Fifth cigarette
May 28, 2024 at 6:27 PM
Today was a special day. Today was his birthday. Since early morning, there was a hustle and bustle in the palace. Servants were rushing back and forth preparing for the grand ball in honor of Loki. Guests from different regions were arriving leisurely, and Thor took his brother to Midgard early in the morning to give him something very cool, as Thor himself put it. She didn’t know the meaning of this word, but she also wanted to give Loki something significant, something to remember and say goodbye. No, today she wouldn’t leave, today she would be with him, but soon... soon she would be able to leave the palace and finally breathe a sigh of relief away from Loki.
***
Evening had come. The hot sun had already dipped below the horizon, but it still tinted the sky red. The ball had long since begun, with servants bustling about with numerous golden trays laden with hors d'oeuvres and drinks. Guests in bright attire were already swirling in the dances, laughing and drinking merrily. Odin and Frigga sat at the head of the largest of the tables, watching their sons from an improvised pedestal, smiles on their faces. And she... as usual, stood in the shadow of a column with a glass of prickly Midgardian champagne, also watching her beloved, Loki. Today, he looked particularly beautiful. The silk black and green robes flowed, emphasizing his slender figure, broad shoulders, long legs, and delicate hands. The sharp features of his face were framed by black hair, like pitch, beautifully accentuating his pale skin. This paleness... it had always appealed to her. He sat so beautifully at a table with Sif and Thor, engaging in lively conversation and bestowing them with his smiles. Today, he didn't look at her. He didn't throw a glance, didn't turn around, didn't seek her, didn't speak. It should have hurt her, but it didn't. For some reason, the pain wasn't there today. Perhaps the realization of Loki's true nature no longer hurt as much or the understanding that this could be the last ball with him was numbing the pain. She desperately wanted to catch his eye, to approach closer, to touch his cold hand, his sharp cheekbones, his red lips, and to kiss him, to congratulate him on his birthday... But she couldn't do that now. She waited, patiently waited for him to call her, for him to allow her to approach.***
The ball continued until late into the night. She managed to talk to Sif and Frigga, listen to the gossip brought to her by Jane, and drank a dozen glasses of Midgardian champagne and wine when Loki finally deigned to approach her and take her with him to the bedroom. They quickly passed through the noisy crowd, left the ballroom, crossed several dark corridors, and finally found themselves in his chambers. The girl helped Loki undress, but before settling with him on the bed and giving him another night of love, she went to the head of the bed and took out her gift for him from the nightstand. With trembling hands, she extended a simple cardboard, and said: "Your gift. Happy birthday, Prince Loki." Her voice betrayed her. She wanted to say beloved, dear, lover, but remnants of her trampled pride wouldn't allow it. She watched as he slowly took the cardboard in his hands and equally slowly turned it over to see the front. "What is this?" Loki asked. "It seems, on Midgard it's called a photograph.” Jane helped. She took a photo of them when Loki was getting ready to ride the horses with his brother. In the photo, he looked handsome, towering, harnessing his horse, while she, in a white dress, stood in the distance, hiding in the shadow of a spreading tree, gazing at him with loving eyes. She so wanted him to understand that it was a farewell gift. That in the photo, her love was reflected in her eyes, that it was her cry for help. “Stop me, please, Loki, stop me.” Her head throbbed. Loki snorted. After hesitating for a moment, he tossed the picture aside and pulled her towards him. He didn't need her gifts; he needed her body, sex, and nothing else, nothing personal. Having torn her dress, he pressed his lips to her plump breasts, then kissed her way to her navel. Sex again, regular sex, in which she desperately gave herself to him, giving pleasure and not sparing herself. She offered her neck, collarbone, and chest for his kisses, writhed, moaned, caressed him, wanted to be closer, wanted to truly feel him. But did he need this?***
When Loki peacefully fell asleep, sprawled on the silk sheets, she quietly got up from the bed, grabbed her cigarettes, and settled as usual on the wide windowsill. The moon illuminated the dark sky with a bright spot, overshadowing the stars. The girl slowly brought the cigarette to her lips and took the first drag. "I'm running out," she inhaled the bitter smoke through her nose. "I'm almost running out, Loki... I'm fading away..." She sat beneath the lifeless light of the cold moon, letting thin grey wisps of smoke rise into the patterned ceiling. She was almost burnt out, almost consumed, like this cigarette. She was smoldering somewhere inside, she had broken a long time ago and was just waiting. Waiting to be able to leave, to finally be able to breathe the air away from Loki, without the toxic smoke of Midgardian cigarettes.
