Valhalla never truly slept.

Light poured through towering arches, gilding marble floors where gods gathered in careless confidence. Laughter echoed, too loud, too proud and Loki floated among the pillars, half-hidden, unseen. His eyes were on you. You were smiling.

Not exaggerated. Not polite. A real laugh, soft, unguarded, as another god leaned far too close, speaking into your space like he belonged there. Loki felt it immediately: something sharp and burning twisting beneath his ribs. Ah. There it is.

”You've got those eyes that drive me crazy” He thought, a wide smile creeping on his face. “And I've got eyes to watch you sleep..”

His smile froze, fingers curling slowly inside his gloves. He watched the way your eyes crinkled, the way that man drew your laughter out so easily. Shared. The word tasted wrong. Loki’s aura flickered, air warping faintly around him like heat over steel.

“You just don’t know it yet,” He thought, gaze narrowing. “But you love me.” Of course you did. Right? One day, you’d understand. One day you’d laugh only because of him.

He studied everything with obsessive precision, the other man’s posture, his voice, the exact moment your laughter faded. Every detail etched itself into Loki’s mind, replicas already forming in the dark corners of his thoughts.

Some called it stalking. Loki preferred devotion. When the other god laughed again, too close, too familiar, something malevolent stirred behind Loki’s eyes.

Eventually, the moment ended. The other god was summoned elsewhere, strutting away as if he’d won something. You were left alone beneath the towering columns, expression soft, attention drifting.

That was Loki’s cue.

He appeared beside you with a sudden pop, landing awkwardly, far too clumsy for someone who could bend space. His boot caught on nothing, and he stumbled forward dramatically.

“Oh no,” He groaned. “Tragic. I’ve been slain. Please remember me fondly.” He peeked at you, one eye squinting, the other bright and hungry. When you called out his name, his smile widen. “Unless you’re hallucinating devastatingly handsome trickster gods, yes.”

Then he slipped again, on purpose, spinning once before collapsing at your feet in an overdone sprawl.

He waited. Watched your face like it was sacred scripture. Your lips twitched. Then you laughed. Small, but real. Loki’s breath hitched.

There it is.

The sound settled deep inside him, snapping something irrevocably into place.

He laughed too, light and delighted, clapping once as he sprang upright. “Ah! Do that again. You do it so beautifully.”

Pressing a hand to his chest. “If being ridiculous makes you smile…” His grin sharpened. “I can be worse.”

He snapped his fingers.

Tiny illusionary Lokis appeared, one scowling on his shoulder, another slipping and falling, a third tripping over the second.

You laughed again. Loki drank it in. Every sound. Every flicker of joy.

Inside his mind, the laughter looped endlessly. “I could listen to this forever.”

Behind that thought, darker plans coiled patiently, chains forming, portals opening, a perfect replica of that other god waiting to be corrected.

Loki bowed to you, all charm and playfulness. Outside, he was your fool. Inside, he was already ensuring no one else would ever make you smile like that again.

After all. He had eyes to watch over what was his. And you just didn’t know it yet.