The Avenger's soulmate

Chapter twelve: drama and disaster

Lydia's heart stopped; it stopped as soon as she laid her eyes upon that man. That god. That murderer.
Loki Laufeyson, son of Odin, the man who destroyed New York.
He had killed a cousin of hers. They'd said he'd been mind-controlled. His Chitauri had almost killed her. Mind control? Absolute bullshit excuse. Her cousin was dead.
So why on earth was he here? Why, hell, was he touching her friend? Lydia rushed over to them before she could even process–her hand looped around her friend's wrist, yanking her up and against her.
"What the hell are you doing?" she spat, glaring from God to her friend. They were both stunned; The shock was plastered over Ophelia's face, and her cheeks drained of color. The Asgardian rose quickly, his face solemn, his eyes twinkling with a foreign emotion: anxiety. Lydia was terrified as she spun on her friend,
"Is he your soulmate?"
A hesitant nod, a quiet response, "yes."
"Seriously? Is this the man you'd fled from at the party?"
"N-"
Fear tightened around her heart, "Did you accept him?"
"Does she have to tell you that?" Loki interjected, black brows furrowed.
"Yes." Lydia grated out, "She's my best friend, you are a killer."
"What?" Ophelia muttered as she clung to her friend's arm, her voice significantly dwindling in confidence.
"New York?" Lydia grew confused, "three years ago."
The brown-haired woman looked clueless, spiking Lydia's rage. But before she could question, Loki was stepping forward and she was reeling backward, hauling Ophelia behind her.
"Back off," she spat. The man deflated.
"Please," he said quietly.
"No, you are a horrible–atrocious person, you cannot associate with us."
"Ophelia is my soulmate."
"She does not want a murderer as a soulmate–"
"Lydia!" Ophelia let go of her, a look of horror twisting over her face, "what are you talking about?"
"Why are you so oblivious?" the blonde spins to her, hissing, "Did you live in a hole three years ago?"
Her friend muted then. Loki was quiet too, silenced from defeat. His eyes sang his sadness, a lonely longing to her friend but he straightened, smoothed down his coat.

He'd accepted his role as her villain. This blonde's hatred towards him was most likely righteous, he'd probably, like the rest of these mortals, killed someone she loved. It was his greatest regret, trying to take earth, his most regrettable because he knew he couldn't have stopped it. His master hadn't let him. That lack of choice, the thousands he killed because of the corruption of his thoughts, the twisting of his desires, was what lost his chance of love. Loki stared at his soulmate as she stood there, her widened eyes still locked on his, conversing a silent message. One he could not decipher. The son of Odin sighed and tilted his head up. "I am a murderer and as that murderer, I apologize for what I did to you."
"I don't care for your apology."
"Then..." he fidgeted with one of his rings, "there is nothing else I can do."
"There is. Leave."
Ophelia seemed to squeeze her friend's hand, maybe to stop her or tell her she wished to leave. Maybe it's because he disgusted her so. Unfortunately, he couldn't sense her emotions through the mark. He could only guess from his insecurities, his paranoia.

——
They were silent. The two friends wandered the art gallery in silence. Loki was gone. Ophelia's heart ached for him. It was like a drag of a cigarette, the feeling wrong, but a feeling of normality now too.
Was he a killer?
So was she.
But on what grounds was he a killer? Fun? Or was he forced? She didn't know, the New York incident was foreign news to her. It was three years ago. Was she her then, or the it they made in her place?

Ophelia gazed at her portraits, Lydia's hand entwined in hers, and sighed, "Are you angry?"
The blonde's soft features were set, cast in ice, unmoving. One could mistake her for a sculpture.
"I am." Lydia whispered, "But since you did not know, I'll let you off."
"Thanks."
"How did you not know though?" She asked, turning towards her. Silence. If she spoke the truth, that would create something. A hurricane across a city of straw, you don't know how much damage there will be.
"I wasn't in a good place then, I didn't watch the news."
"Ah," Lydia muttered, paused, smiled, "well maybe that isn't a bad thing, as long as you didn't accept him, you'll be safe."
"Mhm."
"I'm sorry though, it sucks to lose your only soulmate." The woman said and Ophelia's eyes directed to the two marks across her friend's wrist.
"Yeah..."

They smiled at each other: their emotions feigned.
Lydia was annoyed, staring at the woman who could betray her for a soulmate.
Ophelia was scared of the truth and her friend's reaction to him.
Lydia only had her best intentions at heart, so why did it hurt so much when she said she couldn't see him anymore? She wanted to go to him. Each cell, of hers wished to slink back to his presence, bask in it. If he was a monster; Then they could be monsters together.
If he was a killer; Does it not take one to like one?