still running down your face, mixing with the rain, it reminded him of what he had done to you with that dagger. Anger swelled in his chest, he couldn’t believe that he voluntarily hurt you over an argument about his godforsaken identity. He had to help you, it would never make up for his behavior, but he couldn’t let you die in the cold.

Determined to get you home, Loki applied pressure over the wound. In the darkness, it wasn’t until the blood had smeared onto his hand that he realized his skin had gone blue. The dropping temperature must have shifted him into his Jotun form. This wasn’t good. He gingerly scooped you into his arms, cradling you into his chest to shield you from the rain. Your drenched body felt cold against his. This really isn’t good. If a Frost Giant is warmer than a Midgardian this was a huge problem, your body temperature was dangerously low.

Loki carried you as quickly and gently as he could. Cautious of every step, as if the woman he held was glass, ready to shatter with one wrong move. You were already so fragile, cold and bleeding in his arms. His pace hastened, making his steps sloppy as anxiety flooded his mind. What if he couldn’t fix this? What if he hadn’t gone out there? Loki stumbled slightly, enough to jostle you awake for a moment. You groaned and tried to look up.

“Shh, I’ve got you, it’s alright. We are almost home,” he hushed you, only barely audible over the storm. “I’ll keep you safe.”

Exhaustion seeped through your bones. You wearily tucked your cheek to fill in the space between his neck and shoulder. The bloody wound lulling you back to sleep, the god holding you protectively in his arms.

Reaching Loki’s cabin, the closer of the two, he bolted the two of you through the door. He made his way to his bedroom, tenderly placing you on the large, plush bed. All thoughts aside from your wellbeing vanished from his mind. Forgetting his goal to rely less on his Seidr, Loki used sorcery for everything without a thought. The fire was suddenly blazing, warming the small cabin, your clothing changed with a puff of green smoke into one of his tunics and woolen pants. The garments were large on your frame, but it didn’t matter. What Loki had seen when he found you horrified him, the only thing that mattered was that you were safe.

Loki got to work immediately, concentrating all his effort on healing the gash splitting your head. The edges of the wound weave back together slowly until a thin sliver of a scar was left in its place. Through the effort he warmed up, skin returning to its pale hue. The god looked over his work with a scrutinizing eye, ensuring it was closed properly. It had been centuries since he had used his sorcery to heal rather than harm. Loki didn’t trust his work, he was unsure that he could even heal again until it was done. His efforts were not in vain, the wound was expertly closed, body temperature rising back to a normal state. Frigga would be proud of him.

You looked too peaceful to wake, and needed the rest anyway to heal. Loki placed a hand on your shoulder, the warmth from his skin seeping through the thin fabric of the tunic. Your temperature was still a bit low. The god gently smoothed your soft hair out of your face. “Rest well, Emilia,” he whispered, letting his thumb graze over your cheek. He conjured a blanket over you, carefully tucking it around your shoulders before moving to the chair in the corner of the room. Fatigue fell over him, all the running, the healing, the entire evening had used all his energy. He was reluctant to leave you alone, afraid you would get too cold or wake in pain. Loki sank into the chair, summoning a blanket and dry garb for himself. It took a while for the exhaustion to overtake him, his mind preoccupied with watching your chest rise and fall with each breath. His first connection since losing everyone, and he almost lost it.

Once sleep had claimed him, Loki Odinson dreamt of home, of Asgard, of a world he would’ve liked to show you to prove his heart was true.