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The Shadows That Haunt Me

Summary:

Loki has been dead for several years. You've put it off long enough, but your inevitable removal from Asgard forces you to make a decision. You can only wait so long for a man who haunts your dreams.

Notes:

Once upon a time, this was going to be a longer and more fleshed out work. After sitting in my drafts for almost two years, I decided to just rework it to be a standalone thing. Maybe someday I'll write more, but for now, enjoy!

Work Text:

Sparring with Thor was far different than sparring with Loki had ever been. Loki fought with his grace and magic. His tricks were deceptive and difficult to predict, his words honeyed and toying. Thor, however, fought with his wisdom and strength. Though Thor had often been reprimanded for his hot-head and quick actions, his traditional manner of combat was strategic. His attacks were more obvious, wider swings allowing for an easier parry, yet he always anticipated the block. He'd follow through where you wouldn't expect it, strike your side in an open moment. You had adjusted to sparring with Loki long ago, sparring with Thor would take some time. 

Another blow parried, another strike taken, another gentle reminder from Thor to keep yourself alert. You swung first this time, Thor easily blocking and twisting you to the ground, pinning you there with his knee on your back. He had strength over you and you hated it. A shimmer of green caught your eye and you moved without even thinking. It was that same shimmer that so often accompanied Loki's magic. You threw your arm out to strike, hitting Thor's midsection with enough force to stagger him as you rolled, managing to position yourself on top of him instead. He looked up at you with a mixture of surprise and pride as you backed off, hurrying to stand up. You offered him a hand, a foolish gesture in retrospect, but he took it nonetheless. 

"You're learning quickly," Thor remarked, clapping you gently on the shoulder as you helped him to his feet. Despite the pride in his voice, his brows were creased with worry. It was yet another difference between him and his brother, he wore his emotions on his sleeve. He was an easy book to read and you hated it. "Perhaps this is enough for today, though. The ceremony is only a few hours away." 

"I would like to return to my room," you nodded, dismissing his unspoken concerns with a wave of your hand. The sun was beginning to set, your nerves making you shudder as you thought of what the night held for you. "Thank you for trying," you added before hurrying off to your room. You could feel your chest tightening as you all but ran, the doors of your chambers closing loudly behind you. You leaned back against them, a heavy sigh escaping you as you slid to the ground. 

You pulled your knees to your chest, tucking your head between them as you let your body take over. Your cries were silent, your shoulders shuddering with each wave of sobs. As you calmed yourself, you found your body moving on its own. You felt like you were watching through someone else's eyes with each carefully practiced movement. The water was filling the tub, your hand mindlessly checking the temperature before leaving it to run. You pulled your sweaty clothes off of yourself, leaving them in a pile on the floor before climbing into the tub. 

Your hands scrubbed at your body, wiping away the day's sweat and grime as you sank further into the warm water. You couldn't help yourself as you examined your hands, searching for that glimmer you had seen earlier. Despite what you had seen, you still could not feel Loki's magic. 

Water swirled down the drain as you ran a towel across your skin, perhaps more harshly than you should have. You wanted to forget, to scrub yourself clean of everything. 

Your hands gripped the edges of the sink as you looked at yourself in the mirror, carefully working to apply the makeup that had been left out for you. You had insisted you do it yourself, wanting for it to be perfect. No handmaiden could copy the work you put into your makeup. As your eyes flitted back up to the mirror, you nearly dropped the brush in your hands. They met the face behind you, staring at him with something akin to malice. 

"It should be you tonight," you muttered, calming yourself as quickly as you had been startled. Your hands began to move again, passing the brush across your cheeks as you focused back on yourself in the mirror. "Standing across from me, binding me to the palace... demanding Odin leave me alone. It should be you." Your eyes moved back to Loki's, narrowing slightly. It had been years, yet you were still being haunted by him. As usual, he didn’t speak. His face was unchanging, but he was watching you. You could see it, feel it, his eyes boring into you.

“Everyone thinks you’re dead,” you murmured as you looked back into the sink, leaning heavier on it now. “I don’t know what to think anymore. I want to believe that you can’t be, but…” your breath shuddered as you sighed, your shoulders drooping. “Two years is a long time to wait for a man who can't seem to face me.” 

The silence in the room is deafening, your ears ringing with every moment that passes. You can’t tell if you’re even hoping for a response anymore, having had too many conversations with the empty room to care. “I can't help but wonder if this is really you, your way of reaching me, of telling me that you're still alive... yet I always feel as though it's nothing more than my own foolish hope." You let out another shaky sigh, looking back up at the mirror. Though his face is gone now, you can still feel his lingering eyes on you.

“You’re a coward.” The words fall from your lips as they have after nearly every conversation you've had with yourself. They had once been for Loki, but now you're not so sure. “Your brother is kind to me, but I don’t deserve his kindness. My bed is still cold." You moved from the sink, abandoning the ghost in the mirror for the shadows in your room. You quickly pulled on your undergarments, your gaze falling to the dress laid out on the bed. "The people of Asgard like to talk so much," you continued, your fingers toying with the edge of the dress. It felt foreign and expensive, the feeling making your stomach twist. "Every banquet is filled with not-so-hushed voices and wicked stares. I like to imagine what you’d do to them were you here.” A small smile forms on your lips at the words, picturing Loki's anger directed at those who have mistreated you.

You lifted the dress now, moving to the full-length mirror and holding it over yourself. It would, no doubt, be the most beautiful garment you would ever wear. Behind you, the shadows shifted like they so often did, trying to convince you that something was there. You ignored them.

“They keep your chair empty.” You shook your head at the thought, letting out a sad chuckle. You laid the dress back on the bed, sitting down beside it now. “I never understood it. It’s like some cruel reminder that you should be there, too.” Your hand dropped from the hem you’d been toying with, laying lamely in your lap. “Tonight will be no different. Your chair will remain, empty, though I imagine it will feel more cruel than usual.” 

A sharp knock on the door interrupted your rambling and you quickly looked up. You waited, hoping that they'd leave, but another knock followed. “If my words reach you, then I hope you know how much I despise you.” 

You answered the door as you were, in but your undergarments. You expected a handmaiden, sent to help you prepare for the evening despite your requests otherwise. Thor, however, seemed much more surprised by your lack of dress than a handmaiden would have been.

“I was sent to retrieve you... though it appears you are not ready. Are you alright?” You realized you must have looked a mess, quickly swiping at the tears that had run down your face and surely ruined the makeup you'd attempted.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” you responded curtly, stepping back from the door but leaving it open. “…and for the abrupt exit earlier. I… just can’t seem to let things go.” Your eyes flitted to the shadows by your window once more, but they were as still as they were meant to be.

“I understand,” Thor nodded. He lingered at the threshold of your room for another moment before stepping in, gently closing the door behind him. “We can postpone the wedding. I have enough power here to manage that.”

“No,” you shook your head quickly. “Any further delay and I worry Odin will find a way to cast me out.” It wasn’t a lie, you told yourself. Odin wanted you gone, a marriage between you and one if his sons would stop his pestering. You sat down on the edge of your bed, running a hand over the dress again. You could feel the tears on your cheeks now.

The bed sank beside you as Thor sat, his large hand resting gently on your knee.

“Could you... help me get my dress on?” you asked him gently. “I… understand if that’s a strange request, but—“

“I will,” he nodded, interrupting you before you could further ramble. Despite his appearance, he was surprisingly gentle with his movements as he slipped the dress on over your head, adjusting the fabrics and easily fastening it in places you hadn’t even realized it needed fastened.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as he worked and his hands hesitated at your words.

“For what?”

“All of this. You should be marrying someone you care about, not someone you feel you owe something to.” Thor laughed, a full and genuine laugh.

“Y/N,” Thor spoke firmly now, turning you around to face him. His hands remained on your shoulders, gently gripping you as a comfort. “I do care about you. It may not be in the way my brother did, but it is no less genuine. I would not do something such as this for someone I did not care about.” Your cheeks felt warm as he spoke, a small smile crossing your lips. “And understand that if, in time, things change and you do wish to return to Midgard, I will be there to take you back.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, wary of your voice breaking. “I suppose we shouldn’t keep them waiting any longer.” Thor nodded, rising from his seat on the edge of the bed and extending a hand to you. You smiled as you took it, his large hand enveloping yours with his warmth. 

You spared one last glance back into your room as Thor led you out, your eyes lingering for just a moment. The shadows were fooling you again. Loki was gone, and you would have to accept it one way or another. 

The door closed behind you, darkness filling the room enough for the shadows to move once more, pressing a hand to the door that had just closed in their face. 

"Soon, my love," they spoke, letting their hand fall from the door as they stepped back, beginning to dissolve again. 

Soon.