Empty
"It is unnatural to be awake for so long. You should sleep, Loki," he heard her soft voice say, interrupting the constant stream, the constant whisper, the constant agony of his mind telling him that he wasn't good enough, wasn't good enough for his father or the throne of Asgard or any of it or—
"No."
He was less harsh than he should have been; at least Loki thought he should have been harsher now that he was king. But he and Sól shared a history, after all, they had grown up together…perhaps she was his only friend now. He expected more of a fight from her but she simply nodded and touched his arm with a strange little smile.
"At least sit with me," she replied calmly, hooking his arm and drawing him toward his bed.
It was a non-issue now. No one would dare question him or gossip about how unusually pretty his Master of Magic was and how often she went into his rooms, even if all they did was sit and talk like they'd done in the old days, except without fear of getting caught this time. Sól stood in front of him and looked up with those unreadable eyes of hers, reaching up to remove the horned helmet from his head as she hummed a queer little tune under her breath. She sat it down on its pedestal nearby and walked back to him, and Loki found himself sinking down, leaning against the headboard. He was tired but what of it? There was too much to do, he had to be vigilant. Always. Her humming was louder but he realized that all he could do was watch as she knelt to remove his riding boots and slid into the bed herself, leaning in to touch his face. By the time he realized what was happening it was too late. The hum had grown louder, the tune forming words laced by hypnotizing magic.
"My heart is pierce by Frøya, I disdain all glittering gold…"
"No, you miserable harpy," he croaked.
Loki's protesting hand was weak on her arm and he sank backward, falling against the pillows, his eyes already closing of their own accord as her gentle fingers idly stroked his hair.
"There is nothing can console me…"
He was sinking down, down into the darkness, the buzzing insanity of his own thoughts falling farther and farther away as she sang to him. Loki's limbs felt as if they were made of stone and he didn't want to move them or rise to continue his pacing and thinking and planning, he wanted to lie here and—
"But my brave avenger bold…"
She kissed his forehead and Loki fell away, her siren song luring him into the first night of peaceful, dreamless sleep he'd had in years.
Author's Note: So yeah, totally ripped the song from "My Jolly Sailor Bold" and edited it to sound more Norse. Or something. So sue me.