? Dark Matter ? A Collection of Loki Stories

p e a c h e s*

I wonder if I'll be able to see Asgard in the distance once I leave here forever. Well, a mortal forever. Which is approximately an awful and painful long while in immortal time. I won't return until I'm good and grown and fully mature and able to see the future, as everyone from Vanaheim can. The ability doesn't develop until you're fully mature. Then you're sent off to be trained by the elders in an isolated school in the realm. By the time I'm out I'll be the rightful heir to Vanaheim. I'll be one of Asgard's most valued allies, as my parents keep telling me.

And I'll be a faint imprint on the glass of Loki's memory.

I told Loki all of this my last visit. I told him I was only two moons away from the visions beginning. He told me not to speak about it anymore. He asked me to pretend as if I'm always going to come back. But now it's hard to pretend. Now I'm looking up at the moon full and swollen in the center of the ceiling and trying to find a smile.

"What is this place?" I question, stepping over a plush rug of ornate designs, over silk pillows scattered across the floor and chaise lounges draped with cashmere blankets.

"My mother gifted me the room when I was young for one of my birthdays. She's the only other person who knows about it." He laughs and it's low, burdened with pity. "She's always trying to make up for things my father does. All the little ways he favors my brother over me."

My fingers find the side of his face and trace down the side. Loki leans into the touch. "Odin tends to get caught up in all the ceremonial things. I can see it in his face, though. He loves and honors you."

He scoffs, "Just not as much as Thor."

My thumb brushes a black lock out of his eye. "Then I'll love and honor you twice as much."

His breath hitches. "You love me?"

I stare him down, so unashamed. "Yes. I love you." The green of his eyes finds something the stars have also found. A certain depth and a certain promise of eternity. Even though I know the clock is ticking. I know in the morning I'll be going.

The thought drifts from my mind as he replies, "I love you." He pulls me to him and confesses between kisses peppered across my lips. "So much. I love you so much it terrifies me."

He explores along my neck, traveling up and down it like it's a horizon, smooth and vallied. A wave of warmth and a sparkling feeling wash over the back of my head. I let out an uncontrollable moan, like I did with the peaches. Only now, it comes from further back in my throat. It's pulled from my vocal cords and I square his shoulders, guiding him away.

"What is it?" he asks, scared he did something wrong. Something too far.

"I want you," I tell him. My voice catches as I add, "Before I go away."

He stumbles over his words, which I have only heard him do seldom times. He shakes his head, eyes tracing the patterns of the carpet. "I...Are you sure? Are you sure you want...me?"

I lift his chin and his gaze is glossy. "What's not to want?"

He gives a small laugh that ends in a pained frown, "I could name a few things."

I take him by the shoulders and pull him to my chest. He's stunned for a moment but eventually melts into the embrace, pulling me back, craving the touch. "I don't know why you're always so hard on yourself," I whisper. "I don't know why you always believe you deserve to suffer and shrink away from affection."