Gently, Loki lays you on the bed in the room he rented in the inn. He didn’t know why he’d done it. Why he didn’t just keep on walking.
He’s the God of mischief! He has no reason for taking care of a half-dead woman he found in the woods. Even if the woman is beautiful.
Sighing, he leaves briefly to find water and a cloth so he can clean your wounds. You don’t wake up as he undressed you carefully, nor when he brings the hot water to your wounds. You only wince in your sleep when the tough cloth finds your wounds.
And it stayed like that for months. Loki nursing you back to health, and you not waking.
Sometimes he’d find himself speaking to your unconscious body. Telling you how beautiful you were, and how he couldn’t wait for you to wake … But then he’d stop and call himself a fool over and over again.
At this particular time, he stands at the window, chastising himself. “No, you can’t fall in love with her, you’re the prince! You can’t fall in love with a commoner, no matter how beautiful she is. And we don’t even know if she’ll-”
He’s cut off from speaking his thoughts aloud by a loud gasp coming from where you lay. Whirling around, he rushes to your dude and sits on the side of the bed, taking your hand in his.
You open your eyes and he’s taken aback by the striking (e/c) color. He’d never seen anything like them.
“What happened?