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Loki 51: Guilty
“I could stay like this.”
Fandral continued to rub circles on smooth expanse of Loki’s back, a questioning noise escaping his throat. “Not that I am saying I do not love this new form of yours, but why would you do that?”
Loki lifted her head, black hair falling over her shoulders, long legs tangling in the sheets. “Do not lie to me,” Loki snipped. “For all that you chase women, I know the one thing you want above all else is a family. I could give it to you if I remained in this form.”
Fandral stared up at the ceiling, thinking over Loki’s words, but it was not long before her sharp chin was digging into his shoulder. “Well?” she demanded impatiently.
“Your offer is rather tempting,” Fandral admitted. He turned onto his side so he could meet Loki’s gaze. “We could sneak off to Vanaheim. I could build a house by a lake, and you could ward it so no one could ever disturb us. We’ll have a horde of children, and normality.” She was right, it was exactly what he wanted. The adventures were grand and all, but when he came home it was only to an empty building, and all joy he had taken in the excitement vanished.
“If you can tell me, right now, that you truly wish to leave everything behind and do this, then we will.” Loki opened her mouth, eager to fulfill Fandral’s request, but he cut her off. “And it cannot be a lie.”
Loki’s mouth shut and she sighed heavily. She did not say anything. Fandral knew she was done talking for the night. He reached over to pull her against his chest and held her tightly. “It is all right, Loki. I have everything I want right here.”
/
“And so you rise from the grave once again.”
Loki did not look away from the hardwood floors. Strips of silver shone in the wood as the dying sunlight hit it. The wood was expensive, and no less than Loki would demand for his own home. If he had been so blinded, then this would have been his home. “You built it.”
“I had planned on making the furniture too, but I only managed to finish the bed.” Ah yes, the completely oversized bed that dominated the master bedroom. It was the only piece of furniture in the otherwise desolate house.
He heard Fandral take another step into the room, his boots clicking on the wood as he drew closer. “I was going to tell you about it after Thor’s coronation, but…you fell. After that, I could not bear to be near this place.”
Loki’s hands closed into fists, trying desperately to stop the shaking his body was determined to undergo, giving away his conflicted state. He wanted to snap at Fandral, to call his old lover a fool. He wanted to destroy Fandral and everything that ever reminded him that he had once been happy, but when he tried his throat closed up and he felt like his legs were too weak to support him. There was a churning in his gut, like claws trying to rip him open from the inside.
It had been happenstance, that while sitting upon Asgard’s throne he should look in the direction of Vanaheim, see across the blue lake to the sprawling home. It should have been bright and happy, full of laughter, but instead it was dark and abandoned, filled with nothing but the broken promises that lead to its creation. He had recognized Fandral’s hand in the design immediately. They had talked about it after that first night, settling on the floor plans, the perfect location, even how many windows would be required. Fandral had remembered all of it.
Fandral had built him a house.
Loki had destroyed the chance of it ever becoming a home.
“Why are you here?”
“Really? You always hated when people asked questions to which they already knew the answer to, and now you’re doing it yourself.” Fandral was hovering behind him, only a few feet away, but refusing to close the distance. It made Loki ache horribly. Fandral had not held him in so long now, he missed the warm embrace of his lover, his wit and charm, that knowing smile that was only for Loki. He missed it all so much he could feel it chipping away at his very center.
“We cannot go back, can we?”
“I don’t see how,” Fandral answered, his voice no more than a whisper.
Loki spun on his heel, right into Fandral’s arms. He clung to Fandral, breathing a sigh of relief when, after a moment’s hesitation, Fandral returned the embrace. Loki rested his forehead against Fandral’s shoulder, breathing in the other man’s scent, trying to make the moment last forever; for when Fandral stepped away again, it would all be over. “We could simply stay here, where no one could find us. We could hide away, and be happy once more.”
Fandral’s hand slipped under his chin, forcing Loki to look into his eyes. “As tempting as your offer is, I cannot accept it unless you tell me truly this is what you want.”
Loki could not, and that was why it would end. He could stop it if he lied, once convincing lie and he could have everything he wanted. Only, it wasn’t what he wanted right now. There was still too much to do for Loki to feel satisfied with settling down.
“We cannot build a family out of guilt, Loki.”
When the thing that clawed at him was named, Loki screamed. He continued screaming as Fandral left, cursing the man he still loved, swearing up and down at the fact that Fandral still loved him. It just was not enough to keep them together. Loki’s actions had destroyed what they had once had.
No amount of guilt could fix them now.