Eirlys woke slowly, still caught somewhere between sleep and awareness, until she felt the weight of Loki's gaze upon her. When she finally opened her eyes, she found him already awake, lying beside her and watching her in complete silence, he looked exhausted. The shadows beneath his eyes were darker than she had ever seen them, and there was something strangely distant in his expression.
Eirlys's sleepiness disappeared almost immediately. "You haven't slept?"
Loki said nothing as she pushed herself slightly upright, concern replacing her confusion. "If you couldn't sleep, why didn't you wake me?"
That seemed to break whatever restraint he had been holding onto. Instead of answering, Loki leaned forward and kissed her. Eirlys startled, making a small protest against his lips, embarrassed by the state she had woken in and mumbling something about her morning breath. Loki only smiled faintly against her mouth and refused to let the moment become awkward. Yet there was nothing playful in his expression when he finally pulled back. He looked at her as though he were waiting for a verdict.
"I want to," he whispered. The words were simple, but the vulnerability behind them was not. "If you'd let me."
Eirlys went still while Loki's eyes lowered for a moment before returning to hers. "I promise I will not ask again until you come to me yourself. Just once?"
Her heart tightened at the plea. This was not the Loki who barged into rooms with that infuriating confidence, nor the Loki who always seemed to have three clever answers prepared before anyone else had finished speaking. This was simply a man asking for his wife to let him have her. And that was precisely what made it difficult. Eirlys knew she did not love him the way he wanted her to. Not yet.
Perhaps she was not even certain what she felt for him. There was affection, certainly. Curiosity and a growing tenderness she had tried not to examine too closely. There were moments when she caught glimpses of the lonely boy hidden beneath the prince, and those moments made it increasingly difficult to think of him as merely the manipulative god everyone warned her about. But love?
She could not lie to herself about that. Her thoughts drifted unwillingly toward Thor, toward everything she had once imagined her life might become. That old ache had never completely disappeared. Yet neither had the memory of Loki giving her space when he could have demanded otherwise, especially on their wedding night. She had been the one who had offered him something then, and he had refused to take advantage of her vulnerability. He could have accepted. He had every reason, by the expectations of their marriage, to believe she would allow it. He hadn't.
Now he was asking, pleading even and not assuming or commanding simply asking. Eirlys studied his face and saw something that almost frightened her more than desire would have: insecurity. Loki was afraid she would say no. Perhaps that was why he had not slept, the realization softened something inside her. She still could not promise him love. She could not pretend that one moment would magically erase everything complicated between them. But she could acknowledge what he was giving her now: a choice.
Eirlys reached for his hand, letting her fingers slip between his. She held his gaze for a long moment before giving the smallest nod. It was not a declaration of love or surrender. It was simply her telling him that, this once, she was willing to meet him halfway. And somehow, he seemed to understand the difference.
Loki's hands moved slowly toward the fastening of her nightgown, he paused there. Eirlys could feel the question in that hesitation, the silent opportunity to stop him. Instead, she remained still, her eyes closing as his fingers carefully loosened the fabric. One fastening, then another, the nightgown gradually slipped looser around her shoulders, and Loki's gaze lingered on her face rather than what he was uncovering, as though he was searching for the slightest trace of regret. Eirlys gave him none. Not because she was certain. She wasn't.
She was doing this because she had already accepted the wedding, accepted the life waiting for her, and because she knew exactly what Loki needed from her at the moment, reassurance. His fingers finished undoing the last fastening. The fabric loosened completely beneath his hands. Then his lips found her neck, Eirlys inhaled sharply, conflicted by her own reaction. Loki kissed the delicate place beneath her jaw first, slowly, almost reverently. Another kiss followed, lower this time, his breath warm against her skin. Her eyes remained closed because she didn't want to think. Not about the wedding or the duty she had herself bound to, especially not about whether she was making a mistake. She simply stayed there and let herself feel.
Loki's hand settled carefully at her waist, drawing her nearer without force. His lips travelled back toward her jaw, lingering there before brushing against her cheek. "Eirlys," he whispered.
She opened her eyes. There was something almost painfully vulnerable in his expression. "You don't have to," he murmured.
She knew what he meant, she also knew that if she stepped away now, he would let her. Instead, she reached for him. Her fingers curled into the fabric at his shoulders and pulled him closer, that was enough. Loki kissed her again. This time there was less uncertainty in it, though his tenderness never disappeared. His hand moved slowly along her back while hers rested against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her palm. His lips returned to her neck. Eirlys tilted her head instinctively, giving him the space. A quiet shiver passed through her. Of course Loki noticed.
His mouth curved faintly against her skin, but he didn't tease her. He simply kissed her again, softer now, as though he wanted to remember every moment she had willingly given him. Eirlys closed her eyes once more. Perhaps tomorrow she would question herself, wonder whether she had done this because she wanted him or because she could not bear to see the uncertainty in his eyes but for that very moment, she didn't have an answer.
When Loki drew her closer, she didn't resist. And when his forehead eventually rested against hers, neither of them spoke, because words weren't necessary. She had stayed, chosen him, if only for this moment. And Loki seemed to understand that, for him, it was more than enough.
The nightgown gradually slipped away, eventually landing somewhere forgotten on the floor. Loki's hands settled at her waist before moving higher, his touch careful despite the warmth gathering beneath his palms. The tips of his ears and even the pale skin along his neck had turned pink when Eirlys deliberately avoided his gaze. He bent his head and pressed a soft kiss to her sternum. His hands continued over her bare skin, deliberately gentle, as though he were reminding himself that she was still uncertain, still finding her footing in this unfamiliar closeness. Yet restraint had never been Loki's greatest virtue. After a moment, he shifted enough to rid himself of his own bed robes before returning to her, his lips brushing along her collarbone and lingering against the curve beneath it. Eirlys released a small breath she had not realised she had been holding.
Morning light flickered through the curtains, catching on every little movement and making her painfully aware of how exposed she was. She almost wished they had done this beneath the cover of darkness, where she could have hidden her embarrassment more easily. There was nowhere to hide now. Loki's attention returned to her, his hands moving lower as he pressed closer. When his touch reached the space between them, Eirlys instinctively tensed. She had always been awkward with heavy physical affection. A deep kiss could make her nervous enough; this was something entirely different.
Her mind had accepted the wedding long before her body had understood what accepting Loki might actually mean. And yet, when he paused and looked at her, waiting, she did not pull away. Her fingers tightened slightly against him. That tiny movement was all the answer he needed. He leaned down again, his breath warm against her skin, and Eirlys finally closed her eyes, surrendering to the strange mixture of nervousness, heat, and uncertainty that had settled between them.
Loki's forehead rested against hers as both of them tried to steady their breathing. "Eirlys," he whispered.
She knew that tone now. The last question. His fingers brushed a loose strand of hair away from her cheek. "Look at me."
She did, though the embarrassment nearly made her hide again.
"Are you certain?"
Her heart hammered beneath her ribs. For a moment, she simply stared at him. Then with a heavy breath, she nodded. "Yes."
"Truly?"
A tiny, exasperated sound escaped her. "Loki… This is outright bullying."
"I need to hear you."
She swallowed, cheeks burning. "Yes. I want this."
Something softened completely in his expression as he kissed her again. Not hurriedly or possessively. Slowly, giving her time to breathe between every kiss, his lips moving from hers to her cheek, her jaw, the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. Eirlys's fingers tightened around his shoulders whenever nervousness threatened to overwhelm her, and each time, he slowed.
"You're trembling," he murmured.
"Because you're making me nervous."
"I can stop."
"No." The answer came quicker than she expected.
Loki looked at her as she closed her eyes for a second, gathering whatever courage she had left. "Just… don't make me rethink. Get it over with."
A faint smile touched his lips. "I'll try."
She gave him a look. "That means you won't."
"Probably not."
She almost laughed then he kissed her shut. The room seemed to shrink around them. The curtains stirred gently with the morning breeze, sunlight spilling across rumpled sheets and abandoned clothes. Eirlys felt every small movement with an almost overwhelming awareness, every breath, every pause, every moment in which Loki checked her expression before continuing.
When her nervousness returned, he stopped. "Still all right?"
She gave another nod because words seemed hard to be formed.
"Words."
"Yes."
That was all he needed. He parted her thighs and settled in between as Eirlys finally stopped trying to anticipate what would happen next. She let herself trust him, her hands finding their place around him as his lips met hers once more. The rest of the morning disappeared into whispered names, trembling breaths, kisses that became slower and deeper, and the quiet intimacy of two people finally allowing themselves to cross a boundary they had spent far too long standing beside.