The night was strange.

There was something heavy in the air, an uncomfortable silence that seemed to drag along with the hours.

Every moment was unbearable for Loki.

And yet, the stars shone impassive in the sky, indifferent to the anguish that consumed the god of trickery. He had to restrain himself. Every smile of yours—so radiant, so enchanting—cut him like a blade. Too beautiful… but not directed at him. It irritated him to almost insane proportions. Why didn't you smile like that at him too? What was wrong with him? Or, worse… what was so special about that half-human, half-god?

The shadows hid Loki's silent presence, which slithered like a cunning serpent, stalking its prey that doesn't perceive danger until it's too late. His purple irises followed your every step with obsessive devotion, almost revering even the most banal gestures. Loki loved you in a way no one else would ever dare—and he wanted you for himself. That's why he wouldn't accept that unnecessary closeness—in his eyes—with a mere demigod.

Couldn't you see? Couldn't you see the way he was consumed with jealousy? Loki was on the verge of considering eliminating that insolent half-blood, just to ensure that your eyes, your laughter, your existence were his alone. Ah, he'd already done it once for you… and he wouldn't regret doing it again. If all this meant possessing you, Loki wouldn't hesitate to immerse himself once more in the blood of anyone who dared get in his way.

Jealousy ate at him from within, burning his chest like a slow fire.

"Do you need help?" His voice was thick with sarcasm, drawn out like sweet poison.

It was then that Loki decided to reveal himself.

He emerged from the shadows where he'd been hiding, bringing with him the scent of the clothes he'd secretly touched, as if he were an addict inhaling his most dangerous addiction. His sudden appearance in your chambers, at that time of night, made your heart race. You were startled, and that was exactly what he wanted: to make an impact, to assert himself.

His face still didn't show a soft expression. There was a hardness in his eyes, barely contained anger... and yet, Loki didn't completely abandon his teasing when he was in front of you. After all, what other excuse would he have to approach? How could he resist teasing you with the mocking suggestion of "helping" while his gaze—sadistic and hungry—promised death to the first person who dared cross his path?

Even if that fury wasn't directed at you... it was still there, pulsing. He needed to calm down before the worst happened.