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Margô hated this. She really hated it. And she wasn’t the type to use that word lightly. It was hard to be alone, scared, with the only companion she had equally frightened on all fronts. Maybe she would have felt better if she were with her parents, but they never understood why this upset her so much. They would laugh at her, not understanding how terrified she was.
All the things they would say…
“Margô, you’re so sensitive.”
“Você tem que parar com esse drama todo.”
Margô knew she should be able to get over it, or rather felt that was what she had to do, but it was hard. It was a striking fear, the kind that made her freeze and nearly cry her eyes out. She didn’t know how to handle something like that. How could she have known?
It was all too overwhelming. Hearing those booming sounds that wouldn’t stop.
But she tried to hide it, and over the years, she learned to mask it as best she could.
I don’t want anyone to see me like this.
I just want to disappear, but it won’t stop…
She let out a sigh during a momentary silence before more explosions sounded from outside the complex she lived in, and she had to clamp a hand over her mouth to hold back screaming in surprise. That would only make someone notice her. And she didn’t want to be a bother.
They were just celebrating; they deserved to be able to do that much.
They didn’t need to stop on Margô’s behalf. She wasn’t special.
“Knock, knock, though I did just let myself in,” a voice came from behind her.
She knew the sound of it. If he was going to be here, she definitely wanted to hide. She didn’t want him to see her like this, sad and somewhat disheveled. He was her friend, but he had yet to witness the more personal sides of Margô, and perhaps this would be his first chance.
She was about to snap back at Loki for letting himself into her bedroom again when another loud boom sounded, and Margô almost threw her phone across the room reflexively.
Loki paused, looking from her phone to her face and back again.
“Are you alright?”
The question sounded a bit odd coming from him, but it was genuine.
She nodded quickly, too quickly, hoping he didn’t notice she was teary and tired.
This had already been going on for so long that she had lost count of the sounds from outside and run out of things to do to distract her mind from the terror of it all. Margô hated nights like these.
“I’m fine! Fine as can be. Don’t worry!”
“Are you certain? You do look a bit…” Loki trailed off, failing to come up with something clever, “Well, I’m sure you’re aware of it all.”
“Oh, commenting on my appearance now?”
“You know I didn’t mean—”
“Your brother might have been right, you do kind of look like a witch,” Margô offered.
She remembered Loki had complained once that his older brother called him that.
“At least I’m a fashionable witch,” the asgaurdian returned.
“Fair enough…” Margô admitted, lacking her usual urge to win their fights.
Put simply, Loki found this worrying. She was normally such a little spitfire. Why was she so quiet now? She hadn’t gotten up from her desk chair, and she was gripping her phone like it would sprout legs and escape her clutches at any moment if she allowed such to happen.
“Margô,” Loki spoke again, “Are you sure you’re ok—”
Another boom cut off Loki as he stepped into Margô's bedroom and heard a soft sound from the woman he called his “friend” these days. She shivered, or it looked like she was.
He took another step closer.
“Margô, it’s not wise to lie to witches, you know,” he teased lightly, trying to ease the tension in the only way he could imagine in the moment, “That’s when they wrap you up in a deal or two.”
She smiled for a moment, and he thought he had won, but another boom echoed outside, and her tiny smile was replaced by a frown in an instant. The noise, was that the reason?
If anything, Loki wanted to fix the situation. As much as he loathed to admit softer emotions, he was fond of Margô, and seeing her look so distressed was messing with his heart, pulling at strings and making him feel things he thought he had abandoned when Asguard was destroyed.
He took another step. With such long strides, he was by the side of her chair already.
“You’re shaking.”
She glared halfheartedly at him before another (and really, at this point, people are just being cruel) loud bang rang from outside. Margô jumped up slightly, shaking her chair. Instinctually, Loki reached to steady the chair, as a prince will always be a prince.
His hand brushed her shoulder, and she relaxed slightly at the contact she didn’t realize would be so welcome. How she didn’t want him to see this, and yet she couldn’t escape it as he was standing right in front of her. It was pointless to try to cover it up now.
Her hands came up to cover her face. Margô didn’t know if she was angry or embarrassed.
Probably a healthy mixture of both.
Equally as confused as she was by the ordeal, Loki wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. The way he had steadied the chair, he was almost caging her between it and her desk. That seemed bad, but if he were to move, would that make her start to cry again? That would be bad.
He sighed softly as he ran the options in his head, feeling much younger than he was.
Loki wanted to retort, speak up against the voice in his mind that made him feel like a young teenager, but being faced with a crying girl, in proximity to her as he was the only one who knew the truth, who could fix it… he felt at the very least out of his element.
“Margô,” he spoke again, still refusing to move his hands, “It will… be alright.”
He tried to remember how his mother soothed him as a child when Thor would club him upside the head with things when they were young, but as he remembered, his mother was equally a fan of urging Thor to apologize once they reached a certain age and… It wasn’t time to reminisce.
Uncertainly, he moved a hand from the chair to her shoulder, squeezing it gently.
“It will be over soon enough,” he added for good measure.
Though he couldn’t be sure when the noise would end. People loved a good celebration, he remembered the way a feast could last days after a good victory back home… Still. He was sure this had to end at some point; all things did, life as well.
Margô shook her head. She wanted to say something, but it got caught in her throat.
“Take a deep breath,” Loki told her, “You’re alright.”
The gentleness in his tone was something that surprised both of them.
She nodded and tried to breathe as deeply as she could while jumping every time a noise sounded off from outside. Loki was right; it would have to end at some point. It would stop.
A snuffle from below showed that Margô was not the only one afraid of the sound; even her little dog seemed to hate it, sharing the upset Margô was experiencing. Regardless of this, however, the dog had walked up to Loki to stand by his legs. Normally, her dog hated him.
Loki didn’t dare to touch the dog, worried about being bitten again (a story for another time), and instead focused his attention on Margô, who was still trying to take deep breaths and ignore the sounds that seemed to lessen each minute. Rather, trying to ignore the fear of the loudest sound happening again, all the thoughts swirling in her head, and making her feel sick to her stomach.
“You’re going to be okay,” he assured her again, “I’ll stay here until it quiets down.”
She would have been surprised at the offer if she could think straight.
“Okay…” Margô managed to agree.
Her hands came down from her face so they could see each other, even if she didn’t want to look him in the eye and admit that this was nice, having someone else here who wasn’t mad at her for being upset in the first place… Maybe this witch was here to help, not hinder.
“Thank you,” she added, unsure of any other way to acknowledge him.
“Sure,” he replied, something less snarky than usual, “Glad to be of service.”
It was such a formal way to say it, but that was how he phrased it. He couldn’t think of another way to say what he wanted to; he was just glad she seemed to be calming down.
As Margô settled in the awkward space between Loki’s hard, he had yet to move, Loki contemplated the legality of transfiguring random Brazilian citizens into lizards. But that would have to happen later, yes, when no one was watching, when they were least expecting it.
“You should try to settle, it’s late here. Is it not?” Loki questioned, still not moving.
Margô thought about it and nodded after a moment, trying to block out the slowly quieting sounds from outside. It was late, people needed to sleep, and sleeping would mean being away from those horrid noises. Yes… It would be perfect. The ideal plan of action.
Loki shifted and pulled back so she could get up from her chair and move to the bed, watching her closely as if she could shatter into a million pieces at the slightest misstep.
When had he grown to worry so much? He brushed it aside.
She collapsed onto her bed, not bothering to get underneath the covers. She had already been wearing her sleep clothes, and one night without brushing her teeth wouldn’t kill her. Put simply, she didn’t care in this moment. Maybe if it weren’t doing the auditory equivalent of raining bowling balls outside, she would have given dental hygiene a second thought.
“Tired…” Margô muttered into her pillow.
“I highly recommend sleep for a tired human,” Loki told her, slightly mocking but with her best interest in mind, “And blankets, since it’s just about frigid out.”
She nodded, but it was hard to tell due to her face being buried in her pillow.
Loki sighed like a single mother who worked two jobs and shuffled to the bed, levitating her in the air with the wave of his hand and pulling back the covers with the other. Turning her around so as not to smash her face directly into the pillow, he then placed her neatly onto the sheets and covered her once more. It was almost as though he had done this all before.
It would forever be a mystery, as Margô was too tuckered out post-panic to think too deeply on the matter. Maybe if she were more coherent, she would have asked him about it.
“The last thing you need is to catch a cold,” he added.
She shook her head slightly.
“Is the god scared he’ll catch my cold?”
“No. You’ll complain to me the whole time you’re sick.”
“Hmm,” Margô hummed in response, “Maybe…”
If she were less tired, she might have noticed the green smoke in the air, the sudden tranquility of the room. A silencing spell does wonders when you know how to cast one. But she wasn’t awake, and he wasn’t one to announce all his magic tricks.
It could be a little secret between him and the dog.
As he watched her drifting into half-sleep, one thought was on his mind…
It’s lizard time.