Collection of One-Shots

》is this love

You had just returned, bringing Loki's cleanly pressed attire back laying it on the bed that you had neatly made earlier in the day. Thor, Loki, and Lady Sif and the warriors three had gone away to battle and they were set to return today.

When Loki was sent off, three days ago, the last you saw of him was his tall, slender frame cloaked in the battle regalia that you had polished earlier. He was the intellect of the elite group, a trickster, he and his silver tongue were able to get Thor out of many thick situations. You hear the sound of applauding coming out of Loki's chamber window, the streets lined with Asgardians welcoming home the victorious group, only five members walked. Where was Loki? Your mind wanders and you begin to think the worse when the door opens behind you.

It was Loki, his body weak and close to defeat, pain in his eyes and hair in a mess. Hurrying to him, you shut the door and lead him to the bench at the end of his bed. He winces in pain as he lowered himself to be seated. Piece by piece you take the armor off his body being as gentle as possible. When you get to his undershirt you see his side soaked in blood. Your heart aches for the pain he must be feeling. His skin pale and smeared with blood from a large wound stretching across his side under his left arm. You swiftly walk away to fetch a cloth and a basin of water to tend to your Lord. Standing back in front of him you ring out the excess water and raise the damp cool cloth to his forehead, where there was a small gash.

"Don't touch me," he said sharply. "But Loki, you're hurt," you say still pressing the cloth to his head, defying his command. He grabs your wrist pulling it away from his face, his grip tightens and you could feel the circulation being slowly diverted from your hand starting with the tips of your fingers. You can't feel the pain his grasp is surely causing because your hand has fell limp, numb. His mouth opened and he repeated the same three words, even more authoritatively than before while throwing your wrist back at you. Lowering your head you curtsy and make your way out of his room; closing the door behind you.

Walking toward your own room the feeling in your hand slowly returns as thoughts rush through your head. This was a Loki you had only ever heard of and hoped never witness and you hadn't seen him like that until just now. You are too shocked to cry as you enter your small room throwing yourself on the bed. The pain in your wrist is burning, his fingers had left red marks that would soon turn black and blue. Changing into your night clothing the swelling of your wrist was evident, maybe it was sprained, just badly bruised surely not broken. You settle into bed for the night, thinking of Loki and drift into sleep.

The morn came and you rise up from the security of your sheets, walking towards the small wardrobe that held your clothes. Reaching out for the handle, the damage left on your wrist was clearly visible, your right wrist is black and blue all the way around, still swelled and painful to the touch. Dressing with one hand was not easy but doable. Your choice for the day was a thin cotton dress that had long sleeves and would conceal your wrist from wondering eyes and devious questions. While walking with a tray of breakfast for Loki your mind raced, was he still in pain? Did his side stop bleeding without proper dressing?

Pushing the door to his chambers open with your hip you slowly enter. Your jaw drops in complete and utter surprise and the tray of food soon follows, hitting the tile floor. Loki was on the floor lying face down next to his bed. Rushing to be by his side you instinctively check for a pulse, his heart still faintly beating; a sigh of relief escapes your lips. Turning him over oh so carefully you see that he too was bruised and had multiple gashes that needed cleaning and possibly attention from the healers. Gathering a fresh cloth and bowl of water you kneel beside him gently pressing on his side removing the dried blood from his chest and arms as you run your fingers through his soft raven black hair. 

Moving your way up to care for the cut on his neck next then his forehead. When you placed the rag on Loki's forehead his arm shot up and grabbed your wrist tightly once more causing sharp pains to shoot up your arm and as you screamed in agony. His eyes flashed open and he freed yourself from his hold while slowly sitting up, you had brought your arm as close to your stomach as possible, looking away from Loki's stare, tears roll down your face as you try to conceal your pain that was caused by him. Picking up the damp cloth you resume pressing it to his forehead once more, this time he didn't attempt to fight it. "Now isn't this much simpler?" you ask. "I suppose," he responded.

"What's wrong with your wrist?" he questioned, concern and sincerity dripped off his words. "Nothing" you lied. Could he tell? Standing you pick up the water and rag taking them back to the table in the corner. When you turn to bring your attention back to Loki, he there right behind you. "I can tell when you're lying. Now I will ask again, what is wrong with your wrist?" Hesitant to speak the truth, frightened that it could set him off once more; your answer was taking too long for his liking and he takes hold of your forearm ripping the entire sleeve from your dress. Tears begin to stream down your face, as you tell the truth of what he had done last night. Memories must have flashed through his head when you spoke of what had occurred. He dropped your arm and backed away, turning his back toward you.

"Loki, it's okay, I will be fine." you try to soothe him. When he turns to face you, tears of regret and hurt were falling down his porcelain face from his emerald green eyes. "I am tru-truly sorry for my actions, I had hoped you would never see me like that." He approaches you again, holding his side bending down and grabbing the sleeve from your dress. Loki was tearing the sleeve in two once he escorted you to sit on the edge of his bed. He kneels on one knee and takes your bruised hand very gently placing a kiss atop it. You couldn't help but smile at his gesture. Slowly he wraps a piece of the material around your wrist and hand to serve as a compression bandage. 

"Thank you," you reply as his long, thin fingers fumble to tie a small knot in the palm of your hand. He raises himself to sit next to you on the bed, still holding your hand, his touch warm and tender. His voice cracked when he asked, "Forgive me?" How could you say anything it yes? Breaking the eye contact you look down and intertwine your fingers with his. Behavior that was unacceptable for a servant girl. "Yes, I do forgive you, Loki," you say softly. His arm reaches around you and clings to your waist, looking up into his eyes you're speechless; he had made the first move as you had always dreamed.

Loki placed his lips on the crown of your head planting a kiss, his hands running through your hair as you rest your head on his bare shoulder. The feelings you had for Loki for the longest time were resurfacing, the moment was golden and you wouldn't trade it for anything. "I swear on my life I will never hurt you again, you have been my rock. Seeing me at my best and now you have witnessed me at my worst, you have been far more than generous to someone like me, and I thank you dearly." His words came as a shock, did he have feelings also? "Loki." He presses a finger against your lips silencing you, his finger is soon replaced by his lips as his other arm wraps around you, lessening the distance between the both of you.

In his embrace you fall back onto his bed, lips still locked together. When he pulls away, he looks deep into your eyes and whispers in your ear "I think this is what they call love." You smile and press your lips against his for a second time. In response to his last words, you say under your breath "Well then, I know I love you." Laying your head on his battered chest you can hear the beating of his heart, his fingers run through your hair and you stay in Loki's arms for the entire day, exchanging kisses and confessing the feelings for each other that you both had locked away for so long; never wanting to leave his side.