Six cigarettes after sex

      Two days had passed since Loki's birth. During these two days, he had been absent with Thor and Sif. They had gone to Midgard to help the Avengers fend off yet another invasion.       She missed him during those two days. Her heart ached, her soul moaned, and her body longed for his touch. Not the touch of love, but his touch.       Loki returned at dawn on the third day. As the first rays of the timid sun illuminated the spacious chambers, he burst into the morning silence, clutching his side.       "Damn Chitauri!" Loki exclaimed, causing the girl to jump in fear on the bed. Sleep had left them, he had returned. "I will kill them all! I will find them all and twist their thin necks with my own hands.”              Upon seeing the blood and torn armor on her beloved's body, she quickly jumped out of bed, almost losing her balance in the tangled sheets, and rushed to him. She helped him undress, wash, lie down on the bed, and bandaged his wound. She knew that Loki possessed powerful magic, that this magic would help him heal, and that within a few hours there would be no trace of the injury on his body. But her heart still ached painfully, watching him suffer. She observed him furrowing his brow, with sweat beading on his forehead, clutching the bright sheets tightly, and pressing his lips together to stifle the pain.       She sat next to him, forgetting about breakfast, lunch, and dinner, as well as all her own needs. She dampened his forehead with a cool towel, gently stroked his tousled hair, trying to soothe him, whispering something in his ear, and fearing to leave him alone for even a second.

***

      By evening, as the first stars began to appear in the sky, the magic finally healed Loki's wound. He pushed the girl away, got up from the bed, and removed the bandages. He ran his fingers over his right side, where the crimson wound had recently been, and smirked with satisfaction, pleased with his own strength as a magician. A god. Still standing by the spacious bed, Loki watched with interest as the girl rose from the floor, quickly gathered the scattered bandages and towels, carried away the copper basin of water, removed the bloodstained sheets, and made the bed with new, dark blue covers.       Satisfied, he slowly approached her.       "Do you want to receive a reward?"       From Loki's lips it sounded more like an assertion than a question.       He moved even closer. Unbearably close. His breath scorched her delicate skin. With a single movement, he removed her shirt, exposing her beautiful maiden body, and, taking her face in his hands, pressed his crimson lips to hers.       And that became the line. Her final straw, which she had been waiting for so desperately, and simultaneously so incredibly afraid of. A kiss. This demanding, fierce, scorching kiss drew a line, took her beyond the edge.              Loki had never kissed her on the lips before. And perhaps in the past, she would have rejoiced, radiated happiness that he had given her this kiss. Butterflies should have fluttered in her stomach, her soul should have sung, and her gaze should have completely drowned in a rosy haze. But now the kiss brought only pain. Harshly lashed against her wounded soul.       When the man stepped back and laid her on the bed, and when he began to caress her body in a familiar way, causing her to moan his name, she gave herself to him with all the passion, all the pain, longing, bitterness, and love that seethed in her broken heart. When he entered her and began to swiftly increase the pace, she was ready to dissolve in all the overwhelming emotions, to dissolve in him, in Loki... in the first and only love she had ever had or would ever have…

***

      The night had long since descended upon golden Asgard. She sat on the same cold windowsill, smoking her last cigarette.       "I am ready to say goodbye to you, Loki. I am ready to leave."       A deep inhale once again filled her lungs with the hazy smoke.       "I am ready to start breathing on my own, I am ready to learn to live without you again, no matter how much it hurts."       Her gaze fell on the large bed where the dark-haired man slept. His sharp features softened, a gentle smile played on his lips—it seemed he was dreaming of something good.              The girl sadly smiled and turned back to the window. She was afraid that if she looked at Loki again, she wouldn’t be able to leave. She wouldn’t be able to get off this damn windowsill and disappear into the night, escape from these chambers, from the palace, and from him...       "My heart... my foolish heart is breaking from the love for you, which you will never be able to share, which will never be enough for us.”       A solitary tear, falling onto her pale cheek, left an equally solitary trail.       "Farewell, Loki. Goodbye, and thank you. I sincerely hope that you will find the one who will melt the ice in your heart, that you will find your love. I'm sorry it wasn't me."       Another drag and the hazy smoke rose to the ceiling, filling the space with the familiar scent of Midgardian cigarettes.       She smoked slowly, savoring every drag, every inhale and exhale, listening to Loki sleeping quietly nearby. She would remember this moment, this night for a long time. They would be imprinted with the taste of Midgardian cigarettes on her tongue, dissipate as hazy smoke in her memory, and never leave the innermost corner of her soul.       "I have always been by your side. I have always held your hand, putting your desires above my own, but now I'm leaving. Forgive and farewell, Loki. I love you and will always love you... "       And with that, she confidently stepped off the windowsill and left the spacious chambers, leaving the Midgardian cigarette smoldering in the malachite ashtray as a final reminder of herself.