Pacing.
That's all you've been able to do since Loki woke up two days ago.
Endless pacing.
And thinking.
Pacing and thinking.
"Sister, please, you're going to wear a tread in my floor," grumbles Thor from his bed.
You scowl over at the God of Thunder who has just flopped onto the top of his sheets, sweaty and tired from dueling with Fandral. He has spent the past two days on the dueling grounds. Fighting. Sparring. Wrestling. Any physical activity he can find to keep his mind off the brother he has lost. Again.
When Thor found you on his weary walk back to his quarters you were pacing relentlessly outside the library. The two of you hadn't seen each other since your conversation with Frigga. But once your eyes locked, you realized you had been trying to cope without one another.
And it wasn't working.
The problem was no longer the problem. Coping had turned into the real problem. Coping separately. Coping alone.
In that one moment when your eyes locked with Thor's, both of you realized this to be the truth, and without a word he had offered you his hand and guided you to his room where now you pace once more as he tries to ignore his stiff and sore muscles.
But at least now you're coping together.
You stop pacing and glance around Thor's chambers. Architecturally, it is identical to Loki's. But the personalities of the rooms could not be less alike.
Loki's room is organized. Neat. Paintings of landscapes and large crowds in the rain hang delicately on the walls, mostly done in hues of grey and blue and green. They are light. Simple. His closet is organized and his bed always neatly made.
But Thor has piles of clothes on the floor and in every chair. No paintings decorate his walls, rather a small hole about the size of a fist is the only decoration near the edge of the bed, which is unkempt as the corner of the fitted sheet rides up and the comforter spills over the edge.
You stifle a laugh knowing it would drive Loki mad to see a bed in such a state with no neat, tucked-in corners.
Curiously, you notice that while the general disorganization is caused by clothes and bedding, Thor has far fewer things than Loki. No items decorating his desks or shelves. No neatly stacked piles of books or writing papers. Only a single silver mug and set of rags clutter a washbasin near the window.
Every surface is bare. Empty.
Except for one.
You see what looks like a small card on the dresser. Walking over to it you reach out gently, and pick it up. It's blank, save for three simple words.
YOU ARE READING
Undaunted (Loki x Reader)
Fanfiction'The end may justify the means, my Valkyrie - but only if there is something out there that justifies the end itself.' With the nine realms now facing a threat far greater than you could have imagined, you and Loki are sought by those once considere...
