[a kiss to prove a point] [let's call this... a pre-canon au oooooo 😳]
The singsong sweetness of his voice is venom to his throat, trickling down from the cavern of his mouth and mixing cruelly with his stomach acid— such frippery makes him want to throw up. But he hasn't forgotten what he's doing this for, and will not do so now. Requesting an audience with a Jötunn princess is no small feat; if he fails now, he's certain he would never get the opportunity to try again.
And so, any and all discomfort is forced down with naught a single huff, and his steps remain confident and clear against the Night Temple's cold floor. His stride is much too small to traverse Jötunn architecture at his normal pace, but after a minute or so of walking, he finally reaches Nótt. Standing by her feet, he swiftly lowers his head to a bow.
"Allow me to introduce myself again," he says, looking up to her, "I am Prince Ótr of Niðavellir. I wish to speak with you."
Ótr pauses. He goes up a step and, taking her hand, presses a light kiss to her knuckles. He gives her a small, almost cloying smile, hoping to the gods she doesn't see the strain in it.
"In private, if possible."
kiss, kiss ( pre - canon au! )
it’s been questioned before of nótt’s preference for the interior of the temple of night; an establishment given for the safety and sake of her people. attendants and potentials of marriage. there they stay, underneath her ever loving eye, but the stronghold’s interior represents too much of the sky and too little of her. no matter, mother had called her design beautiful upon her first entrance within its walls. maybe, it’s that reasoning that keeps her from changing anything.
tonight has been a series of flourishing connections and meetings to represent herself to the community. to see that underneath this armor and strength, is a woman of trust and compassion. attendants work and walk in groups, steady to keep everything tidy and lock connections down on parchment and ink. nótt busies herself with idle chatter, waving forward a few of the attendants and such of who catch her eye, those who seem to have a task in their expression.
“ there seems to be nothing out of order with him, so he has returned now. ” one lady, an axe strapped to her back, bows to nótt before gesturing to austri, who now sits comfortably on nótt’s shoulder. “ the priestess has been contacted as well and agrees with the former statement. shall anything seem, still, unusual then please send a letter and i’ll be at your stead. ”
nótt nods, a warm smile on her face as she tilts her head, “ of course! much thanks for the inconvience. ” and there is more she wishes to say but the shake of the temple’s ground, just slightly, ever so matching her own. she thinks dagr, but it had been too long since her twin sister had shown her face inside her stronghold. when her attention has been shifted, nótt sees one of the politicians from earlier moving her group away from the entrance, where—
her name finds a note in the air. spoken by that of a rough voice, one distant and unseen to her eyes. nótt frowns, unable to catch sight of whoever yelled her name, but... the voice. no, it’s one she had heard today. through the many faces and beings that she had placed herself nearby, there had been one that seemed almost captivating in all of its... was it, awkwardness? no, difference? distaste? either way, she steps from the temple’s back wall and moves to the front, immediately stopping at the sight of someone approaching. it can only be a man from the height that he stands at, either that or one of a foreign maiden. and for looks, well, he’s too far for her to see him correctly. but moon’s favorite does not move, she waits for him to come closer.
( she almost mistakes him for one of her lovers but they had all been accounted for in the space of her office. only three of them, her harem has yet to grow in size with her constant issue of releasing some of them from her temple’s hospitality. )
it takes a minute or two for the man to reach where nótt stands, the top of his head just quite leveled with her chest. resisting a smile becomes difficult when he bows his head, she finds it even harder to keep herself from reaching down and patting him on the head. despite the urge, nótt instead focuses on his words, the hue of his eyes when he looks up at her. a nod; prince of niðavellir, huh. she cannot remember his face but the title seems familiar. she opens her mouth to greet him back but his hand closes around hers before she has the chance to voice out the jumble of words in her throat — words that are immediately swallowed when ótr’s lips press against her knuckles. the lightest shiver grabs her shoulders as she blinks down at the prince.
she almost stutters when she finds her voice again. although the blush that takes to her face is light and almost too faint to be seen, the waver in her actions is evident. nótt smiles, warmly, and nods; moving her gaze from ótr’s wouldn’t be seen as disrespect, especially in the place of her temple, and yet she doesn’t. she can’t pull herself to do so.
“ ...yes, ” is the only word she says for a bit of time, a moment passes and she collects herself. moving her hand from ótr’s grasp and giving him a quick, gentle pat on the head. nótt clears her throat and turns to look at the nearest lady, “ order the men to leave my office. they will stay inside of the hall for now. ” not that there was much other places for them to be whenever not by her side but oh well, she had more significant issues to focus on. and with that thought, she turns back to ótr. austri gives a soft caw, muffled by her hair, before he moves off.
she shouldn’t speak to him in her office. she didn’t have to match this discussion to his preferences, but she does so anyway. “ please, follow me, prince ótr. ” nótt begins to walk towards the first hall on the left, but stops immediately after a few steps. she glances at ótr with a smile, albeit a bit worried. as if his opinion mattered more than every single lady in the room. “ will you be able to match steps with me? shall i carry you to my office? what of holding your hand? ”