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Loki did not know much about the human anatomy. He knew that they needed three meals a day, at least eight hours of sleep every night and he knew that they were one of the the most fragile sentient beings in the Nine Realms.
He also knew that his wife, (Y/N) was one of these incredibly breakable creatures.
What he didn’t know, although he most probably should have, was what to do when his wife’s heart stopped beating. He had seen many attempts at CPR when he spent time at the Avenger’s tower. He used to hang around the the medical suite, he had found it oddly calming there.
He knew the basics: hands on heart, beating rhythmically to restart the heart but when he tried for himself, trying to restore blood flow into his wife’s veins, he couldn’t seem to get it. And he needed to get it.
For once, he couldn’t risk failure. He couldn’t risk a life without (Y/N) by his side. He knew that humans had a shorter life span than most but it wasn’t meant to be this short. (Y/N) was meant to grow old, have children, grandchildren. She was meant to do those things with Loki but all she did now was grow colder under his touch.
Loki knew it was fruitless. If it were to work, it would’ve by now. But she was still cold and lifeless below him. Nevertheless he continued, not willing to except that she was gone.
It was a few hours later when Thor had found him, still trying to bring a corpse to life.