Unfettered (Loki x Reader)

Chapter 34 - A Realm Far, Far Away

Another week passes in Asgard. Another week of darkness. Of long days and restless nights. Eir has done her best to keep your mind from wandering. During healing sessions, as you lie on your bed and allow her to wrap you in her magic, she recites riddles. Some you figure out quickly. Others take you several sessions to crack. And Thor visits often, spending several hours a day at your bedside recounting endless stories of his childhood with his friends. But you can tell he is careful to leave Loki out of each one.

But Thor hasn't visited today. Not even to bring you your breakfast - due several hours ago. Hunger coils deep inside your stomach, the edges razor sharp. Your insides twist and rumble with an empty ache that leaves you wondering just how long you'd be left forgotten inside this room.

Maybe I should just...leave.

Tempted by the idea, you stand from the sitting chair in the window - the one Thor had pulled over several days ago to allow you to bask in the sun, should you wish. Cautiously, with small steps and grasping hands, you start to make your way across the room. By now you've learned its layout well enough to know that it takes about thirty steps to reach the door. But Eir and Thor both have a habit of moving the furniture as it suits them. Or rather, as they believe it would suit you. Neither seems to grasp the concept that due to your eye wraps, each time they move a desk or a chair, you have to figure out a way around it. Usually at the cost of a painfully stubbed toe or a rolled ankle.

And it seems that sometime in the last day, someone shifted the couch.

"God damnit!" you shout as you walk straight into the wooden leg. With a grunt of pain, you collapse over the couch's arm and reach for your ankle - the same one only recently recovered. "Damnit Thor, for god's sake!" you seethe, rubbing at the place where there will no doubt be a bruise by dinnertime.

As the ache subsides, you try to stand once more, spurred onward by another loud growl from your stomach. But before you can take a step, familiar click sounds from across the room, telling you someone is entering. And the tell-tale clang of utensils against porcelain signals that someone is finally bringing you something to eat.

"About time!" you frown as the hinges of your door creak. "I'm starving, Thor. Where have you been?"

"I'm sorry, my lady," a sultry woman's voice croons. "But I have been sent in the Prince's stead with your breakfast."

"Oh," you answer, intrigued by the first new voice you've heard in days. "Okay. Um...sorry, who are you?"

"Marian, my lady."

Marian's footsteps grow closer, as what you assume to be the breakfast tray is set down on the coffee table in front of the couch. The hem of her long skirts drift over the bare skin of your shins as she passes in front of you. You wait until she clears the way before reaching out blindly for the edge of the tray. But Marian grabs your arm and directs your hand to the utensils.

"Do you require assistance?" she asks, as you grab one of the utensils and feel for the prongs.

"Nope," you answer stubbornly. "I got this."

You take a blind stab, hitting the plate but missing the food, judging by Marian's stifled laugh.

"Please, my lady, let me," Marian says, taking a seat at your side and sliding the fork from your grasp. You grumble stubbornly below your breath, but begrudgingly allow her help, appreciating how she only puts food on the fork before handing it back to you and allowing you to feed yourself. Thor's own stubbornness demands he actually feed you the mouthful he gathers.

"Thanks," you mumble through a full mouth.

"It is my honor, my lady," Marian says.

For several quiet minutes, Marian assembles forkfuls of some kind of roast and potatoes, handing you the loaded utensil and allowing you to take the bite on your own. You find yourself appreciating her quiet company.