Glass
"What troubles you Thor?" Heimdall asked, inspecting the God of Thunder carefully.
He knew everyone was happy to have Thor back, to have him be king. But Heimdall couldn't help but think that kingship hadn't sat well with his friend. He looked… worried, tired. This Thor was definitely not the same as the one that had been banished, but he didn't know if that was entirely a positive change.
He no longer boasted or acted recklessly, and he was a good king, but he didn't joke or seem to enjoy himself as much as before. When Heimdall turned his all-seeing eyes to his king, he never saw him smiling. He always found Thor lost in thought, and he wondered if maybe the crown of Asgard weighed too much on Thor's shoulders.
"Do you see Loki, my friend?" Thor asked, without responding to the other man's question.
"Your brother covers himself from my sight, my King. I have seen him in the palace, but I do not see him right now. May I ask…is everything alright?" Heimdall replied.
"Hmm… I believe things are not well. Have you noticed, Heimdall? The change in Loki, I mean. Everyone else has," the God of Thunder replied without taking his eyes from the endless sky outside the observatory.
Thor was avoiding Heimdall's gaze, but the gatekeeper already knew that his eyes were melancholic. His voice too, it sounded much older than before, and the reason was clear to him now. The young king had a deeper concern, a type of worry that one only ever felt for family. It was clear that it was Loki who Thor worried about.
“I have. Is that the reason for your worry and your grief?” he asked.
“Yes… I-I just don’t know how to help him. He has decided to completely close into himself,” Thor replied.
Heimdall didn’t know what kind of reassurance to provide his friend. He could see why it was a difficult situation for Thor, with his father still unconscious and his brother unwell.
Because Loki had changed. Considerably. It had been only three weeks since he had willingly given up the throne, but in those three weeks everyone who saw him (if they ever did) could easily deduce that something was not quite right with the God of Mischief.
For one, his appearance had changed. He looked tired and unpolished. He constantly had dark circles under his eyes, and he seemed to have lost quite a lot of weight. His eyes were glassy and void of emotion.
Despite that, it wasn’t the change in his appearance what baffled Heimdall the most. It was the change in his demeanor, in the way he acted around people.
Loki had never been the most likable person, but the confidence he had in himself was never doubted. The young prince was proud and arrogant, and he had a penchant for toying with the world around him. When Loki was present, people noticed, because he always made his thoughts known, he always tried to manipulate every situation in his favor. He was the God of Mischief after all.
But now, Loki was a shell of himself. He acted like a ghost, wandering around the palace without any real purpose or sitting in the same place for extended periods of time. He didn’t talk much, and when he did it was only in short sentences. He was still attending royal affairs when needed, but he had stopped making his opinion known, and now he only agreed with Thor all the time and followed his orders without protest.
Had losing the throne affected Loki that much? It didn’t seem like it, Loki hadn’t seen attached to the idea of being king much. His true love was always his magic. Perhaps…
“It sounds difficult, my king. But, has something happened? Perhaps Loki’s magic has been affected?” Heimdall provided.
“Oh, it hasn’t. It is strong as always. He has heavy wards placed on the doors to his chambers and spells set in place to avoid me and our mother as much as possible. So… it’s not that,” Thor replied and turned to leave, but Heimdall stopped him.
“I have heard the queen is a powerful mage too. Perhaps it’s time you try a little harder to find what’s happening, my king,” he said, and Thor gave him a faint smile.
“We’ll see, thank you friend. Please inform me, should you see anything,” the god of thunder replied and walked away.
-----******-------
Loki crouched down and groaned in exasperation.
It kept happening. No matter how hard he worked to keep his emotions in check, there always seemed to be something that would bring to the surface his grief and make his eyes blurry with tears.
It could be anything, from catching a glimpse of Thor and his not-mother talking in the gardens, to the soft summer breeze that reminded him of his childhood. Anything good and bad seemed to bring about a deep ache in his heart that could only be soothed by letting his tears fall.
He found it ridiculous. The pain he felt wasn’t anything new; loneliness and rejection had been the norm throughout his life. In his past, there had been many moments where the knowledge of being unworthy had hurt him and consumed him. He had spent months, years at the time, feeling like there was nothing but an endless void inside of him.
But not quite like this. Never like this.
It had been different then. Despite the pain, he had always found comfort in his status. He had been able to pride himself in being a prince, in being a member of the royal family. During hard times, he had found solace in Thor’s short affective moments, in Odin’s occasional praise, in Frigga’s warm smile. He had relied on his family to keep himself from spiraling down a pit of self-hate and desperation.
But now that lifeline was gone.
Loki felt as if he was drifting out on space, as if the walls that protected him were broken and unable to be put back together, and on the other side of the crumbled walls there was nothing more than a shattered, scared person, trying pointlessly to hide.
But it was like he was made of glass, transparent and fragile to the touch; an open heart exposed to the eyes of everyone who came close enough to be able to see.
Loki had always felt that there was something wrong with him, something deeply rooted inside of him that just made him… flawed. That’s why he learned at a young age to act less like himself and more like a prince. He learned the ropes, he created a perfect mask, a mask that pleased his audience just enough to be respected. But, ironically, now that the mask was broken, Loki found that he had been right, that there had always been a monster living underneath his skin.
It had all been pointless. All the suppressed wishes and emotions, the endless trying and failing. It had all been unnecessary because even if he had tried his best to Asgard’s silver child (not golden, never golden), he would not have achieved it. Not when he was nothing more than the unwanted child of a monster.
And now everyone could see that.
Now, all his emotions were in full display, raw to the touch and available to anyone who dared see them. And anyone could break him, even if the truth hidden behind his green eyes was not known to them… They just had to call his name, because the truth was an endless voice screaming on his ears and shattering his brain. The truth was dense air that suffocated him every time someone called him by his title, his fake title.
Most days he lacked the motivation to even get out of bed, but people still considered him a prince. It didn’t matter that he was drowning. It didn’t matter that Loki was amiss, because the prince was still needed. The prince needed to leave his room and attend a dinner, or a meeting or something else. And he was expected to smile, to be kind, to nod along and follow the King without hesitation.
So, Loki did just that.
But it didn’t mean it was easy.
Which brought him to his current predicament.
It was fine at first. He sat next to Thor as it was instructed, he pretended to eat for a while, made some small talk. But then he exchanged a short glance with his mother, and he suddenly became aware of just how much he would actually miss Asgard when he finally gathered the courage to leave it all behind.
He made a flimsy excuse and walked out of the room . But he felt too weak to make it back to his chambers and he soon found himself crying. In the corridor. Right outside the dining hall. Close enough that anyone could walk on him and see.
Close enough that Eir, the main healer, was now looking down at him with big worried eyes.
Loki choked on his sob and went into a coughing fit. He wanted to open his mouth, to say something, but he had no words, no excuses to explain the reason why he was curling up on the floor, crying like a little boy, so he just covered his mouth and waited for the other person to speak first, to express her disappointment, or disgust or whatever it would be.
But the judgment never came. Instead, the healer just looked at him and gave a soft smile.
“My prince. I’ve covered us with an invisibility spell. I will help you back to your chambers. Grab my arm, come along,” she whispered, and Loki couldn’t do much more than nod, shocked by her reaction.
They walked in silence, only the occasional sob coming out of Loki, who kept on weeping. Part due to grief, part due to relief at the support the healer was providing. When they arrived to the door, Eir gave him another smile, a smile that held no pity, only warmth.
“Why did you help me?” Loki asked as he wiped his tears with the back of his hand.
“If I know anything about you my Prince is that your pride is your most precious possession. It should not be tainted,” she replied, and he sighed in relief. He didn’t have much anymore, but at least he still had that, his pride, his pretended dignity.
“Thank you, Eir. P-please don't tell the queen,” he pleaded.
“I won’t but you should tell her yourself. My Prince, it is clear you are suffering and you should not face that alone. No one will blame you for being unwell,” she replied.
“I’ll think about it… Thank you Eir,” he replied and got inside his room.
As he walked inside, he wondered if things would always be this way. If he would always be transparent and breakable like glass. If he would always find himself wandering in the corners of the universe, unable to breath, scared of being shattered by even the softest of breezes.