Chapter Text
As you hear the door open, and his footsteps nearing the parlor, you hop up from your chair, determined to intercept him. You may not have the last word today, or ever again, but you'd be damned if you didn't get the first.
You attempt to set your expression to one of focused anger rather than fear, pain, or sadness. You feel more like crying, but you won't give him the perverse satisfaction that would probably afford him.
His emerald cape billows behind him as he nears you with that horrible false smile and cocky strut. When he reaches you, he takes your hand gently in greeting.
Loki opens his mouth to speak but before he can utter even a syllable, you interrupt, yanking your arm out of his grasp.
“You locked me in. You locked me in...like a fucking pet or a criminal.”
He blinks and the line of his mouth becomes straight, thin and tense as a violin string. His icy eyes fix on yours. In a heartbeat, he's gone from suave and playful to furious.
It takes all of your strength not to avert your eyes under the indignation of a god, not to shrivel under the crush of terror pounding away inside your chest.
“Well, hello to you, too. I've missed you as well, darling,” he enunciates, dripping with sarcasm.
But I have missed you...I've missed your terribly. I've loathed every second of this day that kept me from your company, he muses secretly.
You inhale and stand up straighter before speaking.
“May I be frank with you, Sire? I know it's no good lying to you anyway, or playing games. You're the god of that. I know I would lose.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, of course!”
“Is this what it's to be, then? A life locked away as a pet and a play thing?”
You shake your head and bite your lip, hoping the pain will spur on your anger rather than your tears. Finally, you meet his gaze again.
Loki feels a hairline fracture in his heart. Although you hide it well, he can see the slight glimmer of tears wetting the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill, but you stay your course, unwavering.
He thinks, bravery is so exhausting, my love. I'm impressed, but, let it go.
“I had a life, Your Highness. A purpose. Maybe not an important one by royal standards, but it was important to me. And, honestly, if this....this...gilded prison is what I can look forward to for the rest of my days, then please, I would rather not live them out.”
Loki simply stares, a twitch of adjusted calculation behind the scowl. He thwarts a swell of childish sadness at your rejection of all that he's offered you, all that he worked so painstakingly to enact.
I've made her this spectacular gift and she's simply hurling it to the floor. Would she really rather die than live in the luxury of my adoration?
His licks his wounded ego and changes course.
“Well, well. I like this,” he says with a sudden hungry smile; a predator's show of teeth, not to be confused with a sign of happiness. “What drama! You've certainly found your backbone since yesterday.”
You don't retreat. You step closer, returning his unflinching gaze with your own. “I've had a considerable amount of time to recover it.”
He tuts sarcastically, bowing down to your height and sliding his finger beneath your chin. “Oh, poor pet, has it been so terrible for your to go a few brief hours without my presence? Apologies, my dear, but I have a kingdom to attend to.”
You take a deep breath and close your eyes. He's getting off on this; on riling you. You know it and yet you can't do anything about it. You'd never been someone quick to anger before and the hot sensation of its tension in your body overwhelms you. You wonder if this is how bulls feel when the red flag fails before then.
Before you know it, your hand swings out and the sharp sound of a slap fills the echoing chamber.
It aches, as if that smooth white cheekbone were, indeed, a sharp ledge of marble, yet his head has barely even moved. There will be a bruise coloring your palm later, you realize, if you live that long.
“It's not your kingdom to rule, though, is it? It doesn't need you, and neither do I.”
You launch the words like daggers, and it feels as if one errant blade has sliced its cold way across your vocal cords. Time stands still. You can't speak. You can't think.
Loki's hand clasps around your throat as he pushes you against the wall with a snarl. He rasps into your ear, “Oh, you will need me. You will need me desperately...not just need, but crave with an insatiable hunger. And I bid you remember well, I could leave you to starve.”
His hand releases and you collapse, desperately gulping air. Tendrils of green magic snake their way around you body, keeping you pinned to the wall like prey. As you pant, you feel it. Tears.
No no no no.
You don't know if you're whispering the mantra aloud or simply letting it spin endlessly in your mind. You feel the inexorable path of warm tears sliding down your cheeks, dripping from your lashes.
Loki stands his ground in front of you, but with your eyes averted, all you can see is his chest heaving with the energy of the fight. You smirk ever so slightly, thinking, at least I got to him too.