No One Cares

Your frustration and anger at the God of Mischief had become unbearable, and you had struck his cheek. The skin that was an uniform blue now had a flesh coloured hand mark. Loki's eyes widened in surprise as he tenderly touched his left cheek. It stung and he felt a heat rush run across his face. You watched, barely inches away from him, as a wave of content washed over you. You stared at his blood red eyes as he raised his hand as if to strike you back. You stood there, unflinching, a cross look was riddled among your features.

"Loki Odinson! How dare you speak of yourself or your loyal companions this way! We have been by your side every day from the beginning!"

A sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed his forehead as if you were a stupid child.

" Loyal. None of you have ever been loyal. Always choosing Thor over me. Of course, he was always the obvious choice. Who couldn't fall for that "darling" smile of his. And you can't forget his golden locks. As well as that ever impressive strength. Everyone desired Thor! Who cared about the brother who stood by his side every day? Nobody! Who ever cared about the prince who could not best all the rest in battle? Nobody! Who could care for the monster behind emerald eyes...."

The pain, as well as the obvious disgust, in his voice cut you deeply, much farther than any of his previous accusations had. You tried as hard as you could to hide it, not allowing it to show. Your stance of power and authority quickly faded as you took a single step away from him. You were very careful not to show any emotion, as your action could very well been taken as a show of fear, which he was very desperately searching for. Your masquerade of indifference was becoming exponentially harder to upkeep as though...

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... into a ball, his head now in his hands as well as between his legs. You sighed heavily, in all your years of knowing Loki, he had never broken in front of you quite like this before. You didn't wish to evoke his anger again, so you tried the most innocent thing you could think of. You carefully sat down next to the weeping prince and gently put your arms around his shoulders. He tensed up at this gesture, and you froze for a second. Realizing it meant nothing, you pulled him closer to you and positioned him to where you could lay his head upon your shoulders. Your arms shifted to his back and head, nearly crading as you would an infant. As you rocked him back and forth, you sang the lullaby which you remembered Lady Frigga singing to the princes in their younger years, when they would be hurt or upset. It had always seemed to calm them down, no matter the situation.