"I don't like being touched, makes me uncomfortable."

It was a simple statement, almost imperceptible, an uncommon vulnerability for Loki, especially in those early days when both of you were still young and wild, running through the castle corridors. You pulled off harmless pranks like changing Thor’s hair color—your doing—while Loki, of course, transformed into a snake.

As you grew side by side, suspicions about the younger prince's character never troubled you. They possessed more depth than half of Asgard’s knights combined. What they lacked in brute strength, Loki made up for with a sharp intellect and biting wit.

Yet, some things changed when they fell under the spell of a blonde sorceress, known as Amora. You didn’t approve—not out of jealousy, no—but because she didn’t seem like the most trustworthy companion to whisper promises of glory and power into Loki’s ear, was like mixing fire with gasoline.

Chaotic.

So imagine your dismay when, during one of Odin’s banquets, your eyes caught the sorceress pulling the prince by the wrist toward the forbidden area where magical artifacts captured from Asgard's expeditions across the Nine Realms were kept. Your steps, quick yet discreet, followed them through the corridors, arriving just in time to catch them attempting to break into a door sealed with ancient sorcery. You let out a disappointed sigh before removing the woman’s hand from Loki’s wrist.

"Your grace, there is no need to be touched for someone to show you something. I would have thought a sorceress of your standing would rely more on words than groping about like a petulant child, Amora." Allowing someone to exploit the prince was something you simply couldn’t abide.

Amora paused for a moment, her green eyes flicking between you and Loki, who looked ashamed at being caught in such a compromising situation. Then, a wicked smile curled on her lips as if she had just heard the most delicious joke.

"Or perhaps," she taunted, "they simply despises your touch."