Loki Laufeyson had lost himself.

He wasn't even sure why he's even bothered faking his own death, why he had not just allowed himself the sweet release of death itself.
Lyra's final moments were stuck on replay in his mind, even as he laughed with Odin's lips in the theater and gorged himself on fruits and delicacies fit for a king.

Her memory haunted him every waking moment, there was no escape.

When he had witnessed her fall to the barren ground of Svartfelheim, her mouth gaping in shock and blood pooling from her paling lips, he had no intention on living. When he saw Thor fighting the Kursed, he was fully planning on taking that opportunity to see Lyra on the other side. But something had stopped him, he wasn't sure what.

Perhaps it was the feeling that Lyra would've wanted him to keep living, not to die because of her. In fact, she would've hated him for dying because of her. So he didn't allow himself death, though it was to only live to regret his decision.

He had faked his death then exiled Odin to Midgard, trapping him there as Odin had done to Lyra a lifetime ago. Since then the void on his soul had only continued to grow, spreading like a poisonous plague to the tips of his fingers and roots of his hair. Lyra had been the light that had been chasing the very darkness away that thanos had left, but now she's gone.

He didn't have the will to fight anymore.

He didn't have her light.

Loki knew that he was wasting away, becoming more detached by the second, he wasn't even sure why he bothered with the charade at that point. He woke up every morning, staring in the mirror until his appearance completely changed into Odin's, then lost himself in a life of refinement and royalty.

That's what he's always wanted, wasn't it? A crown? To be praised by a land that belonged to him, for people to fall to his feet with love to their ruler.

But it was then he realized that all those times he'd imagined himself on a throne, he'd imagined Lyra sitting beside him. A crown twin to his on top of her beautiful chestnut-brown hair. That image burned itself into his heart and he knew that if he continued to picture her his mental health would quickly go down the drain, if there was anything left there to waste.

Loki was in the king's chambers, not yet placing the illusion of Odin on him yet. He had been adamant on no servants helping him in his-Odin's- chambers so he could have those few moments in his own skin.

It made him think he hadn't completely lost himself yet, though he almost hated his own reflection more than Odin's. But still, seeing his own appearance had a strange way of tethering himself back to reality when he lost himself in his charade.

Now, he stood in the mirror with his emerald embroidered tunic, his raven black hair neatly slicked back, though no one would see it but him. He turned his head toward the nightstand beside his bed, seeing the small velvet box that sat on his nightstand. He sucked in a sharp painful breath and the sight of it. He wondered why he had bothered to keep it when Lyra would not be able to receive it, but it was too painful to give it away.

Without a second thought, Loki snatched the velvet box and opened it, staring at the ring inside without being able to help himself. There was a beautiful light blue diamond on a deep brass colored band, thin small emeralds encrusted in the design. Blue, like her eyes, golden like her armor, and green his own color. He purchased it only days before she was banished, along with Thor, to Midgard by Odin. He wasn't planning on proposing to her immediately, they were only together for a few months before that departure.

But even then his heart had swelled every time he laid his eyes on her, her own eyes dancing with joy and her smile brighter than the golden palace of Asgard itself, and he had stared back at that bright light and had not been afraid for the first time.

He purchased the ring because he knew that Lyra was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his days with.

Now, he wouldn't spend any other day with her.

He wanted more time with her, he needed more time. The last few months knowing her he pushed and pushed her away, promising himself as long as he kept her as far away as possible she would be protected from Thanos fury upon him. He couldn't show that he cared for her, he'd determined. In the end she died not from Thanos, but from a dark elf, of all things. And those last months of shoving her at arms length were now torment, seeing that same hurt look on her face over and over, watching her turn away from him like a wounded animal.

It was all on repeat in his head, taunting him, driving him insane.

He gripped the box so tightly his knuckles went white as he studied the ring, his entire body shook with emotion. Why did he torture himself like this? When he looked at himself back in the mirror, he saw the woman who haunted his dreams standing there. She was just behind him, looking at his reflection in the mirror, at the ring in his hand with a sad and knowing smile on her face. She wore a golden silk dressing gown, lacy flowers and patterns on the waist and shoulders of the dress with a snug bodice. Her wavy brown hair fell loosely off her shoulders, half pinned up with brass flower hair clips. His breath came short and he begged his mind to cease this torture.

"Was that supposed to be for me?" Lyra asks softly. With a sigh, Loki closed the velvet box. "A lifetime ago, I thought we could have that normalcy." He said softly, idly fiddling with the box. He didn't think he would ever be able to part with the ring.

She smiled softly at him. "You still can have that, Loki." She muttered quietly, her skirts brushing the ground as she took a step forward. "You don't have to live like this forever because of me, you still have so much ahead of you." Lyra told him, bunching her skirts in her fists mindlessly. Something she did quite often before she....she.....

"I am not worth this much distress," She said with a solemn grin. Loki frowned at their reflection. "Not worth it?" He muttered, disbelieving. "You were everything," he breathed, taking all of his self control not to turn around and face her. Lyra appeared to be studying him. "My love, you are wasting away because of me," Lyra breathed, noting his ribs that poked from his skin and the dark circles under his eyes, because of the dreams filled with Lyra that was nothing but pure torment he hadn't been getting any sleep at all.
Loki released a shaky breath. "I can't live without you." he mumbled painfully, trembling with the restraint of trying to look at her.

"Darling, I wish you had a choice. But death is not kind, nor does it discriminate. You should know that better than anyone," Lyra says, the smile now far from her features. Loki didn't want to think about Frigga, he refused to open that wound and retreat farther into the void on his soul. He nodded downward, before muttering. "I know," Sensing his mournful demeanor, she looked at him in the mirror again, crossing her arms in front of herself and clasping her hands together. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly and her beautiful blue eyes danced. "You got so fancied up, with no one to ever see how dashing you look. Tell me, do you always plan on wearing Odin's skin?" Lyra asks softly, not tauntingly nor unkindly. His eyes went back toward the mirror, seeing Lyra studying his appearance in the mirror. With her hands in front of her, he notices the bracelet on her wrist that he had given her all that time ago. He had to refrain from reaching out and touching it.

"I've made my choice. There's no going back now," Loki said, pretending to pay attention to the buttons on his tunic. "And?" She asked with a quirk of her eyebrow. He frowned into the mirror. "And what?" He murmured, making her lips curl slightly. "Is it everything you've ever wanted? A crown? Even if you must bear Odin's appearance to wear it," She asked, her fingers twitched slightly toward him, as if she too wanted to touch him. "It's nothing without you," he wanted to say, but the words got stuck in his throat.

She read the words in his eyes and smiled sadly at him. "You're going to have to let me go someday, Loki," she told him, he could've sworn tears brimmed her eyes. He shook his head. "Not yet," he said weakly, not ready to stop seeing her. Another knowing look was casted in his direction. "I'm not real. I'm just in your head," She said sadly, her voice barely above a whimper. "Then won't you stay a little longer?" Loki asked, not wanting to approach that reality himself. She looked at him, and he could see through the mirror that she placed her hand on the side of his face, he could feel the ghost of her touch but nothing more, only a phantom caress of his cheek. "It's time to start the day Loki." She whispered quietly, he had to strain his ears to hear her. He shook his head slightly, he wasn't ready, he wanted to talk with her longer. Even if she was only in his head, he needed her. "Don't go," he whispered.

She smiled at him. "I'll be back, Loki. Just look at me,"

He shook his head again and she laughed softly, and Gods, he wanted to bottle the sound and keep it in his pocket, get drunk on it everyday. "Look at me, Loki." So he did; he looked at her, but she wasn't there touching him like the mirror lied to him. And when he looked back at the mirror, she was gone.

So he shifted into Odin, trying to steer clear of his reflection, and did as she told him. He started the day.