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Chapter Thirty-Three: I'm Here (CW)

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My hand needed thirteen stitches on either side where the sword had penetrated it. Even the magic of Asgard's healers couldn't guard against the intense pain that the wound caused, after the shock and adrenaline wore away and there was just the pain and the grief.

Thor and Jane stayed by my side all day. Jane and I did our best to offer Thor comfort, but in the wake of losing a parent, there wasn't much that could be said.

Eventually, he was pulled away by Odin, and I was left on my own. Left to think, which was never a good thing.

Eventually, as the sun dipped low into the sky, Thor reentered the room with Jane on his arm.

I sat up to greet them.

"My mother is being sent off, as is Asgard's tradition," Thor informed me. "I understand if you would prefer to rest, but you're invited to attend."

I bit down on my lip.

"Does Loki know?" I asked slowly, afraid to meet his eyes.

"A guard informed him a few hours ago."

"Have you... Have you been to see him?" I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

"No," Thor said bitterly, "I have half a mind not to think he played some part in all this."

I wanted to argue, but knew he was right. That possibility wasn't too far out there.

I lowered my gaze, "I—I think I'll just stay here. Rest."

Thor nodded, his lips pressed into a thin line. He lingered a while longer before he and Jane went to clean up and dress for the ceremony.

I pushed myself up from the marble slab I was rested on the moment they left. I didn't intend on staying here and resting at all.

I paid a quick visit to my room, swapping clothes. The ones I'd worn earlier in the day were soaked through with blood. Most of it not mine.

I pulled on a long golden dress, working carefully so as not to hurt my hand.

Then, I made for the dungeons.

I stood on the other side of the holographic glass, peering in at Loki just as I had this morning. So much had changed, and yet he appeared exactly the same.

"Come to see me a wreck?" he asked, stepping up to the glass and looking down on me, "Or perhaps to interrogate me?"

He didn't sound torn apart. But he couldn't muster his usual arrogant, witty tone, and that unsettled me.

"Loki—" What was I going to ask? If he was okay? Obviously he wasn't. I looked down and sighed. "I'm so sorry."

"You're sorry?" He scoffed. "For my loss, are you?"

"I'm sorry, because it was my fault. I was there, and I couldn't save her."

Suddenly, the Loki in front of me flickered. I realized what I was looking at. An illusion.