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lulubelle814 · 5 days

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In Every Life - Part 1

Summary: Two souls destined for each other, but life has other plans. Will they find each other and have their happy ending?

It was late September of 1883 when they met. Some would call it kismet. Others destiny. The miserable ones would call it coincidence. He needed to go into London for a few weeks to work on some business prospects and handle some estate matters with his lawyer. Lucille stayed back as she did not care to leave home but was not happy to be without her brother for so long.

Josephine and her mother were on their way to the hospital when she had a sudden dizzy spell, causing her to fall to the street but found herself saved by a beautiful stranger, rescuing her from being hit by a carriage riding too close to the sidewalk.

"Are you alright?" her mother inquired.

"I'm alright mother, thanks to this kind gentleman." She was shy and blushing, unbelieving that she made a fool of herself in front of this handsome man.

Her mother looked at him, thanking him profusely. "You may have saved her life, mister…."

"Sharpe, Thomas Sharpe, baronet, madame."

"Thank you so very much, Lord Sharpe. I am Victoria Morrow, and this is my daughter, Josephine. How can I ever repay you?"

His words failed him as he locked eyes with Josephine. In that moment, he felt as if there was something linking his heart to hers. His heart, nay his soul, screamed to not let this beguiling creature to depart from him.

Unbeknownst to him, Josephine was similarly affected.

He responded to her mother without looking away from Josephine. "There is no need, madame. I am more than happy to assist." Josephine smiled at him causing his heart to skip with joy. "If it is not too forward, might you be available for dinner this evening Ms. Josephine?" He held his breath, praying she would accept his offer.

The way her name rolled off his tongue could soothe an angry lion, and she would do anything to hear him say it again. Looking at her mother for approval before answering, she said, "I would love that." They let him know where they were staying, advising he would pick her up at 7 pm.

***********************************************************************

That evening, he arrived promptly on time, having arranged a carriage to drive them to a nice restaurant he knew nearby. His breath escaped him as she descended the stairs, thinking her to be an angel descended from the heavens in a beautiful dark blue dress. “You look breathtaking.”

Josephine found her heart beating so loud thinking he must be able to hear it. Blushing, she reminded herself to breathe before taking his arm. “Thank you Lord Sharpe.”

“Thomas, please.” He wanted nothing more than to run away with her to some far off place or at least back to his home.

She nodded. “Thomas. You look very dapper yourself.”

She scolded herself. ‘Dapper? That’s the best you can come up with?’

“Shall we?” He held out his arm which she took. He aimed towards the door, and she followed him, a willing captive. When entering the carriage, it took all his strength to tell the driver to take them to the restaurant rather than what his head and heart were telling him.

At dinner, they exchanged stories. He told her the joke about why his estate is called Crimson Peak.

"That sounds extraordinary."

"It is fascinating but sometimes also a bit macabre when someone walks around and leaves what looks like bloody footprints."

"That must be a sight to behold. Oh how I wish I could see that." She froze. She had not meant to be so bold and admit that last part, but he simply smiled and said, "I would love for you to see it. You are most welcome to come observe the sight any time you wish."

She felt a bit relieved. They continued to talk and walked leisurely back to her hotel as they did not want the night to end.

"I would very much like to see you again tomorrow, if that is alright?" He didn't want to let her go, yearning to whisk her back to Allerdale as his.

"I would like that as well. My mother and I have an appointment, but we should be back by 1."

"1 o'clock it is. I look forward to it." He smiled, taking her hand in his and placed a kiss across her knuckles before departing.

Arriving at her room, she found her mother was pulling out the metallic syringe and an opaque bottle of liquid. "Did you have fun?"

She smiled and nodded. "He's wonderful and incredibly kind. He has asked to see me again tomorrow when we get back.”

"I see no problem with that at all, my dearest daughter, but it’s time for your medicine."

Josephine was not a fan of needles, but her mother insisted it would help with her deteriorating health.

***********************************************************************

When she awoke the next day, the front desk brought flowers that had been delivered early that morning.

My Dearest Josephine,

These flowers pale in comparison to your beauty. I very much look forward to seeing you again today.

Sir Thomas Sharpe

She placed them by her bedside, smiling like a loon. Her left hand began to shake and held it with her right to help control the tremors.

The visit at the hospital took longer than anticipated as they wanted to run a few tests to get a diagnosis as they felt they were close. By the time they arrived back at their hotel, it was half past 1.

Thomas waited patiently in the lobby. He had not been to the hospital much but knew appointments of any nature could run longer than expected. When she arrived flustered, he tried to give an air of calm and understanding.

"I'm so sorry."

"It's quite alright. No need to explain. If you need to take a moment to freshen up, I am happy to wait."

Josephine appreciated his offer and went up to her room to fix herself quickly and was back down ten minutes later. She was sure to wear a dress with a larger skirt to help hide the tremors in her legs that were becoming more frequent.

He took her to a shop that prepared a picnic basket for them which they took to a nearby park. He laid everything out on the blanket, and they spent the afternoon enjoying each other's company, talking about various things such as nature, science, hopes, dreams. Before they knew it, evening fell upon them, the picnic food gone hours before.

"Would you like me to escort you back to your hotel?"

She felt a pang of disappointment, not wanting to leave just yet. As if he could read her mind, "or, perhaps, we could get some dinner?"

Thomas wasn't ready to take her back but feared she might be tired of him. He hoped she might accept his second offer, his heart almost refusing to beat.

"Dinner sounds delightful."

Internally, he breathed a sigh of relief, his heart relieved. As she went to stand up, the tremors began again, causing her to lose her footing; however, Thomas caught her before she fell to the ground. She tried to brush it off. “I’m so sorry. My legs must have fallen asleep.” She smiled. “Not to worry. I’ll help you to the restaurant. It’s nearby.” She took his arm, using it to steady herself, trying her best to ignore the looming headache.

They continued to enjoy one another's company through dinner and dessert, not realizing the late hour while looking at the stars in the park until they arrived back at her hotel to her frantic mother who calmed the moment she saw her daughter was with Sir Thomas.

"Thank you so much for escorting my daughter. It appears she had a lovely time." This caused Josephine to blush profusely.

"My apologies for keeping her so late. I do so much enjoy spending time with her." He couldn't help but shyly smile as he spoke. “If your mother permits, I would love to see you again.”

“That would be lovely,” she said, trying to hide the pain from her headache that seemed to only be getting worse.

“Would tomorrow be too soon?” He was hopeful she’d agree. It was too soon, but if he could, he would see her every day; however, he did not want to scare her, unsure if she felt the same. Little did he know, she did. As much as she loved her mother, she wanted adventures with him. She’d run off with him at that very moment if she weren’t worried about leaving her mother alone. Maybe he’d allow her to come with them? Or would he disappear when learning of her declining health? ‘No, Josephine. You mustn’t let your heart get ahead of your mind. Perhaps he merely wants company while he is in town.’

Taking her hand, he turned it, kissing her palm and felt her hand shaking a bit but brushed it off, believing she was likely as nervous as he.

Arriving back to her room, her mother was ready to give the next dose of medicine. “Do we have to, mother? How many more of these treatments must I endure?”

Her mother approached with caution. “It is only for your benefit. Do you not wish to be well?”

She sighed in defeat. “Yes, mother. It’s just that the treatments have become more difficult to handle. I just want to be well and hope the doctors here can find a solution.”

“I am sure they will, but in the meantime, you need to continue this course of treatment. The doctors have not been opposed to it, and I feel it has slowed down at the least. I am truly sorry for how difficult this has been for you, but it’s not any easier watching you be forced to endure. You are a strong, capable woman. As your mother, I only want to see you succeed.”

Josephine relented and allowed her mother to administer the needle treatment.

“I must also say this. Sir Thomas seems like a capable young man, but I am not sure he is right for you. I fear he may take advantage of you due to your health. I do not believe I can abide his visits much longer. I want to see you happy, but I also want you to be safe.” She put the needle away with the future treatments, placing them in the drawer of her nightstand.

She rubbed her arm at the injection site, momentarily forgetting her headache. “I know, mother, but there is just something about him that I cannot explain. I feel connected to him on a spiritual level, and if he were to propose tomorrow, I would say yes, but….”

Sitting on her bed, her mother looked nervous. “But what, Josephine?”

“But I fear leaving you alone. Father passed so long ago, and I do not want you to feel as if I am attempting to abandon you, but I feel I must follow my heart. I am hoping, perhaps, that if he does propose, that you may come to live with us. I know. I’m getting ahead of myself. Just wishful thinking.”

Her mother moved over next to her, holding her from the side. “Darling daughter. I am in awe of your desire to see me happy, and I feel the same for you. I just………..want you to be safe. The thought of you running off with that man scares me. There is just something about his countenance I cannot trust. I mean, what do we really know about him?”

She knew her mother was right. She was always right, but something in the back of her mind said her mother was wrong about this.

***********************************************************************

As he walked back to his hotel, he could not stop thinking about the feel of her hand, the honeysuckle smell drifting off her hair. He knew what needed to be done. Once back in his room, he pulled out a pen and parchment.

My Dearest Sister,

Please forgive my neglect of you. I have been so thoroughly occupied of late, and have so very much to tell you. Foremost, that I send you my love and sincerest well wishes for you in my absence. All is well here, I have been meeting with Mr. Westridge regarding the estate. He has been kind enough to assist in clarifying the terms of the paperwork so we have nearly concluded our business; however, I must confess that, while I do miss you, I am not eager to return home just yet.

I have had the absolute pleasure of meeting a most outstanding lady. Her name is Josephine. She is here in town with her mother. With her mother’s permission, I escorted her to dinner. She is such a remarkable woman. She gazes fondly at the stars as if they were her dearest friends. I showed her the constellations of Perseus and Andromeda, telling her their tale. Dear sister, I would slay every beast in the world just to stand in her presence.

She adores reading the poets and makes spirited defenses and criticisms of every page she consumes. She listens tirelessly to my myriad mechanical ramblings and discusses my ideas with a curious and open mind. Never has a woman taken such an intellectual interest in my work. I must admit that while her face caught my attention, it was her mind that has kept my interest.

Oh, how I wish you were here to help guide me through this. The very sight of her makes my heart flutter. This strange feeling is beyond my comprehension, yet I do not wish for it to dissipate. What must I do, dear sister? Please, I beg for your guidance in this matter.

Your loving brother,

Thomas

Sealing the letter, he called upon the front desk to have the letter delivered to his sister, eager for a response as he was eager for his sister’s council. They ensured him that short of unexpected, disastrous weather, they would have the letter delivered post haste.

***********************************************************************

While a cold cloth to her forehead helped alleviate her headache, Josephine suffered another night of unrest. Rather than toss and turn, she quietly took out her diary to write, always addressing her entries to her father as it helped her feel close to him even though she never had the opportunity to meet him as he passed shortly after she was born.

Dear Father,

I must tell you of the noble gentleman who came to my rescue yesterday. His name is Sir Thomas Sharpe. I felt faint and began to stumble, but he saved me before I could be injured. Dearest father, he is an angel, both in action and countenance. When our eyes met, I knew in that instant he was my soulmate.

I know you never truly believed in soulmates and love at first sight, but I felt whole for the first time in my life. I thought for so long that the missing piece of my soul occurred when you passed. I realize now that the missing piece was him. The cracks running deep to my core now feel as if they are mending each time we meet.

Father, I know you would approve of him. We share similar interests. He loves to read, star gaze, dance, and invent. Yes! He’s an inventor! His mind creates these extraordinary ideas for machines. His latest idea is for one that would make the harvesting of clay easier and more efficient with less likelihood for injury to the workers. I find myself completely fascinated when he spoke of it

My first hesitation is mother. I do not wish for her to feel abandoned. She seemed amenable to come with me to Thomas’ estate, should he propose. I have only known him for two days, but I would marry him at this very moment should he ask. I do not care if he has money or not. If he does not have an estate then the ground where we lay would become our home and the stars our blanket.

My second hesitation is my health. I have not yet told him of my ailments and am afraid to do so. My fears tell me he will reject me, not wanting an ill spouse, but my soul tells me he will not care.

I know not else how to describe this feeling, but I cannot deny it. Mother reminds me that a lady does not openly express her feelings to a gentleman. I wish you could meet him, see him as I do, but I know you watch over me.

I also fear that I have created this imaginary scene in my mind, that my heart has overruled my mind to the point where I live in fantasy.

I beg of you for your help, courage, and wisdom to know what to do. I miss you so much.

Your loving daughter,

Josephine

Putting her journal away, she climbed back into bed. It was another hour before she was finally able to sleep.

***********************************************************************

The following morning, Thomas readied himself, going by the florist first. Looking for the perfect flowers, he looked for ones that might be worthy of her presence. Once he found them, he paid the proprietor and left swiftly to her hotel and waited for her patiently in the lobby.

Josephine was lost in a fitful slumber, but her mother was awake and ready, knowing Sir Thomas would be arriving shortly. Descending the stairs, she saw him holding the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen.

“Good morning Ms. Morrow! How are you this fine morning?” The joy in his face was evident to any who saw him.

“Good morning, Lord Sharpe! I am well, but I’m afraid Josephine is still resting. Her rest was very troubling last night, which is to be expected.”

“I am so sorry to hear that, but I do hope she is well. Do you know when she might awaken?” He was very eager to see her.

“I could not say, but I do not wish to disturb her as her health has been poor, especially as of late. I will ensure she receives these.”

When she put her hands forward, he hesitated. “I would be happy to wait until she is awake as I would live to give these to her myself. I must confess. I am eager to see her again.” He wanted to see her so much, even if for a moment.

“I cannot say when she may awaken and feel well enough for a visitor, but I assure you I will take these directly upstairs.” Reluctantly, he handed her the bouquet.

“I thank you for doing so. If there is anything I might do to aid in her recovery, please do let me know. I am very……..fond of her.” He could not help but blush.

“You are too kind, Lord Sharpe. We are fond of you as well.” He smiled at her response.

“Please do not hesitate to call upon me should there be anything I can do to assist in her recovery.”

He waited until Ms. Morrow disappeared up the stairs and out of view before taking his leave.

As her mother returned, she found her daughter to be awake and brushing her hair. Turning at the sound of the door, she saw the flowers her mother held. “Those are the loveliest flowers I have ever seen! Where did you find them?”

Her mother walked over to the vase in their room, discarding the old flowers and placing the new ones in there with some water. “A handsome gentleman gave them to me. They are pleasing, are they not?”

“They truly are, and you deserve them. You have been so kind and helpful with my health. It’s the least you deserve. I do hope he calls upon you again.” Josephine turned around and continued to brush her hair. She was feeling exceptionally unwell this morning but did not want to alarm her mother, keeping her thoughts to herself.

As her mother went to place the flowers in a vase with some water, she removed the ribbon from the stems, placing it aside as a keepsake. “I communicated your increasingly poor health to the hospital. They recommended bed rest and valerian tea until your next appointment in 3 days.”

Disappointed, she returned to her bed, already plotting her escape. She could not stand to be cooped up, preferring the fresh air and sunshine, or the stars at night. In the meantime, she placed her head on the pillow, knowing she could use some more rest.

***********************************************************************

That was two days ago. Thomas paced back and forth around his rooms wondering what to do, how he could capture even a glimpse of her. Perhaps he could return back to her hotel in the evening with more flowers? Or would more flowers be too much? Maybe a new pair of gloves?

Then it occurred to him. He knew exactly what she would like, departing for the desired object he had seen just the other day. When he exited his hotel, he looked around to realize it was later than he thought, not having realized he had been pacing around his room for hours.

Holding himself back from running, he reminded himself of social protocol, trying to keep an acceptable pace as there was no emergency. Upon arriving at his desired location, he spoke with the shopkeeper, describing the item he was looking for. The shopkeeper knew exactly what he was describing. “Would you like me to wrap it for you sir?”

Thomas smiled. “I would be most grateful. I am very grateful for your help.” Pausing for a moment, he had another idea. “Might you have a piece of parchment and ink I might use?”

The shopkeeper smiled and retrieved the requested items. “This must be for someone very special.” Thomas smiled back at him. “Yes, for someone very dear and precious.” It took him a few moments, but the words finally came to him.

My Dearest Josephine,

Words fail me to accurately portray the bewildering spell you have cast upon me with your beauty and intellect. I hope this may help convey what I am unable to express. For I am unable to retain a singular thought when simply near you. I yearn to see you. To simply breathe the same air as you is a privilege that not even God himself is worthy.

I pray you can accept this humble token from an unworthy man such as myself.

Yours Always,

Thomas

Gently folding the note, he placed it inside before the shopkeeper who then safely wrapped the item, securing it with twine. Holding it carefully, he departed.

As he neared her hotel, he noticed a woman become unsteady, falling to the ground and hurriedly made his way to assist her.

“Madam, are you alrigh………Josephine?” Her face was contorted in pain. “What is wrong? What can I do?” She could hear his voice off in the distance; however, she was more focused on her prevailing issue as her extremities continued to tremble. Lifting her bridal style, he started towards the hospital.

She turned to look at him. “Thomas?” She sounded weak. “Dear Josephine! Do not worry. I will get you to the hospital posthaste.”

She placed a hand on one of his lapels. “Please no, not the hospital.”

“But you are unwell. You must see a doctor! If nothing else, I should take you back to your hotel to rest. You cannot be out here in your state.”

“I beg you. Please do not take me back, at least not yet. Can we delay a little? Perhaps sit on a bench at the park? I yearn for fresh air and sunshine.”

He could not deny her request, heading for the park nearby as she leaned her head on his shoulder. Gently placing her on the bench, he sat next to her. She held onto his arm. To provide her better support, he wrapped an arm around her, finding her leaning into him. They stayed like that for sometime, receiving odd looks from passersby. Finally, Thomas broke their peaceful quiet.

“Darling Josephine. If I might implore, what is ailing you?”

This was it. She was about to be confronted with her fear of his rejection of her due to her health. “I’m afraid, Thomas.” she turned her face up to look at him.

“What are you afraid of, my dear?”

there was nothing she could do to hide or deny it any longer. “I have been unwell for sometime. Mother thought it best to come to London to see if the doctors might know what is affecting my health. No one has been able to uncover the cause. They’re only able to treat the symptoms.”

Thomas listened attentively as she looked away and continued.

“The doctors here have hope for a diagnosis and solution. In the meantime, mother has been administering medicine to help me, but I fear it might not be working well enough.”

“Why have you not told me of this before?” His worry increased, not wanting her to suffer.

“I’m afraid you might not want to see me anymore. No one wants to be saddled with an ill person.”

Placing his finger under her chin, he guided her face back towards his. “My dearest darling Josephine. Nothing could change how I feel about you.”

She blushed and attempted to bury her face in his chest, but he would not allow her to do so. “If God himself told me I had to choose between you and the heavens, I would dwell happy as a dead man in hellfire for having known you.”

She could not help a tear or two from falling. “Please, Thomas, do not take pity on me. I could not bear it.”

Using the back of his finger, he wiped them away. “Please do not cry. I am not worthy of your tears.”

He brushed some falling hair out of her face, and she leaned her face into his palm as he did so, yearning to stay close to him. A gust of cold wind fell upon them, and she began to shiver. Against society propriety, he removed his coat and placed it around her to help keep her warm. She confided in him her desire to be a dancer. “I’ve always wanted to dance, but my health never allowed it.”

“One day, you will dance. We will dance, even if I have to sweep you off your feet and hold you while I carry you around the dance floor. Come, love. We must get you back to your hotel for some rest.” She agreed but found she was still unable to walk. The tremors were affecting her more and more as time moved on. Seeing her distress, he picked her up bridal style once again and moved towards her hotel. As he carried her, she found herself warming between his coat and their close proximity, allowing his calming scent to envelop her.

They arrived at her hotel moments later, finding her mother running frantically down the stairs. “Where have you been? Are you alright?”

Josephine nodded, looking up at Thomas. “I needed some air and fell, but Thomas rescued me.”

“We need to get you back to bed.” Thomas began towards the stairs but was stopped by her mother. “It is not appropriate for you to be in her room. I can help her back to our rooms.”

He looked back at Josephine, not wanting to leave her in such a state, but Josephine knew once again that her mother was right. He placed her down gently, her mother moving to help support her.

“Thank you again for rescuing me, Thomas.” She gave him a weak smile, her energy still draining and began to remove and return his coat, but he stopped her.

“No, my dear Josephine. Please use it to keep yourself warm. I can come back and retrieve it tomorrow or the day after when you are feeling better.”

He leaned forward to wrap his coat back around her, using the moment to whisper so that only she could hear. “There is something in the pocket for you.”

She looked at him and smiled once more. “Thank you again, Sir Thomas. You have been most kind.”

He stayed and observed to help ensure her and her mother had no problems ascending the stairs, not leaving until well after they were out of sight.

Arriving back at his hotel, he found there was a letter and small package awaiting him. Seeing his sister’s hand writing, he swiftly took the items to his room, eager to read her response.

Darling Brother,

I am beyond delighted to receive your letter. What you describe in your letter is nothing short of love. I have been worried for so long to find someone worthy of your time and attention, to be a partner, a friend, and a confidante.

She sounds to be the most exquisite creature. It warms my heart with how you talk of her. I have never heard you speak of anyone in such a manner, not even your childhood love, Angelica.

From what you’ve told me of her, it appears she feels the same as you. The only guidance I can give you is this. Your heart already knows what to do and will not lead you astray. All you need now is to listen to it.

I have enclosed mother’s ring. While it is ghastly, use it to purchase a ring for my future sister. Go, dear brother, and ask her to be your Andromeda.

Your loving sister,

Lucille

He knew she was right, always providing the truest insight and finest guidance. In all the times he thought he was falling in love, none compared to his affection for Josephine.

Opening the small package, he found their mother’s ring encased in an intricately carved jewelry box. While the box was beautiful, he agreed with his sister that the ring was frightful. Gazing at the ring, he pondered where to go. Placing the ring on the desk, he decided to begin his search for the perfect ring the next day. All night, his mind stirred with ideas of how to ask his dear Josephine to be his Andromeda once a worthy ring was found..

***********************************************************************

Back at her hotel, Josephine placed Thomas’ coat over the back of her chair and bided her time to check the inner pocket until her mother had fallen asleep. As she climbed into bed, her mother brought her nightly remedy. Not wanting to anger her mother, she gripped the bedsheet tightly as the needle was administered in her other arm.

As the needle and bottle were put away, Josephine noticed the flowers again by her mother’s bedside. Whomever sent those must truly be enamored, and it delighted her heart, giving her hope that her mother would finally find someone.

She gently turned over to see her mother gazing at the flowers once more. “Mother? I am so sorry to have worried you like that. It was not my intention to cause any harm.”

Looking back to her daughter, the smile on her face dropped as she prepared the valerian tea. “You know, daughter. I only wish the best for you. The instructions from the doctors are only for your betterment.”

Although crestfallen, she knew her mother was right, as always. “I’m just so tired of doctors and hospitals.”

“I know you are, my daughter. I wish I could make it all go away, but they are necessary. The physicians here seem to have better ideas on how to help you, and we must let them do it.”

She knew there was nothing else to say. Taking the tea from her mother, she drank it without complaint, falling asleep soon after.

***********************************************************************

Waking up to the sound of song birds, Thomas yearned to see his beloved. Taking the time to bathe and dress, he decided to surprise her at her hotel and take her to breakfast. Taking the ring, he placed it in his breast pocket.

Swiftly arriving at her hotel, he inquired with the desk clerk if she was awake. Having one of the staff check, it was only moments before Ms. Morrow arrived downstairs.

“Sir Thomas! How delightful to see you this morning.”

“Ms. Morrow, it is a pleasure to see you. I was hoping to take your daughter to breakfast? If it’s already with you, that is.”

“I’m so sorry, Sir Thomas. She is still slumbering and will not be awake for a while, but I would be delighted to join you. This would be an opportune time to get to know one another. I feel that we may be spending more time together in the near future.”

He smiled, trying to hide his disappointment in not seeing his darling. “That would be most wonderful, Ms. Morrow, and a most excellent idea.”

Taking his arm, she led him out of the hotel. “Please, call me Victoria. I insist.” They arrived at a restaurant just minutes later, being seated without hesitation. They discussed hobbies and interests. He asked questions about Josephine’s upbringing, wanting to know her better.

“To be honest, she was never a well child. Her father passed when she was an infant, and I took the burden of being mother, father, and nursemaid.” She proceeded to tell him how her daughter’s health has been poor since she was little and has steadily declined over the years. “I’ve had to play nursemaid by myself.”

They chatted away a while longer before Thomas escorted her back to her hotel, taking his leave in search of a prize.

Going from store to store, he felt more and more despondent. The staff at each store tried to be helpful, but nothing was good enough for his dear Josephine. Before returning to his rooms for the evening, he tried one last store: Hatton Garden. The gentleman behind the counter introduced himself as Harold. Harold was not much to look at, a short balding man in his fifties, but he had an immense talent for helping people find the perfect piece. He showed him his mother’s ring, hoping he could sell it to purchase a ring fit for a goddess.

“Tell me about your fair lady.” This was his trick, to use how the person felt about their beloved and match it to a ring.

“She is the most beautiful creature I have ever beheld. Her eyes are blue like the ocean and sparkle like the finest stars in the sky. She loves poetry and astronomy. She is like no other I have ever met before. I want to find something unique and individual that will compliment her beauty and show that she is nothing short of a queen among peasants.”

Harold smiled. Never before had he heard such an elegant description of a fine young lady, and he knew exactly the ring for her. Retrieving it, he placed it delicately on the counter.

This was the ring. THE ring he had been searching for. The smile on his face told Harold he had chosen wisely.

“May I see the one you brought in?” Thomas placed his mother’s old ring on the counter. “Unfortunately this is all I have, but I cannot give her a ring that does not befit her beauty.” Harold picked it up to inspect it. Taking out his jeweler eyepiece, he looked closely at the stone and inspected the silver holding the gem.

“I hope you do not find me impertinent, but this setting does not do justice for such a fine ruby stone.” He looked at it further before placing it back on the counter.

“Not at all. To be honest, I find the ring itself ghastly, but I know it must be worth something.”

While the setting itself was considered junk these days (it was made mostly of cheap aluminum), the stone was worth something; however, the value fell short on the cost of Thomas’ chosen ring. There was something about him he only rarely saw in others who came to him for help and came to a decision. This young lady described sounded not only enchanting but also one of the only women worthy of a ring like this. While the gentleman in front of him would not be able to pay the actual cost of the ring, he wanted to help him.

“I do believe we can come to an agreeable arrangement.” Harold described the value of the stone in the ring brought to him. While he could not use the current setting, he could have a new setting created that would be more appealing and appropriate for the stone. “You came on a most auspicious day, my boy. For today is the only day this particular ring is on a special sale.” He told Thomas that with the sale price of the ring, it would match the amount he would pay for the ring Thomas brought in. “In fact, I would be most glad to exchange the ring you brought to me for this one. It is most fortunate you arrived this evening.”

Thomas was elated, finally having found the perfect ring for his (hopefully) future wife. Harold included a ring box befitting such a ring. To avoid theft, he placed the ring box in his breast pocket where the previous one resided.

“I cannot thank you enough, sir. You have been a tremendous help!” Harold gave him well wishes as he departed.

It was late in the day, perhaps too late to call upon his dear Josephine. Regardless, he walked to her hotel, stopping in front and peering up to what he believed to be her window. He had to stop himself from running inside, up the stairs, and to her room. He didn’t care that her health was poor and would take any time God would grant him, be it years, months, days, or even minutes and would love and take care of her.

Before the constable could be called, Thomas went back to his own hotel and spent hours working on his proposal.

***********************************************************************

The following morning, he was ready. Placing the ring box in his jacket pocket, Tom went to the florist first. He wanted to have the perfect flowers to give her as he proposed. The florist was kind and helped pick the right flowers that would show love and affection and created a one of a kind bouquet of peonies and roses.

“Any girl who would turn you down after giving these flowers is not a girl worth having,” the florist told him.

“She’s worth much, much more than these, but I think she’ll find them adequate.” His smile was big and bright, lighting up the shop. It wasn’t hard to see how hard he had fallen for Josephine. Anyone who looked at him knew he was a man in love.

Now armed with the beautiful bouquet, he made his way to her hotel.

Once arrived, he asked for her at the front desk. “Might Miss Josephine Morrow be available? I do not wish to disturb…….”

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw the grim look on the concierge’s face. “Normally, I would not share such private information, but I have seen you and her together. She’d want you to know.”

The smile on his face dropped, his heart racing with fear, the flowers dropping to the floor. “Know what?”

The concierge took a moment to compose himself. “It was very late last night, her mother came running, asking for help to get her daughter to the hospital. I was able to find someone to take her to hospital, but when I saw her? To say she looked poorly would not do it justice.”

Before the gentleman could finish, Thomas was out the door and running to the hospital. He had to see her for himself. If she was that ill, he wanted nothing more than to be by her side. He’d never run so fast before, but it also seemed to take forever to get there. The nurse at the desk confirmed she was there and took him to her room. When he entered, she looked deathly pale. Tremors were happening at random intervals, and it was obvious she was having breathing issues.

“Her mother stepped out a few minutes ago. We urged her to get some rest. You must have just missed her.”

“What is wrong with her? Will she be alright?” She had to be alright. He refused any other outcome.

“Honestly, we don’t know. We cannot figure out the source of her ailment. If we had some idea, we might be able to do something, but I fear it may be too late.”

He was now sitting at her bedside, holding her hand. “She told me her mother had been administering medicine. Has that not helped?”

The nurse looked puzzled. “What medicine? The doctor has been very hesitant to prescribe her anything except to help her rest. If we knew what she was being given…..”

He was out the door before she could finish, knowing he needed to find the medicine her mother was administering. Why had her mother not told them? Would it not benefit to give the doctors all of the information in order to help her daughter?

Arriving back at the hotel, he told the concierge to call the police as he ran up the stairs to her rooms. Rather than knocking, he barged right in. The room was unoccupied. There were no thoughts as to where her mother might be, but he began searching every bag he could find. As he neared the desk Josephine regularly used, her mother entered the room. “I beg your pardon. What do you think you’re doing here? Why are you going through our personal things?”

“Where is it?” he demanded.

“Where is what?” She retorted.

“The medicine you’ve been administering to her? ” He continued to shuffle through papers.

“I have no idea what you are referring to, sir. I demand you leave at once!”

He turned to look at her, fury evident in his eyes. “Your daughter told me you’d been administering medication. The hospital has no record of it. Where is it? What have you been giving her?”

Ms. Morrow was frozen in place, speechless. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the flowers he’d given Ms. Morrow to give her daughter on his behalf. They were not on Josephine’s bedside table. Rather, they were by Ms. Morrow’s. Why were they there?

He moved swiftly to the flowers. “Why are these here? They were for Josephine!” He started searching through the drawer of the nightstand, finding the items he was looking for. He pulled out the needle and a bottle of silver liquid. “What is this? What in heaven’s name have you been giving her?”

“I’m her mother! I take care of her. You have no right to question me. I demand you leave at once!” They were both flustered. Thomas examined the bottle of silver liquid, looking for any sign of a label. It wasn’t until he turned it upside down that he found a partial label that said “....cury”.

“You’ve been injecting her with mercury? Why would you do such a thing?” Ms. Morrow launched herself at him, trying to get the bottle back. He held it above her head to which she responded by slapping him several times. Before she could get in the next blow, police blew in through the door.

He directed the police to arrest her. “She’s been poisoning her daughter. I must get this vial and the needles to the hospital before it’s too late.” While two officers arrested Ms. Morrow, another officer gave him a ride to the hospital. Thomas hoped it wasn’t too late. He couldn’t bear to live without her.

Rushing to her room, he found the doctor there examining his Josephine. “This is what her mother has been administering.” He handed the bottle over to the doctor who examined it, and then sat by Josephine, holding her hand and kissed the back of it.

The doctor turned to his patient. “Is this true, Ms. Josephine?” She let out a breathy ‘yes’, unable to speak much more than that. Even in the short time he’d been at her hotel, she continued to deteriorate.

It didn’t take the doctor more than a moment to recognize the contents: mercury. Now having the missing piece of the puzzle, the doctor turned them. “This explains your symptoms, but I’m afraid they’ve progressed too far.”

“What do you mean, too far?” Thomas was angry.

“If we had known much sooner, the effects could be reversed, but at this point, there’s nothing we can do. She’s not much longer for this world, I’m afraid.”

The tears poured out of him. He gazed into his darling’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, my love. I’m so, so sorry.”

She gathered what strength she had left, placing her palm on his face. “It is alright, darling.”

“How is it alright?”

“You’ve given me the greatest gift I’ve ever wanted. You showed me what it is to love and be loved.”

He held her other hand with both of his, tears continuing to fall. “We haven’t had enough time. We need more time!”

“Do not worry, darling. I will always be with you.”

At that moment, he remembered his original intention that morning, and pulled a small box out of his jacket pocket. She may not be long for this world, but he wanted every moment he could get.

“Dearest Josephine, I love you more than life itself. I do not care if it is only for a few minutes or a few days. Would you please do me the honor of being my wife?” He opened the box to show her the ring.

She smiled and nodded. “Yes,” she said with as much enthusiasm as she could gather. He removed the ring from the box and placed it on her finger. What he had not noticed when he purchased the ring was that the jeweler had placed a matching silver ring under the cushion, a ring for him; however, it fell out of the box, creating a clunking sound as it hit the floor. He picked it up before turning to the doctor. “Is there a parson here? I wish to marry my fiance as swiftly as possible.”

The doctor sent the nurse to find the vicar who had been visiting other patients and brought him to Josephine’s bedside. Thomas expressed his wishes, and Josephine confirmed. Both her engagement ring and the groom’s ring were placed on the open bible held by the vicar.

While they did not have a license, the vicar did not care. He quickly understood the situation and gave them a brief ceremony, marrying them in the eyes of God. At this point, no one in the room cared about the legalities. Within moments, they were married, the rings placed on their respective fingers.

From that moment on, they were not parted. He refused to leave her side for anything, standing vigil day and night, wanting to spend every possible moment with her that she had left. The only thing she asked of him was to hold her. He and the nurse moved her carefully so that he could join her in bed. Giving her a sweet kiss, he held her for the next few hours as she continued to deteriorate.

The doctor came to check on her that night. When he came back the next morning, he let Thomas know that she did not have much longer. He continued to hold her, forgetting all else. In her last moments, she looked at him. “Thomas….”

“Yes, my love?”

“I…..” She had to regain her breath for a moment. He waited patiently for her to continue. “I will always love you.”

He dared to hold her closer. “And I will always love you, in this life and the next.”

“And the next,” she repeated. “I love you.” And with those three words, she took her last breath.

The funeral was small but nice. His sister did not have enough time to be there for her brother at the funeral, but she arrived that night in order to help him pack. At his request, the concierge and staff helped to pack up her belongings so that Thomas may bring them back to Allerdale Hall. While he could no longer bring his wife, he could have some part of her there with him.

As it got deep into winter, Lucille found him up in his attic more and more to the point where he refused to leave. He had his favorite gown of Josephine’s on a mannequin in his workshop so she could watch him work. He’d explain to the mannequin what he was doing and how he was doing it, as if she were truly there with him. The most he would allow from Lucille was a blanket for warmth and the occasional tea.

He’d not been home for a month when he caught a cold. Lucille tried to urge him to take the medicinal tea and treatments to help him recover, but he had lost his will to do anything. Melancholia and grief had such a tight hold on him that he could think of nothing else but his wife and his desire to be with her again.

Lucille returned about 20 minutes later with the medicinal tea and the determination to force her brother to take it and get better. Arriving in the attic, she found he had passed, holding on to Josephine’s dress.

Knowing what he would want, she had his body brought to London and had him buried next to his wife. As there was no proper headstone for Josephine, Lucille had a double headstone fashioned for her brother and his wife, finding it the very least she could do for her dearest brother.

Taglist: @vbecker10

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lulubelle814 · 7 days

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All the love, my Queens. All the love. #justletherreadherdamnbookinpeace #readthebookhoney #igetyou

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lulubelle814 · 7 days

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The Garden Gate

Pairing: Medieval!Loki x Reader Word Count: 6,514

Warnings: smut, mentions of infidelity, language, bodily fluids, jealousy, Loki in a poofy shirt

A/N: Well, I haven't done this in a while. I had to go look for an old post to see how I used to do these openings. LUL Anywho, y'all can thank @darkficsyouneveraskedfor for this one. She sent me a picture and then I asked her for three characters and three scenarios and this one is the one that spoke to me the most. I did put my own spin on it but that's just me. Anywho, I'm not sure how many of my old readers will read this but I hope y'all like it. Anything y'all have to say about it is also greatly appreciated. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs!!

REBLOGS are always welcome!

Your family’s fall from grace had been nothing short of spectacular.

It had started first with the crumbling of respect from the men and heads of other houses. The gentry had taken offense to the shame of your father and eldest brother’s retreat at the battle for Carmine Valley, so named for the blush of trees that peppered the expanse of lush green and the strange but beautiful red waters of the central lake.

Had Lord Odinson’s own knights not been flanking from the western ridges, the valley would have fallen into the hands of the northern enemy forces. A great loss seeing as the valley was the largest producer of grain and vegetables in the kingdom.

The fallout had been catastrophic. Both your father and brother had been sent to the wild woods to the southernmost parts of the kingdom to work off their shame and languish in the dangerous labor camps where men were said to be torn into shreds by beasts as large as a carriage.

Even though you loved them very much, you couldn’t help the anger within your veins at their betrayal to not only the kingdom, but to your very family. The abandonment that their retreat meant. They knew what doing so would do to you, your mother, and younger brother.

If it were not for the King’s good nature, you’d have no doubt found yourself working in some brothel alongside your mother leaving your younger brother, at the tender age of seven, exposed to the worst parts of society.

The seediest brothels were not above selling children, you knew. No matter that the King had signed a death warrant for anyone known to sell or buy said company. It was the worst of sins and it breaks your heart to know that one man’s generosity saved all three of you from that life when he could have very well condemned it.

Knowing this–knowing how bad it could have been–doesn’t change the fact that your life now is still torture. Torture of a different kind, but torture all the same.

The King’s kindness came in the form of service. While your family was stripped of all titles and wealth, you’d also lost your beloved.

That is the true source of agony in your chest as you struggle with the bucket of waste water you’re holding, trying desperately not to slosh it around too hard. The last thing you want to do is to go to bed smelling of someone else’s bodily fluids.

The thick wool of your simple navy dress and the apron you keep tied over it are both great for absorbing disgusting materials. Already in need of a wash, the white ruffle along the neckline is frayed and yellowing despite the gown being only a few months old.

Edging along the courtyard wall, you try not to rush. The exhaustion in your body begs for sleep. Even months later the labor of working in the castle as a servant to former peers has not grown easier.

Wincing as the rough rope of the bucket burns the center of your palms, you almost sigh but instead freeze at the sight before you.

You’d know his silhouette anywhere.

The light is low here, a small lamp just beyond the open garden gate illuminates them from behind and hides their expressions but you don’t need to see to understand.

Her lips are parted, head pressed back against the door, hand braced against the warm brown and ornately carved wood. Her legs are parted a little too wide, a subtle motion of his left arm and the bunch of fabric around his forearm tell you enough of what you’ve stumbled upon.

You’re embarrassed and try to fade back into the darkness of the small courtyard behind you.

His shoulder length hair, black as a raven’s feather, is disheveled. You notice her hand gripping it tightly as his arm pumps.

A wispy, sultry moan slips through her parted lips and you stumble, gasping your own bit of surprise as you try not to spill the bucket’s contents.

A small splash, luckily away from you but the shuffle of feet and the rustle of fabric tells you that you’ve been noticed.

You look up, Lord Loki stands facing you, hands fisted as she hides behind him quickly adjusting her skirts.

“Oh, it’s you,” Lord Loki says, disdain in his voice.

Everyone here hates you. You already know this. Your father’s sins are your own. Nothing can change that.

“Finally where you belong,” the girl says and you recognize the voice with a small shock of pain in your chest. “You smell like piss.”

Lord Loki chuckles and you shrink just a little. More embarrassed by your own situation than catching them in the act. In fact, you’re disgusted by both of them, not only because of their audacity to do this at all, but because the woman whose fingers Lord Loki were just in is also your once beloved’s fiance.

Your former confidant. Lady Amora Antress. You’d once considered her your closest friend. Now here she stands, betrothed to one brother while fucking the other. The venom she spits at you is also unappreciated and painful to hear.

How long had she hated you before your downfall? How long had she waited before pursuing Thor?

“Aren’t you going to reply to her ladyship, servant?” Lord Loki asks, gleeful mirth in his voice as he takes a step towards you.

You bow your head even more, holding the bucket in your hands as still as you can while your hands struggle with the burn of the rope.

Amora scoff, “Pathetic. Leave her be, Loki. She’s where she deserves to be. She’s not worth the breath in our lungs.”

You don’t mean to cry. The utter betrayal of your once friend hurts more even than the loss of your once future husband.

“Are you crying?” Amora laughs, moving around Lord Loki, her shoes clicking against the brick of the courtyard. She stops in front of you, arms crossed over her ample bosom, still exposed more than it should be from what she and Lord Loki were just about to do. “You’re pathetic. The least you could do is be invisible while you serve.”

You say nothing, fist tightening around the rope. Pain shifts into rage at the cruelty in her words.

The wind blows and you can smell the scent of their near copulation. Luckily, it’s driven away by the vines of jasmine that creep along the tops of the brick wall.

She doesn’t deserve Thor. But you know that he never deserved you either. The rate at which he moved on…

Almost as if she’s sensing your thoughts, she takes a step closer and drops her voice to a whisper. You know Lord Loki will still be able to hear.

“Poor little flower, so careless and trusting.” She smiles. “You know it was so easy to seduce Thor. Even before your disgrace of a father betrayed his kingdom, Thor came to my bed often. Such a chaste little thing you were. You had no idea that every night after he whispered sweet promises in your ear of a happy future, he was burying his cock deep in my cunt, whispering how glorious I felt around him. Promising that even after you married, he would slip away and fuck me because no cunt could be as good as mine.”

Whore. Your heart shattered. Finally your eyes met hers.

She took a slight step back at whatever she saw in them. The hatred coursing through you set your teeth on edge. You wanted so much to rip her hair from its roots. If you could gouge her eyes out with your fingers without the consequence of a beheading, you would.

Perhaps she could see that promise of death in your eyes.

She scoffed, a reaction to whatever fear she felt in that moment.

“Now, now, ladies.” Lord Loki chastised, “Let’s keep things civil.”

“Civility? From a servant?” Amora looked at him then back at you, her hateful smirk twisting her pretty face into an ugly mask.

No…this is her true face. Her long blonde hair, pale skin, and green eyes might make her superficially beautiful, but you can see the true ugliness in her now.

“Trash knows no civility.” She spits.

Done with this encounter you make to move around her to finish your duties. You need rest. Body and now soul exhausted, the sanctuary of your quarters beckons like a beacon.

She steps in your way, smiling cruelly as she does.

You make to move around her again. She blocks you once more.

Body shaking with rage, you don’t bother stopping this time as she steps in front of you. Instead you let yourself fall against her, your bucket sloshing loudly as you angle the wide opening towards her.

The smell of piss and shit slices through the scent of sex and jasmine.

Amora screams, stepping back quickly until she bumps into Lord Loki who quickly pushes her away from himself, a wrinkle of disgust on his handsome face.

The green damask pattern of her silk gown grows slowly darker as the piss soaks into the fabric. A dark brown stain sets in towards the bottom.

“You probably should have moved out of my way, my lady.” The casual tone of your voice, the respect you can now fake like a professional grifter sounds so real that your taunt sounds like an apology.

“You bitch!” Amora growls.

Lord Loki catches her by the arm before she can move towards you.

“Perhaps, Lady Antress, you may want to go and change? If what you say is true and my brother will seek you out, I doubt very much he’d desire your company if you smell like shit and piss. No matter how delicious your cunt may be.” Lord Loki’s smirk gives away his delight at Amora’s distress.

Almost as soon as he’s grabbed her, he drops his hand and angles himself away from her slowly to avoid being soiled as well.

“Forgive me, my lady,” you curtsy, a perfect bow. “It was an accident.”

Amora glares at you then looks at Lord Loki who has taken to pressing the fingers of his right hand against his nose to shield from the smell, affixing her with a look of amused disgust.

Amora huffs, “Fuck you.” Then turns and stomps past you across the courtyard and disappears into the castle.

“That was nicely done,” Lord Loki says once you’re alone.

You give him a quick curtsy and move towards the gate to toss the remaining waste where it belongs in the river just past the far end of the large hedged garden.

Ignoring the sound of his following footsteps against the gravel and footstones, you wander through the fragrant rows of flowers.

“If anyone had been watching, no one would have doubted your sincerity with that apology.” He declares, hastening his footsteps to catch up with you, settling in to your right as he matches your pace. “I’m impressed. You never gave me the impression that you even knew how to lie let alone be deceptive.”

Grinding your teeth, you attempt to ignore him. You don’t engage.

He reaches out to grab your arm but you stop and twist away from him, disgust on your face as you stare at his left hand pointedly.

For a moment he looks confused and then laughs once in realization and takes his hand back.

“You won’t tell my brother, will you? About my…meeting with Lady Antress?” Lord Loki doesn’t sound like he actually cares.

You know that he and Thor never truly got along once they were of age. As children they had been inseparable. You’d followed them around and they’d welcomed you into their company as a playmate despite your gender.

Not until you also were of age did you realize that your parents and their parents had seen your friendship as an indicator of good fortune for a future marriage.

As the elder brother, Thor had been chosen. Your heart, having been devoted to Thor even as a girl, had been so full. Eagerly you’d thrown yourself into the arrangement of your marriage. Only now did you begin to realize that perhaps your heart had been the only one truly invested in the promises that Thor had made.

Agony cuts you again, tearing your heart apart a little more as the feeling of stupidity makes your eyes prick with tears again.

“Did you truly not know that Thor and Amora were fucking?” Lord Loki asks, voice devoid of anything but genuine curiosity.

A tear slips down along your cheek as you turn and resume your walk. Lord Loki follows.

“You wound me.” He says, voice low. “Were we not also friends before?”

Scoffing, you readjust the bucket and wince at the pain of the rope as you feel your skin break. You drop it, Lord Loki stepping back quickly but nothing splashes out this time. Most of the contents were currently soaking through Amara’s gown.

You lift your hand up, staring at the peel of skin and the slick of the pink muscle beneath as red begins to pool along the edges of the tear.

Just another wound. It’ll seal and heal and scar, joining the others on your once smooth hands.

The bite of pain gives you a reason to let your tears fall. You don’t hold them back as you sob quietly, uncaring of the audience to your humiliation.

“He’s an asshole,” Lord Loki states, stepping up in front of you. “Always has been. Arrogant, proud, and foolhardy. Thinks with his cock more than his brain.”

Again, you scoff. The irony of Lord Loki, whom you just caught fingering your former best friend in the garden, telling you that Thor thinks first with his cock does not escape you.

Lord Loki clears his throat, embarrassed?

“If I’d been your betrothed,” Lord Loki continues. “I’d have worshiped the ground you walk on.”

“You’re a liar, and just as susceptible to Amara’s games as he apparently is. Does it make you feel happy to sleep with your brother’s fiance? Does it give you pleasure to betray him?” You spit at him, angry at yourself, at Thor, at Amara, at your father and brother.

You’re just so angry. You’re always angry now. Even when you’re sad, you’re angry.

“Are you really worried about my betrayal against him when Amara just exposed him for the hypocrite he is?” Lord Loki demands, a little affronted by your ire.

Biting down hard on your lip, you squeeze around the wound on your hand.

“You’re all hypocrites. All of you deserve each other.” You realize and reach down to take the bucket again but are stopped by Lord Loki’s hand as it takes hold of the bucket for you.

He doesn’t wait for you to say anything and instead moves towards the gate at the end of the garden.

Quickly, you hurry after him, eager to take the bucket from him before anyone might look out onto the grounds and see him interfering with your duties. The punishment you’d receive would be painful.

“My Lord, please,” you finally beg, unable to really catch up with his long legged stride. “I’ll be punished if they find out.”

Lord Loki says nothing but strides out through the gate into the wooded expanse behind the garden.

Expertly, probably from the many hunts he’s gone on around the castle, he winds through the trees towards the rushing river whose roar you begin to hear.

“My Lord,” you hurry after him, nearly catching up but then he turns and disappears behind a tree only to emerge before another one. “Please,” you beg.

Taking a quick glance behind you towards the castle and its countless illuminated windows, you don’t see anyone watching but panic has begun to take hold.

He shifts and turns, stomping over the wild grass, the occasional crack of twig or fallen branch as he steps onto it, eaten by the rush of the water now louder.

You’re almost running now to keep up with him and still you lose sight of him when he turns around a particularly large tree. You stop beside it, scanning the area for him desperately.

The dungeons are so damp this time of year. You don’t want to get locked up if you can help it. Illness is something you don’t have much experience with and with your body weak and unhealthy now compared to the grace and flush of perfection you’d been with money and a constantly full belly, you might succumb to any serious illness.

You don’t want to die, despite the hardships you face.

With no sign of him, you move towards the section of river you always go to empty your buckets.

Minutes later you break through the treeline and spot Lord Loki crouched by the water, damp bucket set beside him now empty and rinsed.

Breathing heavily, you try to catch your breath and press your hand against your thundering heart, forgetting for a moment about the wound there and hiss.

Lord Loki rises, turning to look at you with a furrowed brow as he shakes the water from his hands and dries them on his dark emerald jerkin. He pulls down the puffed sleeves of his black shirt, fastening them around his wrists again but only finishes one before he’s holding his hand out for you.

“Come,” he orders. Not a request.

You don’t move, holding your wounded hand still as you watch him, pale skin nearly glowing in the light of the moon.

“Come here,” he orders again and this time you move towards him only a step. He steps towards you once, his hand held up again with more emphasis. “Shall I say please? Am I wrong? Were we not also friends?”

He smirks, amused by your hesitation for some reason.

Asshole. How dare he throw the past in your face. It’s coercion to remind you of your bond as children.

Unwilling to let him get the satisfaction of seeing you be defiant, you close the distance between you.

He takes your hand, holding it up close so that he can see it clearly. The moon is bright enough that he can and he pulls you towards the river’s edge. Squatting down again, he pulls you down with him.

You kneel, inching towards the edge as he pulls your hand into the water.

A hiss escapes your lips as the water coats the wound, tugging at the bit of skin still holding on until it tears free.

He holds it under the water for a minute then brings it back up to examine, pulling your arm so that you shift to face him and he does the same, kneeling before you.

“It’ll scar,” he realizes, but notes the other small scars that now cover your palm underneath the base of each finger.

You watch him as he traces each scar with his thumb, the golden emerald ring on his finger cool to the touch after being submerged in the cold river water for a bit. It feels nice against the heated skin of your palms. The friction of the rope burning them both.

“I remember when your hands were soft,” he notes.

Self conscious, you make to yank your hand from his grip but he tightens it and meets your eyes in silent order not to try that again.

Holding your gaze, he brings your palm up towards his mouth. Heart hammering against your chest, you try again to yank it from him but his lips close around the wound.

A strange tumble of knots in your stomach work their way up into your chest and constrict your heart.

More strange than that, a shift between your legs has your face and neck burning. Ears so hot that the breeze of the late spring air feels cold in comparison.

“Stop that,” you tell him, voice weak from shock at both his actions and your body’s reaction to it.

He does. Pulling your hand away from his mouth to look the wound over.

“The bleeding stopped,” he states, then reaches for your apron.

The tearing of fabric sends our heart seizing but more arousal pools between your legs. Embarrassed, you look away from him as he wraps your hand tightly. He must have dealt with many small injuries on his hunts because he ties the wrap around your palm securely and nothing save for cutting the fabric away will undo it.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” He asks, voice low and deep. Almost dark in the way it slithers across your skin in a sultry embrace.

“No.” You answer honestly. “And it’s probably only because I caught you and you didn’t get to stick it in Amara.”

He releases your hand as you pull against his grip but he reaches forward to place his hand on your cheek. His left hand.

You almost pull away but remember him drying his hands on his vest. He’d deliberately washed both hands. Why?

“I meant what I said,” he whispers. “I would have worshiped the ground you walk on. I still can, if you’ll let me.”

“I’m a servant,” you spit, turning to look at him with anger and betrayal. “Anything you do to me will be forced merely by the fact that I cannot deny you anything you might want.”

Lord Loki frowns.

“You think so badly of me?” He wonders, hurt in his green eyes.

Your mind flashes back to your childhood. You, Thor, and Lord Loki running to the stables of his estate. You fall. Both Thor and Lord Loki stop but it’s Lord Loki that rushes back to you, helping you up and dusting you off as you cry loudly.

Thor rushes away, laughing in his eagerness to mount his horse.

More memories of your childhood assault you with images of Lord Loki and his kindness. Frequent acts of compassion and what you might have once considered friendly love. Thor’s are fewer and mostly contained to the days after your betrothal had been agreed upon.

“You will never be a servant to me,” Lord Loki assures you.

“It is what I am,” you counter. “You cannot simply ignore it.”

Lord Loki sighs, “You’ve always been so stubborn.”

He lets his hand glide down along the side of your neck, over your shoulder, down along your arm, and then he settles it along the side of your waist, the shape stiff thanks to the corset underneath.

It’s almost unbearable that he’s here, in your shame of servitude. His touch is confusing. You almost ask him why it feels so strange but instead focus on what’s most important.

“Is it true?” you ask, voice wary and quiet.

“Is what true?” There are so many things you could mean, you realize.

Part of you almost doesn’t want to know. So you hesitate.

Something softens in Lord Loki’s eyes as if he suddenly knows what you’re going to ask.

“Were…did Thor and Amara…?” You shake your head, trying not to let the pain show.

“Yes,” he answers, voice firm. He wants you to know that it’s true. No hesitation in his answer. “A few times even with you nearby. You almost caught them a handful of times. Were you only a few moments earlier or later.”

Head falling, you can’t help the tears that spring forth. So much of your past had been a lie. The strength of your house. The friendships you held dear. Your betrothed hadn’t truly loved you. If he had, he would not have betrayed you.

“My brother paints a pretty picture. Despite what he wants others to think he is changeable. He is impatient. Clearly that was his undoing with you. He is rash and prideful. He doesn’t think about what he does before he does it and because he would be insulted by it, would it not be sweet revenge to dangle what he wanted most in the open for all to see?” His words are slow and sure.

The last bit of his speech is careful and calculated. You can hear the manipulation in his words even though he tries not to let you. You’ve known him too long. Lord Loki also changed when you were betrothed to Thor. A shift of his usual kindness had taken place and the sneering Lord had been born. Intent on his own machinations to pry forth the dreary truths of his life.

He’d never been cold and harsh but he became so after your engagement. Thor had called him a snake and even then you could see it. The skill with which Lord Loki had developed his manipulating tactics and the precision with which he enabled them are known to you.

So you know what he’s saying even if he won’t say it clearly.

He takes hold of your chin and slowly lifts your head until he can see your eyes. There’s a strange eagerness in his own greens as he tries to read you. There’s a question there, an uncertain probing as his hand at your waist grows tighter, wrapping around to rest on your back, arching your body towards him.

That strange feeling between your legs surges. It’s Amara’s sneering face that breaks down your defenses. It’s the pride in her words as she’d bragged about being with Thor while you were still betrothed to him that shatters your will.

You do want to get revenge. You want Thor to know that you don’t care anymore. That he means as little to you now as you did to him then.

And what better way to show him that than with the one person he’d hate it happening with the most?

He might overlook some random stablehand. He might ignore some merchant’s son, even if he were above your station.

With Lord Loki…the bite would be as harsh as the sting of Amara’s venom was to you.

“Loki…” you whisper and he surges forward.

His lips are over yours, moving and massaging as you at first merely take his kiss.

He hates it. He pulls back and tilts his head the other way, kissing you more enthusiastically, trying to draw some type of reaction from you.

It’s taking you longer to submit than you thought it would take.

He pulls back one final time and tilts his head back again before this time pressing his lips against your own slowly. He doesn’t move then but instead waits, puckering against yours as he tugs you towards him instead of shoving himself onto you.

Strong lithe arms wrap around your waist and pull you up onto your knees and against his chest. He holds you so close, so tight. It isn’t rough or demanding but needy. As if he can’t get you close enough to his own body and he can only draw you closer and closer in the hopes that it’ll fill something in him that needs filling.

You place your hands on his shoulder as you tilt your head back with his kiss.

Finally, you find the strength in your body and pucker your own lips and return this gentle kiss.

Shock flashes in his eyes as he opens them to look at you. You watch the confusion bloom in them but then shut your own and give in.

Loki’s lips part and envelop yours. It shocks you the way it sends those knots back into your stomach. In response you do the same, enveloping his lips with your own.

Loki’s hands splay out against your back and he groans as he opens his mouth and the tip of his tongue slides against the crease of your lip in question.

In answer, you open for him and welcome his searching tongue with your own. The taste of him, the scent of him, it overwhelms and you gasp as you lose yourself in the moment.

You feel his hands drift around to your front, his right sliding up along your bodice until he can cup your breast, a groan slipping through his lips as he breaks your kiss and traces wet open kisses along your jaw, neck, and shoulder.

“Loki…” you gasp without ever having given your mouth permission to speak.

He bites your neck when you say his name. You moan and he licks the spot to soothe it.

“Loki…” You whisper again.

He’s driven mad by it and before your mind can understand what is happening, he’s laying over you, hands moving wildly underneath your back, running along your sides, fumbling around until he finds where your dress is fastened and he pulls at the ties.

“Should I stop?” He asks, breathless and looking as if he would like nothing more than to keep going.

“No.”

“Mm,” he moans and kisses you again, tongue claiming your mouth as his own.

You can feel him tearing away your apron and then your dress. Too eager to pull it off you completely, he merely shoves it down so that he lays spread out along your waist.

He looks down at you, the corset you wear hiding very little of your breasts. He kisses them each in turn, the soft fleshy bits that pool up above your undergarment.

You shudder at the touch of his lips.

“Has anyone kissed you here before?” He wonders. You’re not sure if he wants an answer or not but you shake your head anyway.

As he nuzzles the soft flesh, his hands work on the corset, pulling at strings blindly until it gives way and he pulls it off of you exposing you completely.

The cool air of the night perks your nipples more than his touch already has and he takes both breasts in his hands, pushing them together as he stares to the point of embarrassment.

Before you can cover yourself, he takes one into his mouth, suckling softly to draw soft moans from your open mouth.

He sees it, your gaping mouth, and seals it with his own, his tongue nearly in a frenzy as he devours your whimpers.

Cool air hits your suddenly exposed legs. You gasp sharply as he thrusts suddenly and the hard press of his cock rubs against you, shielded only by the fabric of his pants.

“Shall I stop?” He asks again, hands running down along your torso where he takes each breast in hand, massaging them slowly before rolling each of your nipples in slow deliberate circles.

“Don’t stop.”

It’s almost torture when he removes his hands from your overheated body. But you enjoy the sight as he removes his jerkin, followed shortly by his shirt. His body is sculpted but tight, not bulky. Lithe limbs hard and eager as he reaches down beneath your skirts in search of what he desires.

He hisses when his fingers touch you, soaking wet, and you reach down to hold his wrist not to stop but simply to hold on.

The thought crosses your mind that he’s already had someone else like this tonight and it almost makes you pull away. You’re so close to stopping but he sees the thought in your eyes and leans over you, removing his hand he leans over you, pressing his chest against yours and silencing your thoughts with a slow kiss.

It burns through you, the meaning clear.

“Shall I only touch you from now on, darling?” he whispers, kissing your chin then suckling along your throat.

He’ll leave marks…

“Tell me and I will only touch you.” He promises.

“Don’t make me promises you can’t keep, Loki.” You chastise him, mood nearly breaking again at the memory of the endless promises Thor had made you.

“I will never break a promise to you. Tell me to refrain and I will. I meant what I said,” he kisses his way up to your ear, licking the shell of it before hot breath sends your skin prickling. “I will worship the ground you walk on if you will only let me.”

He thrusts again. You shut your eyes, gasping at the cock straining for freedom.

“H-How do I know I can trust you?” You ask, unintentionally letting him see how desperate you are to do so.

He kisses you again, genuine and hungry for it.

“Give me a week and I shall truly prove it. Trust me until then and you shall see the depths of my willingness and devotion.”

He thrusts again and maybe you’re a fool for allowing yourself to consider this when he’s got you right where he wants you, but you nod.

“Only touch me,” you order him.

He smirks. He reaches down between your legs again and with one finger slowly strokes from the bottom of your cunt to the top, the lurid sounds of your wetness poignant despite the rushing river beside you.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises.

One finger. He uses only one finger and the pressure is intense. Sensations you’ve never felt before awaken every nerve ending in your body. His thumb presses against your clit and you nearly sit up with the shock of pleasure that rushes through you.

He adds a second finger, moving slowly as he pumps them in and out.

“Shall I stop, darling?”

“Never stop,” you gasp, still gripping his wrist.

Another smirk on that handsome face, his green eyes dazzling you as he shifts back to his knees.

He licks his lips as he pulls a tie free at the front of his trousers and slowly pushes them lower and lower until he can kick free of them completely.

The length of him is breathtaking. He reaches down and strokes his cock, slowly running his thumb along the shiny pink head before he scoots closer, your skirt blocking him from view.

He rubs himself against you, slicking himself with your own arousal.

There he waits, watching you as you brace your hands on the soft grass beneath you but open your legs wider.

Your eyes meet and both of you know that there will be no coming back from this choice. Nothing either of you do will ever erase this line you’ve nearly crossed completely.

He pushes in slowly, leaning over you as he gets deeper and deeper until he’s buried completely. Chest to chest. Face to face. He grunts deep, face twitching as he settles within you.

It’s so much pressure it’s painful. The feeling of him is so foreign. You’re not sure whether it feels good or not.

“Fuck,” he whispers and tenses then shudders. You feel a wave of heat within you, followed by the sensation of slow moving drippage. “You feel…”

He seems lost for words. Do you feel terrible?

He pulls his hips back just a bit and pushes back in.

You whimper, pushing against his chest to look down where your bodies connect.

“Loki,” you fret.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises. “Be calm my sweet. I will ease you into this.”

Each thrust into you, his pelvis pushes against your clit and each time you moan, wishing he’d do that more. The feeling of him is filling, strange, but not unpleasant. Just different.

As your body relaxes a bit more, Loki’s thrusts grow faster. You smile unintentionally as he presses against your clit more often.

“You like that?” he wonders, stopping as he pushes all the way in and then rolls his hips against you.

Your responding moan gives him confirmation and he settles himself over you fully.

As he thrusts he presses harder against you, lingering for a moment before doing it again and again. The slap of his skin against yours grows louder and he finds a rhythm that has you both breathless and moaning.

“Loki,” you plead, feeling the build up of tension within your body.

“Come for me, darlin,” he kisses you, subduing your voice as he pumps into you.

You’re unsure for certain what he means but your body seems to listen. You wrap your legs around him, holding him as close as you can as he continues to thrust into you. The sweat of his body glistens in the moonlight. The soft silk of his hair tickles your skin as he arches up slightly so that he can take your breast into his mouth again as he keeps pumping into you.

You feel it…so close.

“Loki,” you whimper, wanting to reach the end of this tightrope.

He growls once and brings his hand down between your connected bodies. His thumb presses against your clit firmly. He presses and presses, rolling it in small circles with such precise pressure.

Your body explodes into endless fuzzy light. You arch into him, trembling as his thumb continues to draw pleasure from you in spasms as he keeps moving his cock in and out.

“Fucking hell,” he grunts and thrusts one final time his whole body tight in its release as that same sensation of heat fills you again.

Both of you seem to have stars in your eyes as he collapses on top of you, kissing you slowly with his eyes wide open to watch the expression of pure bliss on your face.

“I think-” Loki says, pulling back as he slowly helps to pull your dress up a bit to cover your exposed breasts. He kisses each one before he does so. “-it goes without saying that I would appreciate it if I was the only one allowed to touch you.”

You’re floating, swathed in golden light, unable to process anything he’s saying because of the pure escape from and yet complete connection to your body Loki’s cock just gave you.

You hear him chuckle. He pinches your cheek, drawing your attention back to him.

“Agreed?”

“What?” You gasp breathlessly.

“No one may touch but me. And I will touch no one but you.” He declares. “Is that understood?”

The authority in his voice draws your legs wide as that throbbing from before is renewed.

Loki’s face twitches at the movement.

“Show me again,” you plead.

“Tell me no one else will touch you,” he orders.

“No one else will touch me,” you agree.

“If you betray me,” you begin.

Loki’s eyes soften. He leans down to press a kiss to your lips.

“I promised you that I would worship the ground you walk on.”

He kisses you again, slowly, feeling every inch of your mouth against his.

“One week, my darling. I’ll prove to you my devotion.” He promises.

The sincerity in his voice has your legs spreading again and he hisses as you shift. Inside you, you feel him harden.

“Show me…” you beg.

“You’re going to be insatiable.” He realizes.

And revenge against Thor aside, you realize that being with Loki might be the smartest thing you’ve ever done.

“Do you have any idea how long I have waited to make you mine?” Loki wonders, stroking your cheek.

“How long?” You wonder, reaching up to take hold of his hand.

“I’ll show you.”

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lulubelle814 · 7 days

Text

I Need the Truth

Pairing: Loki x female reader

Warnings: angst, feeling unloved, feeling abandoned, feeling desperate and depressed

Summary: You and Loki have been dating for almost a year but something has been off lately. He has been slowly pulling away and one night you desperately try to get him to tell you the truth about what is wrong, even if it hurts you.

Dividers by: @harlequin-hangout

Inspired by this song:

A/N: I'm sorry in advance for the ending... it's not going to be a fluffy one 🥺

You sit alone on one of the couches in the common room, absent-mindedly stirring your tea. It had become cold while you waited for Loki to return from his latest mission but you hadn't noticed. You are too focused on the heavy feeling that has settled into your chest.

The thought of seeing Loki again even after a short mission used to fill you will such excitement. You would wait eagerly for him with two freshly brewed cups of tea and a welcoming hug. As soon as he saw you, he would kiss you longingly and tell you how deeply he had missed you. When he was called away on longer missions, Loki would hold you tightly and whisper that coming home to you was all he ever wanted but recently, everything changed.

Loki would come up to the residences half an hour later than the rest of the team, sometimes even longer and the warm smile was missing from his lips. He would offer an excuse about being tired or needing to finish paperwork before swiftly vanishing to his room for the night. When he wasn't away on missions, you still felt far from him. Your long walks together during your lunch break were spent in silence as you searched for topics to interest him. You slept alone in your bed more often each week and the dresser drawer Loki offered to you six months ago had slowly been overtaken with his things. Two weeks ago, your clothing and personal items were unceremoniously moved from the top drawer to a small box in his closet.

Your heart was breaking bit by bit, piece by piece and you were truly at a loss as to why. You loved Loki more deeply than you had ever loved anyone before but you cried yourself to sleep more often than you would ever admit to your friends, or even yourself. You laid awake at night wondering what you had done wrong for him push you away, there had to be a reason, you would think over and over until the sun began to shine through your window.

Last night, you wiped your tear streaked cheeks as you thought about the way Loki left for this latest mission. You kissed his cheek, hugging him tightly as you whispered in his ear that you loved him. He simply nodded then walked towards the other members of the team who were waiting to take off. He had never not told you he loved you back and it took every bit of strength you had left not to fall apart. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you watched him board the jet without looking back for you. He always waved to you but this time, it was almost as if he had already forgotten you were there. You rolled over in bed and wiped your eyes, determined to finally talk to him when he returned. You needed the truth, even if it broke you completely.

The sound of footsteps pulls your attention from your thoughts and you look up just as Loki enters the common room. You stand up, placing your cold tea on the coffee table and walk over to him.

"Hello, Y/N," he says quietly, your heart physically aches at the sound of your name.

When you first began dating, the team joked that he didn't actually know your name because he never used it. He always preferred to call you love, darling, princess and beautiful but you truly melted when he would hold you close and remind you that you were his, kissing you as he whispered 'mine' against your skin.

"Hi Loki," you respond, forcing down the tears you could feel rising to the surface. You fake a smile as you move to give him a hug and he puts his arms around you but it feels different. The desperate feeling to be close is gone, instead you can feel Loki shifting away from you as if he is uncomfortable with you touching him.

He lets go after a short moment and clears his throat, "I have an early meeting with Stark in the morning. I think it would be better if you sleep in your room tonight. I will see you tomorrow." He leans down to kiss the top of your head so softly you barely feel it then he turns to leave.

"Wait," you reach out and grab his wrist. He stops but doesn't look at you, keeping his eyes focused on the floor in front of him. "Please Loki, we need to talk."

He shakes his head, "I can't tonight. I'm sorry." He pulls his wrist free easily and leaves you standing alone in the middle of the common room.

You sigh deeply as you close the book you have been trying to read for the last two hours. The words on the page blur together and you find yourself reading the same paragraph over and over but still not being able to absorb any of the plot. You run your fingers over the leather spine and close your eyes, feeling a single tear escape but you know so many more are not far behind.

This was one of Loki's favorite books from his private collection. He had brought it with him when he left Asgard.

The first time Loki read it to you, you had been together for only a month but it was the first time he seen you when you were sick. He was so worried about your health and you had never felt more cared for even though you assured him it was only a common cold. Loki made sure he took your temperature every hour, had plenty of tissues on hand and brought you water, tea, soup or anything else you asked for. The third night you were sick, you couldn't sleep so he offered to read something to you. He climbed into the bed with you, sitting up so you could rest against him as he read softly until you drifted off. As soon as you woke up the next morning, you asked him to pick up where he left off and he laughed so genuinely as he reopened the book.

The next time he read it to you was almost two months later, you had planned a whole day out in the city as a surprise for him but the weather turned suddenly. Fierce wind, pouring rain and lightning canceled all of your plans and you were devastated. Loki asked you to come to his room and when you opened the door, you were at a loss for words. He had used his magic to turn his room into a cozy cabin, complete with a crackling fire and the softest blankets you had ever felt. He handed you a mug of hot chocolate as you sat snuggled together by the fire. You rested against him, all the tension and disappointment leaving your body as you closed your eyes and listened to him read what was now your favorite book as well.

Using your sleeve, you wipe away a tear that has landed on the beautifully decorated cover. Last week you asked Loki if he would read it with you as he had so many times before but he responded by telling you he was in the middle of a book already. You felt a wave of nausea when he handed you the book and said you could bring it back when you were done.

Taking a deep breath you stand up, book in hand and decide you can't put this off any longer. He can't keep avoiding you, you need to know the truth even if it crushes you.

You knock on his door and wait anxiously for him to respond. "Who is it?" you hear him ask.

"Its me," you answer, trying to sound as cheerful as possible. "I wanted to return the book I borrowed."

There is no reply but after a few moments of silence the door unlocks and Loki opens it. You hold your breath, half expecting him not to be alone. Your greatest fear was the Loki had been cheating on you. You recently found yourself worrying that you weren't good enough for Loki and you were terrified that he had realized he could do better.

He reaches out to take the book from you but you pull it back, just out of reach causing him to look at you curiously. "Can I come in?" you ask and before he can respond you add, "We need to talk and I'm not leaving until we do."

He nods, letting out a small sigh as he takes a step back so you can come inside. He closes the door and you hand him the book. Loki looks at it briefly before setting it on the table by the door and you try to read the emotion in his eyes. You are unsure if it is guilt, sadness or pity even but you don't see the love you used to.

You stand by the door, looking around his room as you slowly realize what is different from the last time you were here over a week ago. The three framed pictures of the two of you are missing from his bookcase and the blanket you always wrapped yourself up in during movie nights is no longer folded over the back of the couch. It was as if he had already removed you physically from his life.

"Loki," you sniffle and take a moment. "I want to know the truth, you always promised me you would tell me the truth."

He shifts uncomfortably and asks, "The truth about what?"

"I need the truth about what is killing our relationship. You keep pushing me away and I have to know why," you tell him. "Please, I need to know what I can do to fix us because I don't know what broke us."

He fidgets with his fingers, his eyes fixed on them but doesn't say anything.

"Loki, if this was ever real..." you stop to take a breath.

"It was real," he says, taking your hand loosely.

You feel a sharp stab in your chest at his reply and you slowly pull your hand free from his, "I want the truth from you. Just give me the truth, even if it hurts me."

"I don't want to hurt you," he says. "I can't... I don't want to do this."

"I know that this will break me. I know that this will make me cry but I've spent so much time crying over you these last few weeks. Please, you have to say what's on your mind," you urge him as you feel on the verge of tears. "I know this will hurt me and break my heart but I don't want to live this lie. I've lost you and I need to know why."

He takes a deep breath and runs his fingers roughly through his hair as he takes a step away from you. He turns towards you again and looks down, his eyes slowly lifting until they meet yours.

"The truth, Y/N..." he pauses and you can see his eyes are glassy with tears. "The truth is I don't know what happened or when it happened. I just know that... I- I don't love you anymore. It was nothing you did wrong but there is nothing you can do to fix it. I just... I just fell out of love with you. I am so sorry, I never wanted to hurt you but I didn't know how to tell you the truth."

You try to take a deep breath but your lungs refuse to open, you can feel your heart shattering in your chest as the weight of his words hit you. You stand in front of Loki, unable to speak or think as your whole relationship flashes through your mind. The afternoon he asked you out for your first date, the way he played with your hair when you laid on his chest, the first time he brought you flowers just as an excuse to see you while you were at work. You squeeze your eyes closed tightly as the memory of the first time he told you he loved you is swiftly replaced by Loki's heartbreaking admission. He doesn't love you anymore, the voice in your mind echoing his words over and over.

"Y/N?" he asks, breaking the loop in your thoughts. You blink, allowing the tears to slip down your cheeks.

"I... I don't know what I'm supposed to do now," you say slowly. You look up at him, fighting the need to be held in his long arms. Loki had become the one you went to for comfort, you never thought he would be the one hurting you. "I love you Loki," you say quietly and he looks away from you. You finally place the emotion you saw in his eyes earlier, it was regret. He doesn't respond and you are suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to be a far from him as possible.

You take a few steps backwards until your back hits his door, running your hand along the hard surface until you feel the knob, you twist it harshly. You pull the door open and you step out into the empty hallway, your vision blury from the heavy wave of tears. You wipe your face with your sleeves as you slowly make your way down the long hall. Keeping your hand over your mouth you quiet your sobs as you pass room after room. You know you could knock on any one of them and receive comfort from your friends inside but you only wanted to feel Loki's arms around you. You wanted him to run down the hall after you, telling you he lied, that he was wrong, that he did love you but he didn't.

You close your door quietly and climb onto your bed, fully dressed without even thinking to kick off your shoes. You grab the pillow Loki used to sleep on and hold it tightly to your chest. Burying your face into the soft fabric you begin to sob again, the pillow hadn't smelled like him in weeks and it was one more reminder that he wasn't yours and you weren't his. You close your eyes tightly and mourn the loss of your relationship with Loki.

Again... I'm really really really sorry. This was in my head and I just needed to get it out

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