Loki x Reader One-Shot A Man on the Throne

Loki x Reader One-Shot

A Man on the Throne

A Fan Fiction by SophiaofTerra

Thor: The Dark World spoilers ahead! Read at your own risk!

            You knew you shouldn’t eavesdrop. You knew that it was wrong to be in the House of Odin, but you were so curious. What would the mighty Thor say about his battle with Malekith? Would he accept the throne with the well-known Jane Foster at his side? These were a few of the questions that had gone on in your head, and you felt that you may as well find your answers.

            You wait patiently in the corner as Thor comes into the room. Odin stands, and you see the love in his eyes. Oh, how he wanted his son to be king. You smirk as your invisibility spell works. Now all you have to do is listen.

            To say that you were surprised was an understatement. Thor wasn’t taking the throne? After all this time and the battles he has won, he would rather stay prince? Wow. His words still echoed in your head as he turned to leave. “I would rather be a good man than a great king.”

            Who would be king then, once Odin dies? Surely not Loki, Loki died in battle. You contemplated Fandral, but that thought was quickly pushed aside. He doesn’t have the wisdom of a king.

            You glance at Thor as the doors shut behind him. Your ears perk as you hear someone laughing. Turning to Odin, you blink as his form flickers.  What the Hel? Your confusion quickly turns to horror as his image changes entirely.

            “Thank you for the throne, Thor.” Loki?

            You gasp and quickly cover your mouth, realizing a bit too late that he would hear you. With haste, he stands up and looks around the room.

            “Who is there?”

            You cower back as his booming voice bounces off the walls of the room. If he finds you, then you may be put to death. You are no fool; you stealthily make your way to the doors of the room. Then your plan comes crashing down as you see your hand come into vision. Oh, dear.

            You’re dead now. You begin to think of the ways Loki will find to kill you. I wish not to be beheaded. That is my only plea. Oh, Valhalla hear my prayer!

            A shiver rolls down your spine as your eyes meet. “You dare trespass in the House of Odin?”

            “I can explain, my prince-“

            “I don’t need your explanations! Since you have seen me here, I have no choice but to hide you.”

            You frown as you look down confusedly. “Where are you planning on putting me?”

            When you glance up, he smiles a sweet and knowing smile. “My chambers.”

            ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            Minutes. Hours. Days. Months. Time was blurring together. You wondered why Loki hadn’t just killed you from the start. He wasn’t making himself known to anyone, nor was he trying to conquer Asgard as he had said in the beginning. Your mind was jumbled with loose thoughts about the whole thing.

            Day after day, you would wake up. You would sit in the corner of the room and wait for meals. Loki would occasionally give something decent to you, but he mostly made things for himself. It never ceased to amaze you how he could make things appear out of midair; he was a very talented magician.

            Every night you would disrobe to take a bath. Loki didn’t seem to mind sharing a bathroom that much, so you would take advantage occasionally. Once you had stolen a hair brush, and he never noticed. That’s what sparked it.

            Lately you were stealing. Or, at least, attempting to steal. One thing here, another thing there. You had developed a small pile in your corner of the room. You knew many spells, and you found yourself using the invisibility types quite frequently.  Loki hadn’t a clue what you were up to. His pens and notebooks were disappearing off of shelves. His colored pencils were almost entirely out. To be honest, you were shocked that he hadn’t noticed.

            You were not stealing for nothing; you would put the art supplies to use. At night, when Loki was sleeping, you would draw him. Page after page you filled up a notebook. When you ran out of paper, you would steal another book and begin to draw again. Over time, you developed a very skilled hand. Some of your pictures looked so real, even you were awestruck. When Loki would go away, you would look through those journals. He did not know this either, but you were beginning to develop feelings for him. One time you had seen him shirtless, and he merely smiled and turned back to what he was doing. You had blushed so much you thought you would turn ruby.

            You still didn’t believe that you had a crush on your kidnapper, a prince of Asgard.

            ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

            This night by far was one of the more beautiful. The shimmering moonlight glinted through the ebony-rimmed window. The clouds were cast a wondrous shade of blue. The palace of Asgard shone lightly the colors of the rainbow and the ocean sparkled its reflection.

            Loki had fallen asleep a few moments ago; his breathing was slow and his eyes were closed in a peaceful state. You grabbed your notebook and your colored pencils and sat at his bedside. Before you would begin sketching, you would always take a moment to look at his face. On this night, the iridescent starlight highlighted his beautifully carved features. You smile as you begin to sketch.

            Loki’s Point of View:

          This was the night.

            This was the night that I would finally open my eyes. I had been hearing something in the middle of the night for months, but I was always too tired to bother checking what it was. I knew that _____ would probably alert me if something, or someone, would find us.

            Oh, _____. How she fascinated me. Her beautiful (h/l), (h/c) hair, sparkling (e/c) eyes, and the (f/c) dress she wore each day were magnificent. Not only that, but not once had she tried to escape. Anyone who ‘knew’ him knew that they should not trust him. She was one of the few that did. It was nice having someone you know not care about your past, but who you were now.

            She thought I didn’t notice her taking my things. Well, I did. Not that I minded, of course, because I could just make more copies with my magic. My magic was the only thing that kept us here. I constantly had to renew the cloaking spell I had put on my room; without it we would be exposed. I needed everyone to think that I was dead for a bit longer. Only then could I enact my plan. Until then, I was to stay here with _____.

            There’s the noise. It sounded of pencil and paper, as though someone was writing or-

            Drawing.

            That must be why all of my art supplies were going missing! _____ had to be an artist. Slowly opening one eye, I take in the sight before me.

            _____ is sitting at my bedside. She is looking down at her notebook as she makes faint marks on her paper. I try hiding my smirk when I realize it’s me. Instead, I return back to my original position.

            Periodically I would squint open my eyes to check her paper. After about an hour, I knew she had finished.

            “Do you do this every night, ______?” She jumps at my calm words.

            I open my eyes to see her looking out the window. “Erm, no.”

            She wasn’t being honest; I didn’t need to be the god of lies to understand that.

            “You’re lying, ______.” She glances back at me and fidgets slightly.

            “Okay, maybe I have done this every night…”

            “May I see them?”

            “You want to see the drawings I did of you?”

            “Yes. Didn’t I make that clear?”

            “Yeah, okay. I guess I could show you a few.”

            She was nervous. I could see her shaking as she stood up and walked to her corner. Once in a while I would feel a pang of regret for making her live in such a crammed space, but that wasn’t like me. I was not supposed to care.

            I watch with intrigue as she waves her hand over her corner. I frown a bit. What is she doing? My thoughts are answered as items begin to come into view. Stacks upon stacks of notebooks are piled in a sort of heap, along with scattered pens and pencils. Well that does explain where she was putting all of my stuff. She grabs a few of them and walks back to me. I move to the other side of the bed to make room for her, but she just stares at me blankly.

            “Come sit next to me, _____.” I don’t think that she likes the idea of intimacy.

            Despite how hesitant she was being, she crawls up next to me in bed.

            “So- uh… I suppose we can start with this one.” She hands me a journal, but doesn’t meet my gaze. I shrug it off as I open it up. Then I understood why she was reluctant.

            These pictures were well drawn. Very well drawn. As in, you could see every detail of my face and under the sheets. Her shading was absolutely exquisite. But something seemed off about me in all of these pictures… Was I asleep in every one?

            Yes. Yes I was. Each picture was of me sleeping, bathed in moonlight. Book by book it was the same picture after the same picture. “So you do this every night when I am sleeping?”

            She gulped. “Yes.”

            I didn’t get it. Why would she paint picture after picture of me and nothing else? There was a beautiful landscape outside of our window. Why me?

            Then it struck me. Maybe she liked me. Maybe after all this time, she had developed feelings. It seemed like the greatest feeling in the world. Someone could actually love him, even after all that he has done. Someone could really care.

            But the thought was too farfetched. She could never love anyone that kidnapped her. I would still be alone. Without thinking I place all of the books on the floor. Grasping _____, I lay down in bed.

            “Loki, what are you-“

            “Hush.”

            She readjusts herself against my svelte form. I watch in silence, making sure she is truly comfortable. Then I close my eyes.

            “_____, would you like to hear a story?”

            I can tell that she ponders for a moment before replying with a yes. “Very well.”

            I smile softly as I begin.  “There was once a man who lived on Asgard. He was quite a surreptitious fellow; he would always cause trouble wherever he went. One day, after he had caused a vast amount of mayhem, he had been damned to a cell.” I choke back a sob as a tear rolls down my cheek.

            “After learning that his mother had died, he was struck by grief. He never showed anyone how he truly looked, because if he did they would mock. Instead he let it fester inside of him, until it became too much to bear. In the heat of battle, this man supposedly sacrificed himself to save his friend. People never cared about his last act of honor, for they never knew it was done. They will always remember him by his mistakes.”

            I open my eyes to find _____ looking at me with immense sadness. “What was his name?”

            Staring deep into her eyes, I whisper, “His name is Loki Laufeyson.”

            She lets out a soft whimper as she hugs me tightly. I don’t know what to do, so I just hug her back. I smile as she rubs my back in an attempt to comfort me.

            “It’s okay, Loki. It’s okay. Don’t worry, I love you.”

            My eyes widen with her words. “You what?”

            She pushes me back so I am looking at her. “I love you.”

            My brain cannot fathom what she has just said. This woman, who I stole, loves me. I don’t care about that, though. I care about _____. I smirk as I come to my senses. “Well then you would be pleased to hear that I love you too.”

            She smiles widely as we settle back down. With her head against my chest, I just lay there. She is still grinning as I stroke her silky (h/c) hair. She slowly closes her (e/c) eyes as her breathing becomes slower. I place a soft kiss on the top of her head as I whisper goodnight. I close my eyes as I drift off into sleep.