Double Trouble (A Loki /Tom Hiddleston Fanfic)

Duel

"WHY?" he roared at Heimdal, spit flecking from his mouth, face flushed and eyes sparking. "YOU KNEW HE WAS SUPPOSED TO STAY HERE YET YOU TOOK IT UPON YOURSELF TO DEFY ME!" Loki virtually screamed into the face that stood impassively in the Bifrost chamber.  Heimdal said nothing, just looked down at Loki, poker faced. Even for Loki, full tilt Diva that he could be, this was an overreaction. As Loki stomped around the chamber, looking for something - or someone - to kick at the very least, Heimdal followed him with his eyes.  Loki was hurting, that much he could surmise. He was also dangerous in this mood.  That much he knew.

"Your Highness" he said evenly, "He needed to see her. His heart was full of sorrow and worry.  I only wanted to alleviate that and help him settle. I acted in what I believed was the best interests of everyone.  I can see now I was wrong.  I am sorry".  He looked down at his feet in an open  display of remorse, trying to calm the angry man in front of him before he stabbed him. 

"Sorry? Sorry?" he snarled again "You'll be more than sorry when I'm done sorting this." Loki hissed and from nowhere a dagger appeared at Heimdal's throat.  He blinked but didn't move.  "All you have done is upset her beyond belief and endanger the plan. She hasn't spoken to me in THREE DAYS you imbecile"  Loki turned on his heel, his cape swirling behind him like a green storm and disappeared in a flash of green energy.  

Heimdal watched him go, relaxed now the metal was no longer threatening his windpipe, a knowing smile on his face.  In all Loki's ranting it had only been about him, whether he was aware of it or not.  Him and the Lady Carrie.  Not about Tom, not about how he was  virtual prisoner here, about how he might have been upset to be pulled back to suddenly - which indeed he had been.  It was all about how Loki had lost Carrie.  Heimdal realised Loki had found the one person in all the realms he truly cared about, maybe even loved, and now it seemed she had rejected him. He actually felt sorry for him. If only Loki could see it like he could, he would know rejection was the last thing on Carrie's mind.  Therein, he saw with a sigh, lay the problem.

Shaking his head sadly, he turned back to watching all the realms within Yggdrasil, all the souls that Asgard had a responsibility for, and those they didn't.  It mattered not, he could see them all.  Including a certain Carrie Martin who as he watched, walked out of her house talking heatedly on her phone and straight into the path of an oncoming car.  There was nothing he could do. Seeing was one thing, doing, quite another. He closed his eyes and sighed, as if things weren't complicated enough as it was.  Who did he tell first?  Who would be left to tell, once Loki was done?  He called a guard from outside the chamber and gave him an order.  The guard looked at him, terrified.  

"Go!" Heimdal ordered "If you think he's a monster, fail me and see how I compare!" the guard scurried away across the bridge.

Loki materialised inside the palace, at least here he could use his magic without her nagging him. As he thought of her, Loki's anger cooled slightly and he began to feel, well, guilty.  A strange feeling and one he had only recently become accustomed to, so that in itself disturbed him.

It wasn't really Heimdal's fault.  It was his.  What if he hadn't taken so long to come home, what if he hadn't taken Tom away from her in the first place. Locked him up in this gilded cage and... what if's were useless.  He had to have it out with Tom, sort it out, then go back to her. As soon as he could. More and more he found himself thinking about her.  More and more he found himself dreading the day they would part forever, that day a mere blink of an eye away to someone who already had lived more than a thousand Midgard years.  

He'd reached Tom's quarters .  He began to wonder what exactly he would say?  "Thomas, give her to me, leave her and I won't ruin your life?" that was the Loki everyone expected, harsh controlling, blackmailing for his own ends.  But in actual fact, that wasn't him.  He was harsh, controlling and sarcastic as a defence.  He projected an image of self importance and cold hostility to protect himself from the truth. That his heart was an open wound; his need for love - to be loved for who he truly was - had proved futile.  He was an outsider here and always would be. Even his own Mother, whom he adored, had in the end turned out to be no more than a surrogate. His father had lied and kept him from his real heritage until forced into the uncomfortable truth.