Lower Your Eyes (A Loki Romance Fanfic)

Chapter Twenty-Two: In the Dark of Night

Just like he was now.

I stepped toward the chair and ran my fingers over the rough fabric, the ornately carved wood. It felt like so long ago, now a distant prelude to the life that was slipping out of my fingers—or being priced out of them. It was outrageous to think that things were simpler back then, but they certainly seemed like it. Long before there was a homicidal monarch out for my blood, before I had a twin sister and a Prince as my betrothed, I was a slave girl working for the prince of Asgard.

Such a curious thing—I might've guessed that all this mess would come of it.

By the gods, was this really my life?

"You could have said goodbye," a voice startled me from behind. I should've recognized Loki's voice immediately, but it took a second to catch his features through the sunlight silhouetting him, arms crossed as he leaned against the windowsill.

"Loki—"

"A simple 'I'm going to go, now' would have sufficed."

I frowned at him. "I'm sorry."

I didn't say anything more than that. Neither of us was angry with the other, but the overall tension of the situation had us both on edge—I could see it in his features and hear it in his voice. Doubtless, he could sense my fear and doubt as readily as I sensed his anger.

Loki's eyes flickered away from me. "You never did tell me what happened."

"What?"

He nodded toward the chair. "You only brought fruit back to me that day."

The fruit I'd brought him to make sure he didn't go hungry? "I did tell you, remember?" I spoke. "Astrid knocked the platter out of my hands to punish me for being close to you."

"Ah." Loki didn't look like he'd just remembered it—or maybe he hadn't forgotten at all. Slowly, he rose from the chair and walked toward me. "And now?"

"Now what?"

"How close do you feel to me, now?"

I hesitated. "Well, taking one or two things into account...I'd say you know every inch of me better than anyone else."

For a moment, he didn't speak. The sheer size of him as he walked past me was a reminder of just that—how much we'd shared, how close we'd been. The prince and the slave-turned-princess, sharing a bed each night and closing even the smallest of spaces between them.

"It's not the same," Loki said as he sat down on the chair. "And the fact that you don't think so speaks to how you've given up." He angled his head. "You've accepted your fears then, have you? Shall I do the same? Shall I mourn my wife before we're even wed?"

A pause of silence. "We both know it's not likely at this point."

"What?"

"It's not likely that we'll ever be married," I repeated, my voice beginning to break. I had to swallow hard to choke down the tears. "You said so yourself—I don't stand a chance against the king. Maybe there's no point in looking forward to anything anymore. Why set ourselves up for the sorrow? We should just end it now."

In the corner of my eye, Loki went terribly still. "There are kinder ways to take back your acceptance than to make it out like I gave you the idea."

"I'm not taking back my acceptance," I said, drawing a book off the shelf—pointlessly. "I came here to see if I could find something that might help me, because the training is pointless. I wanted to find answers, but so far, I've only found memories of what I am and always will be." I slid the book back onto the shelf. "It doesn't matter where I came from. I am what I am."