Fandom: MCU
Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!gifted!reader
Content: Better? Also lack of beta’ing.
A/N: 1) THANKS to ALL who commented, REBLOGGED, and liked. I would not have done this without you. 2) Reminder: this is unrelated to the D+ Loki series. The only thing in common between the two is the background (ie: the MCU).
48. Born again
... Reader ...
*drip-drip-drip* goes the water from a pipe that’s cracked during one of the impacts.
*drip-drip-drip* goes the silent tears that add salt to your tongue whenever it sweeps out to catch watch lands on your lips instead of streaming down past your jaw and into the collar of your torn clothes. Your pain is too great to escape with deep sobs, instead it’s forced to seep out quietly through the little cracks in the armour and your heart.
And even so, your senses are coming back. They tell you about the heavy arm around your shoulders and the musk it brings. The cold of thee floor is radiating up into your butt and lower back. Your nose is running and it’s starting to bother you even though you aren’t sure why it should at this point...and still you wipe it in your sleeve and notice the tiny blisters on your hand as you do so and you don’t know when you got them.
“Lady [Y/N],” Frigga’s soft voice calls out to you, barely a hint of the urgency you see when you turn to look, “you mus come with me now.”
There’s no reason to ask why. It doesn’t matter anymore. Clambering to your feet with Thor’s aid quietly follow the queens rapid footfall. Why does she rush? There’s no more to do...just pick up the pieces and go home.
As if she knows what you’re thinking, Frigga turns to say, “[Y/N]. There’s still work to be done and your help is needed. The dead and wounded must be taken care off a-”
Something stops her completely, eyes wide with shock for a second before grabbing your hand and starting to run down the narrow corridor of the ship. You’re pulled along uncomfortably but don’t bother to complain or ask why – the reason will be revealed eventually.
It is.
Stepping into a large hangar, you finally see where most people are. Healers – walking from one prone warrior to the other to tend to assess what (if anything) can be done – are tending to Asgardians, Nilfheimir, and others alike though all too often the order the attendants are given include a sheet and the movement of a lifeless body that’s placed in a growing row along the wall. The place is filled with the moans of the survivors, hisses of pain through gritted teeth, words of consolation murmured in haste before whomever uttered them has to rush on and then to others.
You know what to do.
But you can’t.
“Your highness, it’s too -”
She tugs at your wrist, pulling you further along. “For now...don’t worry about them. This way.”
Rushing past, you barely have time to see the looks of awe the queen is given from patients and healers, the wordless salutes befitting one of her status. What you do notice are the smiles that shimmer underneath everyone’s pain as they understand that it has been a victory of sorts.
Then you see it. From behind a cluster of people there’s a hem of gold, serving to transition the cape from green to black. The air is punched from your guts. Stumbling forward, you push aside the healers that had been standing and deliberating without doing anything.
... Loki ...
Rest...I need just a moment’s respite...I am so so tired. It’s nearly impossible to keep his eyes open even as he glances around to see the people mingling around him and others lying on the floor. Did we lose? No...we cannot have! I heard her.
His lover’s song that had swelled with encouragement and justified wrath had been cut off too soon but Loki know it picked up again after a while. He had only had time to transport a single person and his choice had been clear as both strategy and personal feelings coincided with what was right. And so, as he drifted among the blackened debris, he had heard [Y/N]’s singing once more. Shaky and thin at first before it grew in power. Then he had blacked out.
The song! It’s gone...why is the song gone? Loki feels panic rise in his chest and he struggles fruitlessly to sit up only to be pushed down by a stern, Vanar healer who accepts no excuses (not that the returned prince has any energy for arguments). Instead, he asks anyone who is close enough to hear his feeble voice: what happened to my mortal?
But no one answers.
It’s not until he accepts abandoning himself to the darkness and he feels his seiðr ebb that his wish is granted. There she is...my very own Valkyrie. My love. It hurts to smile up at her, even more as he sees the light glistening in the tears on her cheek and the Jotun would give anything to be able to lift a hand wipe them away.
“Hello, my petal,” he whispers (barely grimacing at the sharp sting).
[Y/N] is on her knees now, clutching his hand and sobbing. “D-d-don’t ta-alk, oki?” Her lips are wet and hot on his forehead. “W’need t-t’wo-ork...get you-u-u well.”
“You...you ‘ave done...so....much al-already,” Loki manages as her palms come to rest on his chest.
He can see it in her eyes – the way they don’t shine like the stars as they normally do – and her smile is strained as if she could hide how serious his injuries are. I should not underestimate you, beloved...but this time it must surely be too grand a task even for you.
... Reader ...
Of course you don’t listen to his silly mutterings. “Whatever you want to say, you can tell me afterwards, got it?”
Even if the only goal is to barely ensure Loki’s survival for now and not worry about completely healing him, you’re afraid that you don’t have enough magic left in you until Frigga lays a hand on your shoulder and squeezes it gently. Together with the warmth of her touch comes a flow of strong, verdant energy that you begin to channel through your hands.
I can make it. I have to.
It becomes a sort of chant, an underlying beat to a song that you’ve sung before although rarely for anything this severe. The sight of the blood, the fear of losing a loved one...it triggers the memories from what feels like a lifetime ago when the one you healed was your sweet neighbour Aïsha. You briefly wonder how she is doing before you recall how you had hated the man you now are trying to safe. Things have changed. Now, you’re ready to lay down your life for him.
But no one is here to trade one soul for another. It’s just you and the power your channel in the insane hope for his heart to beat strongly again and the blood to stop spilling onto the cold, metal floor of the spaceship.
Just a bit more.
Already, your energy is running low and Frigga’s hand leaves you too soon.
Just a bit...more.
There’s almost nothing left to give and you remember the feeling from when you healed the High Priestess – it’s time to stop but Loki will die if you do.
Just...a bit...more!
The world fades away when you hear the first, deep, clean breath fill your lover’s lungs.
...
Someone is holding your hand. It feels nice and cold and it reminds your of safety. The same someone (you assume) is humming gently as they wait for you to open your eyes to the soft glow of candles.
“Loki?” Your throat is parched but catches his attention and soon the drops of cool water. “Thank you.”
Oh, you’ve missed his soft lips on the tip of your nose and your forehead like now.
“No. Thank you, my love,” he soothes, “now go back to sleep and I’ll cuddle up with you.”
“Yes, please.”
...
A month has passed with talks and planning before the dark blue void lets you and Loki out of its hold together with (this time) your books from Earth. It had taken less convincing than you had feared to get your lover and partner to help get them but the timing was harder as he is a busy man...what else can be expected with his new title? Oh, Loki Laufeyson is no prince although his relationship to Asgard and its people is mending slowly.
“Ambassador Loki,” the High Priestess greets him with a smirk, “Saviour,” she adds to you.
The evening air is a balm to your frazzled nerves and the low murmur of the servant Älfir helps a knowledge settle gently in your mind: this will be your life now.
Alfheim has opened its doors to you and Loki, allowing for a neutral ground in your relationship and outward as well. Already, your chambers have been readied and filled with furniture and keepsakes from both of your lives – Loki’s horned helmet stashed cockily on top of a statue of a stern looking elf that doubles as adornment on a pillar on the way out onto a large, evening-facing balcony.
It’s on this balcony that you later find yourself with Loki’s arms wrapped around you from behind, your soft tune playing with the wind as he nuzzles into your hair.
“Do you think you can become happy here, beloved?” he asks softly, almost managing to hide his concern.
“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in your answer or in your heart. “But that might have more to do with you, to be fair.”
His smile feel good against your scalp the second before he kisses the crown of your head. “How fortunate...because you will not be rid of me.”
