Out of reach • A Loki fanfiction

Chapter 63 - Red wine

Loki was far past feeling nervous. Skipping a meal was easier these days than filling his stomach to give nausea another shot. Especially tonight, he couldn't use such times.

At least the plan was clear. Astrid had saved her magic for the rest of the day, only to use it when completely necessary. Vera had demanded to be there when both Loki and Astrid would get to work tonight, meaning the younger witch would have to use her seidr to disguise Vera briefly as another student, to get inside together. Astrid was a student herself, after all. They'd simply walk trough the main entrance. Now with the public music room as their final destination, there truly was no need to stay unseen. Except when they'd encounter the student Vera was disguised as, of course, though Astrid was positive the girl didn't wander around the castle on days she could spend at home.

On paper, it was easy to say that nothing could go wrong. An easy slip of the sleeping draught into Morgun's wine, followed up with an extracting spell he knew how to do, was everything needed on his part. The remaining two roles didn't need much practice either, making it hard to believe that anyone could fail. Yet, Loki was flat out sweating. And still, he had concocted a back-up plan behind Vera's back—knowing she'd disapprove of the measures he was willing to take in order to label today as a win.

What he told Vera this morning was true. In all the battles he had fought, and in the long miserable life he had lived, this war was the greatest test yet. The love he had developed from deep within effected his rage towards the worlds. Unlike then, now he cared. He cared for the ones he loved and used to ignore, like his actual mother and the oaf of a brother he got with this family. He cared for Odin in some way, for The Warriors Three, Sif, Astrid, and that sweet old lady who made sure his hair was always freshly cut. He cared for Vera—the one making him able to actually do so—, was willing to give The entire Nine Realms to the woman if they were his to give, and would break them apart all the same if it meant her love to live.

Even walking towards his part of phase three, Loki's heart skipped by the thought of what was awaiting for him when this day would be successfully over. Though looking down at the hallway he was walking trough, that little yet bright light could only brighten so much. Nerves were more dominant than he had ever experienced them before, but once again he forced them back down his throat, and promised himself to remain composed like in the early days, where he showed no vulnerability in spaces he found no trust.

Loki's feet halted in front of the double doors he wanted to be the least. Yet here he was, knocking on the wood with one hand, while a rich, red Asgardian wine bottle was held in the other.

Loki Odinson was a lot of things. He was Laufey's abandonment, Frigga's boy, Odin's relic, and a brother to Thor. He was titled to be Asgard's second prince to the throne, rightful King of Jotunheim, a master of magic, and most importantly The God of Mischief and Lies. So, when Morgun opened her doors for him—for the third time this week—, he greeted her with a coy smile, relaxed pose, and suggestive eyebrows as he held the bottle in the air.

"Loki, hi." She sighed, doing everything but taking his hint.

If anything, Loki was a master when it came to reading faces. It would be a lie, admitting that he didn't enjoy seeing the witch so tense. Still though, he played his part with perfection.

Dropping his hands back at his side, he patiently let himself wait outside. "Is something wrong?"

With another sigh, Morgun rolled her eyes and turned herself around, leaving Loki in the doorway. "No, nothing."