I don't use names in my stories, because that's how I roll. However this story is about Loki. He's one of my favorite characters but I tried to keep him somewhat in character. Ehh I don't feel like ranting about how misunderstood Loki is, just know that he is! That is all for now. Enjoy and review!
It was a night just like any other; she waited until everyone in the palace was asleep or at least no longer in the hallways and then she slipped into his empty room. Her actions were quick as she got under the many blankets and laid her head on the pillow, eyes trained on the huge window and its view of the city and the twinkling night sky. As her eyelids started to grow heavy, she began to drift into a light sleep.
She was shaken from her sleep-induced haze when something cold was suddenly pushed against her throat. She was pulled upright by someone behind her, and she suddenly felt ragged breathing against her cheek. "Who are you?" his masculine, panicked tone was somehow overcome by his smooth voice, and she immediately knew who it was. Her shock rendered her speechless, which was furthered more by the abrupt realization that he was holding a knife to her throat. His grip on one of her wrists tightened as the silence continued, and she struggled to speak. Finally her name came out in a squeak, but the knife stayed in place. She gathered her wits enough to explain herself further, "I was your maid."
His hand immediately fell from her throat, and his other released its grip on her wrist. She quickly scrambled away from him to the other end of his bed, quickly turning to face him. He kept a hold on his knife, but she watched as his body sagged and he relaxed enough to sit down. His black hair was longer, curling outwards at the end. His eyes were sunken in, and seemingly empty. His skin was paler than normal, and he had lost a significant amount of weight. Her throat seemed to constrict, and she didn't know if it was because the adrenaline was wearing off and her body was finally reacting to her fear, or if because she hadn't seen him for two years.
He stared at her, his eyes holding hers and refusing to break the contact, even with a blink. She couldn't hold his gaze though, and her eyes quickly fell to study the blanket she was sitting on. "Why were you sleeping in my bed?" he was calmer, but his voice was uncharacteristically gruff.
She looked back up at him, a slight blush blooming on her cheeks. His stare was unwavering. "I…well…" she once again seemed to lose her voice, and he raised an eyebrow in a questioning expression. Her cheeks seemed to heat up even more, and she finally spit out her explanation, "Well…we didn't…well that is everyone else didn't think you were coming back," she paused when his jaw locked and his face suddenly tensed up in an attempt to look emotionless. She took a deep breath before continuing, "Well your brother still thought you would come back, and I had always hoped he was right," his face remained stoic even after her small confession, and she nervously pushed on, "So he asked me to stay and keep your room prepared for your return. And…well…I felt silly always changing completely clean bed sheets, and so since I don't really have anywhere else to sleep…I…well you get it…" her voice droned off and she quickly stopped talking; he opened his mouth to say something, but then hurriedly shut it as a realization of some type dawned on him. His eyes narrowed and he studied her face for a few moments.
"You're an orphan aren't you?" Her lips pursed together, but she gave a small nod in acknowledgement. Neither said anything for awhile after that; she busily picked at her nails, and he closed his eyes trying to draw on some sort of extra strength. She shyly looked back up at him, and, as if feeling her gaze he opened his eyes to peer back at her. "Well my brother has put me on, what the earth mortals would call, house arrest. So you don't have to worry about your job. For tonight you can stay here, I wouldn't want to take away your newly acquired home," his last statement although laced with sarcasm had an underlying tone of seriousness.
Suspicious, her eyes narrowed in on him, and he suddenly adopted an innocent expression. With a shrug of his shoulders a small smile spread across his face, and she struggled to decipher if it was genuine or not. "I'll sleep on the floor. Trust me." This time she crossed her arms in stubbornness, he wasn't exactly known for being trustworthy. His smile was replaced with a knowing smirk, "What you don't trust the god of lies?" He then slid off the bed, dragging a pillow and blanket with him. He set himself up on the soft rug beside the bed. She peered over the side of the bed looking down at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He returned her look, his face suddenly growing serious. "You're smart. But we have similar backgrounds, so I'd like to think we both kind of understand each other. So trust me?" His voice had softened, and she was too tired to doubt the sincerity in his voice. So she crawled under the covers and closed her eyes but despite her pure exhaustion, sleep seemed to elude her.
She made sure her breaths were even; with her back turned towards where he was sleeping, she peered out from under her eyelashes to stare out his window, hoping maybe the stars would lull her to sleep. Her breath caught in her throat when he whispered her name; she did not reply though and simply continued to keep her breathing relaxed. She heard a shuffling noise from where he was laying, and suddenly she felt a dip in the bed. She grit her teeth, but continued to feign sleep.
Goosebumps spread across her arm, when all of a sudden he languidly dragged his hand down her arm, and in a demeaning voice he whispered "You thought I would give up my bed? You thought you could trick me?" She remained silent, and an amused laugh escaped from him. "Go to sleep," he told her, and she bristled at his commanding tone but again stayed quiet. He then turned his back to her, and as far as she could tell he fell asleep.