Lower Your Eyes (A Loki Romance Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty-Six: Death Do Us Part

It was a beautiful day to die.

The thought repeated itself intrusively as Loki leaned against a crate of swords, staring at his wife during preparation. Loathe as he was to direct the day's attention toward himself, he couldn't help but wonder whether this was the universe's way of punishing him: not only had he found himself in the singularly improbable arrangement of marriage, but the woman in question also now faced certain death.

Despite that, she stood tall in front of the mirror—straightened to her full height. There was a solemnness to her features that Loki struggled to read. It had shifted as of late, as though some internal conflict had been rising slowly to the surface without his noticing. He couldn't have placed when it began or why, though he suspected it had happened on the night of their union—oh, how he'd come to regret that he had encouraged her to fight as he did, for the life she wanted. Between then and now, he had hoped that there would be some avenue away from an actual battle.

Thinking back, Loki clearly remembered the way Aila had appeared when she first wandered into his chamber. Such an antithesis to the woman standing before him now—his wife. When they first met, she had been frightened of him beyond belief. Her steps into his bedroom were as small as a child's. Frightened like an animal backed into a corner with nowhere to go. She had been carrying a mop she wouldn't use and was fearful of raising her eyes from the ground. She was never more that cornered animal than she was today—and yet, there wasn't a single muscle in her body that rippled with fear.

Not that he could see.

Loki sighed as he looked her over, dressed in rather simple fighting leathers that wouldn't obstruct her movement. Which mattered greatly for her purposes—she could not beat the king in direct offense, but perhaps she could find a way to slip around him. When the maids were finished, Aila thanked them and turned her attention on him, noticing how he'd been staring from atop the crate.

"Your silence is reassuring," she muttered, tweaking one of the bands across her hip.

He didn't so much as blink. "What would you like me to say? That I've been looking forward to this?"

"Well, you are the god of lies." Despite his harsh tone, Aila's lip had turned upward. "You're right. It's better you stay quiet."

Loki feigned a smile. "Are you afraid to hear me speak of death and violence, when you are so keen on facing it yourself?"

"What else would you have me do, Loki?" Irritation entered her voice as she spoke. "Your only solutions are to run or give in—neither are any better than dying here today."

Loki scowled at her. "And I suppose it's of no concern to you what that will do to the rest of us. You haven't thought about it at all."

Aila paused, a distant look entering her expression. "Yes, I have thought about it."

"And?"

"And my answer to that is simple," she said, staring at him intently. "I have enough trust in you all not to let that worry obstruct my decision."

He furrowed a brow. "Trust in what?"

The look she gave him said it all: she trusted them to be fine. To move on, to continue living their lives. As though Loki alone wouldn't have to grapple with the overwhelming, nearly instinctual impulse to destroy Niflheim altogether. "Oh, you do underestimate my hubris," he muttered, but there was no amusement in his voice.

"I suppose we have that in common."

"Aila—"

"No." She faced him, tall and battle-ready. "I've had enough of this. These discussions are no more consequential now than they were these past three months. No more than they were last night. We're here, Loki, and I'm doing this. Today. If you prefer that I didn't come out on the other side aiming for you next, I suggest you embrace that—and then me. Because I need it."