Tom Hiddleston and Loki Imagines - Bk. 1

Tom - Sacrifice, Pt. 2 (Opt. If Mercy Had Lived)

So he gave her up.

He couldn't stand to be reminded, to see the window into his past misery and selfishness, of a love he didn't lose, but a love he let go. He couldn't take it anymore, the crying in the middle of the night, not because she was a newborn, but because it was like he was hearing your tears during his almost five months of absence. He couldn't take how she grabbed for him, for it was as when you were reaching out to him, begging him to stay close; but just like then, he would tear himself away.

He left her on the doorstep to an orphanage during the middle of the night, all alone in the car-seat, the overhang up and your favorite blanket wrapped around her. She clung onto the teddy bear he once gave you, and a name tag hung from her neck. He knocked then hid, waiting to see if the doors would be opened for her, waiting to see if someone heard the cries for mercy of Mercy.

Light poured in when the wooden doors creaked open, and that was enough for Tom to make his escape, in case someone did see him. Often, he would call in favors and send in friends observing her for him. But after a month, instead of a normal report, he was told that a couple, the (Y/L/N)s, took you in. He cringed, for, although a different family, ironically it was your same last name.

Mustering up courage, he had rang their doorbell a month later, and they nearly fainted, for the great actor was at their door, but their smiles turned solemn and grim as he told them his tale. And when he was finished, they exchanged numbers, assured him they wouldn't tell them until she could appreciate it, then he parted, for he was so good at it already.

Sixteen years later...

Mercy's POV

"I still don't understand how you got these!" Dad laughs, for I had been commenting similar expressions for the past hour. As a stress reliever for the SATs, Mom and Dad had surprised me with not just tickets to London, but to the premiere of Thor: The Dark World. It was a wonder why I hadn't fainted or lost my voice yet; I had screamed so loudly that our next-door-neighbors came to check on us. But tickets to a Marvel premiere?! Who wouldn't?!

"For the millionth time," Dad continues, chuckling, "we're glad you're excited."

"But seriously, how did you get these?! You need to have a network to fame to get seats and after-party entries!"

"Exactly," Mom states plainly. My eyes widen.

"Who? No, no, no, wait--HOW?!"

"Tom Hiddleston," Dad says, "and we've known him for a while."

"But how? And why didn't you say anything until now?" I was a fan of him and his work, and they knew that. Even if I wasn't, that would have given me something to talk about in this school instead of being the nerdy girl.

But why were they silent, barely moving, eyes either at the ground or at each other.

"What's going on? What are you hiding from me?"

"I think it's time we had a talk."

And that's how I found out how I was the unwanted daughter of someone I admired, how my dream tickets were tainted by the prospective of meeting the man who gave me up. How he didn't even have the decency to visit, to be a part of my life until now. Sure, he was invested in his movies, but, even though he made numerous phone calls and emails to my parents, he didn't even have the decency to pass word onto me until now. And now I was expected to be happy to see him.

It was better off when I didn't know.

I had wished the flight was longer, wished we didn't have to get the hotel so quickly so we could meet my real father in peace. But right before I could bolt out with the excuse that I want to look around, there was that dreaded knock on the door with a smile that once was contagious and infectious with me.