There were little, flat-faced creatures with tawny fur and lilac eyes that could climb anything in Asgard, up to and including the towers of the palace. They were called smarrakkis, and one had climbed through the window into Loki's chambers and was now perched on the dresser with its tail curled around the corner. They were technically pests, little better than rats and nowhere near as useful as cats, and Loki knew the kitchen would leave out vermin traps for them, which made the fact that this one had managed it all the way up here even more impressive. Instead of throwing the smarrakki out of the window he called out to it, and as he approached it headbutted his hand in a plea for attention. "Stupid animal," he said softly, as he scratched it behind the ears. "Who told you I was a good person to seek affection from?"
It purred happily.
"Gwen's turned me into something horribly close to sentimental," he murmured, "she's no good, you know. I don't know why I keep her around."
Well, he did to some extent. She was clever, and her company tended to lead to periods of danger and excitement. She made him laugh, although she often didn't mean to, and since the year of living indoors she had gained enough wait to turn all her sharp edges into soft, slender curves that fitted perfectly into his hand. She still wasn't pretty, but when she talked she gave the illusion of being beautiful. But that still didn't account for why she made him feel weak and strong all at once and always had an afterthought for her, even when she wasn't there.
"She's still greater than the sum of her parts," he told the pest, and then it came to him. She had chosen him above anyone else as well.
It sounded selfish, that he loved her for loving him. But Loki's entire life had involved him being second best; making way for Thor, his brother being the only reason Sif and the warriors three put up with him, even as a child. Nobody really wanted to play with the weird kid who always came up with the nastiest plans, who avoided their matron and governess to go and build traps in the forest and steal things he had no need for, even if he was a prince. It was why everything had gone to shit- he had killed Laufey to prove himself to his parents, and even then they had shunned him. Even now, he was forced to live a lie for people to respect him, love him as their king despite the fact he had done a better job than Odin ever did. It was why he had fallen and become the wretched creature he was in the first place; the company he kept had convinced him he was a monster, so he had to live up to their expectations.
And then there was Gwen, who knew of the appalling things he had done and loved him nonetheless, just as he did her with all her flaws. But that someone could see him for what he really was- not just the blue-skinned Jotun, something he could not help, but the spoiled prince that had fallen from grace- and not be disgusted by that was a miracle to him. Even then, she could have been infuriatingly kind, sweet and nice and patient and pitiful, but she wasn't. She was fun, instead. Fun and bad and ever so clever, just like him.
"It's rather vain. I love her because she loves me, and the love is born because we're so similar. And yet she's still so different to me on the surface… still, nobody's perfect."
%
"Gwen?"
He was appeared in her bedroom to the sounds of retching coming from the attached bathroom. She staggered out a minute later, face slightly green and very wan. "Ugh."
"Please don't come near me," he said quickly, stepping away from her. She very slowly eased herself onto the bed and sprawled out on her back. "What's the matter?"
"No idea, but it'll pass in a minute. I probably caught something. Nothing like class A drugs to weaken your immune system. That, coupled with the fact I'm hungover as hell, should explain it." She sat up and rubbed her eyes, then slapped her cheeks to bring some colour back into them. "Bleeuurgh."
"Indeed." He sat down a safe distance from her.
"Any new wars or shit like that in Avalon?"
"Don't call it that," he said for the thousandth time, "and no, it's disappointingly quiet. The high point of the week was a smarrakki getting into my chamber."
"Come again?" she asked, yawning as the light of dawn crept lazily in through the window.
"Nothing more than vermin, really. It's entirely a testament to how much you've weakened me that I allowed it to live."
To his surprise, she burst into tears.
"What's wrong with you?" he asked, as she sobbed into her hands.
She didn't reply for a couple of minutes, then wiped her face with her sleeve and looked up at him with bloodshot eyes. "My fragile female constitution," she mumbled, and he rolled his eyes. "Sodding hell."
"Be that as it may, it is still certainly not enough to merit weeping over," he said archly, and she sniffed. "You haven't been poisoned by any chance, have you?" she shook her head. "Hypnotised? Been replaced by a doppelganger who doesn't know you particularly well?" Against his better judgement, he pressed a hand against her forehead. "What temperature are humans supposed to be?"
"I'm still me," she assured him, "I don't know…" her face slackened. "Oh, shit."
"What?"
"Shit."
"Gwen!"
"It's nothing," she said hastily, standing up. "You picked a bad time to come, I'm busy all day. See you later."
"Don't kiss me! You've just thrown up."
"Thanks for reminding me," she said shortly, "now bugger off." She left the room, leaving Loki to wonder what in the Hel was going on.
A/N not so much filler as needing to bridge the gap between two Gwen chapters. Also, it's been a long time since I wrote this chapter, but I think that the name for the little animal is a bastardised translation of "little fox" into Old Norse, in case you were interested. Let nobody say I am not thorough. Just this morning, while writing Finding Bucky, I have googled "Russian swear words", "how many bullets can a sniper rifle hold", "ancient greek for door" and "ghost in the machine" (which I should really have been able to write about from memory considering it's part of my college philosophy course). That was one hell of a chapter.