The staircase he had walked many times felt so much colder now, with no nagging brother to chase him up it or loving mother to catch him when he jumped.
Idly, he stroked the twinkling mahogany, grimacing at the loud cheers that erupted from the Hall, where the warriors of Asgard would meet every month for a pointless celebration. He wasn't invited, of course, but Thor was.
It had never been a problem until now, as the older brother would always opt to keep the younger company, instead.
But Loki was pretty sure he could hear his laugh amongst the other drunken chortles in the forbidden room.
"Is Master feeling glum this evening?" a soft voice startled him from his thoughts. He smiled bashfully at the pretty, young maid at the bottom of the staircase.
"A little bit," he admitted, a light blush feathering his cheeks.
He never was so great at talking to women, yet another trait that alienated him from the rest of his family. As if the physical differences and reputations weren't enough.
"Why, whatever could be the matter?" she fretted, setting her tray of fish eyes and butter-screw flower heads on the oak coffee table.
Loki shrugged and turned his head but the sound of her shoes against the soft carpet did nothing to ease the building panic attack he was experiencing.
"Your brilliant father has won yet another battle! Your brother is doing so incredibly well with his training. And you," she smiled and lowered herself onto a step just below his. "Your studies are going so well! I've seen the records, Master Loki. You have quite a talent for the magic eye and manipulative deception, no?"
The young, green eyed teenager was clutching the staircase for dear life, peeking curiously out from underneath his arms like a cautious bird, or immature toddler.
Marian Glum was a servant of seven years, or more. She should hate this family for what they put her through daily, yet she continued to try so hard to see each of them smile.
Loki gradually felt his defensive walls crumble.
"Yes," he sighed. "I'm doing as expected. I'm not as great as Thor was, though."
"Nonsense!" she chuckled and another layer of pink painted his face. "Master Thor is a brilliant warrior. He is smart and all around, well... brilliant."
Now it was her turn to blush, her pale strands of blonde hair falling from her tight plait in a fluster. Those doe brown eyes adopted a wistful glaze that he had seen often in his own mother.
"He's just fantastic!" She gushed, like an excited teenager. Loki smiled back, but felt a strange constriction in his chest. Something bitter and... jealous?
"But he lacks, lets say, the ability to be cunning and strategic." She grinned at him, lowering her voice to a dramatic hush. "He struggles to find the loophole that separates him from his pride and predictability. He's too afraid to risk doing the wrong thing, even if doing it means getting what he wants." Her voice lowered again, all hints of playfulness disappearing. "You're not like that, though. You are cunning and manipulative. Your greatest strength is that everybody underestimates you, including yourself. You do know this, though; you're not afraid of playing dirty."
Loki was beginning to feel very uncomfortable.
The harmless blush had morphed into a full blown fire furnace, and he couldn't decide if he felt threatened by Marian's lack of expression or not.
If he were to admit it, his father would beat him for having the sheer audacity to fear a woman.
"I can help you, Master." She sighed, leaning backwards and glancing up at the huge chandelier in the foyer.
Another burst of laughter and jovial cheers erupted from down the hall and she growled, an inhumane, bitter sound which made the hairs on Loki's neck stand on end.
"You won't have to be known as Odin's second born, inferior to the oldest, the God of Thunder. You'll finally live up to your namesake, Loki, King of mischief."
"You're blaspheming." Loki shook, visibly frightened by her cruel and poorly judged words.
The boy knew little about his family and entitlements, as any 12-year-old-700-year-old would, but he did know that his family adored him.
Even despite their distance of late.
He attempted to leave, but Maid Marian clutched his cloak with enough force to tear the fabric.
He whimpered quietly and lowered his head, wanting to avoid any physical touches the servant seemed intent upon giving. "Let me go, kind Maid. I believe it is time for me to retire to my chamber."
"It's the final Quell of your School Year," she shrugged, standing and brushing imaginary dust from her white and silver gown.
Quickly, she fixed her blonde hair into a tight bun and grinned down at the small, raven haired boy who was shaking and the colour of Pure Mercury.
"I will not lie to you, Master. I will not deceive. But I cannot help you if you refuse to help yourself." She paused as the wrought iron doors slammed open and the chortles of the soldiers were amplified. "Your father wishes to meet with you before bed, by the way. I do hope the beatings aren't too taxing."
With one final smirk, she skipped back down the plush stairs, landing with a delicate spring before rushing off with her previously abandoned platter to serve the soldiers.
Loki was pale and shaking, gripping onto the banister with enough strength to splinter the wood. How could he have forgotten?
Of course his father would have heard the news of his youngest child being beaten miserably in an idiotic school battle; to the extremity of tears, too.
If it wasn't already humiliating enough, he would surely be faced with harsh consequences tonight. When the soldiers left and the servants retired, Odin Bronson became a very different man.
Unable to hold back tears, Loki fled the scene, ignoring the confused exclamations of the soldiers, who had hoped to see the mischievous Godling before leaving Asgard for yet another battle.
Today just wasn't Loki's day.
