I see you || Loki

17. Dire Distress

You dressed in a daze, fixing your hair without any consideration for what you did other than to keep it from your face. You couldn't stand to have it fall free around your shoulders. Every brush against your skin was irritating. Though, at the moment, everything was irritating.

Loki hadn't been in your bed when you woke that morning. That... that wasn't surprising. It shouldn't have been. And you couldn't let it be disappointing. He had done enough for you already. He hadn't known what he was walking into the previous night. You couldn't blame him for leaving the moment he had the opportunity.

Cleary, this—tryst, affair, indiscretion, whatever it was—had gotten out of hand. Sexual gratification was one thing... emotional attachment was something else entirely. The risks were becoming too big. You couldn't run to Loki whenever you were upset, no matter how much you wanted to. Even if his arms were the safest place you'd ever been.

You scrubbed your hands over your face and stood to leave. You had intended to be back at your mother's side at dawn, but that had long passed now. You had slept too long, too deeply. Now wasn't the time for such things. You walked through the palace halls, one foot in front of the other, then again. Another step, another breath.

The door to the room was open. Your heart and your steps quickened. Had something happened? Had your mother—

"Miss." The doctor straightened when you entered. He stood at your mother's side, where she rested against the pillows of her bed, eyes closed.

"What happened?" you asked, breath catching in your throat.

"She is recovering," the doctor said. "Better than yesterday. I will keep an eye on her, but"—he smiled slightly—"I'm hopeful."

"Can I stay with her?" you asked, hope swelling in your chest. You hadn't been allowed the day before.

He hesitated and his eyes shifted away, a miniscule change to look over your shoulder, then back to you. "I suppose that would be alright." His eyes flicked past you again. "Please excuse me," he said. "I will return shortly." He nodded to you, then bowed slightly and left.

People didn't usually bow for you...

You looked over your shoulder. Loki sat at a small table next to the window of your mother's balcony. A book lay in front of him, carefully set down to mark his place. He regarded you with a passive sort of interest.

"What are you doing here?" you blurted. Loki raised one eyebrow and you remembered your place (and the presence of the nurses). "My Lord." You dropped to a curtsy.

Loki visibly repressed a laugh. "I learned that Thor's betrothed was in distress. My brother regrets that he couldn't be here himself."

You looked at him for a long moment and swallowed thickly. "Thank you." There was probably too much emotion in those words, but you couldn't keep it out.

Loki stood and pulled back the chair opposite on the table from him. You took it.

A book lay on the table in front of the chair, the one that you had been perusing most recently in the library (a history of Asgardian diplomacy). You laid your hand on the cover. "How long have you been here?" you asked.

Loki returned to his seat without looking at you. "That doesn't really matter." He picked up the book that he'd set aside earlier and offered no further comment.

You scowled. It did matter. It mattered because, at some point the night before, Loki had snuck out from your arms and came here. As much as you appreciated whatever help he'd given in swaying the doctor to allow you to sit vigil, he had done so without consulting you. It was a bad habit of his to do things for you—one that was becoming increasingly risky.