tell me what you really want

Long live the king! Short may he reign.

Loki is tired.

Very, very tired.

Honestly, he (and probably everyone around him) thinks it a miracle that he's still standing.

Eir has been nagging him to get rest but he doesn't have time for that. All day he has to deal with the Council, listening to the people's complaints, and filing paperwork throughout the night.

Loki doesn't know how Odin ever got any sleep.

Oh wait. He does. Odin never cared to help the people with their problems. He didn't spare a moment to listen to their complaints. Loki only found this out because when he asked when it started, the guards looked at him like he had eight heads.

Then again, they always look at him strangely. The blank-faced guards of his childhood somehow have vanished into thin air, replaced by people who don't seem to respect his unwanted title. People who constantly nagged him about every little thing.

"You should rest now, my king."

"Are you hungry, Your Majesty? You missed lunch."

"My king, you look unwell. Should we go to the healers?"

No, no, no!

When had the people decided not to leave him alone?

All Loki needs right now is for his fath-- Odin to awaken and reclaim his damn throne. But that stupid old man just decided to drop near-dead right when Loki was finally becoming at peace with his situation.

The situation being solitary confinement and the fact that Thor really does no longer love him.

("When we fought each other in the past... I did so with a glimmer of hope that my brother was still in there somewhere--"

But I'm here-- I'm here I'm here I'm RIGHT HERE--)

And suddenly the guards came up to him like hi we need you to be king please and you can't really say no so-- and all but dragged him out of his safe haven to be ruler of literally every realm. Him. A war criminal. A conquerer--

No, wait. Yeah, he does kinda fit the bill.

But Loki doesn't want this! He doesn't want to be king of this stupid realm of stolen gold that floats on a river of blood. He just wants to be alone. He doesn't need anyone. No one should need him. He shouldn't exist, in their minds. Why couldn't they have locked him away and forgotten where the key resided?

Why can't you just leave me in peace? Alive or dead--

Loki stares into the mirror, trying to figure out the color of his own eyes. You know, to stop his oncoming identity crisis. But they're weird. Green-blue, depending on the lighting.

At least they aren't electric blue.

He never wants to see that color again.

Someone knocks on his door and he turns around, fidgeting with the straps of his less-formal armor (which he hasn't worn in years) to make it feel less suffocating.

"My king, do you need any assistance?"

Loki sighs at the voice of the young servant, "No, I'm fine." He tries to use a commanding tone, but for some reason it never works.

"Heimdall has sent a message," the boy, from the sound of his voice, continues, "Prince Thor and some friends of his have arrived."

Again, Loki sighs and mutters, "Of course." Then he raises his voice to be heard, "Send some guards to escort them to the throne room. Take the scenic route. I'll be out sooner or later."