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Mobius wasn’t used to kindness from royalty.
Usually, they’d send him off to do something without so much as a please or a thank you. That was the expected regiment. Accept the task, obey, and do not speak against it. And, god forbid, he did it wrong, they wouldn’t let him hear the end of it. The king had even yanked him by his hair once to show him how poorly he had done his job. Needless to say, he was now an expert at shining silverware.
Loki was different. He always sent him little smiles across the hall even when they had no business interacting with each other.
It started a couple years ago. Loki was listening to his mother drone on and on about values and his future duties as a royal. He hadn’t been paying attention at all, drifting into another space.
That was, until he showed up to bring his mother a glass of water and her daily plate of pastries, since her ranting had gotten her parched and famished. Typical. The servant seemed small beside her. He was in his standard uniform, hair neatly combed and styled to be on the same level as anyone else working there. Consistency was expected, and displayed.
Loki’s attention had quickly been piqued. The boy couldn’t be older than 18, and was quiet and polite while putting the glass and plate down. His mother thanked him and waved him off, and Loki’s eyes followed him until his blouse was the last thing out the door.
He had become instantly infatuated. He found himself conveniently located in the same spots as the boy, just to be there to see him doing his tasks and making his rounds. Of course, he did this all from the shadows. He didn’t want to be seen prancing around looking at a servant.
“Is something wrong, your highness?”
The boy had appeared next to him, eyes wide and full of an emotion unfamiliar to Loki. It was one he would later learn the name of: kindness.
“No, nothing is wrong…”
“Is there anything I can fetch for you?”
“No, no. I’m alright… erm… I don’t think I’ve ever heard your name before.”
“Mobius.”
Mobius. Even his name was attractive.
So began a friendship between them. It was kept secret, of course, but it was enjoyable nonetheless. Mobius consoled Loki whenever life got too much for him to handle, and Loki was there whenever someone in his family or in his family’s company was rude to him.
It had continued like this for years. That small boy wasn’t small anymore. He had bulked up, having gone up two sizes in uniforms. The manual labour had done him good, and Loki would lie if he said he went to the stable’s only to ride a horse. Loki didn’t mind the physical change whatsoever. He looked amazing in it, and he often wondered if the seams were close to breaking, since his clothes often looked painted on.
Loki found that Mobius was his best friend, and frankly, his only friend. Sure, he had Thor, but a sibling relationship was a forced one. Their friendship was not. Loki had changed when he and Mobius began interacting more. The most notable difference about him was that he was happier. He was a happier man because he had a friend.
Mobius could mirror the statement with the same enthusiasm, and then some.
Going from nearly no respect from royals, to garnering a ton from one single royal was a huge step. It made him feel appreciated, as if what he was doing actually mattered to someone. That he mattered to someone.
Loki was the only person who didn’t scare him. Thor was large and loud, Frigga could be terrifying if she really wanted to be, and Odin was just a scary man. Loki wasn’t like them. He was… normal? Or as normal as a member of the royal family could be. If anything, Loki was an ideal partner. Kind, handsome, smart, all the good things.
Which was why his parents were trying to marry him off. Much to their sadness and shagrin.
Mobius was always tasked with setting up the dinner arrangement. Always the same kind of plates, same type of cutlery, same arrangement. Consistency was always preferred. He could do it with his eyes closed at this point. That was just how many times Loki had had these dinners. All of them failures, day after day, dinner after dinner.
He made no comment as Loki sat with the next candidate, pouring water into their glasses. He took a long look at Loki, and was distracted by his beauty. Wasn’t hard to be, nearly everyone was, but he often found himself getting lost in those eyes. His hair was out of the usual tight ponytail, cascading down his shoulders and framing his face. He was dressed in black slacks and a green blouse, with gold trim. Mobius couldn’t see his shoes. He had primarily focused on his face.
It led to losing the plot with everything else.
He overpoured the water, some of it spilling on the tablecloth. He muttered out a hashed apology, going to grab something to wipe the spill. The suitor in question scoffed and took Loki’s hand in his. “When we get married, I will hire a whole new staff who won’t make mistakes like this.”
Mobius didn’t say anything. Instead he wiped up the water, gave him a small signal of an apology once again, and left.
He shouldn’t be thinking about their imaginary future when Loki could meet his future partner at the very dinner’s that Mobius was distracting himself with. But he couldn’t help it. He was infatuated with someone he couldn’t have.
He passed by Stan, handing off his duties to him so he didn’t have to go back in there again. He busied himself with other work, trying to think of something else. But he couldn’t help it.
He was in love with a prince. A prince who saw him as a friend. Maybe even less.
A servant.
That was all he’d ever be. With that thought closed off, he grasped a tray and made his way up to deliver the daily pastries to Frigga. He took one last look at the dining hall before making his way up the stairs.
“Loki would find love one of these days. And I’ll be happy for him.” He muttered to himself quietly.
Little did he know that Loki had already found love. And the person was right under his nose.