Loki X Reader || Girl With The Gold Earring

28 | The Wolves

Cupping his hands, Loki wets Y/N's hair bit by bit, tenderly combing out a few dry twigs and leaves with his fingers, placing them on the curved lip of the tub. When it begins to look like a tiny crow's nest, he stretches an arm down to the little bucket and plucks up another bar of soap.

Unwraped it's an unevenly shaped wedge—like a pat of butter—and foams well as he rubs it between his palms. Gently, he rubs the creamy lather into the roots of Y/N's hair.

"This reminds me of being back at The Palace," she muses absently, her senses narrowing to the steady, strong circles of his fingers, the occasional scuff of a nail.

Carefully, with well-practised hands, Loki teases the soap down each damp lock of her hair, rubbing out the knots and oils as he goes. "Do you miss the palace?" He asks with no particular tone.

"Which part of it? I lead two very different lives."

"Either."

"I don't miss the servant's quarters. Well, I miss Alfdis sometimes." She can tell by his tone Loki's lips are curved with a fond smile.

"Ah, Alfie. I wonder what she'd think of her little prince now?"

"She'd probably give you a good scolding," Y/N chuckles. "I do miss those days; painting in your quarters. Those memories all seem to glow when I look at them—but that's what happens when the walls are made of gold."

--✽--

They finish washing, and Y/N changes into her nightdress, relishing the sink she can fill with the water pump, the mirror she can peer into while she brushes her hair,  and the steam that's seeped into the floorboards, making them warm below her toes.

As she passes her leather pack by the bedpost she tugs the flap down further,  concealing The Casket's eerie blue glow. She'd carried it for the majority of the day, the straps eating steadily into her shoulders.  

Loki had kindly massaged the pink marks away with apologies and promises to bear the burden tomorrow---but Y/N had assured him she didn't mind. 

Its weight is almost comforting with each mile they climb into the clouds, like an anchor tethering her to the loose soil and rocks. 

Yawning as she hoiks one knee up onto the bed:

"It's so nice getting to go to the bathroom without squatting in a bush with a squirrel watching me."

"Squirrels are perverts; I've always said so." Loki agrees. He's already sprawled himself over it, the Jöttuunn book propped on his bare chest, the ragged leather cover dwarfed by his large hand. He smiles sleepily when he sees Y/N approaching, closing it carefully and placing it down on the nightstand. Peculiarly, he's rolled his pyjama trousers up to his knees, exposing his long legs. His feet just about hang off the end of the bed.

Y/N smirks, climbing onto the mattress. "You, Sir, are naked," she states. "Hoping to get lucky tonight, are you?"

"I got a bit hot with the fire on." His thin lips twitch at the corners. "But yes, always."

Fatigue finally nipping at her heels, Y/N doesn't notice Loki watching her with affectionate amusement as she flops onto the bed with a deep, happy sigh.

Bundling up an armful of the brown linen duvet into her arms blissfully, she breathes in its fresh, air-dried smell, a downy feather poking through the fabric and tickling her cheek.

Sleepily, she wriggles to Loki's side of the bed like a seal on a rock, giggling as the mattress absorbs her knees and hands, the simple task comically difficult for her aching limbs.