The Mirror (Loki x Reader)

Loki has no idea, you’re certain, of how lonely he is. You watch him pace about his chambers—as you always did—clearly unsure as to what to do with himself. He feels angry, betrayed, and confused and always he forces himself to carry this burden alone. His sits down heavily on his bed, head in his hands, and you move to obtain a finer view of the man. Perhaps you should reveal yourself to him, let him know someone was there for him. But you knew full and well how skittish he could be, both untrusting and unwilling. You run a gentle hand down the edge of the glass, tracing the outline of his defeated reflection. You sigh heavily as you pull away from the mirror, washing the image of the man from it confines, leaving only a copy of your lone image.

The knock at your chamber door pulls from your reverie and elegantly you glide over to answer its call. It’s Sif. She grins at you and you can’t help but smile back as you invite her in.

“How have you been?” Sif asks pleasantly as she moves further into the room, heading towards the balcony, her favorite aspect of your room.

“Well. And you? Any new wondrous tales of battles and beings conquered?” you tease playfully as you follow after her before sitting elegantly upon your bed, mindful of wrinkling the expensive fabrics of your gown.

Sif shakes her head with a chuckle as she turns around to look at you with a smile. Her smile falls the longer she looks to you and she moves closer before speaking.

“I’d be lying if I told you this was but a courtesy call…” Sif trails off and you eye her curiously before her words dawn on you.

“Oh.”

“Oh? Now what exactly is that supposed to mean. You’re to be married in three months’ time. What is there to ‘oh’ about?” Sif inquires gently, moving to sit beside you on your extravagant bed.

You eye the floor uncertainly before looking up towards the elegant mirror across the way.

“Wouldn’t it be best if Balder were to find another?” you sigh softly, delicate fingers fiddling with the silken fabric of your dress.

“Another? Balder is quite smitten with you. For him to find another…well I’m certain he thinks there is no other.”

You hum in thought, eyes still thoughtfully resting upon the mirror.

“What plagues you? Balder is a magnificent warrior and a great man! He’d take care of you and happily die for you.”

“I know!” you exclaim tiredly as you stand to your feet, moving away from Sif and unconsciously towards the mirror.

“Then what seems to be the problem?” Sif urges. Her tone is firm relaying that she will neither back down nor dismiss the subject, but there’s something in her voice that relays that she’s pushing onward with you in mind.

“I don’t love him! That’s the problem!” you snap as you spin on your heels to face her, “My heart belongs to another.”

Sif looks to you unsurprised, clearly having been almost certain as to what the problem may have been. She sweeps a loose strand of hair back with a sigh and a wounded look.

“I figured as much, but to refuse the hand of a prince…(y/n), it’s simply unheard of.”

You move towards your vanity and drop heavily into the chair before it, “I know…I know.”

Sif remains respectfully silent, allowing you some time to ponder. She moves across the way to gently kiss the top of your head before she turns to leave, pausing briefly at the doors.

“Do be sure to at least come out for dinner,” she pushes gently and you give her a halfhearted nod.

With a bitter smile she steps past the room’s threshold, gently shutting both doors behind her. You let out dry sob, snapping to your feet and shoving the neat bottles from the top of the vanity, silently listening as they crashed to the floor, shattering about. Rather reminiscent of your heart.

Why couldn't Balder be Loki?

---

You remain silent for the majority of dinner, speaking only when spoken to. Instead you opt to observe. It’s so very apparent just how much Balder adores you. Always inquiring after you—your well being, your favorite foods, just about all he could. But that only served to remind you of how little he knew of you and you of him. Balder keeps your glass full unaware of your great distaste of alcohol, but politely you drink, fighting back the desire to retch. Placing the fine goblet down, you pull your gaze from your husband-to-be to look across the expansive table at him. He is just as indifferent to the conversation about him as you are, visibly uninterested in being here at all.

That was one thing you loved about Loki. Despite his tendencies to play tricks upon people, often times the man was surprisingly pretense-free. He didn’t want to be here and he made no effort to conceal the fact. If only you had his courage—the audacity—to voice yourself like so. To refuse Balder’s hand in marriage and to tell Loki of your incensed passion. But you were neither like Loki nor Balder, both brave in their own aspects. Fighting back a sigh, you lean to the left to whisper to Balder, telling him of your ‘sudden bout of dizziness’ and the desire to rest. He looks to you worriedly and all you can do is smile. He nods, gently kissing your hand before bidding you goodnight. You can hear him relay to his curious family as to why you’ve decided to depart for the night.

You’re all but relieved he didn’t offer to walk you to your chambers. The evening air is cool as you wander down the halls listlessly, no particular destination in mind. You pause to observe your reflection in the burnished floors. You kneel down to run your hand down it, feeling the cool glossy tile against your fingertips. You could go anywhere really. You could leave tonight if you wanted to—never to look back. The image of your reflection shifts into a visage of wondrous waterfalls. Pristine blue liquid cascades along impressive towers of rock before running down into the colorful abyss of an evening sky, tumbling further down into the ocean-like water below. With a gift like yours, you could go anywhere your heart desired. All you need do but push at the fabric of time and space and open a door to another world—a world or place in any point time, all of your choosing.

So why did you elect to stay? Out of obligation? Out of duty and respect? Out of love or there lack of?

Slowly you stand to your feet, running a hand down the front of your dress to smooth any blossoming wrinkles.

“Who knows…” you mumble aloud with a soft sigh, eyes still upon the image of rushing waters.

“Indeed. Who knows as to why you’re lingering in this corridor, a corridor that certainly does not lead to your chambers. Have you the slightest?”

You startle at the sudden voice and spin on your heels to face the area in which it was derived. You search about, eyes already aware of whom they should find, but the area is vacant and you gape at the absence of a body.

“Now what is this you have here?”

His voice now calls from behind you and with another turn you find Loki crouched down on the ground scrutinizing the image upon the floor, dipping two elegant fingers into it. The image ripples like water and when Loki withdraws his hand he finds the digits to be wet with water. He is visibly impressed. You, on the other hand, are devastated. Quickly you move, stomping a foot on the life-like picture, shoving it from existence.

Loki, nose wrinkling with great distaste, leisurely stands to his feet. His eyes reveal nothing as he watches you, waiting to see if you would make the next move. You do not, opting to remain silent and watch him for any sudden movements. Loki chuckles as he eyes you with keen interest.

“Now tell me, Lady (Y/N), is there any reason as to why you’re heading in the direction opposite of your chambers?”

You’re plainly surprised by the fact that he doesn’t mention what he’s just seen.

“I figured a bit of stroll would do me some good, but there’s no need for me to explain myself to you. I’ve done nothing of any consequence.”

“True, but I’m curious as to why you’d bother lying to me. I’m not your precious fiancé.”

“Balder is not my—!” you fall short at the sudden realization.

You’d supposed you’d always sort of known, but it never really quite dawned on you. At least not when anyone else said it. But hearing the word fall from Loki’s lips was a bit of a slap in the face. You draw back on shaky footing and Loki observes you, something reminiscent of worry springing into his eyes.

“Could it be your little trick before has robbed you of some substantial energy?” he inquires, stepping forward after you, slowly reaching a hand out.

You swiftly slap the appendage away, “You rob me of my much needed energy! You are but a menace!”

Why were you saying those things? Loki was being surprisingly civil, having done nothing deserving of your sudden wrath. But you cannot seem to stop the words from boiling over. Loki remains silent as he regards you; listens to you slander his name with each breath. It's cruel really and it only incenses you more to watch him do nothing—no witty retort to demean your existence or revere his own. Again he silently reaches a hand out to you, but you pull back, biting down on your lip to silence yourself before turning to swiftly flee the premise.

You all but slam the door to your chamber shut, sliding down the large wooden structure to the floor as tears pooled in your eyes. It was all so very iniquitous the cards the hands of fate dealt you. Forcing you to fold time after time and eventually winding up emotionally empty handed. You had all the riches a woman could long for. The finest of fine and with Balder asking for your hand, you’d become a part of the most elite family of all the elitist kinships in Asgard. But it was all materialistic. Accepting Balder’s proposal had wrought nothing but heartache. If you had simply declined, then you would’ve never moved into the palace, you would’ve never acquired such a delightful family, and most importantly you would’ve never met Loki.

Wiping the salty wetness from your cheeks you stand to your feet, making your way towards the mirror, mindful of the glass bottles of perfumes still scattered shards about the floor. With a longing sigh you placed a hand on the mirror, a picture of Loki’s chamber already conjuring and replacing your own reflection. There he was, leaning upon one of the columns in the room, seemingly pondering something. Incredibly introspective, magnificently mysterious, and sorrowfully solitary. You rest your head against the glass with a miserable sigh.

“Oh, Loki…” you sigh longingly.

“You’re to be married in three months’ time. What is there to ‘oh’ about?”

Cautiously you step back from the mirror, eyeing Loki’s figure with disbelief. He couldn’t have possibly said what you believe he’d said. Those words…

“I know you’re there…(y/n),” he says tiredly as he pushes himself from the column, sauntering over to the mirror in his own room.

He reaches out a hand and places it on the mirror before speaking again.

“Balder is quite smitten with you, it would seem. For him to find another…well I’m certain he thinks there is no other.”

“How do…? You can’t possibly…Those are Sif’s words. I spoke only to Sif!”

“Did you?”

The sly bastard had wormed his way into your quarters and all but forced your emotions up and out. And for what? To hold them against you? To blackmail his younger brother? And for what gain if that?

“Can you see me?” you ask, tactfully avoiding the prior topic.

Loki tilts his head to the side and silently looks into the mirror, “No, I cannot.”

“Liar. How long have you known?” You inquire offended.

Loki chuckles as he steps back from the mirror, a small smirk playing about his lips, “Long enough.”

“I don’t understand how you can see me…”

He shouldn’t be able to. The door is supposed to be one way, allowing only you to peer and cross through. Never the other way around.

“I told you. I cannot.”

You eye him with keen disbelief. As much as you loved this man, you’d be but a fool to ignore his tendencies to lead others astray.

“Though I’d much prefer if I could.”

“I beg your pardon,” you reply hesitantly as you move closer towards the mirror in effort to try to see into his eyes—to see into him.

“I’d prefer if I could see you, (y/n).”

Wordlessly he elegantly stretches out a hand, primly as though he were inviting you to dance. Very princely and altogether unlike him. Diffidence is evident on your face, not that Loki could see it—that is if he were being true to his words. Slowly you raise a hand to the glass, pushing through past it’s bordered confines, hand reaching out for his. As soon as your fingertips grace his hands Loki tugs you through and into his room, his free hand coming up to rest on the small of your back.

“Hello,” he greets playfully and a faint blush blossoms about your cheeks.

You cough and pull away from him, focusing your attention on removing nonexistent wrinkles from your gown. Loki chuckles as he moves away, drawing near to a table with wine upon it.

“Do you drink?” He pauses before he shakes his head, “of course you don’t.”

You nod your head in agreement. Whether you did drink or not, Odin forbid you drink with Loki and fall prey to whatever scheme this may or may not be. Again he chuckles and you watch him elegantly pour the violet liquid into a glass.

“Hmm…an Asgardian woman who does not drink. Most would be inclined to believe the world may be ending.”

You have to fight back the smile that threatens to grace your lips. Your mother always said a good Asgardian man loved a woman with a tolerance for alcohol. Unfortunately, unlike your mother, you could hold no liqueur. You watch as he gracefully sips at the beverage before setting the glass down.

“You seem a bit…shall we say ‘’tense.’”

That smirk is still in place and irritated you roll your eyes.

“Enough coyness, Loki. Why am I here?”

“Do tell me. After all, you’re the one who decided to come here.”

You turn your gaze towards the man’s mirror as you bit down on your bottom lip. It’s strange really. You’ve never seen his room from this vantage point. You’d actually never even laid eyes on his mirror, always looking through instead.

“I don’t know…” you mumble softly, but Loki hears every word.

“Now we both know that’s not true.”

“And what would you know of truth?”

“Touché. Still something tells me you’re here for a very particular reason.”

He lays a finger over the left side of your chest, seeming tracing his name over the region in which your heart resided. You push his hand way, taking a shaky step back as you cleared your throat.
“I hardly know you,” you say, attempting to keep your voice steady.

“That may be so, but something also tells me you know more than you give yourself credit for.”

“Well,” you take another step back, but Loki continues to leisurely follow after you, “you don’t even know me…”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong.”

“How so?”

“You’re favorite color is (f/c).”

“And how would you know that?”

“It’s simple darling. It’s the color you wear the most. When you pick out flowers for your room or simply one to place in your hair,” he pauses to take up a lock of your hair, twirling it about his finger, “It’s always (f/c).”

“That’s sheer observation.”

“Actions speak louder than words. While I take the time to notice, that imbecilic brother of mine opts to simply ask you. Now where’s the romance in that?”

“Balder is not an imbecile.”

“But you agree he has no dexterity in regards to courting a woman.”

“He does just fine.”

“Is that so?” he whispers into your ear and you shudder at his warm breath.

It takes your brain a few seconds to process his words before you could even nod.

“Then tell me. Does Balder know just how much you despise alcohol? Of course not. Why else would he continue to fill your glass tonight?”

You blanch at words but before you can even make to speak Loki continues.

“Does he know that your favorite season is (autumn/winter/spring/summer) because you love the weather that time of year? Or perhaps he too knows of your fondness for Midguardian customs. As to why I shall never understand, but at least I had the decency to recognize the fact. Tell me, (y/n), just how much does he know?”

The untitled feeling bubbling up in your chest is overwhelming and you can’t seem to find the strength to fight back your next action. With tears pooling in your eyes you swiftly strike Loki across his face with an open palm.

“Nothing! Are you pleased? Balder knows nothing of me!”

“Good,” Loki says firmly before snatching up the very hand that accosted him, tugging you close and crashing his lips against yours.

His sudden movement throws your balance into disarray, but Loki has you firmly in his grasp, preventing any sort of tumble other than the ones that urge you into his chest and closer to him. It’s amazing really, how one minute you seemed so keen on physically harming him and the next you want nothing more than for him to take you and make you so very his. When Loki pulls away you’re breathless, struggle to find at least a shred of normalcy in your breathing pattern.

“And he never will,” Loki whispers against your lips, “Because I don’t intend to allow him the time to do so.”

As Loki gently escorts you to his bed, hands eager roaming up and down your sides, you take in his warmth, his scent, his everything. His wandering lips seem to set your skin ablaze, kindling your already burning passion. Perhaps you’ll come to regret this later—though you genuinely doubt you could ever regret a night with Loki—but for now you would take all Loki seemed so keen on giving you—reciprocating his kisses, touches, and fervor as best you could.