Hello again! So for those of you asking, I'm thinking now she's around the 14-15 age range? I try not to get too specific, but there is a progression of time. Ana and Loki have known each other for a while now, and they know each other fairly well. Anyway, moving on to more writing! Enjoy.
It was a particularly sunny day, but it didn't feel like it. Usually, these days made Ana feel much warmer—happier, even—on the inside. But then, she supposed, nothing could quite make her feel better after an argument with her mother.
They'd had the argument thousands of times. It'd become a daily event for them, but somehow it always seemed to upset her. Ana was close with her mother—perhaps not as close as she was with her father, but close enough. They quarreled just as any other mother and daughter might, and Ana didn't mind it. She did, however, mind when her mother dismissed her aspirations.
She didn't bring them up anymore. Her mother knew well enough that Ana did not desire to become an average Asgardian maiden. But the point was moot, and arguing was of no use. However, that wasn't to say they didn't argue.
In any case, Ana wanted to be alone. So she fled to her safe haven—the one place she knew without a doubt no one could find her. Except Loki, of course. But they hadn't made plans to meet that day, so she assumed she'd be alone.
Ana was sitting in the middle of the meadow, legs spread in a straddle. She was picking at the grass rather adamantly. Tears ran down her face. She never cried. She promised herself she wouldn't cry. Yet, here she was, crying. She hated herself for it.
She felt a hand on her shoulder, soft, but firm.
"Go away," she sniffed, wiping quickly at her eyes but keeping her face tilted down. She did not want anyone to see her like this, much less Loki.
Loki sighed and sat down next to her—exactly the reverse of what she'd asked. Of course she should've expected it, but she had hoped maybe this once he would listen to her. Instead, he began to pick at the grass along with her, silent.
After composing herself for the most part, she looked up at him. "What are you doing?"
Loki was quiet for a while. Finally, he replied: "Same as you, I suppose."
Ana tried to suppress a smile. They'd had this conversation before, back when they first met. "And what exactly is it that I'm doing here?"
Loki smiled coyly, eyes still on the grass. He looked up at her, and Ana was taken aback. For all the time she'd known him, he rarely expressed emotion. But here he was, sitting right in front of her, with the rawest look of compassion on his face. A soft smile settled there, and his green eyes were gentle—kind. "I dunno," he said quietly, "what are you doing here?"
Ana smiled and looked back down at the ground, sniffing again. "Running away."
"Ah," Loki said. "My specialty."
Ana looked up at him. He blinked back at her expectantly. The kind expression, for the most part, had erased from his face, but there were still some traces of it in his eyes. Ana sighed and hugged her knees to her chest. "I guess I just need to sulk every once in a while," she shrugged.
"Everyone does," Loki said casually. He went back to picking at the grass. Ana was thankful he didn't ask what was wrong. It was nice not to have to talk about the issue, and truth be told, they'd already had the conversation. Ana and Loki had talked about Ana's mother many times over the time they'd known each other, and Loki knew quite well that when Ana was upset, it was most always because of her mother.
Loki's response had always been the same: Do what you want, and if she asks, lie to appease her. However, Ana didn't feel as comfortable with lying as Loki did. But she'd been doing it more and more as of late.
Ana sighed and pulled her hair over her shoulder, unwinding it from its braid. "How do you do it?" she asked.
Loki didn't look up; he was still picking the grass. "Do what?" A muscle in the hollow of his white throat fluttered.
"Live up to everyone's expectations," she said.
Loki let out an audible laugh, but it was cruel, not humourous. "You're asking the wrong person, Ana. If anything, I do the exact opposite."
Ana furrowed her eyebrows. "What do you mean?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Loki said, turning to face her. His expression was carefully composed, but if she looked hard enough she could see through his mask. "I'm the…black sheep of the family, so to say. It's always Thor this and Thor that. I can't seem to live up to anything; I am always compared to him and come out lesser for my efforts." He finished his sentence with a particularly spiteful edge. Ana frowned.
"I don't think that's true at all," she said quietly. "You and Thor both have good qualities…they're just different." She pursed her lips, thinking, before she reached out to cup her small hand under Loki's cheek. His skin was cold but smooth and soft; his jaw was the only sharp edge. She looked into his eyes before saying: "And for the record, I think you'd make a fine king."
Loki swallowed and looked down. Ana let go of his cheek and shrugged. "If it means anything, coming from me," she laughed. She was but a lowly Asgardian commoner, and she doubted her words meant anything to him.
"It means everything," Loki said under his breath, so low that the words were nearly inaudible.
Ana would never hear the words herself.
