Outcast's Love (Loki Fanfiction)

Chapter One:

The urge to kill had never been more satisfying. He could see it now - watching as his brother's lifeblood dripped down his fingers. His agonising screams giving him pleasure. His dying brother would kneel before him, pain and suffering inflicted in his eyes. He could almost taste death, dripping off his tongue like poison. His stomach was fluttering with sick excitement. Clutching his sceptre with both hands, he held it above the heart of his sleeping brother, golden tip steadily poised. His black cloak ruffled in the slight morning breeze. His green eyes flickered to the moon, watching as it concealed itself from sight. There was nothing more than a slither of darkness left as the sun slowly approached the sky. He hadn't much time before his brother would shortly waken.
If I am to kill him quickly, then so be it, he thought bitterly. He hands were shaking a little. His heart fluttered like a frightened bird caught inside his chest. A smile played on his cold lips. His moment had arrived. The glorious purpose he had been waiting for - craving for - was waiting beneath the gilt of the sceptre. He rested a hand against his brother's cheek.
"Goodbye, my brother," he said to him.
He once again held the sceptre above his heart. A sudden pain dwelled inside his palm. Several moments passed before he realised what he had done. He dropped the sceptre, clattering to the ground. He clenched his hand in agony. Blood splattered the floor - dripping like rubies. He whirled round - catching the frightened girl inside his sights. She crouched on the floor, her pale skeletal fingers picking up the broken shards of glass.
"My Lord! I'm so sorry, you gave me such a fright," she stammered. He clenched his bleeding fist. His eyes narrowed in anger.
"What are you doing here!" he snarled.
His glorious purpose - snatched underneath him by a common serving girl... he gave a look of disgust. The girl clutched the broken shards inside her shaking hands. She didn't answer at first. She stared at her palms, avoiding looking him in the eyes. This infuriated him even more.
"Answer me!" he screamed.
The girl jumped to the sound of his voice. Guilt crept underneath his skin. He glanced at his brother, still thankfully sleeping. He knelt before the girl, his own blood seeping inside his clothes. His palm was hurting him, burning like a poker that had been struck against his skin. He had slashed his palm, turning in surprise to watch as the servant girl entered the room. The glass had left her fingers. A little of his blood stained them now.
"Answer me," he repeated, softer.
The girl looked no older than seventeen. She was a plain creature, with pale skin and tired grey eyes. She wasn't exactly beautiful, unlike any of the beautiful women he had seen at one of his father's royal gatherings. He saw his brother, seduced by the arms of a woman that made his skin crawl with jealousy. He grimaced at the thought.
"I was here to give Lord Thor his breakfast and turn his bed over," she whispered. "I was startled by your appearance Lord Loki. I panicked. I'm sorry."
Loki looked at his hand. The burning sensation had gone. A dull ache remained.
"If I may, my Lord..." she silently pointed at his bleeding wound.
He nodded. Holding out his hand, Loki  allowed her to examine it. Her fingers felt cool as they brushed against his skin. She hurried out of the chamber, only to return carrying a bowl of water and several strips of cloth. Loki watched in mild fascination as the servant girl tampered with his palm. Bathing his hand in warm water, she cleaned his wound in silence, before finally wrapping it in the strips of cloth.
"Thank you," Loki said when she had finished.
A smile crept to the girl's mouth.
"I must tend to my duties," she said, collecting the bowl of bloody water. "I am sorry for disturbing you, and for causing you to injure your hand."
Loki turned, meaning to say something - but she was gone.