Loki Oneshots

I will love her, from the grave

Days bled into weeks and weeks to years. The slow agonising torture that was the consequences of Loki's actions haunted him in the form of you. A constant reminder of who he had loved, left, who could possibly still be waiting for him. He had hoped that you'd move on and find someone else in his absence yet he cursed the thought of it. You were his, forever his but his actions proved he wasn't yours. In the solitary confinement that was the dungeons of Asgard, Loki found comfort in the thought of you. The memories. They kept him from going insane from the lack of social interaction, light that wasn't artificial and the absence of visual stimulation. The protracted days left him anxious, irritable and depressed but nothing compared to the havoc the nights caused.

Nights in the dungeons were torment. The insomnia had left Loki conjuring apparitions of you. They'd provide a few moments of comfort. A few moments where he could pretend he was having a conversation with someone other than himself. A few moments were he wasn't abandoned, left alone. A few moments where he could talk to you. In these moments of madness and hysteria, Loki would find himself often smiling at the beauty he had constructed. He'd sit up slightly more and fix his hair during these manic episodes and then the realisation would hit him just as he's about to touch you, feeling nothing but the never ending emptiness that would continue to devour him the following day.

Loki regretted it all. Every single decision that had brought him here and away from you. The final words you spoke to him reverberated through his head and he'd remember little details about your romance. The first day he had met you, he instantly felt a spark. There was some sort of connection between you both that was unparalleled to anybody else.

"Are you a princess?" He asked, scrutinising your choice of clothes as you laid in the mud, looking up at him after falling from your horse. You were wearing the finest silks and flowers in your hair, there was no denying your royal status but the fact that you were also covered in mud was confusing to say the least.

"Yes, shh, don't tell anyone you've seen me." You replied, taking the hand that he had offered and pulling yourself up "thanks."

"What are you doing out here?" He questioned, gesturing to your surroundings.

"Me and my mother have come from Vanaheim to visit the queen, royal stuff" you dismissed.

"Queen Frigga, she is my mother." Loki said with a nod.

"So you're a prince. Good to know. Don't tell my mother I'm here. See you later." You winked.

"Wait, what's your name?"

"I'm y/n, you?"

"Loki."

"Later Loki."

He watched you as you plodded off, not a care in the world. The way you spoke and carried yourself wasn't like him, you seemed freer. Once you were out of sight, he made his way back to the palace where he saw your mother, Thor and Frigga. Behind her, was a beautiful young woman who once she came into focus, he realised it was you, now free of mud.

"How did yo—" he began, pointing at you.

"Shh" you interrupted.

"Dinner is being served." Frigga spoke.

Loki presented his arm to you at the same time Thor did. He knew you were going to take Thors, everyone always did so when he saw you tug your mother's dress as if to get her attention, he was surprised.

"Mother, can I walk with the gangly one?" You asked causing Loki to almost drop his arm. He didn't and you took it before you all walked towards the dining room.