Unburdened

Loud music and even louder banter assailed your eardrums. Warm, orange light illuminated the haze that covered your vision. You shook your head lightly, willing the veil to leave your eyes. A gentle pressure wrapped around your hand, featherlight fingertips reached around your hand to rest against your palm.

            “Are you alright dear? Have you indulged in too much mead?” A low gravelly voice asked, barely audible in the raucous hall. You could feel the voice’s hot breath against your neck as they leaned in close.

            You turned slowly, the fog clearing from your eyesight enough to make out the visage of a man next to you, holding your hand. He was tall, with strong shoulders and nearly perfect posture. A dark green formal tunic graced his chest. The fabric had a thick, embroidered collar that crossed over, held in place at his waist by an ornate golden clasp. Long, black leather sleeves covered his shoulders and arms, the back of the jacket trailing down to his thighs. It was lined with matching green satin. He had on formal leather pants, tucked into his boots. His soft obsidian waves were tucked neatly behind his ears. A smirk was splayed across his pink cheeks, he had clearly indulged in the mead as well. It wasn’t until you met his emerald eyes that you realized it was Loki holding your hand, his thumb gently caressing its back.

            “Darling, did you hear me?” He smiled down at you softly, the veneer of inebriation hiding the concern in his voice.

            You blinked a few more times, glancing back to your hands. Why was Loki holding your hand? “Yes, Your Highness, I am alright. Just weary from the festivities,” you said in a tone that didn’t quite sound your own. Since when were you so formal?

            Something felt off, like you shouldn’t be here holding his hand in the banquet hall. Yet here you were, dressed to the nines and escorted by the God of Mischief himself. Your gown was a flowing midnight blue, embellished with small golden threads leading from the draped neckline down to the hem. The lines traced your curves, and each fold of the fabric, draped perfectly to accentuate your figure. The shoulders were clasped with golden ivy leaf pins, leftover fabric wrapped across your shoulder blades and tucked into the opposite pin. Your soft locks were pinned up ornately, similar to the women dancing about the hall.

            Your gaze followed their spins and trades from one partner to the next, chasing the dancers before your eyes landed on the head table. The Allfather sat in the center, Queen Frigga beside him. Thor stood nearby, boasting to the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. The blonde god donned his winged helmet and held Mjolnir on his shoulder, always happy to show off the weapon. The room was filled with laughter and joy. Food lined every table, and the soft orange blaze flickered from the lamps lining the walls. Despite that strange feeling in your gut, you felt natural. Like you were meant to be here. The nagging feeling was relentless, but you quieted it by reminding yourself of the prince currently showing you affection.

            Loki met your gaze again, his breath hitching in his throat. You really were lovely. While you looked fondly up at his family, he admired your dress. The way it clung tightly to your hips before cascading down to pool at your feet. He felt…happy. Holding your hand, enjoying the celebration with you, he felt proud to have you on his arm. He wasn’t entirely sure where this pride came from, it was just you after al. You both had only just met and didn’t exactly get along, but it felt right. Ideal, even. This was where he was supposed to be.

            “Then please,” he began, “allow me one last dance for the evening, my dear. We only get to celebrate my brother's coronation once, you know.” He gently pulled you to the center of the room as the musicians prepared the next song.

            Loki looked over his shoulder to Thor, who gave him a smile and a cheesy thumbs up., encouraging Loki to enjoy himself. He stole a glance at his mother, a knowing smile gracing her face. She could tell how he felt about you from across the room. A slight bow of her head nodded her approval just as the music began. Loki shifted his gaze back to you. To your rosy cheeks and delighted eyes looking up at him. Your smile warmed his chest, melting any anxiety away from his heart.

            Loki’s strong hand rested on the small of your back, pulling you close. He held you firmly against his chest as the music swelled. The two of you glided across the dance floor, your feet moving of their own accord. You didn’t know the steps, yet your movements were perfectly placed. It must have been Loki’s skill as a lead.

            He smiled down at you, thinking you were such a perfect follow. He spun you before bringing your back against his chest. You must have practiced this for ages before the celebration.

            The song continued, with you both the perfect partners. Matching each other’s steps, moving as one. The crowd watched as their Prince paraded you through the banquet hall in his arms, finishing near the head table, ending face to face. Your noses barely brushed together with your heavy breaths.

            A cheer erupted from Thor, followed quickly by the crowd. Loki reluctantly removed his eyes from you, glancing at his family. Even Odin wore a smile, pleased with his son. He finally relaxed, shifting to your side, your arm held gently in his.

            “I believe that after that, we deserve a bit of fresh air. Join me?” He asked as he began leading you towards the terrace, already knowing your answer.

            “Please, Your Highness,” you nodded in response, letting him guide you through the throngs of people. Soon the cool evening breeze graced your skin, sending a shiver up your spine from the vast temperature difference. Your legs started to slow as you reached the edge of the terrace, exhaustion weighing you down. Loki tugged you away from the edge, towards a tucked-away staircase. Head cocked to the side, you raised an eyebrow at him. His smirk was the only answer you received, he turned quickly and tugged you down the stairs.  

            The palace grounds greeted you at the bottom of the stone steps. It was a large garden in full bloom, with a central fountain, water languidly flowing down its three tiers. You were awestruck, standing in the starlight far away from the party, with Loki of all people. With a killer, you thought for a split second. As soon as the thought was there, it was gone again. No, you were standing with Loki, the youngest prince of Asgard, who was currently clutching your hand for dear life as he led you to sit at the fountain with him.

            For such a calm and collected individual, this shouldn’t have made Loki so nervous. His confident demeanor was gone. The god’s hands were clammy, and he couldn’t decide where to look. His eyes bounced across your face, down your body, and back to your eyes. The lovely shade of your irises entrancing him. Loki took a deep, shaky breath, and slowly wrapped his arm around your waist.  His hand rested on the soft fabric that hugged your hip.  You stared off at the stars, at the beauty of Asgard, but all he could see was you. Yes, he thought, this felt right. Frightening, but right.

            You melted into the god’s chest, your head rested on his shoulder. The exhaustion was settling in you. What time was it? The sun was gone already, was it still up when the feast started? How long have you been celebrating? Loki pulled you in closer. He had a small smirk on his lips, but his chest quivered with each inhale. What was he so nervous about? The coronation went perfectly, his father seemed proud, and Thor was ecstatic. It was a lovely evening, and on such an occasion he couldn’t dare to cause any mischief. He knew how much this meant to his brother. So why was Loki so tense around you? You felt him turn into you, his cheek placed on top of your hair. Before you realized what was happening, he turned his head further to place a chaste kiss on the crown of your head.

            A soft, nervous, chuckle escaped him, while all the blood rushed to your cheeks. Had he done that before? Something was screaming in you to protest, to run, but his hold on you was intoxicating. You pushed the emotions down, nothing could make you run from this. Loki placed a hand on your cheek, cupping it and pulling your face up, mere centimeters away from his.

            “Darling,” he started, hesitating slightly. Was this the right time? It had to be, a feeling in his chest pleaded that it was the only time. “A feeling has consumed me lately, and I am unsure of how to describe it. I care for you deeply, but it is more than just friendship. I long for you, I desire you, I hunger for you.” His voice shook with a strained inhale, “In all the nine realms I have never met someone like you. At first, you seemed like everyone else, but something has kept me tethered to you. I don’t know what it is, but I want to know. I want to stay like this. I want you.”

            With that Loki brought your lips to his, into a tender kiss. He had to hold his breath entirely to keep from devouring you. He was clearly holding back.  The taste of mead on your lips left him delirious, and he wanted more. You tipped your head to deepen the kiss, and his hunger was unleashed.

What had once been a clandestine kiss with cautious lips, was now an open-mouthed surrender to the yearning you both felt.

 Your hand moved up to tangle in his hair, a moan left his throat as you gave a slight tug. Loki’s hand moved from your waist to trace up and down your curves, inching across your back before pulling you closer than you thought possible. His whole being enveloped you. His shoulders began to press forward, the hand cupping your cheek moved down to the fountain to steady you both. The god slowly lowered the two of you down until your shoulders met the cold stone.

A mischievous smirk cut the kiss short, and in mere seconds you pulled him right back in. He hadn’t expected you to return his kiss so eagerly, though it was not unwelcomed. When the two of you had finally parted for another breath, he looked down at you with a smile that reached his eyes. His obsidian locks fell to frame his face, his tunic falling open where it overlapped. Loki was charmingly disheveled. He snickered, taking in your appearance. One strap of your dress was hanging loosely off your shoulder, the pins that held your hair in place had halfway fallen out, the blush that dusted your cheeks and collarbones was exquisite, and your hands never left the back of his neck. You were delectable. He was quite proud of himself for eliciting such a response from you. You had him completely enraptured, nothing could pull his attention from the satisfaction of your heavy breathing.

That was until a laugh erupted behind him. Loki shot up in a second, guarding you with one arm and wielding a dagger with the other. He flipped his hair out of his eyes to see a woman with long dark hair. She wore a suit of black and green, and horns sprouted from her head like the branches of Yggdrasil. The resemblance was uncanny.

“Oh, how precious,” the woman mocked. “Am I interrupting? Did you miss me, brother?”

Loki’s eyes were wide with horror. This couldn’t be happening. She should be dead. They all should be dead. He shook the dark thought away quickly and looked up towards Hela. “I see Surtur wasn’t enough, have you returned for more of a fight then?” Hate dripped from his voice, he held his arms out as a challenge. Loki strode forward, attempting to block you from Hela’s sight. It was too late though, she knew you were there.

She snorted, “Oh, brother, I’m here to hurt you, not to fight you.” A sinister glow was alight in her eyes.

Thunder and the reverberation of Mjolnir flying through the air stole her attention from the man protecting you. The hammer flew past her face before slamming back into Thor’s hand. Looking to the left you could see a troop of Einherjar cascading down the main palace steps, led by the prince and Odin. Frigga stood atop the steps, golden magic emitting from her palms.

“Hela, stop this assault, or we shall stop you ourselves,” the King’s voice boomed across the once quiet garden.

You met Frigga’s eyes, shaking with fear. She moved her left hand back, the shift barely noticeable, almost guiding you, willing you to move back. With Hela’s attention occupied, you shifted back, slowly sliding down behind the far edge of the fountain.

“This is quite the family reunion, isn’t it?” She strode towards the group, tossing a wicked look at Loki over her shoulder. “What a shame to cut it short.”

Hela dropped her smile as she conjured blades out of midair, each launching towards a different target. Within seconds she had mowed down the troop, their bodies littering the steps. Two jagged swords pinned Odin to the ground. His knees on the final step, blades pierced through his shoulders and into the stone behind him. A single blade ran through Thor, directly through his abdomen. And Frigga? She was held in place by spikes that rose from the ground, lining themselves around her throat and chest. A single move would mean death.

Loki rushed forward, racing to stand in front of his family. Hela merely laughed before casting spikes to hold him as his mother was. Both imprisoned, the entire family in peril. Thor groaned in anguish, blood seeping from the puncture. With one last attempt at ending the attack, he launched Mjolnir at his sister once more, only for her to catch it, a resounding clang echoing.

“Really brother, this again?” She scoffed as her fingers cracked into the hammer, crushing it effortlessly. A smile crossed her face as Thor’s fell in defeat. With a swing of her arm, another blade buried itself deep in his chest.

Thor coughed, blood sputtering from his lips. He looked to Loki pleadingly, lightning fading from his eyes. Loki was hyperventilating, everything he had lived was colliding into one place. Hela, Mjolnir’s destruction, all of it. He shook, understanding what was next in this retelling.

“Okay, this was lovely, but I’m starting to get bored,” Hela said walking towards Thor’s corpse, lifting his hand and watching the fingers droop. She turned to face Odin, dropping the lifeless limb, "I thought you would’ve made this harder for me father. You’ve grown weak.” Hela lifted Odin’s discarded staff from the ground and smiled as she turned it between her fingers. A long sigh left her as she stood over him, “You truly don’t know how long I’ve waited for this.”

Although there was sadness deep in her exhausted eyes, she didn’t hesitate to point the tip of the staff against his chest, a golden beam blasting through the Allfather. The scream was guttural, horrifying, and all cut by Hela’s maniacal laughter. Loki bit his lip to keep from screaming. Frigga’s wail was what broke him. It was full of pain, hate, agony, and fury. Her hands glowing brightly, the magic surging around the spikes that pinned her in place.

Something in you compelled you to move. They weren’t your family, but you couldn’t continue to sit back and watch them die. You couldn’t handle any more death. Bolting away from the fountain you ran towards Loki, if you could just get him free then he could save her. Maybe there was still time for Thor and Odin too, you had to try. Shutting your eyes tight you prayed the universe would hear you, help you, anything. Please.

Hela sighed, annoyed by their antics. She waved her hand upwards, fist closing tightly to send the spikes surrounding the goddess straight up and through her body. She was held midair, impaled a dozen times. You strained against the spikes around him, pulling with all your might to break them. The jagged edges slicing into your hands. Terror welled in your chest as your hands shook, unable to continue your effort. She just killed everyone, how the fuck were you supposed to fix this? To save him?

Defeat was settling into your mind as Loki sobbed, the broken sound filling the air. Something shifted, fear transforming into resentment. He finally roared, grief and anger fueling him.  A burst of green magic shattered the spikes. Loki looked truly god-like as he whipped a series of daggers toward Hela, animosity guiding the blades. You watched in awe, grabbing a piece of a spike and moving toward the nearest tree.

“How dare you? You absolute wretch, you killed your own family!” He shouted, voice already hoarse.

You moved to the next tree as stealthily as possible. If you could just sneak around her…

“Didn’t you try that yourself on several occasions?” She asked as her own blade knocked each dagger from the air. “That’s what makes us different, Loki. At least I can succeed. You are nothing but a failure. You failed at being a son, a brother, then you failed at being a villain. You were a failure from the day you were born, when Laufey left you to die.”

Moving to the next tree you were about halfway around her side. If Loki were aware of your actions, he’d be proud. You could quite literally stab Hela in the back.

“So what then? Hm? You’ll kill me, take the throne, and then what? The people will never follow you,” he spat.

This was the hard part, you were getting close enough that silence was necessary.

“I’m sure you can see I have no restraint in slaughtering those who oppose me.”

One wrong move could mean certain-

“Speaking of which,” Hela spun to face you, flinging a long, barbed, sword straight through you. The blade carried you through the air with such force that it buried the point into the tree behind you. All you could hear was Loki’s muffled scream, hidden below the ringing in your ears. Your head drooped, looking down at the blood pooling at your feet.

-Death.

You jolted up from the bed, a scream wrenching from your chest. Your hands moved to where the hole should be, rapidly patting the area trying to figure out where to hold pressure.

Loki seized your wrists, shushing you quietly, but his tone did nothing to hide the fear in his eyes. “It’s ok, it was just a nightmare, you’re alright darling, it was just a nightmare.” His repetitions seemed more to convince himself rather than you. He pulled you in, releasing your wrists in exchange for your shoulders. Pressing you close, a hand ran down your back where the exit wound should be. “It’s ok, I’m here,” he sighed.

Tears streamed down your face, it had felt so real, how could it have just been a dream? Head rested on his chest, you released your sobs.

It was the small things that showed the truth of the fear he felt. Loki never showed his fear, he had to be stone all his life. Showing he was afraid was showing weakness. He was a stone even now, though one that was beginning to crack. Shoulders stiff, but trembling with each inhale. Hands constantly running over your back, searching for blood. Eyes scrunched tight, he willed his mind over and over to remove the images of his family from his eyelids. His façade was crumbling. For someone who had faked his death so many times, watching death was always difficult. At one point or another he had shown some level of animosity to each of the victims, even his mother when he was in the dungeons, but to watch them die in front of him now that he had recognized his love for them? It broke him in two. Shattered his heart like glass.

His panicked breathing started to slow, but not without some effort. Loki kept reassuring himself that the dead were already gone, but that you were still alive. It had just been a dream. You waking from your own nightmare had been impeccable timing, the scream had pulled him back into reality quickly. One glance at how you shot up told him it was fear rather than pain, he wondered what you had dreamt of that frightened you so much. Truth be told, Loki didn’t know much about you. He had a bad habit of sharing his life story and never asking for anyone else’s in return.

“Shh, sh sh, what happened dear?” He asked, curiosity overtaking him, “what has you so shaken?”

You steadied your trembling breath the best you could, “I had a nightmare, but it felt so real. It felt like I had been there before, and even though I didn’t recognize the people I felt like I knew them.” It took a moment to recall the most important details and explained the events to him, your mind still questioning everything you experienced. “You were there too, and we,” blood flushed your cheeks as you stopped yourself from continuing that particular thought. You jumped to what had actually terrified you, “I died.”

You looked up to Loki’s green eyes, the terror you found in their place made you reel all over again. It had just been a dream, right? Yeah it felt real, but so does falling in a dream. That said, how do you explain the people? Knowing the dance? Whatever almost happened between you and Loki? Oh, what theactual fuck.

It hit you like a truck. You were being comforted by a man, no, god, that held a knife to your throat mere days ago. Sunlight barely trickled into the room. Fingers running over the sheets you could tell they were far nicer than your flannel ones, and, squinting hard to tell, they certainly weren’t the light blue plaid you had on your bed. These were a dark, nearly black, green. You were in his bed.

You cautiously pushed back from his embrace, wary of angering him again, “Loki, how did I get here?” The last thing you could remember was jogging down the trail, trying to get out of the storm as quickly as you could. You remembered the hail pelting you, your vision blurry from the rain coming in sideways. You cringed, remembering the slip when your foot caught the edge of the trail and slid through the mud. Tumbling down the side of the hill and face planting into a rock. Your hand instinctively ran over your forehead, searching for the injury.

Loki slowly took your hand, being as gentle as he could. It was obvious you were uncomfortable in his presence. “I healed it, don’t worry,” he guided your fingertips to the scar leading into your hairline. He couldn’t let this situation become a misunderstanding. His whole life was cryptic and nobody could seem to communicate effectively, but Loki refused to let it happen again. By the Norns he just watched you die in a nightmare and it was obvious you had somehow shared the dream, but before he could get to the bottom of that, he needed you calm. No, he wouldn’t let this end like last time you two spoke. He may have said he could be the villain, but if he didn’t show that he could be good as well, then what choice had he left you?

“Earlier I had noticed how bad the storm was,” he hesitated, unsure of how to explain he was peeking at your windows without sounding like a creep, “and I decided it was best to check on you. I know we had left off on bad terms, but your safety matters to me, and the wind was picking up quite terribly.” It wasn’t a complete lie, he did decide to check on you. “When you weren’t home, I grew worried for you, and went inside to see-”

“Wait,” you cut him off sharply, “you broke into my house?”

“Yes, but let me finish,” he huffed in annoyance, he clearly had a good reason if you’d notice you were alive in a warm bed instead of dead in the cold. Loki took a deep breath, pleading with himself to keep his temper. “I broke into your house and figured out you had gone on a hike in the mountains. I knew something must’ve gone wrong if you were still gone in a storm like this, so I set out to find you. When I did, you were unconscious. You were cold and bleeding and needed help. I did what anyone would do, I brought you here, healed you, and let you rest.” He conveniently left out how you had clung tightly to him, how he caressed your cheek, how he was too afraid to leave and slept in the chair all night. A stiffness was holding the muscles in his neck hostage, reminding him of that last fact.

“I- I don’t know what to say.” It was true, you didn’t. It was nearly impossible to imagine this killer carrying you out of a storm. Healing you with magic you had only ever seen used for destruction. You were warm and comfortable, given how he came from the chair it was clear he respected your boundaries and hadn’t intruded on your space. He was so concerned for you when you woke up, he even held you while you cried. The sheer terror he had when you described your dream still had you confused, but maybe it was because he was showing empathy? Maybe he wasn’t so terrible of a person.

A thank you would suffice, he thought. He reminded himself again to keep his temper. Loki couldn’t deny it anymore, he cared about you. All this effort wasn’t something he would do for an enemy. It wasn’t in his nature. Whatever you were to him, he wanted it to be cordial. “You don’t have to say anything. I’m just glad I had found you in time.”

Wow, he really was being genuine, wasn’t he? God of Mischief be damned, Loki was being nice to you. Maybe he had really changed like he said the other day. He did say it was your choice to make him the villain or let him be himself. It would be hard to trust him, but you were leaning towards the latter.  Your fingers gripped and twisted into your shirt, attempting poorly to mask your slight embarrassment. The fabric was soft, the woven texture stood up like birch bark, it must’ve been linen and it hung off your frame with plenty of room. Your eyes widened as it dawned on you. It had to be his shirt.

Loki sighed, watching your hands and expression, he knew what you were about to accuse him of. “Before you say anything, I used magic and saw nothing,” he stated matter-of-factly and gave a wave of his hand. “I may be hedonistic, but my mother raised me better than to treat ladies like their autonomy didn’t matter.”

Blood rushed to your cheeks, why the hell did him respecting your boundaries give you butterflies? Could you even trust him? He could easily be lying to you. Something about his sigh and tired eyes told you he was being truthful, and that he was sick of being treated like he would always make the wrong choice. You swallowed your apprehension, a tough choice was coming. If nobody ever gave him a chance and trusted him, he could never prove his redemption. Out here, with nobody else around, at least you were the only one in danger if you were wrong about this. Honestly, what did you really have to live for anyway?

He sighed, starting to stand. Heavy eyelids drooped, and his mouth formed a hard line as he straightened out his rumpled shirt. He was about to leave, probably to give you space. This was your only chance, if you let him walk away you were only showing him that his effort was for nothing. That nobody would ever trust him. Nobody would ever want him.

Fuck it.

“Wait, its ok,” your hand caught his wrist. “I trust you.”