Asgard's Angel

Hel

Three days. Angel had been lying in her bed, unconscious, for three days. And she was getting worse. And no one knew what was wrong. Which meant no one knew how to get her better, despite how hard they were working. Loki found the entire situation was frustrating and terrifying, and even more so because of the pitying looks people were giving him all the time. He had spent the entire of the first day at her bedside, but after that, he agreed with Thor and Fandral - the only ones of their group allowed in her room - to watch over in shifts. Loki looked at the spell he was trying to perform, seeing but not really reading. He knew his brother was with Angel, but that didn't mean he wasn't going out of his mind with worry. He had been there the first time she'd seized. It had to have been the most awful thing he had ever witnessed. And the longer she was sick the more he thought about her lying there and the more he wondered if she'd die, and the thought of Angel dying made him want to throw up. Calm down, he told himself, you need to calm down. There was the sound of the library door opening, and Loki swore under his breath. He was not in the mood or state of mind to deal with people. He wondered if his social skills were regressing, but he didn't particularly care. He looked back to his spell, trying to ignore whoever had come in. Feeling their hand on his back, he tensed.

"Oh darling."

His mother. Turning, he swallowed and looked at her. Loki hadn't seen his mother since the night Angel had gotten sick. "What can I do for you mother?" He asked quietly, not trusting his composure enough to look her in the eye.

"I haven't seen you in days. You haven't been eating, you've been here, your room, or Angel's room," she said worriedly, soft hands brushing loose strands of hair from his face. Loki prepared himself for a lecture about how unhealthy his behavior was. But that was not his mother. "How is she?" Figga asked instead, and Loki found himself undone completely. His father would have reprimanded him for his tears, said he should be strong and act like a man. But his mother just wrapped her strong arms around him and allowed him to cry, much the same as he had done with Angel. "I am sorry my son," she whispered, "we were so busy with the preparations for this war, we have not had the time to visit her," she whispered.

"She's getting worse," he hiccupped, the sobs subsiding. "What if she doesn't get better?" He asked, eyes red and puffy.

She pulled back and put her hands on his shoulders. "She will get better," she told him, "but not by herself. She will need your help."

Loki looked at his mother, completely lost. "What do you-"

"That is all I can say Loki, but it is enough." And with that, Frigga took her leave, Loki watching her go in complete confusion.

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Fandral looked at Angel in despair. It had been his turn to take the night watch, with the promise that he would wake the others if anything changed, but he doubted that would happen. Even the healers had an air of forlornness, as if they were just waiting to die, knowing they had no way to stop it. Only Thor had any sense of optimism, and even that was waning.

His inner monologue was cut off by rustling sheets as Angel moved. For a moment he was afraid she was going to seize again. But her eyes fluttered open. Advantia stood up. "Run for a medic," he told her, turning slightly. As she left, Angel reached out for Fandral. He took her hand in his, and pushed a bit of hair for her eyes.

"Fandral," she rasped.

"Hey," he whispered, shifting closer, "take it easy. Advantia's gone for a medic." She shook her head a minuscule amount; and even that seemed to cause her pain.