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❛ ᴇᴛᴏɪʟᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ʜᴏʟᴅ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ
ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋɴᴇss ꒱


❝ HE UNDERESTIMATES THE
SIZE OF HIS HEART /  HE CAN
BE LAUGHING BUT HE'S GOT
ENOUGH PAIN TO FILL UP
NEW YORK CITY ❞

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A S G A R D

The Warriors, Sif, Eleanora and Loki had gathered in one of the palace's antechambers as they recovered from the news of Thor's banishment. For her part, the Star couldn't believe that the prince was gone. He'd been a pillar of Asgard for so long that it was hard to imagine the realm without him. Not only that, but she truly loved him as a brother and while she was aware of his. . . lesser qualities, she still missed his exuberant presence. Their small group seemed to lose some of the natural joy that came with being in Thor's company— though that could also be because they were all worried about his fate.

"We should never have let him go," Volstagg determined from his seat farthest away from them. Despite their reeling feelings, he unsurprisingly held a goblet of wine in his hand.

Even Eleanora, who didn't go on all of their adventures, knew that there was no changing Thor's mind once he'd made it up. "We couldn't have stopped him even if we tried. At least we went with him so there was a better chance for him to make it out alive."

"The little wife speaks truthfully," Fandral agreed. "At least he is only banished and not dead— which is what we'd all be if that guard hadn't told Odin where we'd gone."

"How did the guard even know?" the red-haired warrior asked.

The blonde glanced over at her husband with obvious concern written on her face. He pretended not to notice her look and kept his eyes on his hand— the one that had turned blue under the Frost Giant's touch. Loki looked over at them. "I told him."

"What?"

Unbothered, the dark-haired prince shrugged. "I told him to go to Odin after we'd left. He should be flogged for taking so long. We should never have reached Jotunheim."

That, of course, did not go over well with Thor's friends. Outraged, Volstagg exclaimed, "you told the guard?"

"I saved our lives, and Thor's. I had no idea father would banish him for what he did."

Ever defensive of the crown prince, Sif rose to her feet— though even with their differences, Eleanora couldn't blame her; she would have argued for her husband's return, had their positions been switched. "Loki, you must go to the Allfather and convince him to change his mind."

"And if I do, then what?" he demanded. "I love Thor more dearly than any of you, but you know what he is. He's arrogant. He's reckless. He's dangerous. You saw how he was today. Is that what Asgard needs from its king?"

Apparently finished with the conversation, Loki stalked out of the room. The blonde made to follow him and order him to explain his odd behavior— well, even more odd than what was usual for the God of Mischief— but she stopped in her tracks as Sif spoke again.

"He may speak of the good of Asgard, but he's always been jealous of Thor."

Silvery light burst into existence around Eleanora's being as she marched up to the brunette. Her voice was low in warning when she spoke next: "have care about what you say next, Lady Sif. You are toeing a very precarious line."

Eyeing her with some apprehension, Volstagg quickly offered, "we should be grateful to him; he saved our lives."

"Laufey said there were traitors in the House of Odin," Hogun pointed out lowly. "A master of magic could bring three Jotuns into Asgard."

Both fear and anger warred within her as the Star heard what Thor's friends would say behind her husband's back. They were, without a doubt, right; hence the fear that they would take it a step further. She had to take the focus off of their suspicions so that their minds would not put the pieces together, because protecting her husband would always come first, even if he did deserve to be reprimanded for some of his actions. The celestial light around her flared brighter as she strode over to Hogun. Her gray eyes were narrowed in displeasure.

"Is this how you speak of my husband when he is not around? It is no wonder that he feels unwelcome in your presence, even when he does something that benefits you. Loki's actions today saved your lives. He acted swiftly and decisively to protect us, yet all you can do is cast doubt upon his motives."

"Once again, the little wife is right," Fandral allowed, his expression amicable, unlike the other three. "We should not speak ill of him, at least when today has already brought us so much grief. After all, Loki's always been one for mischief, but you're talking about something else entirely. Perhaps looking at these events with fresh eyes tomorrow will help ease our tempers."

His pointed glance in Eleanora's direction did not go unnoticed by the Star, who sighed and let her light to dissipate. "Very well. I will leave first and seek out where my husband has gotten off to."

✧ ✧ ✧

In the aftermath of the battle, I went into the temple and I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring. Abandoned, suffering, left to die. Laufey's son.

His father's words— not his father, Loki reminded himself. His life as he'd known was a lie. Everything he'd believed had come crashing down around his ears. One moment, he was an Asgardian prince troubled by his brother's banishment. The next he was a monster, a creature cast out and unwanted by everyone he'd ever known.

Laufey's son.

Those were the only two words that echoed in his mind as he stared at himself in the mirror in his bedroom. His skin was no longer ice blue, having returned to the familiar paleness he'd always had. But now that he'd seen his Frost Giant form, it was all too easy to imagine the hue as it could be.

You were knee-deep in Jotun blood, why would you take me?

Odin's half-hearted response had only enraged him further. The Allfather never did anything simply for benign or even superfluous reasons. Everything he did was calculated. There had been more to his kidnapping than just being an "innocent child." That was a response Thor would believe without assuming anything further. The king had let countless Jotuns left to die; he should have been no different. Loki was smarter than that and had learned to see through Odin's machinations.

Then, of course, the Allfather had turned it back on him— as if he were the one that had committed innumerable war crimes and gotten away with calling it 'peacemaking.'

Why do you twist my words?

Even though he was the God of Lies, the truth had been painfully obvious then. Odin's favoritism for Thor, the reason why he let Loki stay in the shadows, why he'd chosen his firstborn for successor in spite of his ill fit. It was always his fault. Everything somehow was.

His fury had overtaken him then, blinding and all consuming. He'd never felt anything like it before as the wave of blackness filled his vision. All he could feel for the man who'd raised him was hate. Pure and potent enough to raze cities— nay, planets— and even that did not feel like it would wipe him clean.

It had taken him a minute to notice the king's weakening form as he collapsed on the stairs. Then, the old, habitual concern for the man who'd once been his father had overtaken him shortly as he called out to the guards for help. He'd made his way back to his chambers in a daze of tumultuous emotions. Pain. Rage. Betrayal. Horror.

His thoughts tunneled so that they could only replay the conversation over and over in his head. Abandoned, suffering! Laufey's son. Innocent child. Why do you twist my words?

He gave himself a wry smile in the mirror as the one silver lining (if it could even be called that) presented itself: at least now he understood why he had always been second-best. But the turn of his lips didn't come out quite right and they formed a sneer rather than their usual amused quirk.

The soft call of his name brought him out of his whirling emotions, causing him to look sharply towards the door. His wife stood there; her stardust-gray eyes anxious as she met his gaze. As it always did, his heart gave a little leap at the sight of her. With her soft blonde hair framing her face and wide eyes, she appeared more virtuous than she already was. The notion made the leap turn into a plummet as he felt the twist of guilt in his chest.

She had married a monster.

She remained blissfully unaware of what he was, untainted by the stain of his heritage. But that wasn't really true, was it? He had contaminated her by letting her share his bed. He'd been the one to rip her from her life and tether her to him, just like what a monster would do. He had barely given her a choice— an illusion of choice, if he was being generous. Yet she still stayed by his side, believing that she loved him. Maybe she did think that she loved him because he'd been the only option.

His fault, again.

If he wasn't so selfish he could have let her go. He should have let her go and live her life. Monsters didn't deserve good things, after all; destruction followed wherever they went and if they even got a glimpse of something wonderful, it was snatched away in the next breath.

Unable to bear the concern in her gaze, Loki allowed the rage to consume once more. He whirled on her, his eyes narrowing to slits as his hands fisted at his sides. "Get. Out."

Eleanora looked a little startled by the deadly calm in his voice but held her ground, probably thinking that this was another one of his dramatic outbursts. He would make her see otherwise; it would be best for both of them if he drove a wedge into their relationship. When she still didn't move, he raised his voice and let the pain make his tone raw with emotion, speaking to her just as he'd yelled at Odin hours earlier. "GET OUT!"

He flung his hand up and sent the nearest glass vial flying through the air to smash against the wall. This time, the blonde jumped and her eyes fell onto the splash of color that now tainted the wall where the bottle had hit. They flicked down to where the shards of glass sparkled on the floor, and Loki thought she would certainly flee now.

But, being married to a trickster, Eleanora had learned a thing or two about seeing through illusions, just as she did now. She could hear past the anger in her husband's voice to the anguish within, and her heart broke for whatever suffering he was going through. Then, while she had been surprised by the uncharacteristic display of violence, it failed to make her afraid, like he'd intended. After all, Loki was an excellent marksman. She had seen him practice with his daggers for centuries and knew how skilled he was. He could aim for a target a hundred feet in the air from the back of a horse and hit the bullseye.

The most important observation she'd made of this explosion was this: he had missed.

He could have sent the vial straight for her head if he wanted to. It had certainly flown past her ear close enough for her to feel the breeze. But it hadn't hit her. He'd missed on purpose, just using the tactic to scare her. It only solidified her desire to stay with him and help him through whatever he was going through.

She took a step forward, her expression softening into sympathy. "Loki, please, we can talk—"

Loki's chest tightened as he watched his wife not run, but move closer to him, her voice laced with compassion. He wanted to push her away, to make her see the darkness within him and bolt from it. But there she stood, unwavering in her resolve to stay, to understand, to help. It was infuriatingly noble of her and it only fueled his self-loathing.

He gritted his teeth, his anger boiling beneath the surface like molten lava. "There's nothing to talk about," he spat, his voice dripping with venom. "You should leave. Leave before I hurt you."

She shook her head, her eyes pleading. "You won't hurt me, Loki. I know you better than that."

How could she be so blind? So trusting? He was a monster, a creature of chaos and deception. He didn't deserve her tireless faith. But even as he raged against her, a small part of him, buried deep beneath layers of bitterness and resentment, craved her reassurance.

"You don't understand," he growled. "I'm not who you think I am."

She reached out to him, her touch gentle as she placed her hand on his trembling fist. Her response was simple, as if there was only one fact she cared about: "you are my husband, are you not? Need I know anything else?"

For a moment, he faltered, his walls crumbling in the face of her unfaltering love. But then he remembered the endless cycle of pain and betrayal that had defined his existence. He couldn't let her become another casualty of his broken life.

With a sudden, desperate determination, he wrenched his hand away from her touch, his voice ragged with emotion. "I can't," he choked out, the words a painful admission of his own weakness. "I won't let you be tainted by my darkness."

Eleanora's gaze shimmered with unshed tears, her heart aching at the raw vulnerability in his voice. "Loki, please," she pleaded, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I love you. It's you and me until the end, remember? Whatever darkness you carry, we'll face it together."

Even with the sadness shining in her eyes, she spoke calmly in a way that helped him come to his senses. It steadied him as it always had as she talked him down from one of his tempers. While he would be the first to bluntly say that his wife was not cut out to be a warrior, there were aspects in her personality that would have made her a great one, had she been more prone to fighting. Her steadfast bravery and compassion rivalled those of Asgard's shieldmaidens and even now, he admired her courage. She could stare into the face of a monster parading as a man and declare her love without hesitation.

"You would not speak so boldly if you knew the truth," Loki said, his voice still tight. If she would not run in the face of his rage or as a result of his deadly calm, then there was only one thing left that he knew would push her away for good: the truth. It was a risk, but he knew she would keep his secret even if it made her terrified of him. When he spoke next, his tone was detached, as if it were someone else telling her the news, not him— not really. "It is with great misfortune that I must inform you that you have saddled yourself with a monster."

The blonde only became confused by this, frowning as she started to ask, "what—?"

"I'm a Fr— the Jotuns!" He was raising his voice again, and it cracked on the last word as he spit it at her, but she just wasn't getting it. She should be afraid of him, unless she was a fool— and he knew she wasn't. "I'm the monster parents tell their children about at night!"

Her face crumpled and all he could think about was this is it— the moment she realized the truth. He felt a sick sort of triumph that he had finally, finally, broken through to her. But then when she spoke, it wasn't in a tone of disgust or anger; he wasn't quite sure what the emotion was, but it certainly wasn't what he'd been expecting.

"Oh, Loki," Eleanora said, her voice full of love. "You are right: there is a monster in this palace, but it is not you. My mother never told me horror stories of Jotuns at night. Instead, my monster is the man who sits the gilded throne with a staff in hand and an eye on his people."

Loki froze, stunned by her response. His mind raced as he tried to comprehend her words. How could she still look at him with such love and understanding after he revealed the truth about his heritage? It defied all logic, all reason. It contrasted with the show of intelligence at her admittance of recognizing Odin's unscrupulous habits. She interacted with the Allfather on a daily basis and apart from their first meeting, he had never seen any kind of distress from her. If she could face the man she viewed as a monster with such grace and dignity, then maybe, maybe, he could understand why she wouldn't cower in front of a Jotun.

As he came to terms with her reasoning, the blonde hesitantly lifted her hand. He wouldn't let her touch him before, probably believing that somehow he'd transfer what he saw as his darkness to her. Now, she hoped that he could accept that nothing, nothing would make her abandon him. Not only because he was her glorious purpose and it was her duty to be his guiding light out of the darkness— something that was becoming increasingly clear now— but because she chose to stand by him. Her mother had said that she had more kindness a single finger than most people did in their entire body, and maybe that was a character flaw on her part— but she wouldn't want to be any other way if it meant that being even slightly less kind would make her chose otherwise.

When he didn't make an attempt to move, she tentatively placed her hand on his cheek. Her husband's eyes closed as he let out a shuddering breath, fighting against the urge to lean into her palm. He wasn't strong enough to do so, and let his hand come up to press hers to his skin. Eleanora smiled a little, the ache in her heart easing as he didn't pull away.

"I made a choice when I married you, Loki," she said firmly. "And I choose to stand by you, no matter what."

In that moment, he realized that perhaps he hadn't been the one to tether Eleanora to him after all. It was she who had bound herself to him, before he'd ever been aware of her existence at all.

The blonde dropped her hand so she could wind her arms around his waist, holding him in the darkness. Though he knew he didn't deserve her faith or loyalty, Loki wrapped his arms around her in return and buried his nose in her hair, taking a deep breath of the nighttime scent. His larger frame folded around her shorter one, and she would stay with him until it hurt less. She didn't care how long it took; she would do and say anything until he was convinced that he would be alright. It was her job— both as his wife and a Star— to show him where the light shone through, and she would happily weather any storm with him.

Anything to make it a little bit better.

A/n: I absolutely love this lyric that's in the song 'Little Bit Better' by Caleb Hearn. It feels as if he made the song specifically for Loki/Eleanora because it perfectly encapsulates their relationship. I highly recommend listening to it, both at any time while reading this book/series and just in general!