Tiny feet pattered down the hallway, tip-toing down the cold wooden floors. A candle clutched in a pale, pudgy hand casting eerie, strange shadows around the hall, as the tiny boy slipped back into his bedroom from the washroom.

He crept towards his bed, eyes blinking sleepily, as his nightshirt swished around his tiny knees, and he crept up onto the soft mattress. The light flickered against the wall, and the child snuggled down under his warm covers, when he caught a movement from the corner of his eye.

One that didn't line up to the candlelight.

Nervously, he clutched his teddy to his chest, and stared with wide eyes into the corner. There was a shape. A shape of a man, going through his bookshelf, rifling through his schoolbooks and papers. His back was turned, so the child couldn't see his face, but he could swear, whoever he was, he wasn't supposed to be there. The hunched, almost guilty set of his shoulders, the hasty, yet careful motions as he flipped through the pages, it gave him away.

There was a dagger under the soft, eiderdown pillow, and small fingers closed over the hilt warily. "Are you a Frost Giant?" The young prince spoke up fearfully.

The newcomer looked up in surprise, and catching sight of the small form on the bed, one hand very obviously clutching a weapon under the pillow, the other clinging to a stuffed bear, he sighed, and nodded. "Yes. I suppose I am."

The child's wide, green eyes blinked, an innocent wariness creeping into them. "Are you gonna eat me?" He demanded. "If you come any closer, Ragnar's gonna gobble you up!"

"Ragnar…" The man smiled softly, sent a fond glance to the stuffed bear, and set the book he'd been holding down on the table. "I remember. You see, Loki…" He smoothly strode over to the foot of the bed. "Ragnar shan't hurt me. We know each other."

"Then I will." He confidently exclaimed. "I'm a son of Odin, 'n you can't scare me, Mister Frost Giant."

The man chuckled softly. "Norns, you're so young…" He murmured. "No fear, little one. I have no wish to harm you."

"Then go back under my bed, where you belong!" Loki crossed his arms, relinquishing his hold on the dagger beneath his pillow.

The man laughed, again, and shook his head. "I didn't come from under your bed."

"You act like you know me." The prince narrowed his eyes, and took in the stranger's features, now that the threat of being eaten by a Frost Giant was nullified. He had long, dark hair that spilled over his shoulders, a quiet demeanor, and sharp, narrow features. He carried himself with the air of someone important, someone possibly royal, and everything about him seemed familiar to Loki. "…Do I know you?"

"No, you don't." The man shook his head. "But I know you very well."

Loki frowned in confusion. "Who are you?"

"I'm you." The man smirked confidently, and his glittering green eyes pierced into Loki's very confused ones. "From the future."

Loki could not be bought that easily. "Prove it." He demanded.

The stranger raised an eyebrow. "Well… how old are you, six?"

Loki nodded.

"Then… you still suck your thumb and sneak out every night to read by candlelight in the library." The man observed. "You wet your bed when you get nightmares, and, um… on your sixth birthday, after supper, you and Thor snitched a bushel of apples and hid in the stables, eating and trading stories until long after midnight. No one but the two of you knows that, and no one finds out until you tell your girlfriend, Sigyn, when you're sixteen. Proof enough?"

Loki was blushing heavily. "Yeah, I guess so…" He mumbled.

"Chin up, little one, you're still technically the only one who knows about the first three." The other Loki grinned.

"Why are you here?" Little Loki wondered, hugging Ragnar to his chest.

"Well, you see…" The older Loki sat down on the edge of the bed. "I died."

"But you're here."

"Yes…" He allowed. "I only sort of died. See, when you're older… I don't want to reveal too much, but, um… you get beaten up really bad by this Titan."

The young prince's eyes widened fearfully. "I don't wanna get beat up!"

"You're stronger than you think." Loki smiled. "You can take it. Well… now Thor thinks I'm dead, and he's very sad. I want to get back to him, to tell him I was only beat up a little, not dead. So, I need your help."

"My help?" Little Loki's face split into a large, eager grin. "Wow, this amazing! I never thought I could help myself in the future…"

Loki chuckled good-naturedly, and his counterpart began excitedly bouncing.

"How can I help?"

Loki stood up swiftly. "Do you know where Mother's book of spells is? The one you hid in your room for forever? I don't know how I got here, honestly, but the book should say how to get back."

"You really are me…" Little Loki snickered, and hopped off the bed, pulling out a drawer, and removing the false bottom. "Ta-da!"

Loki beamed. "Right, that's it. Clever child!" They smiled at each other for a few seconds, before Loki lifted it up, and began flipping through it, an intense, focused look on his face.

His tiny counterpart sat perched on the end of his bed, watching his face with a curious expression. "You seem sadder." He noticed.

"I'm older." Loki murmured, only half-listening. "I've seen a few things."

"Is my future sad?"

Loki looked up from the book, like a deer in headlights. "Well… yes, I suppose so."

Little Loki fiddled with his toes restlessly. "Does Father really love us?"

Loki sadly glanced back down at the pages. "I… I don't know." He admitted. "I'm rather confused about the whole ordeal."

"Tell me." The child prompted, his tone so honest and straightforward that none could refuse. With a sigh, Loki laid aside the book, and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"You're in for a lot of pain, Little one." He admitted. "I don't even know if going back will make things better, I just know it's the right thing to do. I don't know a lot of things, honestly. I don't know if anyone truly loves me, or if I'm ever going to amount to something besides a scoundrel, or…"

"Don't say such things." Little Loki sternly commanded. "Besides, you're saying them about me, too. I think we're the good guy."

"You do?" Loki smiled hopefully, the longing, pleading look in his eyes somehow mirroring the innocence of his counterpart's.

"Uh-huh." Little Loki nodded, and slipped off the bed. "And as for nobody loving you, I know that can't be true. Why, I love you!"

Loki couldn't stifle his grin as his past-self wrapped his soft, round arms around his neck, and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, Loki." He smiled, as the little cherub pulled back, a shy smile adorning his face. "That really means the world to me."

Little Loki smiled encouragingly, and then pushed the book towards him. "If you're gonna get back to Thor, you better hurry."

"It's time travel." Loki protested. "We've all the time in the world."

"Yeah, but I want to see you off." The tiny child admitted, glancing down at his wiggling bare toes. "And I'm getting awfully sleepy." As if to punctuate the statement, his tiny head almost split in half with an enormous yawn.

"Alright, alright…" Loki grinned, and flipped through the pages. "There it is…" He laid a long finger on a particular column on the page.

"We're strong enough to do that one?" Little Loki's eyes widened in wonder. "But that's a level nine spell!"

"You can't do it." Loki smirked, poking the child gently on the nose. "But I can. And you shall, someday. Just keep working at it."

The small prince nodded eagerly, but his eyelids were drooping. With a smile, Loki scooped him up, and tucked him beneath the warm covers of his bed. "Now, I'll be off." He said sadly. "Remember what I told you, hm? You're stronger than you think you are."

The tiny dark head bobbed in agreement. "Will you come back?"

"I doubt it." Loki shook his head. "Pleasant dreams, now, little one." He placed a kiss to the child's forehead, and smoothed the covers over his little body. "And thank you."

"What for?" Came the sleepy mumble.

"For loving me." Loki whispered, but his counterpart was already asleep. He backed up a few paces, whispered the necessary chant, and traced strange, foreign runes in the air before him. With a soft glow, and a sweet smell, he disappeared from the room, never to return.

When the young prince awoke, the next day, he assumed it had all been a dream. But when he noticed his mother's book resting where Loki had left it, on the rocking chair, he couldn't help but wonder.

*Sniffle* Isso sweeeeet...

The title comes from one of Billie Eilish's songs (ONE THAT I LOVE) so yeh.

TheOnlyHuman.