Witch: Loki x Reader
Short little fun thing about the healer that Loki saves, uh some violence so heads up
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“Rest easy.” You murmured, kneeling down and placing your palm on the old woman’s forehead.
“Your healing is truly a gift.” The woman murmured, eyes shutting.
You placed your other hand over the first, trying to hide the faint glow coming from your hand.
“Witchcraft!” The old man cried out, looking closely at your hands. The old man, the crone’s husband, had been standing in the doorway as you spoke to the woman at her bedside.
You straightened up, recoiling away from her and looking at the old man in horror. “I- no! It’s not what you think it is.”
“Roger.” The old woman’s eyes opened and she sat up. “Quiet you old git, she’s done us a great service.”
“Nonsense!” Roger roared, backing from the room.
Your legs trembled, the effort used to heal the woman having taken a lot out of you. You looked at the woman, fully exhausted. Sinking to your knees, the old woman hurried to your side. “Sorry hun.”
You pressed your palm to your forehead, feeling tears well in your eyes. “You have to stop him.” Your voice croaked as you spoke, you couldn’t stand. “Gloria, please.”
Gloria pressed her lips together, pursing them. “I’m sorry lassie, I can’t.”
“But I saved your life!” You cried out, voice starting to return. In the distance, you could hear the echoing cries of Roger. “Please.” You added, begging softly.
Gloria frowned and shook her head. “I can’t stop him.”
“You know what I do, the lives I’ve saved. I trusted you.” Tears spilled from your eyes, running down your cheeks. You forced yourself to stand. “Please!” You cried out again.
Gloria’s gaze turned harsh, “what you did ain’t right. It’s an abomination.”
“Gloria.” You choked out her name.
The cry of witch grew louder. More voices added to the throng. The mob was approaching.
You looked towards the window, back to Gloria.
Gloria held up her hand and pointed at you. “Witch! The witch is here!”
The frenzied mob grew louder.
You spat a curse at her, no power in your words, after all you could only use these powers to heal. Pulling yourself to your feet, you ran to the door, fumbling with the handle.
Gloria’s fevered cries joined the throng, the accusation chanting in a deadly beat.
You rushed out of the house. You managed to take two steps of freedom when you felt yourself tugged to a stop. Something had grabbed at your skirts.
You spun towards it, but someone grabbed at your arm, then your other arm, your hair, more of your dress. The material tore away easily at the onslaught of villagers screaming at you.
You fell to your knees, hands over your head and took the brutal assault. Fists struck you, boots kicked you, angry words and jeers were thrown at you. A rock pelted your forehead and all was black.
You opened your eyes, laying on the floor of the only prison the town had. It had wrought iron doors and dirt for a floor. Your whole body ached, and you were cold.
You shivered looking down at your bloodied and beaten body. The scraps of your clothing barely clung to you, hoping to afford some modesty.
You pressed your hand to your forehead, where the rock had struck you and hissed softly. Forcing yourself to stand, once again, you moved to the window of the jail. You knew what they did to witches.
A short distance from your cell you could see the pile of logs stacked upon each other. There was a solitary pole in the middle of the wood.
Swallowing hard, you sank to your knees, pleading for anything that might hear you. But your pleas were answered with silence.
Morning came faster than you knew, the rooster of some farm crowing its greeting as the dawn chorus began.
Any other day you might have remarked on the beauty of the sky.
Angry people began to gather outside the cell, circling the pyre. You didn’t have strength left to defend yourself, to try and fight back.
They threw ropes around you, dragging you from the cell and out to the log pile. Someone drew a bladed weapon and pointed at you, motioning for you to move to the center of the logs. Another rope was procured, and your hands were bound above your head.
Tears ran down your face as you looked at the gathered crowd. “Please!” Villagers you had helped, people you had healed, they looked at you with murder in their eyes. “I’m not evil.”
A torch appeared in the audience, moving closer to your pyre, to your doom. The torch landed on the logs and flames rose up, tongues of fire licking at the logs, making their way towards you.
The acrid smoke caught in your throat, and you coughed, tugging futilely at the bonds. “Please!” Your cries were drowned out by the angry mob.
A burst of light appeared, slamming into the ground. The sky had split for a second and despite the growing heat, you as well as the villagers all turned to see what it could be.
A tall man in armor stood at the center of a rune carved into the ground by the beam of light.
“Enough.” He said, raven black hair ruffling in the wind. His voice carried easily, even the flames seemed to cower back at his approach. “Wretched mortals.” He spat; the crowd parted around him as he approached you and the pyre. His green eyes stared at you intently, finally softening as his face grew gentle. “Maiden?”
You barely registered yourself shying away from his offered hand. “Who… what are you?” You croaked out, the last of the flames gone but still burned in your throat.
The man studied you for a moment before looking back at the crowd. They had not enclosed around him, no one seemed ready to move. “I am Loki, prince of Asgard.”
Hushed whispers filled the air, the realm of the gods, Asgard. Could he really be? The crowd grew uneasy.
You tried to fight back a sniffle, but tears fell freely. “Loki? Of Asgard?”
“The prince.” Loki nodded, smiling at you. He shot a nasty look at the crowd before snapping his fingers and the rope holding you to the pole came undone.
Your knees trembled, legs giving out as you sank onto the wood. Before your body fully crumpled though, Loki had caught you in his arms. His green cloak shimmered behind him before reappearing over you in the same shimmer of light.
More muttered protests arose, growing louder. Loki shot a quailing look at the crowd and their whispers fell silent.
“Asgard has need for a healer such as yourself, dear maiden.” Loki murmured, holding you tighter to his chest. His green eyes bore into yours. “Wipe away those tears. Though this world may reject you, I know what that is like. Do not fret, dear one, you shall find your place soon enough.”















