"You could have told me what I was from the beginning. Why didn't you?"
"You're my son. I wanted only to protect you from the truth."
"W-Wha – because I-I-I-I'm the monster who parents...tell their children about at night?"
"No..."
"You know, it all makes sense now. Why you favoured Thor...all these years! Because no matter how much you claimed to love me, you could never have a Frost Giant sitting on the throne of Asgard!"
--
Justifiably distraught and disgusted, the broken prince stumbled back to his chambers, cursing the Allfather for his many revelations, and the backstory he corroborated. Heart-wrenching sobs tugged antagonistically at his vocal cords, undiluted waterfalls threatening to cascade from his eyes.
Only one place would be his sanctuary – not his room, not a single crevice of the palace at Asgard, but the modest dwelling of his devoted companion – his soulmate.
From inside his den, the young Asgardian, now confirmed Jotun, gathered a few of the simplest items he possessed, immediately electing to flee the royal palace, in search of his love's abode. Of course, the journey was routine, so much that a map had been emblazoned into his mind.
Upon arrival, he glanced the familiar scene fondly – quaint and tranquil, your home resembled many Midgardian cottages, although far more exquisite. It was typical of the most unlikely place to find a dejected, incredibly melancholy God of Mischief.
Opening the welcoming door, elongated and wooden, a heartfelt smile surfaced on his features, but only for a moment. Traversing the corridors, never tiring of its bigger-on-the-inside illusion, Loki made haste towards your bedroom. Along the way, he heeded two recognisable voices – a man and an adolescent female.
However, before he permitted himself to eavesdrop, the sound of a door slamming caught his attention. He observed as a bewitching maiden exited the room, raking a delicate hand through her silky, (h/c) locks. If allowed, he would stare at her for hours...
His back hit the wall rather abruptly, alerting you of a presence. Divine (e/c) orbs glimpsed his form – hunched and feeble. Instantly, a horrified gasp escaped your throat, and you rushed to his aid.
Placing tender palms against his cold cheeks, you whispered, "Oh, darling."
Sensing that he was in need of relocation, you promptly grabbed both of his hands, leading him cautiously into your chambers, ensuring that the entryway was locked. Guiding him to sit on your bed, you felt the shattering of your heart as you perceived his agony.
Disconnecting your hands, you ambled away.
"Tea?" You called, hopefully.
Instead of a positive head movement or reassuring noise, he sat in all his vulnerability, reaching a hand out to you. With tears tormenting your eyes, you ran to his side, taking his heavy head and settling it in your chest. A hushed, cracking voice muttered to him, while a benign hand stroked strands of raven hair soothingly.
"Whatever happened?" You questioned, after some time.
"I – Odin...he – h-he told me what I was. W-What I am." Came the response, more distressing than anything you had previously borne witness to, in all your years.
"You are Loki, are you not? Odin's son, prince of Asgard, and my lover."
"No. Oh no. I-I-I'm something much w-worse than that. S-Something that children w-would be terrified of." He stated, forlornly.
"Surely not."
Explaining took a considerable amount of time, but patience had always been a virtue you owned, and for Loki, you were willing to wait an eternity. Throughout the tale, his pitch kept rising, leading to various wretched outbursts. His incredulous story of a Jotun child, rescued by the Allfather and brought to Asgard, with the purpose of perhaps one day uniting the two realms, stunned you into silence.
Glimpsing your unreadable expression, he sighed. "I knew you would be afraid."
Leaning forwards, you pressed your foreheads together lovingly – something that you often did to show affection.
"Show me." It was barely above a whisper, but he heard it.
And it scared him.
"You'll hate me. You'll be afraid!" He yelled, in an effort to discourage you.
Laughing, you replied, "Nothing can be scarier than my father."
Audibly, he gulped, showcasing the extent of his reluctance. He wasn't ready to lose you. He didn't think he would ever be. A quivering sigh exited his mouth, as you watched his pale skin leisurely morph into a death-like blue. A pair of striking crimson orbs stared back at you, appearing to both relish your proximity, and fear for your safety.
Once more planting your warm palms on his frigid features, you resolved to caress his cheeks, re-establishing the notion of utter, unadulterated adoration.
"Gorgeous." You muttered, half to yourself, half to your partner.
Kissing benevolently from his jaw, tracing the lines on his face, and depositing the mark of your love everywhere your soft lips could touch, you whispered a final gracious sentence.
"I can love this side of you...as much as you need."
