Who Hurts Me

It was a hot day in Asgard, and I chose to wear the flowing-sleeved dress that Jane had lent me. It was a gorgeous gown – pale blue and tight-fitting, with a leather girdle decorated in elegant Asgardian runes. As I strolled through one of the lush palace gardens, I couldn’t help but smile and spin in tight circles, sending the skirt belling out and swirling around my ankles. For the moment, Thanos was held at bay, Hel was staying quiet, and I could let the weight fall from my shoulders for at least a couple hours.

There was a shaded overlook ahead, holding a marble bench and enclosed in thick, rose-like plants that crept up the pillars and hung from the beams, suffusing the air with a fragile fragrance. Seeking a respite from the relentless suns, I ducked into the shade and sat upon the cool bench.

I must have dozed off in that comfort, because when a throat was cleared and I opened my eyes, Loki had made himself comfortable on the overlook’s railing across from me. He was staring out over Asgard, but when I took a heavy breath, he shot me a glance, his enigmatic eyes sweeping up and down my body once before meeting my gaze unabashed.

“Were you here all along, or did you follow me?” I asked, only vaguely curious. The heat was pulling my eyelids down again.

Loki’s lips twisted in a suppressed grin before he looked back out at the view without answering. Rolling my eyes at the unsurprising dodge, I took another deep breath to fight off my sleepiness.

“Is it usually this warm here?” I enquired of my silent companion, disliking the stillness between us.

“Not this hot. But it is rarely cold.”

Loki’s reply was soft, more to himself than me, I thought. I looked at him, feeling safe to really observe him as long as he kept staring down at his home below.

One of the suns had shifted to send its light directly at Loki’s front, illuminating the face that so often wore a mask. Though even in his reverie, he was careful to keep his thoughts hidden, there was elegance, a beauty, revealed now in that light. Prominent cheekbones threw his sharp features into relief. His jet black hair, brushed back off his face, was gilded in the light, making it seem that he gave off his own glow. From this angle, one of his eyes caught the sunbeams, igniting the ivy hue of his iris. I had to remind myself to breathe; in this moment, Loki was stunning.

He turned then, his gorgeous eyes flashing to a deeper shade as he met my gaze and smirked. I frowned, trying to hide my thoughts, and lifted my arms to lift the stifling weight of my hair off of my neck.

There was a sharp intake of breath, and I dropped my arms to see a flash of anger in Loki’s expression. He had crossed the space between us in the same moment, suddenly gripping my wrists and pushing away my sleeves to reveal the razor thin ridges climbing the sensitive undersides of my arms. The ones closest to my wrists were pale and faded, but as they got closer to my elbows, they grew red and sharp, furiously striking against the light backdrop of my skin.

I could only glance at the scars briefly before wrenching my gaze away and trying to free my arms. But Loki’s grip was firm and unyielding; he held my wrecked arms toward the light, staring at them with a fierce snarl on his face.

“Who did this to you?” he growled through clenched teeth, and the answer deadened me inside. I stared over his shoulder, avoiding his face.

Loki let one of my wrists go to grip my chin and force my cold eyes to meet his blazing ones. The genuine concern I found there was so unexpected, and I heard myself answering his inquiry.

“I did it,” I whispered, my throat raw.

Loki blinked, surprise flashing through his features, and the strength in his grip – though not lightening a measure – became gentle. He knelt on the ground before me.

“Why?”

I had to take a couple breaths, because the intensity in Loki’s stare was throwing my heart into chaos. This caring and emotion from him was so sudden and disconcerting – but I didn’t want it to go away.

Blinking, I dropped my gaze to my scars, forcing myself to see what I had done. I saw the ugly disfigurements, but I also saw Loki’s long fingers as they gently traced each ridge. His touch, the care behind it, suddenly made me wish that with each pass of his fingertips, the scars would go away.

But they didn’t.

They would be there forever.

“I did this to myself because I needed to feel something,” I whispered, frowning unconsciously. “Something besides anger, sadness. At least at first. Then I kept doing it to feel anything, because I just felt empty. All the time. It was this, or… getting rid of the emptiness forever.”

The silence was heavy and dark between us. I didn’t know how Loki would react to my confession, and I didn’t want to look up and see. I was afraid he would be confused. Or angry. I was afraid he would simply accept it.

Because in those moments after I spoke, I realized I needed him to care about this emptiness in me, to care about the pain I wanted to feel. I needed him to know how much these scars had affected my life. I needed him to know how much I didn’t want them to.

I was watching his hands as they held my arms, his touch now soft and almost cautious. Then, slowly, as if afraid I might spook and bolt, Loki lifted my arms, and I watched as he bent his head. When his lips brushed against the first of my scars, I shuddered at the surprising warmth of his kiss, at the tickle of his breath. Deliberately, Loki kissed each of the ridges on both of my arms, all the way to my elbows. Then he lifted his head to meet my gaze.

His eyes were dark and glistening, echoing the pain I felt in my heart – the pain he had reawakened. His face was a handbreadth from mine, and he held me trapped with the strength of his stare.

“You will not need to do this anymore,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “If you need to feel something, do not let it be pain. Let it be love. My love.”

Loki’s voice caught at the last word, and I blinked at him, my heart thundering in my chest. Had he truly said what I just heard?

“I am sorry for these,” he murmured, his fingers once more running over my scars while he kept his eyes locked on mine, “but the time has come to let them heal and become part of your past. You have a brighter future now, a warmer one. With me.”

Then he leaned forward, placing a soft kiss that was indeed warm upon my lips. Our breath mingled for a moment. Loki lifted a hand to stroke my cheek.

And there, for the first time in a very long time, I let my tears fall in front of another, in front of the one who brushed them away and replaced them with kisses. He gave me what no one else could, and I knew then I could never live without him.