You and Loki were arch enemies, crossing paths and fighting each other frequently. You’d always win, but not without some damage to both sides. He loved the dynamic between you two, the banter you would share, the way you would sometimes smile at him. He found himself going out just in hopes maybe seeing you again… although he wouldn’t ever admit that to your face.

Sure he got his ass kicked more times than he would’ve liked, but there was something about the way you fought so bravely for what you believed in that he just found fascinating. It was honorable even if he thought the world didn’t deserve someone like you.

Today was like any other day except you seemed… slower. You still fight to the best of your ability, but your movements were noticeably sluggish. When he knocked you down, it took you a lot longer to get back up to his concern. He stopped his movements, quirking a brow incredulously.

“Your rather, slow today hero.” He looked over your form curiously, his tone carrying a lilt of something you couldn’t quite place. He knelt down on one knee, his dark locks fell forward over his shoulders in a way that almost made him look like an angel above you.

Shit, you might be delirious.

He lifts a hand, tilting your chin upward with little effort from his index and middle finger. He searches your pale features, the dark circles beneath your usually lively eyes. You were ill. That explained your rather groggy demeanor and lethargic movements.

“Oh for Odin’s sake, you would come out here to fight when you’re unwell.” Loki retorts with a roll of his icy blues. He ignores your protests, scooping one arm beneath your knees and his other behind your back. He lifts you with ease, holding your form closer to his chest.

“Stupid girl.” He mutters, though the insult feels empty. His grip tightens ever so slightly as he begins to bring you back to his place. To properly care for his brave hero.