In Which Loki Doesn't Deal (2/?)
Loki was nodding off, leaning against Thor’s brawny back and surrounded by revelers celebrating the return of their greatest hero. He had been allowed to drink un-watered mead and the alcohol had gone straight to his head, making him feel as if he was floating.
“Brother,” he heard, “do you sleep?”
It took a moment for Loki to wake up enough to answer.
“Almost, Thor,” he said.
One of the Warrior’s Three laughed. Loki smiled sleepily and got up, swaying for a moment. The alcohol and tiredness made the ground seemingly shift underneath his feet. One of Thor’s warm, strong hands caught and steadied him.
“It’s past my bedtime,” he said, rubbing one of his eyes, “so I’m afraid I must leave.”
“Would you like me to walk you there?”
Loki gave a small, fond smile. “I will be fine. Enjoy the celebration; I will speak with you tomorrow in greater length.”
Thor simply laughed into his mead and waved Loki off.
Away from the fires of the hall, the only light was the few moonbeams that wormed their way through the windows. The shadows seemed thick enough to pick up and use as a cloak. The roar of voices behind him began to fade as Loki walked down the halls in a manner that he would not have dared had it been daylight.
When he awoke, the sun was low in the sky, painting the world in amber. The sunlight made what had happened more real. For a while, he simply lay on his straw pallet, staring at the books that lined the walls in stacks and hiccupping as more tears trailed down his face. His body ached with pains that hadn’t been as noticeable last night, and his lower cheeks were stuck together.
Breathing deeply, he tried to get up. Immediately, his shoulders screamed in pain. Loki gasped and swallowed a sob, but stubbornly struggled to his feet. He was Loki, and he had already cried too much.
After he had stood up, he simply stood for a moment, getting his nausea under control, before walking to a particular pile of books and moving it out of the way. Behind it was a large mirror, half covered in a large cloth and speckled with rust. Loki pulled the cloth down and left it on the ground as he stared at himself.
The livid bite mark on his shoulder drew his attention first. The red imprints of his attacker’s teeth almost glowed against his white skin. Not that there was much white skin; the rest of his body was coated with old, yellowed bruises. Dark, fresh ones were wrapped around his wrists and throat and stained the skin on his inner thighs. Others had been mashed into his knees and elbows. The crowning glory, however, was his blackened eye and temple. It was a dark black and purple near the center, fading to poisonous green and sickly yellow at the edges. His eye was swollen shut. The only thing more painful than looking at it was actually having it.
Compared to that, the red and brown scrapes and scratches on his knees, elbows and face were practically unnoticeable. Even the fat lip paled in comparison.
Shouts from the courtyard drifted into his ears. Still staring at his body in sick fascination, his mind began to churn.
This…it…his mind shied away from naming what had been done to him, but did not delude itself by saying that it had not happened. It had. The person who had done this was a criminal; he had to be punished.
But the thought of telling anyone about this, about what had been done to him when he stupidly laughed when Galinn was slapped by his woman, stupidly let himself be cornered, stupidly didn’t fight back until it was too late, was too weak and pathetic to even scream loud enough before he was gagged…
Loki came back to himself with his knees shooting pain from being on them and his hands. A small puddle of vomit was beneath him.
He couldn’t tell anyone. Galinn, despite his public dislike of Loki, was still a respected warrior of Asgard, while he was Loki. It was more than likely that he would be accused of lying again. No Aesir except for maybe Thor would believe him. And even if Thor believed him, he would cause trouble for himself by attacking the other warrior; no, Thor had already sacrificed too much of his comrades respect by resurrecting him. Telling Thor was not an option. The Warriors Three and Sif would tell Thor of what had happened, so they could not be told either. Not that they would truly care, Loki thought darkly; they only looked after him due to oaths, not love.
No, he was on his own. Closing his eyes, Loki did what he did best; he thought.
He would have to avoid everyone when he ventured out for the next few days. At least until the swelling around his eye had gone down. Then he would be able to disguise his injuries with the powders and creams that Midgardian women were so fond of. His StarkPad was most helpful; he had bookmarked many videos on how to cover up bruises on the Tube of Many.
But, he would not be able to stay here until the bruising had disappeared. He would eventually need to head out today to get food and water. Brooding, Loki mentally mapped a few routes through the many halls of Asgard that avoided people. If he was careful and went at night, taking leftovers, he would probably be able to avoid nearly everyone.
Everyone but Thor. Loki sat back and stretched his legs out in front of him; it was the only position that did not make his knees screech in agony. Thor would get suspicious if he didn’t seek him out for company at least once; the older man had recently returned from the dead, after all.
The only thing he could do was act normal. Thor absolutely could not know of this. That was the only thing Loki was sure of right now.
So he would act normal; smile, be happy for Thor, get into mischief. No one would know, and he could put the night behind him once his bruises had faded.
“Brother,” he heard, “do you sleep?”
It took a moment for Loki to wake up enough to answer.
“Almost, Thor,” he said.
One of the Warrior’s Three laughed. Loki smiled sleepily and got up, swaying for a moment. The alcohol and tiredness made the ground seemingly shift underneath his feet. One of Thor’s warm, strong hands caught and steadied him.
“It’s past my bedtime,” he said, rubbing one of his eyes, “so I’m afraid I must leave.”
“Would you like me to walk you there?”
Loki gave a small, fond smile. “I will be fine. Enjoy the celebration; I will speak with you tomorrow in greater length.”
Thor simply laughed into his mead and waved Loki off.
Away from the fires of the hall, the only light was the few moonbeams that wormed their way through the windows. The shadows seemed thick enough to pick up and use as a cloak. The roar of voices behind him began to fade as Loki walked down the halls in a manner that he would not have dared had it been daylight.
When he awoke, the sun was low in the sky, painting the world in amber. The sunlight made what had happened more real. For a while, he simply lay on his straw pallet, staring at the books that lined the walls in stacks and hiccupping as more tears trailed down his face. His body ached with pains that hadn’t been as noticeable last night, and his lower cheeks were stuck together.
Breathing deeply, he tried to get up. Immediately, his shoulders screamed in pain. Loki gasped and swallowed a sob, but stubbornly struggled to his feet. He was Loki, and he had already cried too much.
After he had stood up, he simply stood for a moment, getting his nausea under control, before walking to a particular pile of books and moving it out of the way. Behind it was a large mirror, half covered in a large cloth and speckled with rust. Loki pulled the cloth down and left it on the ground as he stared at himself.
The livid bite mark on his shoulder drew his attention first. The red imprints of his attacker’s teeth almost glowed against his white skin. Not that there was much white skin; the rest of his body was coated with old, yellowed bruises. Dark, fresh ones were wrapped around his wrists and throat and stained the skin on his inner thighs. Others had been mashed into his knees and elbows. The crowning glory, however, was his blackened eye and temple. It was a dark black and purple near the center, fading to poisonous green and sickly yellow at the edges. His eye was swollen shut. The only thing more painful than looking at it was actually having it.
Compared to that, the red and brown scrapes and scratches on his knees, elbows and face were practically unnoticeable. Even the fat lip paled in comparison.
Shouts from the courtyard drifted into his ears. Still staring at his body in sick fascination, his mind began to churn.
This…it…his mind shied away from naming what had been done to him, but did not delude itself by saying that it had not happened. It had. The person who had done this was a criminal; he had to be punished.
But the thought of telling anyone about this, about what had been done to him when he stupidly laughed when Galinn was slapped by his woman, stupidly let himself be cornered, stupidly didn’t fight back until it was too late, was too weak and pathetic to even scream loud enough before he was gagged…
Loki came back to himself with his knees shooting pain from being on them and his hands. A small puddle of vomit was beneath him.
He couldn’t tell anyone. Galinn, despite his public dislike of Loki, was still a respected warrior of Asgard, while he was Loki. It was more than likely that he would be accused of lying again. No Aesir except for maybe Thor would believe him. And even if Thor believed him, he would cause trouble for himself by attacking the other warrior; no, Thor had already sacrificed too much of his comrades respect by resurrecting him. Telling Thor was not an option. The Warriors Three and Sif would tell Thor of what had happened, so they could not be told either. Not that they would truly care, Loki thought darkly; they only looked after him due to oaths, not love.
No, he was on his own. Closing his eyes, Loki did what he did best; he thought.
He would have to avoid everyone when he ventured out for the next few days. At least until the swelling around his eye had gone down. Then he would be able to disguise his injuries with the powders and creams that Midgardian women were so fond of. His StarkPad was most helpful; he had bookmarked many videos on how to cover up bruises on the Tube of Many.
But, he would not be able to stay here until the bruising had disappeared. He would eventually need to head out today to get food and water. Brooding, Loki mentally mapped a few routes through the many halls of Asgard that avoided people. If he was careful and went at night, taking leftovers, he would probably be able to avoid nearly everyone.
Everyone but Thor. Loki sat back and stretched his legs out in front of him; it was the only position that did not make his knees screech in agony. Thor would get suspicious if he didn’t seek him out for company at least once; the older man had recently returned from the dead, after all.
The only thing he could do was act normal. Thor absolutely could not know of this. That was the only thing Loki was sure of right now.
So he would act normal; smile, be happy for Thor, get into mischief. No one would know, and he could put the night behind him once his bruises had faded.