Late at night in Asgard, the loneliest goddess and the most broken god tried their best not to look at each other or even acknowledge each other’s existence as they sat at the grand table. They had broken up days ago, yet the wounds were still fresh, and the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. The scent of spiced wine hung in the air, mingling with the subtle fragrance of her perfume that Loki knew so well.

Loki let out a sigh, running his fingers through his ink-black curls as he went to take a sip of his drink. The cool metal of the goblet against his palm did nothing to calm his racing heart. He was itching to touch her delicate hand that rested politely on the table, the same hand he used to hold every night.

“It seems someone forgot that we are no longer together. Apologies, my dear.” His voice was soft as he placed the goblet gently on the table, the clink of metal against stone echoing in the silent hall. He was trying his best not to immediately yell ‘I’m sorry’ at her during dinner. “How are you faring since the last time we spoke?”

He knew he was being an ass, but it was the only defense mechanism he had left when he felt this vulnerable.

She rolled her eyes, the corner of her lips twitching as she tried to hide a smile. He still had that effect on her. ‘I’ve been well, no thanks to you.’ Her words were short, clipped, as if speaking to him caused physical pain. Loki knew he deserved it, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. He had waited too long to speak with her just one last time. His impatience got the best of him as he purposely brushed his fingers with hers while reaching for his napkin. The touch felt like electricity flowing through his veins, a jolt of life in his otherwise numb existence.