Loki X Reader One-Shots [SLOW UPDATES]

#25: Never Forget

"Maybe", Y/N muttered, her eyes never leaving the floor.

"Well, in that case", Loki replied dryly, "they're absolutely right. Where?"

Thor took a step forwards, looking at the God of Mischief.

"Look, brother, I don't think you need to-"

"Do you think I give a damn about what you think right now?" Loki cut the Thunderer off, "Where?"

~-~-~

And so there Loki was, driving his car, heading to the place Y/N told him. He tightened his grip on the wheel when he realised his hands were shaking. Calm down. It's nothing. You're just gonna visit an upright piece of marble with names on it. Yet no such thought seemed to be palliative, because his insides had already begun turning to knots, and he hadn't even arrived at the place.

He soon did arrive, and his panic rose. He got out of the car, looking at the memorial. His hand shot out to straighten his collar as he stepped towards the monument. His shaky hand unfastened the upper button of his shirt, but it didn't help to decrease the feeling of suffocation as he stood still, staring at the names that were engraved on the marble. So many names...

The God of Mischief felt his heart beat faster against his ribcage. He suddenly felt so much remorse and shame... and fear. So, so much fear. So many people had lost their loved ones, what if somebody came and recognised him? You are a god, what can they do to you, he thought, but it made him feel even worse.

He tried to read the names, but his eyes couldn't focus. He put a hand on one side of the marble to support himself.

"Still mourning too, huh?"

Loki turned his head abruptly towards the direction of the voice. There stood an old man, looking at him. Loki barely managed to conceal his panic and fear. He let out a shaky breath and looked back at the memorial. Oh, dear.

"Who did you lose?" the old man asked.

Loki stared at his hands. He felt so disgusted with himself. And scared. Why are you scared? An old man cannot hurt you; you are a god, said a voice in his head.

"Myself", he said, his voice being barely a whisper, and looked up to the memorial again.

The man didn't talk; he just lifted his head in silence and looked at the names.

"Who did you lose, sir?" Loki finally managed to ask, feeling his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

"My daughter and my grandchild", replied the old man, "Here they are", he whispered and pointed at two names.

Loki leaned forwards and ran his hand along with the letters.

Holloway Teressa, age 34

Holloway Albert, age 9

The Trickster's eyes locked on the second line. Age 9. Oh, you bastard, he cursed himself, he was just a kid.

"Her husband committed suicide a year later", the man uttered, "His name is not engraved here, but he's one more victim of that destruction. If only I could find the man who did this..."

"What would you do? Would you kill him?" Loki snapped, "Do you think his blood would wash away the pain?"

Loki gripped the fingers of his one hand with the other tightly, trying to make his hands shake less. His heart was beating so fast that he felt as though he'd have a heart attack.

"How can you know?" asked the old man.

"I know that what... what he did was unforgivable, but... how could you know what had happened to him before that? Maybe he was forced to do it. The world is a weird and scary place. Maybe he was controlled, or tortured, or threatened..." Loki's voice cracked as his grip on his hand loosened a bit, "Do you have any idea how painful is that? Being tortured, and then losing control of your own mind?"

"Do you know?"

Loki lowered his head.

"Yes", he whispered.

"There will be no realm, no barren moon, no crevice where he cannot find you!" The Other's voice echoed in the Trickster's mind, saying the threat that had been planted in his brain for so long.

"Who are you?" asked the old man.

"I can't tell you that".

"Why?"

"I can't tell you that either".

The old man remained silent for a few seconds like he was trying to understand.

"You didn't tell me who you lost", he said then.

"Oh, I told you", replied Loki and turned his back on the man, "Myself".

"What does that mean?"

The God of Mischief stopped on his tracks and turned his face towards the man. Their eyes met.

"It means that... I cannot expect from anyone to forgive me, but I want you to know that I'm sorry", he responded in a barely audible voice.

When the man understood what Loki had said and who he was, the God of Mischief had already disappeared from his sight.

...

So, that was it. I hope you liked it. I'm preparing a big one for the next chapter, but I might as well search my old handwritings and make corrections to some old story in order to not let you wait.

Whatever the case, I'll post again.

Chin-chin.