Tom and Loki one-shots

Loki

Imagine working as a personal maid for Loki, and wanting nothing more than to make him happy, even though he always snaps at you and is never impressed. One day, there's an assassination attempt and you defend him until the guards and nurses arrive. When you wake up in the hospital bed later that day, you feel Loki's hand on yours, and he's staring down at you worriedly.

It had been a ridiculously long day already, and I definitely was not in the mood to deal with the ever moody Prince Loki. The feeling of dread I always got when I knew I had to interact with him had settled itself in the pit of my stomach and refused to budge, sitting like a stone in my gut. I took a deep breath and prayed silently the prince would be out before knocking on the door.

My hopes of being able to clean up and slip out without having to come into contact with Loki were dashed when his bored reply came from inside, "Come."

I twisted the knob and entered. "Prince Loki, I am here to-"

"I know why you are here, just get on with it so you can leave me in peace." I struggled to maintain my silence, chanting not worth it, not worth it in my head as I began dusting the mantle. The silence in the room was heavy, but I knew it wasn't my place to break it.

Just as that thought passed through my head, there was a loud crash. The door exploded inwards, knocking me to the ground. Loki, who had been sitting by the window stood up, "What's this all about?"

The bulky men standing by the door didn't answer, but moved to close in on the prince. Ignoring the ringing in my ears, I stood up and pulled out the dagger I always kept concealed in the thigh sheath I wore under my servant's dress. All members of staff in the palace were required to carry a small weapon in the event of any danger to the royal family. This was more of a formality, as the king and queen always had guards with them.

Loki, however, being his unfriendly self, kept all guards away. He preferred solitude, he said. One of the men moved to pull a knife from his belt, but thanks to the late-night combat training I had been doing after I finished every evening, I was quicker. I blocked his movement and used his confusion to kick in the side of his knee. When he fell to the ground, gasping in pain, I swiftly kicked him in the temple, knocking him unconscious.

While I was doing this, the other man had taken out a weapon twice as big as my own. When I turned to face him, he was ready. His blade sliced the sleeve of my dress and blood bloomed from the wound beneath, quickly soaking the fabric. I dealt an uppercut with my good arm, catching him in the jaw. He doubled back, face crimson in rage, and grabbed me by the braid in my hair. He pulled so hard I could feel the warmth of blood beginning to run from my scalp.

"You fight well, for a servant girl. Take one last look at him missy," he sneered, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Loki, who was still standing in the window looking terrified, "because once I'm through with you I'm going to...take care of him."

In his gloating he must have forgotten that I wasn't entirely helpless. I thrust my knife up under his ribs. He fell with an enraged yell, but not before kicking out at my side. There was a sickening crunch as his boot found its mark, and then he was on the floor, blood pulsing from a jagged wound. He had turned ashen and looked to be in real pain, I noticed satisfactorily.

Just then three einherjar burst through the door. Their angry expressions turned to ones of shock when they took in the scene before them: two large men on the floor, both unconscious, the prince standing helplessly in the corner, and I servant girl with multiple wounds holding a bloody dagger.

Then, everything started to fade in and out. I could see the guards, but their images shifted like reflections in a fun house mirror. I could hear them talking too, but it sounded muted and slow, like trying to hear sound through water. The last thing I heard before I drifted into darkness was Loki's voice in my ear, "Please."