#multi-parter

You'd rehearsed every day from dawn til dusk the second you'd heard the news. Having bested a Demacian incursion into newly secured territory, General Ambessa Medarda would be returning from battle months early. She would arrive home a victor of her house, yet again. And when she entered the banquet hall, you would stand at her side, regaling the entire audience with tales in her name.

Which would only happen once your stupid gangan finally cooperated.

Trying again, you closed your eyes and picked up your curved drumstick and carefully tapped the cowhide. You cleared your throat.

"Kabiyesi Ambessa, kiniun, ti o pari ogun pẹlu igbi ti ọwọ rẹ." Finally. It sounded right.

You allowed yourself some time to retire to a powder room and adjust your own attire. Many thick necklaces of eleke decorated your collarbones and rested atop your blouse. Your buba was a cream and red color, wide-sleeved, and patterned with spiraling flowers like most women from your town. It neatly tucked into the deep red and black iro that tied around your waist. You shook out your bangled wrists and drew your hands up to your head, checking how your own red and gold gele fastened. Sighing neverously, you carefully dabbed water over your face, not enough to disturb the red eyeshadow or the shades on your lips.

You were nervous for other reasons as well. The general's return wasn't just that of a hero, but of your beloved. Unlike the lands of the Medardas' origins, Noxus had less stringent protocol around the highborn fraternizing with those in their service. For that, both you and Ambessa were grateful. She and her husband had their own arrangements, fond of each other in their own ways. But you, a humble akewi, had sung for her the fateful day she'd brought back the drakehound carcass and presented it at Menelik's feet, and you'd continued to lend your voice and drum to her life for years afterwards.

Checking over yourself once more, anklet jingling as you adjusted your sandals, you hurried back to the hall's entrance, drum under your arm and heart in your throat.

By the wicker chairs, Lord Kino and Lady Mel waited with their father, dressed to the nines with wide eyes and fat faces. You remembered having sung for their namings, a deep joy in your heart for the general and the life she'd brought to the house. For a family so marked by death, every birth was a blessing. It seemed the whole hall waited with bated breath, fretting last minute over decorations and seating. But finally, the procession emerged from the city's outskirts, horns blaring, drums pounding, and when you could spot her down the road, you finished your drink and stood, drum balanced between your arm and hip. It was time.

The streets of Bel'zhun were loud with trumpets and cheers as Ambessa rode down the central thoroughfare in a combination of her finest armor and a gele woven of gold and the finest fabrics on a black stallion. She had never shown up to a celebration without arraying herself in the apparel of war. It was a testament to not only her House, but also Ambessa herself. Forged in war's fires, born for battle, and destined for death in combat. Even peace itself would only ever be a prelude to further years of bloodshed and glory. A constant toil.

At least, you thought, she managed to make it look glamorous.

The flutes and trumpets of Noxus's guards sounded out as Ambessa entered the hall. The traditions of House Medardas' Shuriman roots had mixed with their adopted Noxian customs, creating something powerful and mesmerizing. Yet, even in ceremonies like these, attempting to extol the true Noxian status of the House, they returned to the traditions of old, with dishes, music, and songs from Shurima's westernmost coasts.

She dismounted from her steed, her iro sweeping around her magnificent legs, the fabric gathered in a way that showed off one of her thighs. Her long earrings dangled onto her shoulders, and her golden gele was wrapped high, fanning out behind her head like the sun. A long, red and black striped pele, shimmering with threads of gold, hung over one of her broad shoulders. Her buba cinched at the waist, secured by a golden noxian armor piece. The entire hall rose to their feet, House Medarda's many clans arrayed in the aso ebi commissioned for the event. Red, black, laced with gold, but not designed to upstage the woman of the hour. The gold bangles on her arm clattered as she held up her hand, commanding the crowd to silence. Then she turned her face to you, her painted lips curving in a genuine smile. You sank into a deep bow, head tipped in reverence towards the floor while your heart leapt into your throat. Then you sighed, readying your drumstick and carefully adjusting your grip on your gangan, fingers set to pluck the strings as needed.

"Kabiyesi Ambessa, kiniun, ti o pari ogun pẹlu igbi ti ọwọ rẹ. Igberaga ti idile Medarda ati Oluṣọ ti Rokrund. Pẹlu ibakcdun, o daabobo awọn ọmọ rẹ ati daabobo ọjọ iwaju wọn."

Hail Ambessa, the lioness, who finishes wars with one lash of her claws. The Pride of Clan Medarda and Guardian of Rokrund. With ferocity, she protects her cubs and safeguards their future.

You tapped out every melodic rise and fall of your voice, proclaiming Ambessa's return, her title, and her epithet in the tongue of her ancestors and yours. The drum intertwined as you closed your eyes and sang, years of practice and confidence manifesting in the hall's echoes.

"Awọn abẹfẹ rẹ pa iṣọtẹ, ati pe orukọ rẹ n ṣe iwuri fun ifọkansin: Kabiyesi Gbogbogbo Medarda, Kiniun ti Noxus."

Her blade quells rebellion, and her name inspires devotion: Hail General Medarda, the lioness of Noxus.

As usual, when you finished such praises, your head bowed deeper under the sheer magnitude of the histories and stories you recounted. With Ambessa's, though, it felt different. Your conviction didn't come simply from the mindless worship of a subject, but the adoration of a lover. And everyone knew it, including the woman you did it all for.

Breathing in, you readied your lungs and began a faster beat, your gangan echoing in the halls along with the larger drummers' rhythms.

"Ọmọ Ānibesa!" You called out, voice measured, and the tone and pitch matched that of your drum.

"O ti bori!" The crowd responded, already shuffling side to side in time with the song.

"Ọmọ Aja Igbo!"

"O ti bori!"

"Ọmọ Kiniun," you called, leading a procession as the crowd parted in two. Ambessa danced a good ten paces behind you as you footworked your way down the path, your drumstick sounding out the tones of your voice perfectly. The crowd called back again. Child of the lion, child of the wolf. She had won. You collected yourself for the next section; the beat was more complex. You adjusted your grip on the gangan and began, breath control tight.

"Awọn yàn ti Aja Igbo!"

"Tani yio ba nyin jà?" The crowd answered in unison, their claps joining your beats. Your dance intensified as you exited the path created by the crowd and shuffled off to the side. Ambessa pulled up the hem of her iro as Lord Azizi helped her up the dais to the pair of woven wicker chairs.

"Awọn yàn ti Aja Igbo!"

"Ko si eni ti yoo lu ọ!"

Chosen of the wolf, none would beat her.

Smiling, you bowed before her, chest heaving with exhilaration. You lifted your head to meet her gaze, and the look in her pale brown eyes, framed by deep Noxian reds and golds, swam with mirth. A smile of her own reached her eyes, and charmed, she nodded down at you in approval. You ducked your head again and found your place among the other musicians.

The night continued, the fires of the great hall roaring as music in both styles echoed throughout its corridors. Drums, goje, and agidigbo played as the hall danced through the night. You'd been dragged onto the dance floor more than once, giggling your way through footwork and waist wining. Eventually, your feet tired and you retired to your cushions by the other musicians, not too far off from the wicker chairs and table where only Ambessa and Lord Azizi resided. The young heirs had already been shooed off to bed, though not without sneaking extra plates of funkaso and alewa. You didn't try to draw too much attention to yourself, pinching pounded yams from the large plate in front of you and scooping some soup up with it. The spices and seafood danced on your tongue as you swallowed them down. Across from you, a gojeplayer ranted about her cousin's wedding and how insufferable they were being about ensuring everyone bought the right cloth. You laughed, but kept to yourself until a shadow alighted in your corner. Instantly, you all rose and turned to bow deeply in the general's presence.

Of course, her eyes only remained trained on you. She called your name, and you lifted your head.

"Yes, General?"

"Join me for a walk? Fresh air may do us both some good."

You nodded, carefully smoothing out your iro and rising to your feet before rinsing your hand in the water bowl at your side. Ambessa held out her hand, large even in comparison to most other Noxians. Your face heated, but you shyly thanked her and followed in her stride towards the gardens outside the halls.

The night air in Bel'zhun was balmy and warm, settling snugly over your skin. The grand steps trailed off into a paved but dusty path that wound through the lush, cultivated greenery, imported from the emerald coasts of Shurima. You and Ambessa walked a respectable distance apart until the light of the hall diminished behind you both, casting a dimming orange glow on your backs. You turned first down a secret path shrouded by palm fronds and removed your sandals. Then you plucked a bloom of mussaenda just as Ambessa came up behind you to wind her own hands around your waist. Despite the callouses she'd gained from war, her touch was still gentle and her hands well taken care of. Her nails were painted and glossy, and her face still youthful, though war had begun to harden her features.

You turned in her grasp and cradled her face, slipping the flower into her ear just underneath her gele. It fit her so well, the shock of red a pretty contrast to her warm skin and golden headwrap. She hummed in appreciation as she hugged you closer, and you laughed at her forwardness. "So this is the fresh air you go collect me for?"

"Wetin be this insolence?" Ambessa kissed her teeth, rolling her eyes as she drew you closer. "Me, I cannot call my own akewi into the garden for a stroll?"

Your face heated again as your eyelids slid lower and lower. Your gaze dropped to Ambessa's lips, thick and beautiful, graced with blood red paint that begged to be smudged. Your breath hitched, but you reminded yourself to form words. "Mo ti padanu re." You'd missed her.

"Emi yoo pada wa si ọdọ rẹ," Ambessa smiled fondly, wrapping her hands over your own. "A thousand warriors will never halt my return."

You nodded, touching your forehead to hers. The scent of her perfume and the oils that graced her thick hair under her gele flooded your nose. You would never say it, despite the songs you sang for the crowds, but you much preferred Ambessa as she was now with you. Not a woman with an empire to fight for or enemies to cut down, but a woman in love and at rest in your arms. You had seen where other Medardas with something to prove had ended up. Death favored this house, and you knew Kindred's wolf would come to take your beloved from you one of these days.

"You promise me this, yet next month. When war go call you, you dey answer." You tried not to sound hurt about it, but this you had in common with her husband. It wasn't other lovers you competed with for her attention, but battle after battle demanding a pound of Ambessa's flesh and attention. Such was the price of loving a Medarda.

"Don't dull yourself. You know well well, this is the burden I dey shoulder as a member of this house."

Your blood ran cold at that, but you bit your tongue. Her whole family, from her grandfather to her cousins, had made her this way. You wouldn't undo years of Medarda upbringing and legacy in one moonlit night surrounded by fancy flowers and pretty palms. So you exhaled the argument you'd wanted to have with her for the umpteenth time and continued down the path, finding a bench the two of you favored. You eased your body down onto the stone seat and gazed up at the moon above.

"Oya, come and sit. That palm wine don tire me."

"I take it you be the reason shayo don finish?" she chuckled.

"Please, it is better than the Noxian grapes you are so fond of," you laughed, shoving playfully into her side. "Besides, is Femi's fault. Her cousin has made her miserable beyond belief, so the whole banquet must pay."

Ambessa slid onto the bench beside you, her thick thighs pressing against the side of yours, as you divulged the drama of the house's lower clans. She was radiant, the gold of her earrings and necklace catching the moon's light in a different way than her deep skin. The deep lines of her scars looked like fine cracks in the most expensive pottery. Ambessa was proud of them, and though your heart winced at the memory of close to death each one brought her, you'd grown to love them too.

"You've praised me well tonight," the warlord said, after a small while. "As you have every night."

Your heart swelled at the praise she offered you in turn. The general's own approval was as precious as the gold in your ears, just as weighty and gleaming. Eventually, you noticed how she stifled a yawn of her own. "Aht aht! Sleep go catch you? My apologies for boring my lady."

"Don vex me, o," she huffed, rolling her eyes. You lay your head on her shoulder, an easy smile curling your lips. "Me, I'm not so tired I go deny more time with you."

Ambessa drew her arm around to your side, and you did the same, as if your own arms could keep her safe from all that sought to bring her down. A gentle breeze blew through the gardens as you sighed. You'd hold onto this night as you did every memory like it; deep in your heart, a cherished and sacred thing. Eventually, though, Ambessa noticed the way you pressed into her for more warmth and hummed in amusement. She removed her pele and wrapped it around your shoulders.

"Somebody dey freeze."

"Hey, you are talking nonsense."

"You no go dull me as you do yourself," Ambessa laughed. She rose to her feet and slipped her sandals back on. "Come, come. I know exactly how to warm you."

You shivered again, this time at the mischievous turn her voice took, and followed her further down the secret garden path the two of you shared to a small earthen lodging with a thatched roof. It was a well-kept secret when Ambessa felt like being discreet, a word that rarely suited her. Two small torches were fastened to the doorframe, illuminating the blue paint of the exterior and Ambessa's warm smile. She entered first, smoothing her hand over the walls before pressing open the dark wooden door. You followed her inside and removed your sandals again, setting them by the stool. A small candle sat on a side table's edge, and Ambessa lit it while you felt for the edges of your own gele. When she snuffed out the match and placed the candle back down, Ambessa sat on the bed's edge to undo her own sandals.

"Do you remember the first time you took me here?"

You smiled, pulling the wrap from your head and undoing your own earrings. "How could I forget? Your hands wouldn't stop shaking until I'd tasted you."

A pillow sailed in your direction, and you dodged it just in time. With a giggle, you plucked it up off the floor and sauntered over to Ambessa, your painted lips split in a cheeky smile. You crawled onto the bed's edge, the thick red comforter cushioning your knees as you cupped Ambessa's face.

"I no go tease you for nothing, my love," you purred, smoothing your hand over her hip, smoothing the luxurious fabric of her iro under your palms. "Only to remind you that even in your fear, your hesitation, you dey worth my adoration."

Ambessa's eyes drifted to your lips as you spoke, the soft candlelight from the table and moonlight from the window catching the brown of both your skin. Your hand migrated from her cheek, slipping up to her gele and undoing it, letting her long red locs fall to her back and shoulders. She slipped her hand to the back of your neck and brought you into a gentle kiss.

Your breath caught as you smiled against her lips, and you tangled your hair in her locs to pull her closer. The sweet oils she used in her hair and the lingering scent of the mussaenda graced your nose. You relished in the sweetness that only those who loved the general found her capable of. The soft press of her mouth against yours, the way her hands wound around your buba, eager but not rough. Even the little sighs she breathed upon your own lips, thin and tinged with whines as the two of you smudged the paint on your lips, were the most pleasant sound you'd ever known.

And for that, you had to praise her.

Pulling back a little and giggling at the heated look in her golden-brown eyes, you let your hands wander around to unfasten her buba, tugging it around her shoulders, but not off her breasts just yet. You drew your palms lower, unfastening the thick leather and metal war belt cinching her waist. Gently, you pulled it from her and set it upon the bedside table. Then you returned to her, seating yourself back in her lap, grasping her chin, and grinning.

"Idunnu si awọn oju," you began, your voice following an ancient cadence, practiced and clear. Your eyes flicked over her, delighting in all they found: the pale scars, the wide, sharp nose, the almond shape of her eyes, her high cheeks. Every single feature demanded your equal worship, pleasing to your sight. Ambessa's breath hitched as your words caressed her ears, though her full lips remained curled in a confident smirk. "Lile si ifọwọkan, dun lori ahọn."

You curled your fingers into the collar of her buba and pulled it down, and over her breasts, and though mostly muscle and lessened from nursing two children, the two mounds were still plump enough to fit in your hands. You cupped them, running your thumbs over the paler stretch marks. Your fingers came to rest, curled around her dark nipples, already pebbling under your words and gaze. One of your hands abandoned her breast to brush over planes of muscle, feeling her abs twitch under your fingers. Even where Ambessa was hard to the touch, she couldn't help but tremble under yours. You leaned back in, pressing kisses over her lips, darting your tongue out to taste the leftover Palm and Noxian wine on her tongue. The taste made your own head dizzy, enthralled by how the general's mouth mixed the two flavors, that of empire and that of home, creating something pleasing. You couldn't get enough, a woman born of two worlds and fighting for her respect in one. But here, with nothing to prove, it didn't turn bitter in her mouth. It was sweet on the tongue.

"O yẹ ki o pe Àdùnní; Ìròyìn ìbí rẹ jẹ́ ayọ̀ fún ìyá rẹ," you murmured when both of your lips parted again, a smile on your face. You'd heard stories of the day she was born, her house eager and excited for Lady Adepeju to bring yet another life into the Medarda clan. How the day was tinged with sadness as the Lady had fallen deathly ill not long after. How servants whispered that the infant would bring to ruin all that surrounded her. Still, Lady Adepeju had survived long enough to be taken by a different and decidedly un-Ambessa-related cause. When she'd held her daughter, healthy and strong, her cries echoing out into the hall when the midwife removed her from Adepeju's womb, it had sounded like a lion cub's. And so was she named. Ambessa, the lioness of House Medarda. It was a pity, you'd supposed. Because while you'd been on the receiving end of her leonine tendencies, you would've named her Àdùnní, for the news of her birth was a joy to her mother.

Ambessa brought a scarred hand up to your cheek, the calluses of her thumb rubbing over the skin of your face. You pulled her hand from the side of your head and pressed a kiss to each knuckle. You wouldn't rush this. Like every other time you'd welcomed Ambessa home, you would sing her praises as she fell to pieces underneath you, pleased and spoiled as she'd deserved. She'd never been a coddled child; you'd grown up with enough whispers around her grandfather's treatment of her in the clan. She'd never been allowed to come apart or show a moment of weakness as she did with her lovers. Her wounds were not kissed better, only deepened until she grit her teeth through the pain. Her tears were not wiped away; Lord Abayomi and Lady Adepeju had long since passed. Her fears were only ever buried once validated, a patch of paranoia giving fruit to rashness. That was the "burden of a Medarda," where your affections would always bow to the demands of legacy and conquest. It was no wonder, then, that was all you wanted to give her when she returned to you alive, because, to you, she deserved it.

"Awọn ọta rẹ ti ji ayọ rẹ, Mo ti fipamọ diẹ ninu rẹ ninu ọkan mi."

Your hand, busy with her breast, slowed and came to the left side of her chest. Ambessa grasped it too, and you pulled both your hands to your own heart. It beat strong and sure, quick with desire as it rose and fell. Still, you were the picture of calm. Your own appetite could wait, for you yearned to worship this woman. Your song was finished, but you were not. You shifted your weight on her hips and released both her hands to push her back onto the red cushions. For all her strength, Ambessa yielded under your touch, as she had since the first time you brought her here. Her powerful shoulders slackened as they hit the soft bedding, her eyes low and adoring. She was a vision, red locks fanning out around her.

You bowed over her, your hands dancing along powerful muscle to clasp around her wrists. She raised an eyebrow, her mouth falling open to probably mock your attempt at dominance. But you didn't give her the chance. As usual, she would tease and give you plenty of mouth until you wrapped yours around her clit. You shivered with the thought when your lips pressed against each other again. You slipped your tongue into her red-painted mouth and moaned at the taste of wine on hers. Your moan was deeper, speaking to the hunger that had settled within you, begging you to lift her high as you brought her low. Your eyes fluttered shut, your eyelids a dim orange with the candle's glow as you softly bit her lower lip. The flesh was soft between your teeth. If you wanted to, you could tear into it, causing her to bleed. But you wouldn't. She trusted you not to. Steeling yourself, you gently sucked on it, relishing in the soft cry she let out. Groaning in response, you broke the kiss, lips wet and breath heavy. You trailed your lips along her jaw, tracing its strong shape with your teeth. The thick column of her neck quivered around a swallow as you mouthed alongside it, sucking lovebites into her brown skin as reminders. Her breath came quickly, a small whine bleeding into every exhale, and you smiled against her throat. For all her hard edges, though, the woman was the fresh clay under your touch. You relinquished her hands.

You still had a job to do, however, and kissed your way from her throat to the dip between her breasts. Briefly, your lips brushed against the sides of either peak, and you softly licked along the pillow softness. Her hand came up to grip the back of your head, clutching almost for dear life. It would be so easy to tease her, make her wait until her hips squirmed underneath yours. But you'd made her wait long enough, hadn't you? So with an understanding sigh, you trailed down to her abdomen, hard and firm with work and war. But along her hips, which both your hands grazed, the cushion of fat was striped from stretching rapidly and twice over. Your mouth watered, for the shape of this woman was pure insanity. Sculpted by the older gods from the family's first lands and shaped by her own. You squeezed, just a bit, and laved your tongue down to the soft and wiry bed of curls beneath. Your hands brushed down to her thighs, and Ambessa preened underneath your affection, legs splaying out underneath you with a breathy giggle.

"Ah-ah, I'm right here," you chastised, and the woman underneath you had the nerve to pout. "At your big age?"

"Can you blame me? You are moving like snail, o."

You rolled your eyes and squeezed the marvelous muscle of her thighs before nosing through her curls. The scent was rich and thick, notes of shea and black soap along with her own arousal, causing your eyes to cross. You groaned, despite yourself, and finally spread her long inner lips on your tongue. You knew the contours of your lover intimately without having to open your eyes. How her outer lips, full and thick, cushioned the longer folds inside. How, when your tongue traveled up between them, her clit wouldn't greet you, throbbing and hard on your tongue, but nestled deep inside her hood, enticing you to warm it where it remained. How the tickle of her curled hairs under your nose made the entire experience all the better. You huffed in her scent, your mind completely given over to the sacred task of praising her, offering your highest form of worship to the woman most deserving.

At the first stroke of your tongue, Ambessa sighed out into the tiny room, the sound an entirely different kind of music than the notes that trailed from the banquet hall. You had to hear more, pressing firmer over the hooded nub at the top. She let out a moan, still airy, but thicker. You let a hand travel underneath the small of her back, stroking your thumb over it with reverence. Your other hand clutched her inner thigh even tighter. The open and lavish kisses you graced her with slowly turned ravenous, dipping back between her lips to taste her inside. Her most tender flesh cushioned your face, wet as it rubbed against your cheeks, the slide warm and messy. You couldn't help the whines you loosed into her, each the contented utterance of a lover where they belonged.

Between her increasing cries, Ambessa remembered her worshipper long enough to bring her hand to your head yet again, pressing you firmer into her. Her own hips began to writhe up into your mouth. She was never capable of lying still for her pleasure for long. You giggled at the thought, and the hand on her thigh traveled to its outer side to pull her closer. You weren't sure how much closer she could get to you, but you were sure it would never be enough.

You were lucky you'd moved your arms and her thighs out of the way enough to hear each melodic mewl and groan that fell from her lips, each a testimony to your own devotion. The volume swelled as you drove her closer to the edge. You knew what would do the trick for her, what would make her bloom underneath you every time. Your hand, trapped between the heat of her back and the covers, slid out to press on her mons. You dragged your tongue back to her hood and lavished it under your attentions. The rooms echoed as you gently suckled on her, and she whimpered. A sound she would've never let loose anywhere else, a sound of weakness. And only here? Beneath you? She was praised for it.

Her arrival was as glorious as her earlier one in the hall. A body carved from the finest stone in all of Runeterra quivered under your touch. Ambessa shivered and quaked with each gasp and whine, something the general never did. What the most fearsome and tireless foe could not accomplish, you achieved with ease. With reverence befitting of a god. You let her body roll and shake underneath you, gently lapping at her need until she finally slowed and shoved softly at your head.

You obliged her and lifted your head, wiping your mouth and crawling back over her. Ambessa looked glorious, even in her ecstasy. Her locs haloed her blissed-out face, her usually stern brows eased, and her hard eyes sparkled. Her lips parted around soft exhales, still painted and begging you to kiss them yet again. So you did, leaning down slowly and stealing away more and more of her breath. Ambessa sighed happily, bringing both her great arms around your back, clutching gently at your shoulder blades, still clothed. When you parted, you cupped her cheek, smoothing over the lines of one scar.

"Mo nife e," you sighed, eyes pleading. You needed her to know, as you'd tirelessly shown her, countless times, she was safe here with you. Safe to say and feel whatever she wanted as much as she wanted. She could have it. Ambessa's lower lip quivered, but she sighed and smiled. When she spoke, her voice was thick.

"Emi naa ni ife si e."

When the sun rose, you lay in her arms, your own clothes tossed carelessly by the nightstand, and nose to nose with the slumbering general. Her life could not be like this all the time, no matter how much you wished it could. But that would make each night of worship all the more sweet.

Thank you to everyone who's waited for this since September. This work is a three-parter and will explore Ambessa at three key portions of her life. It does end sadly, but she will be cherished each time TRUST. Ambessa, as she appears here, is in her early thirties. As always, here are translations for the Yorùba used, in addition to the oríkì the reader sings to her (composed by yours truly).

Song Two: Call: Ọmọ Ānibesa Response: O ti bori Call: Ọmọ Aja Igbo Response: O ti bori Call: Ọmọ Kiniun Response: O ti bori Call: Ọmọ Aja Igbo Response: O ti bori Call: Awọn yàn ti Aja Igbo Response: tani yio ba nyin jà? Call: Awọn yàn ti Aja Igbo Response: ko si eni ti yoo lu ọ

Translation: The child of the lion, you have won; the child of the wolf, you have won. The child of the lion, you have won; the child of the wolf, you have won. The chosen of the wolf, who will fight you? The chosen of the wolf, none will beat you.

Song Three: Jẹ́ n taste ẹ wò

Idunnu si awọn oju, lile si ifọwọkan, dun lori ahọn. O yẹ ki o pe Àdùnní; Ìròyìn ìbí rẹ jẹ́ ayọ̀ fún ìyá rẹ. Awọn ọta rẹ ti ji ayọ rẹ, Mo ti fipamọ diẹ ninu rẹ ninu ọkan mi.

Pleasing to the eyes, hard to the touch, sweet on the tongue. You should have been named Àdùnní; the news of your birth was a joy to your mother. Your enemies have stolen the sweetness from your heart, but I keep what they missed in mine.

Emi yoo pada wa si ọdọ rẹ => I will always come back to you

Mo nife e => I love you

Emi naa ni ife si e => I love you too

Y/N hadn’t been truly surprised per say when Thor had asked her to go to Norway with him to retrieve his father. It was far from the first time he had asked for her help in navigating Earth, as he’s still trying to figure out humans and she’s a trusted friend with semi-good social skills. But, he’d never asked her to go this far from home before. He generally stuck to the greater New York area and had never once asked Y/N to leave the country, much less go to a whole other continent. And definitely not while Loki was around.

In fact, she had never even met the younger of the Odinson brothers before this, only ever heard stories of him and seen him on the news after the attack on New York. And, as much as she hates to admit it, he scares her. She was in the city when it had all happened and still have nightmares of it, but Thor had also told her about Thanos and what had happened in between Loki’s supposed death and the attack, so she honestly didn’t know what to think.

Despite all of this however, the girl had agreed to help, because honestly, what else was she supposed to do when a very distraught god of thunder showed up at her door? Which leads Y/N to where she is now, stood before Thor, slightly clutching at his crimson cape as his hammer flies towards the head of his newly discovered sister.

Now, this isn’t exactly the first time that Thor had gotten her in to some sort of trouble. She was actually kind of coming to expect it, so she knew to look away, as to avoid any gruesome sites, and she had memorized the THWACK! sound the impact makes. Y/N can’t say that it doesn’t haunt her in her sleep some nights.

But this time, the sound never comes. She looks up just in time to see Mjolnir explode into a colossal display of lightning. And then Loki is shouting something she can’t really process quite yet, and Thor is saying something as well and then he races forward and away from her and Loki is grabbing a hold of her and then something strange happens and…. and she doesn’t remember much after that, not even in the foggy sort of way that she remembers the moments just prior.

  Y/N fades in and out of consciousness for a while, occasionally catching bits and pieces of what those around her are saying. Like something about ‘a Midgardian’, and then something about fighting something, someone, but she can’t seem to put any of what she is hearing together before she fades out once again. She doesn’t know how long she’s been like this, or even how long she’s been asleep generally before she wakes fully, but when she finally does the haziness sticks with her.

Everything around her seems foggy and while nothing seems too out of the ordinary, all of it does seems a little bit off. But not enough to actually pin point anything too different from what she is used to. She just knows that the room she is in is not her own, nor does it seem to be any sort of hotel.

The bedroom around her is a combination of a stupidly bright purple color and a very gaudy gold. Had she still been a little girl, she might have considered it the peak of luxury and not just completely hideous. She doesn’t have long to focus on it though, because she soon realizes she is not alone in this magenta nightmare. A young woman is standing near what she assumes is the exit. At least, she thinks it’s a woman. She’s nothing like anyone Y/N has ever seen before, her skin a pale-yellow color and her hair a fiery orange.

It seems that the strange girl has yet to realize that Y/N is awake, as she is staring intently at the floor still. Y/N isn’t sure what she should be doing or whether or not she should be worried for her safety. The orange haired woman doesn’t seem to be much of a threat, but she is also clearly not human. And who knows what lays outside of this bedroom, so the H/C haired girl stays quiet. Though, this silence doesn’t last long.

As Y/N is still staring at the sunflower colored woman in front of her, the door swings open and a strange, but still human looking man strolls into the bedroom with a wide, mildly creepy grin on his face. He’s just about to say something to the woman at the door when he notices that Y/N is awake. His smile manages to grow even larger, creepier, but she is relieved to hear him speaking English when he opens his mouth. Not that Y/N’s listening very well. She’s still in a bit of shock at her situation and just how much has happened in the past few hours since Thor had knocked on her door. At least she thinks, hopes that its only been a few hours. She’s pulled out of her thoughts when she hears a familiar name, “…and of course Loki has informed me of your duty to him, so we will make sure that you’re brought back to him.”

Y/N isn’t even close to sure what he means by that, but another woman walks into the room and whispers something to the older man before she can ask.

“Well, I had planned on being able to bring you to Loki myself,” the Grandmaster, she thinks he said his name was, says with a weird, almost pleasured look on his face, “But sadly, I have matters to attend to so, um Blossom, is it? Yes, well then Blossom will have to take you instead.”

He throws a quick wink her way before exiting the room with the new woman right behind him. Y/N’s head doesn’t stop spinning once as she changes into the clean tunic that Blossom had given to her, nor does she calm down whatsoever as she is lead down a bunch of winding, maze like hallways. She tries hard to get her bearings as they walk, tries to remember what turns they take and what rooms and windows she passes, but it’s all just so disorienting and she’s having such a rough time wrapping her mind around any of it. The one thing she is sure of though, she’s definitely not on Earth anymore.

  It doesn’t seem to take the two women all that long to get to… well wherever they were going, but to Y/N it felt like an eternity. Her pulse hadn’t stopped racing and her eyes were darting all over, trying to catch any and all of the details that she could while still avoiding the eyes of those around her. She had only noticed a few truly human looking people around her, but she also knew not to put too much weight on looks. Both Thor and Loki look just as human as she does.

She was so concentrated on everything around her that she didn’t even notice when Blossom stopped in front of her until she is just about to crash into her. They are stopped in front of a large metallic door and the yellow-skinned girl gives it three quick knocks before coming to stand next to Y/N, instead of in front of her, for the first time since they had met.

Y/N’s still not sure what the Grandmaster had meant when he had mentioned her ‘duty to Loki’, as she had only just met him and she sure as hell didn’t owe him anything. He had only said like five words to her in the entirety of the time that they had spent together and almost all of those had been thinly veiled insults. He was the brother of a friend of hers and nothing more.

Loki looks a bit disheveled when he opens the door, dark hair messy from tugging at it and hands wringing at each other, but he quickly composes himself when he sees the two of you standing in front of him.  Had she not been so uneasy and confused, she probably would have been amazed at how easily he could hide his true feelings.

“Ah, you’re finally awake,” he states before turning towards Blossom with a charming smile, “Thank you for bringing her back to me. I would hate to of lost my favorite handmaid.”

Y/N is left dumbfounded by what he has just said and the word ‘handmaid’ continues to echo in her head as she watches Blossom nod politely at Loki before taking her leave. The tall man motions her into the room and then raises one eyebrow at her when she doesn’t comply. Instead of following his unspoken order she continues to stand right where she is, refusing to play along with whatever game he seems to be playing.

“Being stubborn with just make this harder on both of us, Y/N. Come inside and I will answer all of the questions clearly racing through your head.” This is by far the most he had ever said to her and in her surprise, she allows him to lead her into the large living space.

While the room she had been in had clearing only been a small bedroom, this is a true loft. There is a kitchen to the right of the door they entered into and a door to the left that she assumed led into the bedroom. Towards the back wall there is a living area with a jade green couch and a grey armchair that match the rest of the grand apartment. She almost wants to laugh at the fact that he was somehow still managing to stick to this aesthetic, even here. Wherever here is.

They don’t make it very far into the living space before she manages to finally find her voice, “Handmaid?”

He chuckles at her astonishment before answering her oh-so articulate question, “A human would be seen as a luxury on this planet. It was important that I tied you to myself, so that you weren’t sold off like cattle or thrown into the Grandmaster’s fighting ring.” He says it like it’s so simple. Like any and all of what is happening is simple and she has to take a very deep breath to stop herself from losing it on him.

The thing is, nothing about any of this is simple to Y/N. She isn’t like him or Thor. She isn’t used to being on strange planets and spending time around different species. She isn’t used to being in danger, like she seems to be now. But, she doesn’t want to show weakness around the powerful man standing in front of her, so she chooses to push past this.

“And telling everyone that I’m your servant was the only way to do that!”

“Well, they wouldn’t exactly believe that someone from such a lesser species could be my companion. Even less so a confidant.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to raise an eyebrow at this. She doesn’t say another word to him, instead choosing to turn around with every intention of walking straight back out the door she had just come through. And she would have, had Loki’s large hand not grabbed her wrist to stop her and pull her back to face him.

“Where exactly are you trying to go?” He asks the question this time.

“I’d much rather take my chances out there then spend one more minute with you. Especially if you think that I am going to pretend to be a slave to you.” She keeps her chin held high and stares him in the eye the entire time she says this, refusing to show any signs of fear.

She pulls herself from his grip and heads for the door once again. He doesn’t stop her this time.

  It feels like she’s spent hours wandering up and down the halls of whatever very large building she had woke up in, before she finally finds a true exit. The street she walks out onto is overcrowded and hectic. All different species roam the road. She recognizes a few of them from stories that Thor had told her, but for the most part Y/N is completely unaware of where they all come from. She knows that most are probably far stronger than she is though, and she knows not to start anything with anyone.

The area she’s in seems to be a market of some sorts. There are rows and rows of vendors selling strange artifacts, and clothes, and foods that she doesn’t recognize. The food is what draws her eyes and despite none of it looking like anything that she is used to on Earth, her stomach still growls quite loudly. It’s only then that she realizes how little she has thought this through. She has no money and no way to get any. She has no where to stay and sleep. And she has no idea how exactly to solve any of these problems, so she decides to focus on one thing at a time.

After considering her options, Y/N decides that she should start by finding food. Not that her stomach is giving her much of a choice. She starts to head down one of the less packed rows of booths. Her eyes race from vendor to vendor, reading the scrap metal signs that hang above many of them. Most have multiple different languages on them, including English, thankfully, but she still doesn’t understand the pricing very well.

In all of her confusion, Y/N stops paying attention to all that is around her and runs hard into a very, very large blue man with an elongated head and deeps scars running across most of his face and visible body. He’s intimidating to say the least. Y/N’s eyes widen as he squares his shoulders back and sneers at her. When she goes to take a large step backwards she once again crashes into someone, but this time she is gently pushed to the side.

She looks up to catch dark green eyes and is relieved to see Loki’s handsome face. Y/N almost can’t believe how relieved she is to see him.

“I’m very sorry from this one here. Sadly, my maid isn’t the most graceful. I can assure you that I will have her taken care of for you.” Loki speaks with his normal calm voice and the scary looking man seems to respond well to him, as he nods slightly before turning and heading away from them.

Y/N once again finds herself being led through the large building she had been in earlier and if she wasn’t so shaken up she might even laugh at how quickly Loki finds his way back to his apartment. It takes him less than a third of time she had taken to find her way out with this much more direct route. When they make their way back inside he leads her to sit on the green couch, before resting himself in the grey armchair.

“Are you hurt?” His voice isn’t necessarily comforting, but it definitely isn’t unkind either.

“I don’t think so.” Y/N can’t find a more articulate answer than that in her nervous state.

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, eyes focused entirely on her before speaking again, “Do you understand now why you need to stay close to me?”

She can’t find the words to reply and instead just nods. He stays quiet for a while, just allowing her to collect her thoughts. She fiddles with the bottom hem of the green tunic she wears. The color makes more sense to her now.

A question pushes its way to the front of her mind, onto the tip of her tongue, “Why are you helping me?”

Loki takes a deep breath before answering and for a moment Y/N fears that she has angered him when she sees his fists clench, but he answers with the same calm voice that he’s been using, “It is what my brother would want, had he made it. Isn’t it?”

  The duo work out a system over the next few days. When they are out and about Y/N walks behind him, keeps her head down, and just generally tries to stay out of sight. The less attention she draws to herself the better. Meanwhile, Loki just continues to be his charming self. Saying that the Grandmaster ‘liked’ him would be the understatement of the century.

In fact, everything seemed to be going fine for about the first four or so days. Y/N was even learning to live with that fact that she was stuck here, at least until Loki could find a way out, but then the Grandmaster called everyone to the public meeting hall.

It’s no secret that Y/N is a pretty soft person. She’s the kind of girl who cries whenever an animal dies in a movie and who always stops to coo at any baby she sees while walking down the street. So, when she finds out why the Grandmaster had called everyone together, she tries to get out of there quick. She can barely watch any sort of violence on tv without wanting to throw up, but a public execution! How exactly is she supposed handle that?

Her and Loki had almost made it out one of the side doors when they are stopped by one the guards and told this is ‘mandatory viewing’. The death is quick, and Y/N is thankful for this, but she can still barely keep herself together on their way back to their 9th floor apartment. Loki keeps a hand on the small of her back while they walk, guiding her home gently.

Y/N tries to head straight for the soft armchair once they make their way inside, but ends up running towards the bathroom instead. She can’t seem to get the image of that man’s death out of her head and she can barely make it to the bathroom before she starts to heave. She’s hyperventilating at the same time as she empties the contents of her stomach into this weird space toilet. She barely even registers the hand holding her hair back or the one comfortingly running up and down her spine.

The same hands slowly and carefully help her sit up and lean against the wall once she stops throwing up. Y/N takes the time to get her breathing slightly more regular before she opens her eyes. Loki is kneeling next to her legs when she does. His emerald eyes are soft and full of concern. They almost take her breath away all over again.

Loki seems to be about to say something but changes his mind and instead hands her a glass of water that she hadn’t noticed in his hand a moment before. Once he is sure that she has drunk enough he takes the glass from her and she watches as it disappears with a flash of green. He then lifts his hand towards her but hesitates when he nears touching her face. When she doesn’t move away, he softly brushes away a few left-over tears.

Y/N is confused by his sudden kindness towards her. In the time they had spent on Sakaar so far together he had been distant and while he hadn’t been truly unkind to her, he had spent their time together mostly ignoring her. She didn’t expect anything more of him, of course. It’s not like they’re friends or anything. They’re just two people trying to survive, so she didn’t blame him for his behavior. But because of this, she has no idea how to respond to his sudden want to take care of her in this fragile state.

She does appreciate it though and finds herself leaning further into his tender touch. The way he stares into her eyes makes her feel safe and entirely too vulnerable all at once. And yet, for some reason, she doesn’t feel like looking away.

  Loki is sat out on the suede couch with a worn book in hand now. He had helped Y/N clean up after she had finally fully calmed down and he had even convinced her to let him take the couch for once. Now, he finds himself unable to focus on the story in front of him and instead finds that his eyes continue to stray towards the open bedroom door without his permission. He doesn’t understand it. Caring isn’t part of who he is. At least not anymore. And yet, he just couldn’t help himself. Not when it came to Y/N at least. He knew as soon as they landed on Sakaar that she was gonna be too soft for this place. He knew that she wasn’t gonna be able to survive on her own here. And as much as he doesn’t even want to admit it to himself, he knows that he isn’t just helping her because of her friendship with his brother. He sees something in her that makes him want to care for her. He had long thought that he was past caring for anyone for quite sometime now. Especially since his mother had died. But, Y/N proves otherwise.

Loki is pulled from his thoughts when he hears a small cry from the bedroom. He almost wants to fight himself when he instinctually moves from the couch towards the open door. He shouldn’t care so much about this girl. About this human. But he can’t seem to help himself. So, despite not being entirely too thrilled about it, he finds himself heading briskly towards the side of the bed where Y/N lays clenching at the sheets underneath her as she whimpers and cries out for help.

He lays his hand against her shoulder and whispers a quiet, “Y/N.”

He sees the girl shift slightly in her restless sleep and he can’t help but soften a little at the way her nose crinkles at his touch. When she doesn’t wake up he says her name again, slightly louder this time and rubs at her shoulder gently.

Y/N jerks forward when she wakes, as if she is being physically pulled from her nightmare. Loki rips his hand away from her out of fear that he might have hurt her, but when he notices how erratic her breathing has become once again, he finds that he cannot stay away from her. So, he whispers her name once more before taking a seat on the bed beside her and placing his large hand on the back of her neck, which he begins to run his thumb over in a comforting manner.

They sit in silence together for a moment and he finds himself thinking about how her skin is just as soft as he had learned she herself is. Just as he begins to think that she has calmed slightly, he feels and hears a sob wreck through her body. Loki is surprised when the young girl turns herself towards him before throwing herself into his arms. He doesn’t quite know how to respond to the position they are now in. She has her arms thrown around his broad shoulders and her face burrowed into his neck. And she is now mostly on top of him, sitting in his lap and resting most of her weight on him, not that this is in any way too much for the aesir to handle. He just isn’t used to anyone being this vulnerable with him.

He is unable to stay too wrapped up in his thoughts for long though, as sobs continue to find their way up and though her and Loki cannot stop his heart for breaking for the girl in his arms. She had not asked for any of this and yet she finds herself on this wasteland of a planet so entirely different from and more brutal then her own. She is not made for a place such as this, and while he had already known this before, he did not recognize the true extent of it until this moment.

And it makes him feel helpless. He knows that he can not fully shield her from the harsh realities of a planet such as this. He knows that he cannot truly take away the anguish she is feeling. But, he can help and while comfort has not part of his nature for a long while at this point, he is willing to try. For her.

He wraps his arms tightly around her. One arm wrapped around her waist anchoring her to him and the other pressed upwards against her spine, his hand making its way into her hair at the nape of her neck. He whispers soothing words into her ear and coos at her, rocking her and him back and forth until he can feel her breath even out against his throat. At this he eases himself and her backwards until their heads hit the cushiony pillows. He starts to draw away from her, but is stopped by the two hands holding tightly onto his lounge clothes and the quiet whine that comes from the now sleeping girl resting against him. So, he stays with her, and continues to hold her close to himself.

He tries to allow sleep to take him as well, but instead finds himself thinking about Y/N, who has now moved to lay slightly atop of his chest. He thinks about how kind she is, and how caring and genuine she is. He thinks about how truly good she is. And then he thinks about himself. About all of the people he has hurt, the pain he has caused. And he can’t help but think that she is so much better than he is.

Loki can only stop these dark thoughts by looking down at her. He runs a hand through her H/C hair and while he knows he is not worthy of her, for just one moment he allows himself to just be. He forces himself to stay in this moment with her, to focus on taking care of her and not the hate filled thoughts that run through his head. He doesn’t drift off to sleep until the early hours of the morning, but when he does, he does so with only her on his mind.

  When Y/N wakes up the next morning she is alone again. Her brain is almost as foggy as it was when she had landed on this god-forsaken planet and her head is pounding from all of the panic of the day before. She is able to think back on the night before through the clouds in her head none-the-less. She remembers the way Loki had sat with her as she had brushed her teeth and how had he left her only to go get a pair of the pajamas they had bought for her at one of markets. And how he had led her to the only bed despite her protests. She remembers the nightmares and him waking her up, the way he had cradled her in his arms as she had fallen back to sleep. These memories now seem more like fantasies. Why would an arrogant god such as himself take the time to care so well for her?

She is hesitant to get out of bed, to walk out of this room and see him. Y/N finds her hands clamming up out of embarrassment. She doesn’t like when anyone sees her in the state she was in last night. Definitely not someone she still hardly knows.

It takes a few minutes, but she is finally able to force herself to walk out towards the kitchen, where he sits at the counter with a book and a mug of tea, or at least Sakaar’s equivalent of tea. She hesitates before breaking the silence, mumbling a shy, “Good morning.”

She tries not to be offended when he only replies with a short nod, not even looking up at her from his book. This isn’t any different than how it would had been any other morning since they had gotten here, but last night definitely wasn’t any other night. She keeps her eyes off of him as she walks past and pulls out a container of a sweet custardy breakfast dish, frowning slightly when she takes her first bite. Y/N didn’t know that she could miss fresh produce as much as she does now.

She stares down at the counter as she eats and wonders if Loki is feeling the same amount of awkward tension in the room as she does. Her head hasn’t cleared up much and she thinks that she would probably be willing to give up her right arm for a Tylenol right about now, but still she finds that thoughts of last night keep forcing their way to the front of her brain. Y/n’s never been good at staying quiet for too long and today is no different. It only takes a few more minutes before she speaks up.

“Are you just going to ignore last night, Loki? Because I don’t think I can do that.” It all comes out in one long breath, while her face and neck turn a bright pink.

She watches him closely as he finishes the sentence he was reading before placing his book flat on the table and turning his head slightly to face her, one eyebrow raised. When he doesn’t reply Y/N starts talking again, just as rushed as before, “Because you normally just ignore me most of the time and that… well that definitely wasn’t what you were doing last night, and it just seemed really unlike you and it was really sweet and I really appreciate it. Like, I really do! I’m just a bit confused?”

Loki doesn’t like how close he is to being at a lack of words at this. He can hear the nerves in her voice and he finds everything about her in this moment so ridiculously sweet and cute and if he wasn’t completely set on ignoring his feelings for her, he might have pulled her back into his lap again and kissed her. But, he had promised himself when he woke up this morning that he wouldn’t let anything happen between them. She was too good, and he had hurt too many people to be willing to take the chance that she could be next. Because no matter what they were like on this planet, they’re eventually going to get off of it and he’s going to take her back to earth and she’s going to go back to being the kind, regular human girl that he had first met and even if something happened here, it wouldn’t be able to last. Because he’s him and she’s her. So, he will just have to do what he does best. Push her away.

“I don’t know what you think happened last night Y/N, but I wasn’t being sweet. I was only making sure that you didn’t accidently suffocate. It wouldn’t be wise of you to mistake that for kindness. I am not a kind man.”

Y/N becomes unable to respond to him and his harsh words. Instead she just stands there, mouth hanging open as she watches him pick back up his book and go straight back to reading as if nothing at all had happened. After a moment of gulping for air, she is able to pick her jaw up off of the ground and walk away, in an even more dazed state than she was already in.

  The next few days are tense. Y/N tries to follow Loki’s lead in acting like nothing had happened at all, but she doesn’t seem to be very good at it. She now finds herself stuttering on the few occasions that they did actually talk, and she starts to feel even more isolated on this planet than she already had, which she didn’t know was possible. Thankfully, there has yet to be another execution, just the random banquet or party here and there. She continues to keep her head down and does her best to ignore the way everyone else around them seems to stare at her. But one girl can only take so much, and it is all starting to wear on her.  

And Loki can see this, of course. And it’s wrecking him, of course. But he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to help, to hold and comfort her the way he had that night, but he still fears that doing this will only hurt her more in the long run. So instead, he watches from a distance. He watches to make sure that she is eating enough, and at least kind of taking care of herself, and that no one is making her uncomfortable when they are out of there apartment. He gives off stern looks to those who stare at her for too long and does his best to keep her away from the Grandmaster, who he can tell makes her uneasy whether she wants to say so or not.

In his free time, he continues to try to find a way to get them both off of this planet. He had quickly learned the codes for many of the Grandmaster’s systems, including codes that give Loki access to all of his ships. Now he spends his dinners casually asking around about a way to get out of this trash heap using one of said ships, but no one seems to have any idea of how to do so, or even if it’s been done before. On the couple of occasions in which he has started to become drained of hope, he finds himself looking towards Y/N. He reminds himself of the point of all of this and it helps, enough at least.

But, none of this does much to help Y/N with her loneliness and it’s becoming too much for her. It wasn’t until today though that it had become this bad. Loki had started making her sleep in the bed with him instead of on the couch-something about needing her rest once he finds a way out or something-and that was were she had woken up this morning, all alone in their apartment once again, after a night full of dreams about home, and her friends, and her family, and…a few about Loki as well. She tries to pass this off as just a result of spending most of her time with him, but she had never been good at lying, not even to herself.

She spends her morning trying to find any way to get her mind off of all of the emotions and frantic thoughts swirling through her head. But, nothing seems to help. She is unable to focus on any of the books that she picks up, as her thoughts continue to overshadow the stories in front of her. She cannot find the energy to truly try to clean or try to cook something even semi-appealing with all of the artificial ingredients this planet had to offer. And she can’t leave the apartment without Loki’s protection, so she is stuck alone with her thoughts for far longer than she can handle.

Her brain becomes a black hole. It sucks up all of the good thoughts that she tries to focus on and only leaves her with the negativity and a pounding head and heart. She doesn’t even notice when Loki walks in on her, hands wrapped tightly in her hair and chest heaving as she mumbles to herself.

She doesn’t notice him stop in the doorway at the sight of her. She doesn’t notice his distressed and grief-stricken expression, or the way his shoulders droop. She doesn’t notice him until he had made he was into the living area, until he stops to rest on his knees in front of her with a hand on her leg. She jumps at this and stares with wide eyes even after he had moved back slightly and raised his hands in front of him, as if she is a frightened animal that could scamper off at the slightest of movement. Y/N can’t even say for sure that he would be wrong about that.

He slowly reaches his hand up towards and gently wipes away a few tears, just like he had the last time he’d seen her like this, except this time she isn’t quite as thankful. She’s almost angry even. Or, maybe she just wants to be? She can’t stop thinking about how this had gone the last time. But, she can’t seem to push him away. She can’t even find the energy to try. So instead she allows him to slowly pull her into his arms once again, so that she is awkwardly cradled against his chest while he is still on the floor below her. And as angry as she wants to be, she can’t help but feel incredibly safe like this. He makes her feel safe. But, as she calms, this only serves to make her genuinely angry. She hasn’t even stopped shaking fully before she pushes him away.

“Y/N-“

She cuts him off, “Just stop, Loki! I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need or want your help! I can stop myself from suffocating without it.” She doesn’t give him the chance to say anything, instead heading straight for the bedroom without another word, leaving him still on the floor by the couch, shocked and sorrowful.

  Loki hadn’t realized that he was hurting her this badly, honest. He had thought that he was doing what was best for her by pushing her away, but he can see now that that wasn’t the reality. And he can’t help but think that he should have seen it earlier. That he should have helped her earlier. But, now it’s his turn to sit with his head in his hands, distraught. He knows that she needs her space right now, but staying away from her when he knows that she is hurting is so hard. He just wants to help her.

He waits about half an hour before becoming unable to stay away any longer. She doesn’t answer when he knocks, so he begins to speak to her in a calming voice instead, “Y/N, dearest, please let me in? I believe that it is time for us to speak honestly, me especially, if you will give me the chance.”

Loki barely hears her reply, as her answer is just a small, mumbled, “Ok.”

She is still curled under the emerald sheets, refusing to so much as look at him. It breaks his heart to see her this way, so curled in on herself and hidden. From him. She doesn’t say anything to him as he sits down of the edge of the mattress, careful to still give the girl her space.

“Oh, Love. I am so very sorry for the pain I have caused you over the past few weeks. It has never been my intention, though I see now that that hasn’t made a difference,” He pauses for a moment, trying to give her the opportunity to speak, but she continues to face away from him without so much as a peep, “I believed that keeping you from myself would help you, but I see now why that wouldn’t be true. I am so sorry that I have left you to feel so alone here. I never wanted that.”

Loki doesn’t know what else to stay, so instead he just sits there, hoping that his presence will help her feel less alone. And while he won’t force her, he does hope that she will talk to him soon. He misses her soft voice and would happily listen to her seethe at him again, rather than continue to ignore him. It takes a few moments, but she does fulfil his wish eventually, “Why?”

It’s not much and Loki isn’t quite sure what she is asking him about, exactly, but he still beyond relieved when she chooses to speak to him. He decides to give a more general answer, “As you know, I have hurt a lot of people, especially those closest to me and I did not want you to become one of them. I, well I guess that I allowed myself to become selfish and to protect myself instead of truly protecting you,” He stops again, as she finally turns towards him, staring at him with now puffy eyes. He takes a deep breath before speaking again, “If you would allow me to, Y/N, I would like to make it up to you. I would like to do better.”

Loki stretches his hand out towards her and she stares at for a moment before reaching out and taking it into her own. A small grin points out from the corners of his mouth as he squeezes her small one with his own, before moving slowly to lay next her and then slowly and gently pulling her to lay on his chest. He makes sure to give her time to push him away, but when she doesn’t he wraps his arms around her tightly.

Loki is grateful to find that her breathing has steadied itself and that she is no longer shaking violently. He promises himself that he will do better this time. And he does. When Y/N wakes up the next morning he is still there, right where he said he would be before she had fallen asleep in his arms once again.