Chosen // loki laufeyson

Chapter Fifty Five

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Chapter Fifty Five

Loki

I finally understood why Lienna flinched upon the mention of my violent tendencies. I understood why she seemed afraid when I clenched my fists and winced at the sound of my raised voice. I understood why her aura filled with anxiety when I left.

After watching doctors operate and healers try their hand at the most obscure spells for hours, she was left alone with me. All I could do was wait and pray to the awful man called Allfather that she lived to see the next day. I clenched and unclenched my fists, my body in a frenzy to find something that would help her, but my mind refused to wake up and do something, anything.

Nothing came. At the time I needed my mind to obey me most, it failed me. The only thing I had now was a dangerous concoction of emotions that were bound to explode or overflow into a monstrosity of a mistake and I couldn't help but think that I was a monster either way.

This is how she felt when I was close to death. This is how my beloved felt as she stared at my cold, pale body, praying with all her heart that I was still alive.

I am a monster.

I attacked my wife in cold blood. I hurt my wife. I might have killed the one person who loved me unconditionally. I might not ever have her back.

I might lose the only person that I would have done anything for, by my own hand.

I did not hear my own screams at first. I couldn't even hear my own thoughts let alone the cries of agony that escaped me. I was not big enough to handle the intensity of my feelings. I felt as though my body was being torn apart and suffocated and all I could see was red. A dark, evil red that coated everything and twisted my perception.

Tables were thrown across the room, chairs were smashed, tapestries as old as time were torn to pieces, and I didn't feel a thing besides empty.

Tears streaked down my face as I clawed at my skin. It should have been me.

Before I knew it, my skin was blue and marked with cursed lines. The sight of myself in the polished marble walls filled me with more rage-tainted misery.

That was when the gravity of what I had done took hold of me. I sunk to the ground, suddenly exhausted and embarrassed. The room was lightly frosted and occasional streaks of blood dotted the walls. Broken furniture and torn fabric was strewn everywhere and I hadn't the foggiest idea where my armor or shirt were.

The only untouched aspect of the room was the smooth, dark slab of marble that Lienna was on. She was terrifyingly still, her face lacking the rosy touches of life that even I had. Her chest rose and fell so slightly it was as if she wasn't clinging to her last thread of life at all and was already dead.

The quiet of the room was unnerving. As I sat in silence, my heart was searching for Lienna's familiar heartbeat, or laugh, or breathing, but it found nothing.

I'm sorry, Lienna. You don't deserve what I've put you through.

"Loki?" A gentle voice cut through the violent quiet. I looked up to see my mother. She held out a hand.

I took it, pulling myself up slowly as though I weighed thousands of pounds. I could not bring myself to look her in the eyes. I did not want to admit to her that the destruction around us were done in my misery. Frigga pulled me into an embrace, not seeming to care about the coldness of my skin or the way I looked as a giant.
I felt like a child again. I felt the way I did as a boy when Odin would teach Thor every possible way to win a battle, but Frigga pulled me aside and taught me how to avoid a battle with magic and a silver tongue. She taught me how to be gentle and calm, yet quick-witted. I felt her unconditional love begin to warm my bones.