Loki

Loki sat at the long table in his office, fingers pressed against his temple as his aides droned on about logistics.

Specifically wedding logistics.

Once his life used to be about discussing taxes, new public building projects, various programs, treaties, and upcoming events in his schedule.

Now it was replaced with discussions about banquets, guest lists, ceremonial rites, and gifts for the bride's family—but none of it registered. His mind was elsewhere.

The words swirled around him like smoke.

No matter how he tried to guide himself back to the topic at hand, his mind chose to remind him of the image of crimson blood against snow.

A week. Seven days of torturous waiting, of watching only to be met with nothing.

Maya still hadn't woken up.

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to focus.

This was his worst nightmare come true.

They quieted down, noticing how withdrawn he had become.
One of the advisors cleared his throat. "Your Highness, shall we proceed with finalizing the seating arrangements for the reception?"

Loki blinked, realizing he had been staring at the documents before him with a vacant gaze. "I assumed Lady Sigyn would be handling that."

"Yes, but for the Vanir. Queen Frigga had requested your help in coordinating our side."

Oh, how joyful.

He'd take being tortured by Thanos over wedding planning.

"Very well," he said. "I shall review it. Keep it aside."

"Your Highness, there's also the issue of the—"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Yes, yes. Do whatever you must."

The aides exchanged glances but did not press him.

He would have to make it up to them later. Today, his heart was simply not in it.

Soon, they gathered their tablets and left, filing out one by one.

Alone with his thoughts He sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

The silence of the room pressed against him, but it did nothing to quiet the memory replaying in his head—Maya, bleeding out in his arms, her breath shallow, her brown eyes closing.

He had tried. He had tried so damn hard. But no amount of magic, no desperate prayers to his ancestors, had been enough.

It was not.

Life slipped out of her before he could reach the healers. Thor had to hold him back as he let out a scream so guttural, that the ground shook. He didn't care about who was watching or Thor's pleading words or Eir yelling for them to leave —the only thing he cared about was the woman who had slipped away from him once more.

Her body had been cold, her pulse gone. Loki felt his whole life implode the moment her heart stopped beating. But something—someone—had dragged her back.

He did not know whether to be relieved or terrified. He was aware of her healing factor but not to this extent.

The healers had no clue what had occurred but her wounds healed and her heart started to beat.

Maya gasped back to life, her eyes opening to stare up at him.

He had no idea that relief could be so painful.

Thor had dragged him away after Eir confirmed that she was alive. Loki had to fight the urge to press his brother's face into the ground—his fury snapping like a flame in the wind. His mother had seen the grief in his eyes and simply pressed her fingers against his temple, mercifully knocking him out.

He'd killed and he had seen death before but nothing ever shook him like this.

Long ago, Maya had been stabbed in the heart by her sister. She had lost so much blood, to the point where Loki was certain he was going to lose her.

His feelings for her started before then but he had been in denial. It wasn't until that moment that he realized that she was slipping away and that his feelings for her were true.

It feels like so long ago. So much has changed.

—

The bed in the healing chambers was too large, an ocean of white and gold that held her body under the warm glow of a shield that Eir had made. Her hair was longer than he remembered, splayed out on the sheets like spilled ink.

He hadn't meant to come down here. He only wanted to see her, just to know that all of his nightmares were untrue.

He felt himself drawn to her.

Loki climbed into the bed next to her and gathered Maya in his arms. Maya was quiet, her head resting against his shoulder. She looked dead and alive at the same time.

It was the dead of night, nobody was around except for him and the guards stationed at the door.

The only indication he had of her being alive was the silent rise and fall of her chest and the warmth that radiated off of her body.

She was alive.

He whispered a spell under his breath, watching as the bruises on her body slowly healed and disappeared.

"You've always have such terrible timing," he said to her softly. She didn't respond. "This isn't how I expected to see you again, darling. I would give up all my power if it meant you would open your eyes and look at me. Just once."

Loki brushed her hair out of her face. His fingertips lingered on her cheek as he memorized every line on her face. From the tiny scar under her eye to the curve of her lips to the fluttering of her eyelashes.

He would do anything to bring her back.

Anything.

Maya was always expressive. No matter what she thought it would always appear on her face. Even down to the tiniest of details, like when she fiddled with her necklace when nervous or when she smiled, the dimples in her cheek deepened.

To see her so still, so devoid of life—it broke his heart.

Loki felt his eyes sting.

This wasn't the Maya he knew. This was some imposter wearing her lovely face.
His Maya—the one he loved—was full of life and radiated warmth.

Loki wanted to stay here until she opened her eyes again but he knew he had no right to her. He couldn't bear to see hatred or anger in her lovely eyes.

He lowered her back down gently, smoothing her hair out of her face.

"If you wake up," he whispered. "Please, I beg of you. Do not hate me."

Loki pulled away, knowing that the sun would rise soon. He felt like a thief stealing away something precious.

He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her slender fingers.

If he had the power, he would never leave her side ever again.

—

A soft knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts.

He cleared his throat. "Come in," he croaked.

He straightened as Sigyn stepped inside, dressed in a flowing gown of deep blue, it was off her tanned shoulders, her auburn hair pinned back with delicate silver pins. They sparkled in the sunlight, casting reflections through his office.

"My, the rumours are true. You look terrible," she said, shutting the door behind her. "You've been locked up in here for so long."

She grabbed one of the curtains and pulled it back, letting the light in.

He winced at the sunlight.

Loki let out a short, humourless laugh. "And you look far too chipper."

Sigyn moved closer, leaning against the desk. Her eyes were full of sympathy. "I heard some of the maids gossiping. How are you handling everything?"

He hesitated, fingers tightening against the wooden surface of his desk. "How do you think I'm handling it?"

Sigyn sighed, folding her arms. "Yeah. I thought so."

There was no judgment in her voice, only understanding. He appreciated that about her.

After a moment, she said gently, "Have you gone to see her yet?"

"No," he lied.

"You should."

"She died, Sigyn," Loki murmured, his voice hollow. His head was in his hands. "I felt her die. And yet she's still here. Lying in the healer's wing, unconscious for a week. How do I even begin to make sense of that?"

Sigyn watched him carefully. "Are you wavering?"

Loki met her gaze, shaking his head. "No."

A lie. Or perhaps a truth he wished were stronger than it was.

Sigyn studied him for a moment longer, then straightened up. She offered him her hand.

"Come," she said. "Let's go for a walk. You need to clear your mind before you spiral into something worse."

He hesitated, then nodded.

At this moment he could care less.

The gardens were quiet this time of day, the late afternoon sun casting warm golden hues across the well-manicured hedges and flowering vines.

Sigyn led them along the winding stone path, the scent of fresh roses filling the air.

Loki's eyes fell on a cluster of deep red blooms, the colour so rich it was almost unnatural.

Blood-red.

He tore his gaze away, swallowing the bile rising in his throat.

Sigyn stopped suddenly, her hand tucked against his elbow. "Do you want to go somewhere else?"

Loki exhaled. "No, it's alright. It's a very beautiful place. It would be a shame if we didn't explore it any further."

She hummed thoughtfully, tugging him along the path and past the infuriating roses. "Perhaps I should ask the gardeners to plant something softer—lilies, maybe."

"Why trouble them so?" He smiled, trying to reassure her. "Besides, there are other places we can visit. The gardens are almost endless here."

Sigyn shrugged. "You look like a man walking through a battlefield. I'm not blind, Loki. I can see that your mind isn't here."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said. "It must've been horrible."

"Is this how you felt when you heard about Theroux's passing?" He asked.

"Is Maya not still breathing?" She asked, perplexed.

"Yes, she is. But why does it feel like she is gone?"

Sigyn's fingers brush against the flowers as she walks past. "I didn't see him until after, during the funeral pyre. His mother told me what happened to him. I don't remember much after that. I locked myself in my rooms for weeks, refusing to eat or drink, wasting away until my father threatened to have me engaged to someone of his choosing."

"Grief doesn't suit you."

"It doesn't suit you either."

"I look good in black though."

She lets out a humourless laugh. "I played the part of a widow without getting married. Ironic isn't it? You are fortunate, Loki. I'm sure the healers are capable enough to take care of her."

"I should've asked something else," he said.
"Anything you would like to share?"

Sigyn'a lips pressed into a line. "Other than wedding planning, no."

He gave her a sidelong glance. "If you're trying to distract me from the obvious, it's not working."

"Appreciate the effort, you menace." She nudged him lightly, rolling her eyes. "Do you feel a little bit better?"

For a fleeting moment, the tension in his chest eased. He almost allowed himself to smile. "A little."

They continued walking, Sigyn filling the silence with idle talk—how she had tea with Frigga that morning, how the palace staff had already begun whispering about wedding preparations, how one of the kitchen servants had nearly burned an entire tray of pastries in their excitement.

Sigyn sighed. "You're not listening at all, are you?"

He stopped walking, dragging a hand down his face.

All he could think about was fresh blood on snow.

Loki felt like a tapestry unravelling itself.

"I don't know how to stop thinking about it, Sigyn." His voice was raw, quieter than before. "What if this is my fault? What if—"

"It's not," she interrupted firmly.

Loki turned to her, something bitter twisting in his chest. "You don't know that."

"I do," she said, stepping closer. Her warm citrusy scent encompassed him. "Because you would never wish harm upon her. Whatever happened to Maya,—it is not because of you."

Loki looked away. "I'm sorry for leaving during the reception. I—"

She sighed, rubbing her temple. "You'll drive yourself mad with guilt if you let it consume you."

He knew she was right. It didn't change anything.

"I'll make it up to you."

Sigyn looks at him, narrowing her eyes. "You can make it up to me when you stop looking like a kicked baby Bilshnipe."

They walked back in silence, neither needing to say more.

Several people passed them by, exchanging greetings or bowing. Loki stiffly nodded back while Sigyn responded with a few simple words.

One person in particular caught his notice.

It was one of the children that had been brought to Asgard. If he remembered what Thor said, this one was the eldest.

She walked through the halls with a purpose, her jade-like eyes filled with suspicion and mistrust. Her hair was a wild mess of curls that caught the breeze that came from the mountains.

He was struck for a moment by how similar she looked to Maya. It was like watching a younger version of her strolling down the hall.

He couldn't remember her name.

"Miss Safia," Sigyn called out as the girl passed them.

Loki went still as she turned her heavy gaze onto him, her eyes narrowing. He looked away first, his gut twisting uncomfortably.

"Oh...hey. Lady Sigyn, right?" She brushes a stray curl out of her face. "I saw you yesterday."

Surprisingly polite for one so young and wild. When he first saw her she had been screaming, rage exuded out of her. Lightning danced around her thin form.

Now she was as tame as a house cat.

But looks could be deceiving.

Sigyn smiled. "I'm sorry if I intruded. How are you?"

Safia shrugged. "It could be worse. I could be dead."

Loki noticed how her eyes had been tinged red as if she had been crying earlier. They mirror his own.

"Are you lost?" He asked.

She shook her head. "No, just...you know, trying to keep my mind off things."

"Have you visited Her Majesty yet?"

Safia shook her head. "I believe she's with Rayan."

"I'm sorry." Sigyn placed a hand on her shoulder. "Have courage, young one."

For a moment it looked as if Safia was going to remove Sigyn'a's hand from her shoulder but he could see the way that she deflated. The rage slipped out of her eyes. She sighed and nodded before turning away, and heading back to her chambers.

The other children were given their private chambers, close to Frigga so that she may keep an eye on them.

His mother had a soft spot for lost souls. Especially children.

Loki has met the youngest but couldn't recall his name. He was a tiny little thing that looked exactly like Maya, with the same dark eyes and dark air.

Looking at him was like looking at his younger self.

He always wondered what his children would look like. Loki wanted them to look like Maya instead of him, to have her lovely eyes and smile.

The thought makes something twist painfully. He wrenched himself away from that line of thinking.

He swore he wouldn't get involved but he's already broken that vow twice.

Sigyn looked up at him, biting her lower lip. "I hope you don't mind. I went to the healer's wings earlier. I just...well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. I don't know if you would approve."

I squeezed her hand. "Thank you, Sigyn."

When they returned to Loki's office, he paused just outside the doors, his mind still lost in thought.

Sif stood waiting, arms crossed, her usual blunt impatience written all over her face. She tossed a knife into the air and caught it. The moment she spotted him, her expression snapped back into a neutral expression.

Loki and Sigyn exchanged a glance. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

Sif didn't waste time. "I thought you should know first, Your Highness. She's awake."

Loki's breath caught.

For a moment, he forgot how to move.

She was awake!

Relief and fear cut through him all at once, rendering his vocal cords useless. He nodded sharply at Sif.

Then, without a word, he turned sharply and went into his office, his heartbeat pounding in his ears so loud it felt like the air was vibrating around him. He felt the pieces of himself that he had spent hours fixing fall apart.

She had survived. Somehow, against whatever fate had planned—Maya made it through.

She was awake.

He braced his hands on his desk, taking a deep breath in so he didn't cry from sheer relief.

Loki felt a traitorous tear slip from his eye and drip down his cheek. He bit back a sob as it threatened to choke his lungs with relief and grief.

He could hear Sigyn thank Sif before closing the door to his officer. She sat down on the desk, her hand on his shoulder, grounding him before he flew away.

"Oh, Loki," she breathed.

"It's alright." He ran a shaky hand through his hair, a few loose strands falling onto his forehead. "Worry not, Sigyn. I am fine."

He didn't notice he was trembling until she placed her hand atop his.

"If you want to go find Healer Eir, I wouldn't be opposed," she said softly.

Loki shook his head. "There's no need. She'll be fine. It is as you said. The healers have more than enough resources to help her."

She looked unconvinced. "If that is what you wish, so be it."

He nodded. "It's for the best."

"No regrets, right?" She asked him, wiping his tears away with delicate fingers.

"None whatsoever."

He knows that's not the truth.

The only thing preventing him from heading to the healer's wing is the ring on his finger and the woman who stands before him.

And yet, he can't stop the tears falling from his eyes.

She was alive.