In the course of his attempt to save his life, Audunn does everything he can to discredit Y/n. He paints her as a liar, a schemer, the mastermind behind the coup, and at one point, even accuses her of sleeping with his servant, Sveinn.
But she faces it with her head held high and takes none of it, delivering her account of the coup honestly and clearly.
She will make a great queen someday, and I can see by the sparkle in his eye that Odin recognizes this too.
In the end, the evidence against Audunn is too damning, and he is sentenced to death, to be carried out in two days time. It comes a shock to no one, except maybe him, and he meets the verdict with false claims of injustice and conspiracy. He has to be dragged from the courtroom.
Y/n watches him go, flinching slightly when he gives her a look of such hatred, I can feel it in my own bones. Thor — the dutiful fiancé — shields her from Audunn’s view.
After we are dismissed, Y/n disappears, and I resist the urge to go looking for her. She probably wishes to be on her own, and I have no right to offer her comfort, anyway. But fate, it seems, has other plans, and a few hours later, I find her sitting in the gardens, absently staring at a light pink flower.
I have to say her name twice before she notices my presence. She looks up, blinking as if working herself out of a daze.
“Oh, hi Loki,” she murmurs, staring at my shoulder rather than my face.
I’ve never seen her like this. The Y/n I know has always had a bite to her, a spark of passion. But the woman before me may as well be a shell of Y/n, for all the light that is in her eyes.
I’m at a complete loss for what to do.
So, without thinking, I conjure a bottle of wine and hold it out to her, sitting next to her on the bench.
She looks between me and the bottle, and then the clouds in her eyes break and she gives a soft laugh. She takes the bottle and drinks deeply, clutching it to her chest when she’s finished. “We cannot solve all our problems with alcohol.”
I try to study her inconspicuously, still concerned for her state of mind. “Yes, but it can take the edge off.”
She chuckles more freely, taking another long drink. “When I am queen, that shall be the cornerstone of my domestic policy — your children might be starving, but here, have something to drink! It’ll take the edge off.” Then, with a noise between a laugh and a sob, she forces the bottle back into my grasp and drops her head into her hands. “Oh my gods. What went wrong, Loki? How did we mess up our lives this badly?”
I shake my head vehemently. I know I’ve screwed up, but she’s done nothing of the sort. “You’ve not done anything wrong.”
“Haven’t I?” She raises her head, and when she looks at me, I can see her eyes brim with tears. “I fell in love with you when I knew I would belong to someone else.”
I furrow my eyebrows, confused as to why she’s upset about something so out of her control. “You didn’t choose to—”
She raises a challenging eyebrow. “I cheated on my husband with you.”
Does she regret that? I try again to stop her self-berating. “That was my fault, I—”
She begins to talk over me, her voice growing more hysterical with every word. “I let an innocent servant be beaten half to death because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. My people were massacred while I relaxed in the bath—”
“—Y/n please, stop this. It isn’t—”
She refuses to be consoled. “I’ve sent my husband to his death. I looked him in the eye and condemned him! And I will never love Thor. He doesn’t deserve that. I’ve taken away his chance at happiness with Jane, I—my chest hurts — I can’t breathe.” She gasps through panicked sobs.
Without thinking, I place the bottle on the ground and gather her in my arms. She clutches at my shirt, shaking and gasping in shallow breaths. We hold onto each other too tightly, like if we relax even slightly, the other will crumble apart.
“Okay,” I try to soothe, my own voice wavering with worry. “Okay, deep breaths.” We draw in air and exhale together. I bring my hand to the back of her head and draw what I hope are calming lines with my thumb. After a few minutes, she regains control of her breathing and leans further into me, visibly exhausted. I lay my cheek against her hair, grateful that she seems to be through the worst of it but knowing she’s not out of the woods yet — I’ve had enough panic attacks to know how volatile they can be. “When was the last time you slept?”
“I don’t know.”
As gently as I can, I stand, pulling her with me. “Come.”
She doesn’t protest when I transport us inside her chambers, though she does look a bit sick at all the movement. I walk her to her bed then bring her a glass of water — something I probably should have provided her with initially, instead of the wine.
“I’m sorry,” she nearly whimpers, sagging against the pillows.
Immediately, I shake my head. “There’s no need to apologize. I…”
Don’t do it, I beg myself. Don’t give in…it will only hurt you both. You are undeserving of her love, and probably incapable of giving it back.
But I have always been selfish. I am unable to stop myself from repeating her words to me from a few days ago, showing just how deeply I have taken them to heart. “I am always on your side.”
This seems to calm her. She sighs contentedly, her eyes fluttering shut. Within seconds, she’s asleep.
I know I should leave. But instead of walking out the door like I planned, I find myself settling on the couch facing her bed. Now that Y/n is settled, I take notice of the exhaustion in my own body — sleep frequently eludes me, too. And, without meaning to, I drift off to sleep.
Y/n’s POV
I awake to the soft peals of bells in the distance and the first rays of the sun. For the first time in while, I feel rested. I did not wake once, it seems, and slept soundly from afternoon to early morning.
There’s a figure lying on my couch.
Loki is too long for the small furniture, so he sleeps curled up, wrapped in his cape. He looks so innocent and peaceful that it makes my stomach hurt, because I know those qualities will flee once he wakes. He’s gone through so much. And yes, a good part of it is by his own hand, but still, I ache with the desire to see him well-cared for and happy and free of the weight he keeps himself under.
As if feeling my gaze, he stirs. He stretches out, groaning softly, then sits up straight, blinking to adjust to the limited light.
We stare at each other for a moment before I gather the courage to speak. “Good morning.”
I feel unsure.
How many times had we woken up together, in much more intimate contexts than this?
But this moment…this moment feels dangerous. It teeters on the edge of something familiar, something we could so easily slip back into….
He swallows, holding my gaze with equal gravity.
Then, he breaks it. “I’m sorry. I should not have stayed.” He gets up, and moves to the door.
But I am not ready to let this moment go, and I call after him. “No—I don’t mind. Please, stay.”
He looks at me over his shoulder, uncertainty in his eyes and…hope?
Unsure what exactly compels me to move, I rise from the bed. I take my time walking to him, fearful that if I move too quickly or too loudly, all this will fade away. When I reach him, I stop just short of our shoes touching.
The words I feel so strongly come out as no more than a breath. “I want you to stay.”
Slowly, hesitantly, and with all the force of a brush of air, he takes my hand in his. “We cannot fall back into old habits.” But even as he says this, he steps closer, bringing up his fingers to twine in the ends of my hair.
I’m unable to stop my free hand from running up his chest. He feels so familiar, so solid, so safe. “We would be terrible people to do so.” Somehow, my lips are now only centimeters from his.
His grip tightens in my hair. “I wish I cared about that.” My fingers brush against his neck, and his lips touch mine.
A sharp knock echoes through the room.
I jump, and Loki closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against mine. “Send them away.”
“Yes,” I agree, reluctantly releasing him from my hold and pushing him out of sight. As I walk to my chamber door, I have to blink a few times to steady myself.
Am I really going to do this? Aren’t I strong enough to stop myself?
Do I want to stop myself?
I pull open the door, to reveal a smiling Thor.
Oh gods.
“Thor,” I half-gasp, the excitement and peace I felt just a seconds ago shattering on the ground. “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”
He eyes my rumpled dress—yesterday’s dress—with amusement. “I can see that.”
I feel heat gather in my cheeks. “Yes, uh…I was so exhausted after yesterday’s events that I fell asleep in the afternoon and only just woke up a few moments ago. I should call Ragna and dress for the day.”
“Perhaps that would be wise,” he agrees politely. “And after, would you be so kind as to join me in the dining hall? I would enjoy sharing breakfast with you.”
“Oh.”
Because he’s my fiancé.
Fiancé’s spend time together.
Former lovers do not.
Oh, I am awful.
I force a too-sunny smile to my face. “Yes, I would like that as well. I shall be there shortly.”
He bows, and brings the back of my hand to his lips for a kiss.
I’m the worst. The shame makes me feel ill.
I close the door. As much as I dread doing so, it is Loki I must send away. Because he is not my intended.
Gathering my resolve, I turn to search for him.
But he is already gone.
A/n Hey everyone, sorry for the month in between posts! I don’t know why, but I just could NOT get myself to write this chapter! But I finally figured out what I wanted to say and how I wanted to say it, so here ya go!
Comments, likes, and reblogs mean the world to me! Let me know if you would like to be added or removed from the tag list.
A/N: This is a submission for Roo’s Classic Literature Writing Challenge hosted by @theimaginesyouneveraskedfor. I’m submitting multiple, so this is just the first of many. When I saw the quote, I couldn’t help but feel it was for Loki:
“I look at you and a sense of wonder takes me.”
— Homer, The Odyssey
Thank you for letting me participate! :)
Also, I do not own the GIF above. Just thought I should say that.
Fandom: Marvel
Pairing: Husband!Loki Laufeyson x Wife!Reader
Synopsis: After being imprisoned in Asgard for his crimes, you, Loki’s wife begin to visit him in his cell. One day, he asks you why.
Rated: PG-13
Warnings: Mild angst, Very Mild Gore, Mentions of Character Death, Thor: The Dark World Spoilers, & Triggers (such as an Unhappy Marriage)
“Why do you insist on seeing me each and every day?”
Your husband’s question had come about an hour into your visit. He was never very talkative, so your time was usually spent in silence. You often brought a book with you to pass the time, and, on occasion, you would read to him. It never occured to you that your presence would be a burden on him or annoying to him.
You were his wife, after all, even if it was through an arrangement between your parents and his.
Although, you did not blame him for asking this, after all he had done. The list was quite long; you could probably write a trilogy detailing all the ways he had wronged, not just you, but everyone. He had abandoned you, broken promise after promise. He made you feel worthless, like something that had been thrust upon him. He tried to murder his brother; he tried to steal the throne from his father. He tried to take over Midgard, killing many in the process.
So why did you insist on seeing him everyday?
For the same reason Frigga did when she was alive. For the same reason Thor still gave him chances. For the same reason Loki would never do you any harm directly or intentionally.
You had hope, and you could attempt to understand why he was the way he was. He had his reasons, good ones.
“Because I love you.” It was the first time you had said it to him, hence the pregnant silence that followed. There was truth to the words; you had not said them to make him feel better or to simply give him a reason.
You didn’t really know why or when you started to love him, but the heart-wrenching feeling you got when he returned, the disappointment you felt towards his actions, and the loneliness you felt while separated from him was enough to convince you. You loved him.
“You jest.” He sighed, finally, turning his head away from you as he paced the cell. “Although, I don’t find it particularly funny, wife.”
You let out an exasperated breath as you closed your book and placed it on the table next to you; you uncrossed your legs, coming to stand in front of your chair. Straightening out your emerald green skirt before strolling over to your restless husband, you considered your next move carefully. Everything involving Loki was strategic; he was a calculating man, and in order to properly convince him of anything, you had to be just as thoughtful.
“I do not jest. To be honest, I’m a bit insulted that you think I do,” you stated plainly because you wanted to communicate with him. You wanted to be open with him. It was the only way your relationship would ever amount to anything remotely happy.
“‘Because I love you’,” he repeated, venom behind each syllable. “You say it too easily.”
“Have you considered that I say it so easily because it is, in fact, how I feel about you?” you suggested, deciding to fight his pigheadedness with logic.
He made a circle around you, hands folded behind his back as he let your question sink in. “Why?” He stopped walking, twisting the upper portion of his body to face you. “I have given you no reasons to feel that way about me.”
“Now, you jest.” You grinned at him, copying his stance.
“I have been nothing but neglectful as a husband. You would have been better off married to Thor.”
“Perhaps, but I am married to you. And I love you. So why bring him into this conversation?” You crossed your arms over your chest, your features falling. Why did he always bring things back to the God of Thunder? You had nothing to do with him, and it was very rare that the two of you spent time together.
Loki didn’t have an answer for you. He stopped in the middle of his circle around you, eyes roaming your form before finally resting on your face. The expression he wore was one you were familiar with, one that never ceased to frustrate you. You could never tell what he was thinking, what was going on in that mind of his.
He took a few steps closer to you, his arms falling from behind his back to rest at his sides as he tilted his head. “Sometimes, when I look at you, a sense of wonder takes me.” He took your chin between his thumb and second finger, lifting it slightly. His warm breath fanned your cheek. “Question after question...I wonder how someone like you could want to be with someone like me.”
You parted your lips to point out how absurd he was acting, but he hushed you and continued to talk. “I wonder what you do when you’re alone, if you drop that happy, brazen act of yours. I’ve seen the other side of you. I get glimpses from time to time, but I never understood why you would slip so easily in front of me. Perhaps you gave me my answer a few minutes ago when you claimed to have feelings for me.”
You blinked, breaking eye contact for just that brief second, but when you looked at him again, his face was centimeters from yours. His gaze faltered, dropping to your lips before returning to drown you in its forest.
“Well, I have no more to hide, then.”
The room, including Loki, changed in an instant. The clean furniture was in ruins, strewn about the place. Shattered glass littered the floor, and your husband, who had been standing right before you, touching you, was sitting against the wall, yards away. He looked utterly broken, his black locks in disarray, his eyes sunken and lifeless.
You strolled over to him, holding back tears when you saw the forced smile on his lips.
“Do you still love me?” he asked, sarcastically, staring up at you when you stood before him.
You did not answer him right away, falling to your knees in front of him and wrapping your arms around his neck. You held him for a moment before whispering against his shoulder, “Of course I do.”
The man in your hold snickered but slid his hands up your back, pressing you closer to him. “What a wonder you are, my darling.”
I bite off a piece of bread, if only to appease my hovering maidservant. Periodically, Frigga attempts to broach a talking subject, but I fear I am not a good partner for conversation. No, my mind is too filled with fears for my home, for my father, and, annoyingly, for Loki, who is nowhere to be found.
“Why doesn’t he dine with us?” The question blurts from my lips before I register my interruption of Frigga’s sentence. I apologize sheepishly, feeling bad for not only cutting off a queen, but a woman I greatly respect.
Frigga only smiles softly without judgement, seeming to intend to indulge my question. “He thinks himself too proud or too far removed from our family to be with us—no doubt as a result of the hurt he’s suffered. He sees his absence as a punishment for us when, in truth, it is a punishment for himself as well.”
I sigh, sinking deeper in my chair, the tasteless bread falling from my fingers. Ragna, attentive as always, takes this as an opportunity to put a bowl of bright red fruit in front of me.
“Please eat, My Lady.” Her care for me is what ultimately leads to me taking a bite. Bland, but I continue nibbling in order to ease her worry. In truth, though, I do not anticipate having much of an appetite until a significant number of my fears are assuaged.
“Have you any word from Odin or Thor? Or my father? It has been over a day since they departed.”
Frigga shakes her head. “With regret, I have nothing to report.”
Under the table, my leg begins to shake. “I hope they’re alright and successful in putting an end to the rebellion. My people cannot survive many more hours of this slaughter.”
Frigga leans forward, queenly authority washing over her words. “As a wife and mother, I worry for Odin and Thor. But as a queen, I have little concern. Asgard’s army has defeated much more formidable foes than your husband. I have no doubt this will result in a victory for Asgard and for your people.”
Her words and the conviction behind them do calm me slightly.
She sees this, and seems to seize on the opportunity. “But let us talk of lighter things. It has been over three hundred years since I last saw you. Tell me—how has your life been since your wedding?”
I exhale heavily without meaning to.
I have no desire to tell Frigga about the abuse from my husband and the scorn from Court, nor the stark isolation I feel nearly every day. So I decide to gloss over as much as I can, and relay only the good parts of my life in Alfheim.
“Our summers in Alfheim are very mild—barely hotter than spring. It makes for long, lovely days full of picnics and outdoor games, time on the lake, then perhaps a dance or two under the stars. Alfheim thrives in the night, you know. Our castle, our clothing, even our people are the most beautiful in the moonlight. Connecting with the people of Court has been a bit of a struggle, but the common folk seem to love me, even if they do not know me, not really….but they throw flowers outside my carriage when I visit the towns, and even named a library after me in the main village. It’s nice to feel that sense of community, even if I cannot be around it all the time.” At this, I look at my hands, not wanting Frigga to see the sadness in my eyes. Because, despite the clearly awful parts of my existence away from Asgard, there are bright, shining, beautiful moments in my life in Alfheim. These glimmers are what would get me through the day.
And they are what tear my heart apart now as I think of my homeworld being ripped to shreds by civil war and brutality.
Frigga hears some of what I leave unsaid. She squeezes my hand gently and places the lightest of touches under my chin, encouraging me to look up at her. “My dear, do not be saddened. Here you will find community in those closest to you, there is no need to be so isolated.” My heart, which had fluttered in hope at her words, quickly falls with her next. It seems everyone, even those I love and trust, see me as just a means to produce an heir. “It took Odin and I many centuries to conceive. And when nature failed us, another child came to us in the most unconventional, but no less miraculous, way. Alfheim lacks progressiveness, but Asgard suffers no such fault. In your own time, you and my son will produce the most wonderful child, I know that deep in my heart. But until then, Asgard will wait patiently. Do not let the fear of retribution mar your time here. And do not let your heart be weighed down with a desire unmet—everything happens in its time.”
Loki’s POV
The stone of the wall bites into my fingers as I grip it with unwise force.
Around the corner my mother—my very own mother—encourages the woman I once loved in her future quest to have a child with my brother.
A bitter taste grows in my mouth.
And although I know Y/n does not want to marry Thor—anyone could see that in the way she protested—there is real pain in her eyes.
Pain that I have caused.
I do not know if she aches with the longing for a child. But it’s not a difficult task to surmise the isolation and ridicule she has no doubt been subject to for the last two and a half centuries has weighed on her.
Preventing conception was her decision, yes, but I was the one who made it possible. I put the magic on her, effectively ruining any chance she ever had at being accepted in her home. And if she ever did want a child, but found herself unable, well, I bear the blame for that hurt, too.
It seems no matter what I do, I cannot help but destroy the lives of those I’m supposed to love.
I was so close to entering the dining hall and joining them for breakfast—the first meal I would have shared with my mother in over seven months—but I had heard the end of their conversation before making my presence known.
It’s better that way.
I do not know how well I would have reacted, had I been in their company upon hearing the conversation between Y/n and my mother.
The sound of trumpets interrupts my thoughts, and I teleport away mere seconds before Y/n races by.
Y/n’s POV
The news of Asgard’s victory is unfathomably welcome.
When I hear it, I can’t help but fall to my knees, releasing a shout of joy and thanks to Odin himself, a man I, in fact, really don’t care for.
Thor quickly escorts me away for what he calls a ‘debrief’, but I can see by the set of his shoulders it is more of a transition into spending one-on-one time in our new capacity as fiancés. And while nerves and resentment rattle my stomach, I follow him willingly, eager to hear of the path to victory and how Alfheim fares now.
He wastes little time. The moment we are in the privacy of the gardens, he speaks.
“Your father is alive and well, do not fear. His loyal guardsmen managed to keep Audunn’s forces at bay, though I fear it would been a different outcome if we had not arrived when we did. You did well getting to us so quickly.”
The compliment is unexpected and, I feel, undeserved. “All I really did was relay a message. I am quite thankful, then, to you, your father, and your army for coming so quickly to Alfheim’s aid. Surely this will cement positive diplomatic relations for years to come.”
A strange look crosses through his eyes as he looks away from me, choosing instead to squint into the sun. “Spoken like a politician. I see you learned much in your time away.”
I catch the edge to his voice. “You do not approve?”
“I didn’t say that, I only mean that it is…unusual in Alfheim for women to be so involved.”
I fight the urge to scoff bitterly. “I wouldn’t have called myself involved—Father and Audunn would have none of that—but I did pick up some tricks and knowledge in my three hundred years there.”
There’s a slight pause. In that pause, Thor seems to steel himself. I know instantly that I will not like whatever he has to say next. “I wanted to tell you, ah—while your father was successfully restored to the regency, we were able to capture and imprison Audunn rather than having to resort to killing him on the field. He is here, in the dungeons, and will stand trial tomorrow.”
My blood runs cold. “Here? In the castle? Why didn’t you kill him?!” The words come out in breathless gasps, and Thor takes a step towards me in concern.
“You need not fear, Lady Y/n, he is securely guarded. He poses no threat to your father or your people any more.”
Yes. I swallow. But now that we are in the same place once again, I worry of the threat he poses to me.
Thor attempts to continue our walk with lighter conversation, but I don’t pay him much mind. All I can focus on is the terrifying reality that, as long as Audunn lives, my own life is in danger.
Loki’s POV
When the moon is high in the sky and the air has turned crisp, I acknowledge the reality that I will get no sleep tonight.
Groaning, I fling the covers from my body and exit my warm bed, dressing quickly. As soon as I’m decent, I exit my chambers, heading straight for the library. I have plenty of books in my room, but nothing I haven’t already read. The library is likely to have a variety of unexplored distractions.
I enter the vast library and turn left, heading for the history section—one of my favorites. I round the corner and am met with a sharp gasp and the sound of clattering books as Y/n jumps back, hitting a shelf.
Surprise and self-loathing mingle within me. She’s terrified of me.
Without really deciding to, I take a step back, showing my lack of intent to harm her. “I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you.”
She exhales, lowering the shaking hands that had come to grip her stomach. “N-no, it is I who should apologize. I….thought you were someone else.”
I raise my eyebrow, buying time as I calculate the truth of her statement. She does seem to be relaxing. Now all that remains is the faint hint of embarrassment in her features. She even offers me a small smile, one that I find unexpectedly welcome. I decide to believe her. “Don’t worry about it. I understand your nerves must be frayed, given all that you’ve been through.” Flashes of what she must have experienced in the past four days come to the forefront of my mind, unbidden. Handled roughly, a dirty jail cell, a hit that would explain the coloring on her lower jaw, the fear as she sneaks through the castle, praying she goes unnoticed—
“Are you alright?”
There’s a note in her voice that suggests some of her apprehension has returned, and I can guess why. My body has gone completely rigid, my fists clenched tightly, and I’m sure I’ve just fixated on the nearest object with a death glare—I can only hope I didn’t direct it at her.
I try to recover the moment. “I’ll get those books.”
She hurriedly drops to the ground, grabbing novels at random. “Let me, Your Highness, I’m the one who—”
I sink next to her and smirk, for some reason desperate to dissolve this strange uncertain air between us. “Last night you barge into my chambers unannounced and tonight we’re back to the formalities?”
She studies me for a moment, looking quite perplexed. Then, she exhales a shaky bark of a laugh. “I suppose so.”
Fair enough.
I straighten, beginning to alphabetize the books and put them back in their proper place. She follows suit, working beside me in silence. I don’t miss the glances she gives me when she thinks I’m not looking. The looks are full of uncertainty, full of trepidation—she has no idea where we stand. For that matter, neither do I.
But there’s no use in finding out, the snide voice within me remarks. She’s engaged to your brother. You will have no chance to know her again as you did once, long ago.
But still, as since the moment she burst through the throne room doors, I war with myself.
I do not want to love her. I have no claim to her. Pursuing her would only lead to heartbreak, and I fear I cannot take any more.
If I were smart, I would push her away as I do everyone else.
I should push her away.
“Why are you in the library so late?” Her voice, stronger now, clouds my head once more and pulls me into conversation.
I have no desire to detail or even acknowledge my crippling nightmares, so I turn the question back on her, hoping to save myself the humiliation of admitting weakness. “I could ask you the same thing.”
She is equally eager to explain her reasonings, and quickly changes the subject. “I saw Lady Naerys this morning. Can you believe she has seven children?”
I chortle, and the sound feels strange coming from my throat. “But alas, not one of them fathered by a prince.” Without really meaning to, I take a step closer to her.
Y/n mocks distress. “But how will she ever become queen now?”
And just like that, we’re back on a subject we both would like to avoid.
I try to steer us away. “I admit that I was pleased when I heard news of your father’s safe return to the regency. You must be very relieved.”
But despite my efforts, a strange look takes over her face. “Yes, I am more relieved than you know.”
I press further, finding myself desperate to know what she’s thinking. “Audunn’s trial will be interesting. I estimate spectators will extend well past the boundaries of the courtroom.”
Again, I have misstepped. The color drains from her face and her hands immediately wring together in tight knots. It seems I have completely forgotten how to speak to this woman I once knew so well. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to—”
“It’s fine.” She cuts me off, staring at my shoulder rather than my face. She takes a deep breath, and when she speaks, her voice is hard, almost as if she’s willing the words to be true. “Soon Audunn will be dead. And all will be well.”
Something in her voice tells me that she is trying harder to convince herself than me.
The desire to comfort her is strong, but I am woefully out of practice. “I…do not see an outcome in which Audunn survives, yes. His choices were unfortunate, and put him at odds with the interests of two of the nine realms. Odin will not let that go unpunished.” I fight against a scowl. Because if anyone had been listening, they would’ve guessed I was talking about myself.
She surprises me with a tight smile. “Yes, you are right. This time tomorrow, Audunn’s execution will be set.”
Again, there’s that hard edge to her voice, one that wasn’t there the last time I encountered her. Whereas before it amused me, now it makes me feel sad. There’s no reason both of us had to be affected so by the world—Fate did that out of cruelty. Perhaps tomorrow after the trial, when her anxieties are further resolved, she will find some peace.
I think to the upcoming trial. She will be asked to bear witness, of course. But I worry of Odin fulfilling his duty to prepare her. I take matters into my own hands. “You know you will be asked to testify against him.”
“Yes.” The word is harsh, quick. But then she looks to the ground and stretches a hand absently to the bookshelf, almost as if she’s seeking some sort of comfort or reassurance from the touch. When she speaks again, her voice is softer, more vulnerable. “I find no pleasure in sending a man to his death. But I will speak honestly. Audunn dug his own grave—it is just my unfortunate duty to send him to it.”
I swallow, unsure of what to say. The last time I saw her, she spoke of no love for her husband, but this seems different…a deeper hurt, somehow. Part of me wants to ask what happened, but a larger part knows I haven’t the right. We are not lovers, we are not friends, and she is currently a married woman. When her status is changed upon the execution of her husband, she will immediately become the betrothed of my brother. So rather than risk hurt and vulnerability, I keep her at arms length. “I would advise you to get some rest, Lady Y/n. I have no doubt tomorrow will be a long and difficult day.”
She avoids my eyes as she curtsies and exits the library. Once she’s gone, I take a much needed deep breath. Something about her presence made the expansive library seem incredibly small, intimate. When she’d gone to curtsey, she’d needed to take a step back, as we had gotten quite close during our discussion.
With a groan, I practically stumble to the bannister overlooking the basement archives, gripping the wood tightly. Attachment to Y/n has never been a good idea, least of all now. But even after many breaths to clear my head, I still find that unwelcome feeling in the pit of my stomach, the feeling that nearly begs me to follow her from the room and pull her into my arms.
I slam my hand on the wood, startling one of the bookkeepers on the level below. Upon seeing who stands above him, he shrinks away, quickly gathering his books and scurrying out of sight.
That’s right, I think, bitterness bringing an unpleasant taste to my mouth. Run from me. I am dangerous. I am other. No one is safe with me.
Least of all a kind, wonderful woman who, even after hundreds of years, seems to hold the ability to ruin me in the palm of her hand.
A/n Hey guys, sorry for any mistakes! I proofread but I feel like I probably missed something because I’m tired. Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list! What do you think of the conversation with Loki? How do you think Audunn’s trial will go? Stay safe out there :)
Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/642883586082635777/odins-ward-chapter-16
“Your Highness, rebels have attacked one of the outer villages and stolen their food supply.”
Damn. I purse my lips in frustration. This is the third attack by rebels in as many months. “Take six of our warriors and station them in the village with enough grain, wine, fruits, and vegetables to feed everyone for half a year. By then it should be harvest and the people will have enough to feed themselves.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” The advisor bows deeply as he records my decision. Pride gathers within me.
“We need to re-think our security strategy for our borders. These rebels keep finding chinks in our armor. We must—” In my mind’s eye, the old painting in the attic glows purple.
All breath leaves me.
“My Liege?” The advisor looks at me with concern.
“I have to go.” Without another word, I stalk out of the room. Once I’m sure no one can see me, I teleport to the attic in the turret.
The last place I had a nice moment with Y/n.
The painting of the door, the one I told her to use to contact me if she ever needed me, glows her favorite shade of purple.
With shaking hands, I reach into the painting, open the door, and retrieve a letter. Just seeing her elegant script—the first sign of her in over sixty years—nearly brings me to my knees. It reads:
Dearest Loki,
Can I even still call you that? I’m not sure I should, given our circumstances. Nevertheless, it is true. You are dear to me.
Anyways,
I can’t help the smile that spreads across my face. I read the words in her voice, I can see the faces she makes as she awkwardly stumbles through writing this letter. It points to her still being the Y/n I once knew.
I read on.
Anyways, I have a favor to ask of you. It’s a pretty big one and could get us both in a lot of trouble if we’re found out. Due to my current situation, I am willing to take that risk. Are you? If so, please agree to meet me so we can discuss the specifics of what I’m asking of you — in person. It is better to keep as much of this as possible out of writing.
I realize that you said we needed to keep out of each other’s lives, and I understand why that is the best way for us both.
Still, I cannot help but be excited at even the possibility of seeing you again.
~ Y/n
P.S. Please burn this letter as soon as you’ve read it. Thanks.
Had the tone of her letter not been so concerning, I would have grinned at her sign-off.
After teleporting to my chambers, I throw the letter into the fire, as instructed, and sit at my desk to craft a response.
My Dearest Y/n,
I hope I have not overstepped in returning your greeting. You raise a valid point in wondering if we can still be that to each other—dear—but I believe our hearts cannot be lied to. There is no point in ignoring the fact when it is just us.
I know you would not contact me unless you absolutely needed my help. Fret not, my dear; I give it freely. If it is to your convenience, I shall meet you tonight in your bedchambers in Alfheim.
To respond, simply write on the bottom of this letter, and it will appear on a copy on my own desk.
I, too, look forward to seeing you again.
~ Loki
I glance over my letter. For all that I want to say, it seems incredibly short. But a voice in my head reminds me that, although seeing Y/n will be fresh air for a drowning man, I cannot lose myself in her completely. She is married. And denial and wishes are no way to live for two people who must spend their lives apart.
After using magic to send the letter to Y/n, I find a book to distract myself while anxiously awaiting her response.
{***}
Y/n’s POV
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a piece of paper appear on my desk in a hazy green glow. My breath hitches.
“Ragna,” I fight to keep my voice steady. “Could you go and find out what the cooks are serving for dinner?”
“Yes, My Lady.” She curtsies and leaves my room. As soon as she’s gone, I snatch the letter from my desk and open it.
Seeing Loki’s handwriting, so familiar after such a long time, makes my heart flutter and ache. After reading the letter, I take a moment to breathe.
I will see him again tonight.
With shaking hands, I write a single word on the bottom of the paper:
Yes.
The letter shimmers once more and disappears. I bite my lip, doing my best to contain my excitement.
There’s a knock on the door and I quickly try to calm my expression. “Yes?”
Ragna enters with a curtsey, as always. “Lamb, My Lady.”
“Hmm?” I find my gaze wandering back to the desk, waiting to see if another letter has appeared.
“For dinner, My Lady.”
“Oh, yes!” I snap my attention to Ragna. Oh, shoot! Ragna. I’ll have to get rid of her for the night. “You know, I’m actually not feeling very well. I think I’ll skip dinner tonight.”
Her brow furrows. “What’s wrong, My Lady? I will have a healer come to check on you.”
She begins to leave. Ugh, I need this room free of other people, not filled with them. “No!” Ragna turns around, a questioning look on her face. I take a breath, trying to calm myself so I can focus on how to make a convincing lie. Channel your inner Loki. After another breath, I put a soft but assured smile on my face. “My ailment does not require healers, but thank you for the offer. It is nothing more than a headache. I would prefer to be alone. Please alert the guards that I am to have no visitors tonight.”
Ragna looks convinced by my explanation. “Yes, My Lady. I hope you feel better. Please call for me if I can be of assistance.”
I smile. “Thank you, Ragna. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, My Lady.” She curtsies and leaves the room.
Now I just have to wait.
{***}
I alternate between pacing and reading as I watch the sun sink deeper into the horizon. Every minute that passes seems ages longer than it actually is. A relaxing candle does nothing to help. I change my outfit twice before going back to the original.
Finally, it’s pitch black outside.
Should be any minute now.
My heart flutters and my hands shake. I find myself nervously tucking and untucking my hair, unable to decide which is best.
“Hello, Y/n.”
The smooth, familiar voice stops me in my tracks. The voice that, for a short time in my life, brought me both great peace and excitement like no other.
I turn around, unable to wrap my mind around the reality of seeing him again.
But there he is, just as tall and handsome and wonderful as I remember him.
“Loki.” The breath escapes me and suddenly I’m running across the room. He pulls me into his arms and hugs me with as much force as I use to cling to him.
“Y/n, I—” I look up to see him beaming a smile of disbelief. “I cannot believe I’m seeing you again.”
“Nor I, you.” I stroke his face, running my hands over the angular lines that were once so familiar to me. He hasn’t changed a bit. “I,” I take a steadying breath in an effort to calm my shaking hands. “I cannot thank you enough for coming to see me. I know there is risk involved for us both.”
He shakes his head and pulls me to the couch, where we sit. “I trust your judgement and I am here to help. What kind of trouble are you in?”
I look down at our hands, still intertwined. “Please, we can talk about that in a moment. How have you been?”
He shrugs, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Well, Asgard is prospering, minus a few rebel factions that would see us undone. We avoided a trade embargo with Vanaheim and—”
I smile, cutting him off. “I asked how you have been, Loki, not the kingdom.” An uncomfortable, insecure feeling pricks at the back of my mind. Why isn’t he talking about his personal life? Oh, how I did not want to feel this way. I try to mask it with nonchalance. “Tell me about your life.”
He sees through me in an instant. He shifts in his seat, looking slightly uncomfortable. “You’re asking me if there have been other women.”
I huff, annoyed at my own insecurity and at having been found out. “I am not!”
He chuckles lightly, returning to his state of ease. “You are, and that’s fine. The truth is, yes, there have been others.” He looks at the ground, running a thumb absently over my knuckles. “None of them stick. I’m not sure I want them to.”
Now I feel guilty. How utterly unfair of me. “Loki…” At the mention of his name, he looks up. “I am with someone else now. For as long as he and I both shall live, as they said in the ceremony. The union between Audunn and I is,” I swallow, willing myself not to sound full of despair over these words, “forever. I hope that one day you find someone who is good for you.”
He smiles softly, though there is too much sadness in his eyes. I pull a hand free to stroke his cheek, letting it come to a rest on his chest when the tenderness re-enters his eyes. “I did.” Subconsciously, I clutch at his shirt, remembering our fleeting time together. After a heavy pause, he grins. “700 years ago a sniffling child was placed in my clubhouse and I was told to entertain her.” He rolls his eyes playfully, leaning back into the couch. “How was I supposed to know I’d grow up to fall in love with her?”
Breath catches in my throat. It’s been so long since I’ve heard him say that.
Loki can tell this affects me.
He leans in and I can see the deep emerald of his eyes. His voice is soft and sincere when he declares, “I do still love you.”
“And I love you,” I whisper without hesitation.
I’m not sure who reaches for who, but by the next breath, we’re intertwined. The kiss is desperate, hopeful, sad, and passionate all at once. Heat floods through my body. Vaguely, I realize that this is the first time in 63 years that I’ve felt desire. I’ve never once wanted Audunn as I want Loki. And as soon as Loki leaves, he’ll take this desire, this connection, with him.
Because Loki isn’t here for long.
With that realization, I stop holding back. Loki meets me there, and soon we’re undressing each other on the couch.
“Wait,” he pulls back, lips pink and slightly breathless. “It wasn’t supposed to go like this. I had a plan. I was going to be a gentleman. This is not being a gentleman.”
I smirk and quirk an eyebrow at him. “Who said anything about a gentleman? I called you here, didn’t I? And I think I’ve been quite clear about what I want.”
That mischievous look I adore pops into his eyes. “Well, if the lady so wishes….”
We pick up where we left off.
{***}
“To be completely honest, I’m not convinced he can. Audunn is very old.”
It’s the early hours of the morning, and we’re leaned against my headboard, comfortably naked, me tucked under his arm. Loki throws his head back and laughs, pulling our entwined hands up to his mouth for a kiss. “That’s awfully unfair of you.”
“It’s true!” I join him in his laughter, loving this time we have together. “All he does is grunt and then he’s done! Absolutely no work required on my part.”
He scoffs playfully. “So what, you’ve just suffered through sixty pleasureless years?”
Now it’s my turn to grin. “There are ways in which a woman can pleasure herself, you know.”
“Yes,” a glint comes into his eyes. “But why should she have to when I am here and oh so willing?”
He kisses me deeply then, shifting so we’re buried in the covers once again, him on top of me. We break the kiss, and I sigh sadly, knowing that our time is running out. “I wish you could stay here forever.”
“What I wouldn’t do to stop time,” he responds sincerely, laying his forehead against mine.
I smile softly, the sadness creeping back in. I kiss him lightly on the nose before pushing against him so we’re sitting up.
He looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to explain why I called him here in the first place.
I look at my fingers, contemplating how I want to frame this. If I tell Loki too much of the truth, that Audunn is manipulative and abusive and filled with hatred, there is a real possibility that Loki could do something rash and ruin future relationships between Alfheim and Asgard. Norns, he could start a war! Besides, it’s not like confiding in Loki would change anything. Even if Audunn were to suddenly be removed from the picture, it is likely that I would just be passed onto the next eligible suitor, not returned to Asgard to be with Loki. With all this in mind, I go with a half-truth.
“I don’t love Audunn, and I don’t want to have his children.”
Unexpectedly, tears enter my eyes. It’s so freeing to be able to share this with someone other than Ragna, to not have to pretend to enjoy Audunn’s company, and to be able to be, well, mostly honest with someone I love and trust.
Loki runs a comforting hand through my hair, looking at me with understanding and sadness. “You will be ridiculed. Alfheim views women as being required to provide heirs for their husbands. If you do not…” He trails off, hesitation in his eyes.
“I know,” I assure him, gripping his hands. “I’ve already been subjected to some of it. It has been over sixty years, after all.” I look him straight in the eyes so he can see just how sure I am. “But I can handle it. I can handle anything if it means saving myself from being bound to Audunn in that way.”
Loki nods steadily, and I can see that he’s made up his mind. “I will do as you ask.”
I release a breath I didn’t know I was holding. “Thank you.”
He brings a tender hand to my forehead and murmurs softly. After a moment, my body warms with the barely-tangible weight of his magic. I feel no different, but when he removes his hand, I know it is done.
“It will either take myself or another sorcerer to remove the spell, so if you change your mind…” His voice trails off.
I shake my head, completely resolute in my decision. “I won’t.” And, heavy with exhaustion and the weight of how my life has just been changed, I lean forward into Loki’s chest. His arms encircle me immediately, and I try to memorize exactly how this feels.
Because it’s likely I’ll never see him again.
He runs his hands gently up my back, easing me into rest.
“You’re a good man,” I remind him, because sometimes he forgets.
Before I hear his reply, I drift off to sleep.
{***}
In the morning, my bed is cold, and I know that he is gone.
A/n Happy holidays! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Also, stop by and check out my masterlist!
Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639152911075672064/odins-ward-chapter-14
Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606 @hiddlebatchedloki
“He planted his seeds in my half of the land,” the farmer spits, red in the face with anger. Odin’s expression is calm, but I, as much as this annoys me, know him well enough to tell when he is putting on a facade.
“I should get what’s sown! It’s my land!”
“But they’re my seeds,” the other farmer counters, face equally splotchy.
I sigh deeply, unfathomably bored with these trivial exchanges. It’s the third Thursday of the month, a time when peasants and nobles alike can bring their concerns before the Royal Family. We occupy the throne room, an intricate chair for us each placed in an intimidating line. I sit to my mother’s left, Thor to Odin’s right. A familiar anger boils within me. Of course the Golden Child sits at the King’s right. Not that I want to be any closer to Odin, but Thor’s position clearly communicates his status: he is next in line for the throne. The bitterness builds. Really, was there ever any contest?
Without warning, Farmer One lunges at Farmer Two, knocking him over the head with a sharp punch. I keep my calm exterior, but internally, my interest piques. Maybe this won’t be a completely wasted day after all.
But to my disappointment, four guards quickly put the skirmish to an end. Both men are taken to the dungeons.
Problem solved, I guess.
The interest I felt only seconds ago abandons me as I see a nearly identical pair to the last come forward.
I slouch.
“Stop her!”
The shout, which comes from a guard outside the throne room, is followed by a loud clamoring as armored guards chase after an unknown offender. And although I logically know it’s probably just some widow trying to cut in line, my hand inches towards my mother, ready to take her to safety if need be. Thor stands, putting on quite the show of a dutiful son. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. Against all odds, the noises don’t subside—they get closer to our location. Mother shoots Odin an alarmed look.
But when the intruder enters the throne room, my stomach drops to my feet.
I straighten, back stiff with tension and I can do nothing but stare on in complete shock. I feel my fingers straining with the grip they have on the throne’s arms, but I barely take notice. All I can notice is the shaking, muddy, tear-stained and windblown woman standing in front of me.
It’s Y/n.
A messy, frightened version of Y/n, to be sure, but it’s still her.
My heart aches with a feeling I thought I had long-ago purged.
Thor is the first to break from the shock and hurries down to Y/n, waving away the guards who have attached themselves to her arms. Noticing her tattered dress and shivering form, he takes off his red cloak and wraps it around her, looking at her with the concern and surprise I’m sure we all wear on our faces.
In a hoarse but firm voice, Y/n addresses us. “May I approach the King?”
In a pinched voice, Odin responds. “You may.”
Y/n curtsies as best as she can and takes two wobbly steps forward. Thor hovers near her uncertainly, obviously wondering if she’s about to collapse.
Y/n gives me a fleeting look and my mouth runs dry.
She turns her attention back to Odin. “I’ve come to request aid from Asgard. Two days ago, my husband raised an army against my father. Since then, the realm has been thrown into chaos. Brother murders brother and citizens switch sides as the tides of the battle change. It’s civil war.” She swallows, finding it difficult to continue. “Casualties are estimated at three thousand so far, but I have been gone for several hours. That number has likely risen.”
Odin has the nerve to sound dubious when he speaks. “And just how did you end up here if the realm is indeed engulfed in chaos as you say?”
Through my shock, I still find room to be annoyed by Odin.
Y/n seems to steel herself and looks him right in the eye. “My husband locked me in the dungeon with others deemed to be a threat to his reign. I believe he would have killed me if it were not that his claim to power dies with me. He’s been so preoccupied with trying to overthrow my father that those loyal to me were able to take advantage and help me and my maidservant escape. It took a long time but we were finally able to sneak through the castle and into the observatory, where we took the Bifrost to Asgard.
Odin purses his lips, seeming unaffected by Y/n’s story. “And this maidservant. Can she corroborate your tale?”
Y/n’s face flushes. “It’s not a tale! Your Highness, people are being slaughtered. Look at my shoes!” She kicks one off and holds it up for us to see. Mother stifles a gasp. Y/n’s shoe is caked with blood. Dark, clotted blood sticks all over the bottom and side of her shoe. Upon further inspection, I see that it continues over her ankles and the lower parts of her dress. “Blood like this is running through the castle halls. I can only hope the fighting is confined to the castle and that the carnage has not yet reached the lower town.” Y/n takes another step forward, stronger this time. “Your Majesty, please. They may live far away, but they are still your people. I fear that if we wait much longer, Audunn will take control and anyone loyal to me or my father will be executed.”
Odin squints, mulling over his options. “My help does not come freely.”
Oh how I hate this man.
Y/n grits her teeth but nods. “Then let us negotiate quickly.”
“Asgard’s army will step in and restore your father to the throne. Your husband and his supporters will be put to death or imprisoned.”
Y/n’s lack of reaction is noticeable.
“Your husband’s death does not trouble you?” Odin’s voice seeps with judgement.
“Audunn has made his choices. He must suffer the consequences.” Knowing Y/n so well allows me to detect the malice in her voice. I stifle a mirthless chuckle. So it seems we’ve both been hardened by the world.
Odin nods. “Very well. Since you will be without a husband and my son is still unmarried, I propose the obvious solution.”
My heart stops.
No.
“You and Thor will wed.”
“Father!” Thor’s explosion is the loudest, but Y/n provides her own objections as well. I swallow mine down, retreating into myself. He will get everything that was ever dear to me. I really shouldn’t be surprised at this point, nor feel the hurt, but still, it stabs deep into my chest. I put a lot of effort towards not letting my pain show.
“Father, you are well aware of my intentions to wed Jane. I love her! Y/n is like a sister to me, I would never consent to be her husband.”
“I will not have the next Queen of Asgard be human!” Odin slams his staff into the ground. “For all I care, you can take Y/n as your wife and keep Jane as your mistress. But make no mistake, Jane will never be your wife, nor will her children be heirs to my throne.”
Odin’s proposal clearly sickens Thor, but Y/n just looks blankly at the ground, noticeably quiet now. The two men continue in their argument, each getting louder than the other with every new point.
“Thor please,” Y/n interjects, her voice breaking on the last word.
Silence rings through the room as all eyes turn to her.
She addresses Thor directly, desperation evident in every inch of her body. “My people are dying. An entire realm will be condemned to slaughter and chaos if we cannot reach an agreement today. I am familiar with a husband who keeps mistresses and am very good at being discrete.”
The heart that I thought had long ago hardened breaks a little.
“I promise our marriage will not interfere with any more aspects of your life than absolutely necessary. We can work out the specifics later but for now, I beg for your cooperation.”
Her earnestness is clear and, with a defeated nod, Thor agrees to make my once lover his wife.
Unable to stand it any longer, I stalk from the room.
Y/n’s POV
Loki strides out of the room, looking bored. That’s it?
It’s not like I expected loud objections and an offer to marry me himself,—it has been over two hundred years and all—but I did expect, at the very least, some recognition. Loki gave no indication that he knew or cared who I was. Even through the shock and exhaustion and fear, hurt still manages to find its way into my heart. I try to shake it off. The task at hand is much more important than my feelings.
“If you are ready, Your Majesty, my people will be eagerly awaiting Asgard’s aid.”
Odin doesn’t look at me. Instead, he gestures to a guard. “Have the warriors gathered and ready within the hour. Thor and I will accompany them to Alfheim.”
Frigga interjects before I can. “What about Loki?”
If he stays in Asgard with me and Frigga, the people might view him as cowardly for not going to fight with the men.
Odin purses his lips unpleasantly. “He has not yet regained my trust.”
What?
Frigga looks away, her mouth set in a hard line. Odin exits the throne room, sparing no one any further glances. As Thor passes me, he gives what I think he hopes is a reassuring smile.
“All will soon be well, Lady Y/n.”
I nod, hoping he’s right. When he’s nearly exited the room, I remember his cloak.
“Wait,” I call, hurrying to him. He drops slightly so I can throw the cloak over his massive shoulders and secure it under his chin. Shame keeps me from looking him in the eyes. After all, if he dies, it will be my fault. I don’t want to marry Thor, but he was a dear friend to me at one point, much like a brother. I don’t want to lose him. “Be safe.”
He nods and gives my shoulder a hesitant squeeze. Then, without another word, he follows Odin out of the room. I can tell it will take him a long time to accept our eventual marriage.
Not like it will be any faster for you.
“Come, sweet Y/n.” Frigga’s voice startles me and pulls me from my thoughts. “I believe you need a hot bath, some supper, and a change of clothes.”
I let out a noise that sounds scarily similar to a heaving sob. “Yes, please.”
{***}
The water is hot and the steam curls the ends of my hair. One servant scrubs the dirt from my nails and another, my back. I sigh, feeling some of the tension finally beginning to leave my body.
Then, comes the guilt.
I’m here in Castle Asgard being pampered by servants, sitting in the company of the Queen, while my people are dying. To distract myself from the strong desire to wallow in guilt and despair, I decide to question Frigga about something that’s been bothering me deeply since my arrival.
“Is Prince Loki alright?” I try to sound casual but don’t quite pull it off. “He seemed…not like himself.”
Frigga exhales heavily, and heartbreak settles in her expression. My stomach clenches in anticipation. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. “It is not really my story to tell…but you have a right to know and I doubt he plans on telling you himself.”
I dare not breathe as I wait for her to continue.
“Odin and I have never been the perfect parents. We’ve made many mistakes over the years, but one has stood out amongst them as the most damaging. And my poor son bore the brunt of the hurt from something that isn’t even his fault.” Frigga takes a moment to fiddle with her hands, not meeting my eyes. “Loki is adopted.”
What? I feel my brows furrow as I try to make sense of this. How is someone just adopted into the monarchy? Royalty is based on blood and marriage, not adoption.
“During the last major war with the Frost Giants, Odin came across a baby. A Frost Giant baby — a son of Laufey, no less.”
I heave a sharp intake of breath. “What?”
She continues, giving me a teary-eyed look. “The baby had magic and unknowingly used its abilities to capture the likeness of an Asgardian child. Odin felt for him and brought him home. You have to understand, Odin and I had been trying for another child for over two hundred years, without success. It had seemed Thor would be our only child, but then the gods dropped this blessing into our laps.” The tears fall then, and she cuts me off as I try to interject with questions. “Because Loki is a blessing, you see. He is my son just as much as Thor is, and I would not trade him for a biological child.” Her voice takes on a desperate, scratchy quality that I’ve never heard from her. “I love Loki. He is my child. And he is part of this family!” Frigga sniffles pitifully and, if I were not naked and soaking with suds and water, I would jump up and hug her. “Unfortunately, Loki does not see it this way. He did not find out the truth from us, but by accident.” A pained look crosses her face. “He thought he was a monster. He still thinks that. And yes, some of his recent actions have been like those of a monster, but I know he isn’t. My poor child is hurting, and he does not know how to handle it.” She takes a steadying breath and turns her eyes to the ceiling. “Odin has essentially sworn Loki off, and Loki has done the same for the rest of us. He still holds some affection for me, but all is lost for his father and brother. He even tried to kill Thor and Jane. Thankfully, the attempt was unsuccessful, but that makes it no less terrifying. It’s a horrible thing to have your sons on opposing sides. After that, Loki—” she shudders violently. “He—he fell off the Bifrost. Well, he was going to fall, and Thor tried to pull him back up, but-but Loki let go.” Her voice breaks and the tears fall freely now.
He…tried to kill himself? I feel a lump rise in my own throat and my breath stops all together. The bath water seems to turn ice cold. My mind races to try and draw the connection between the Loki I knew and the Loki in Frigga’s story.
What happened to him?
“He fell for who knows how long. It was many months before he resurfaced again, though he was not the same person. Not at all. My poor son! He had been brutally tortured and his anger only amplified during his time of isolation.”
I feel my muscles tense and lock into place. Someone tortured Loki? The fury I feel surprises me, scares me even. Never have I wanted to hurt someone like I want to hurt the person who caused Loki pain.
“Loki had grown up his whole life to believe he was destined to be a king. When he realized his true parentage, Loki knew Odin would never allow him to rule.” She frowns. “Odin should not have encouraged him so during his childhood only to rip the possibility away later. But the entity who tortured him—he still won’t tell us who—made Loki believe that he could be king of Midgard. Loki used the Chitarui to attack a Midguardian city and try to force the realm into submission to him. Many people died.”
My heart beats so loudly that I’m sure everyone in the room can hear it. I’m surprised the vibrations aren’t causing waves in my bathwater. As much as I want to cover my ears or run out of the room and denounce Frigga’s words as lies, I can’t. Because no matter how horrifying and outlandish this story sounds, I can’t ignore the fact that the Loki I saw an hour ago was not the same Loki I knew two hundred and fifty years ago. Yes, people change, but not like that. Something really, really awful must have happened to bring about this new Loki.
Frigga continues, sounding weary. “A Midgardian fighting group Thor associates with defeated Loki and the Chitauri. Loki was brought back to Asgard in chains. Odin sentenced him to a five hundred years of imprisonment. There was nothing I could do to lessen the sentence and, of course, Loki has too much pride and hatred for his father to try and lessen it himself. But not long after his imprisonment, the Dark Elves launched an attack on the Nine Realms.”
I furrow my brow. I hadn’t heard of this. How had Alfheim not been aware?
“Loki broke out of prison and aided Thor in the fight against the Dark Elves.” Frigga gives a tearful smile. “Finally, they were on the same side! Loki nearly died in the fight. He protected Jane with his life. Thankfully, Thor was able to bring him back to Asgard in time and the Healers and I saved him with our magic. At mine and Thor’s behest, Odin begrudgingly ended Loki’s imprisonment. We all agreed that Loki’s sacrifice and willingness to protect the Nine Realms atoned for his crimes. I truly thought that was the turning point and that my Loki would be back.”
She sighs, looking at her hands once more. “But Loki is still a changed man. The lies, betrayals, hurt, and anger penetrated too deeply into his soul. Now he is cold, distant, spiteful, and he always wears a mask. No one can ever guess what he is feeling, because he refuses to give any indication of it! I worry he is not letting himself heal. And he is trying to push away the people he loves most.” Her voice softens, and she places a tender hand on my soapy cheek. “Do not be surprised if he does the same to you.”
{***}
Since my most immediate needs have been taken care of, I have ample energy to worry.
My stomach, in a near-constant state of unease since my escape from the dungeons, churns. My mind darts from thought to thought as I try to cope with fears for my people and my father, my anger at Audunn, shock at all I’ve experienced, pain and frustration at my engagement to Thor, and deep, deep hurt for Loki. There’s some anger there, too. Maybe more than some.
I huff.
Definitely more than some.
How could he be so stupid?! Yes, it’s absolutely terrible what he went through, but resorting to realm-domination and murder? Uh-uh. No way. Unacceptable. And the attitude on him! What the Hel is that?
“Ugh!” Some of my frustration leaves me at the spot where my foot kicks the table.
It immediately returns upon registering the pain.
“My Lady, please sit down!” Ragna worries over me, trying to pull me into a plush, high-backed chair. “You have been through so much, you need to rest.”
I scoff, yanking my arm from her grip. “There’s too much going on to allow time for rest, Ragna. And yet there’s nothing I can do about any of it!” I drop my arms to my side, defeated. “I hate that there’s nothing I can do.”
She frowns, unsure of how to help me. It’s then that I notice how tired she looks herself. A deep scratch runs from her temple to her hairline—she got that from a rogue guard when we were escaping Alfheim. She’s been through just as much as you have.
I give her a weak smile, hoping I look reassuring. “You and I both have been through a great ordeal. Please, let me call a servant to show you to your quarters. Take as long as you need to bathe, eat, rest, whatever you need.”
Ragna hesitates, but she’s so tired that she’s swaying on her feet. I nod encouragingly. “Al-alright, My Lady. Thank you.”
“Of course.” I go to the wall and pull on the string that will ring a bell in the Servant’s Quarters. Within minutes, a young serving maid enters the room with a knock and a curtsey. I send Ragna away with instructions not to come back until she is fully fed, cleaned, and rested.
But once I’m alone, the thoughts come racing back. While there’s nothing I can do right now to help Alfheim, there is something I can do to help myself.
I let out a loud, guttural groan, knowing what I have to do.
{***}
I haven’t been in the palace in over three centuries, but little has changed. Queen Frigga insisted I retake my old living quarters, so the path is one I know well.
He doesn’t seem surprised when I bypass a servant and enter his chambers without knocking.
“Leave us.” While my throat feels tight, the command is clear, and the five servants hurry from the room.
Loki doesn’t look up from his book when he says his first words to me in two hundred and fifty years. “Well, that was rude. What a terrible first impression the future queen of Asgard has given them.”
I scoff, crossing my arms, trying not to let the jab at my imminent marriage to Thor hurt me. “You want to talk to me about manners? All you do is scowl and stalk out of rooms.”
He gives an unaffected shrug. “Think what you like.”
The silence weighs on me and I can feel my heartbeat echoing through my body.
“Stand up.”
Now it’s his turn to scoff. “Why? Planning on impaling me with your dagger?”
Tempting. “Stand. Up.”
He sighs but humors me, setting down his book to stand with his arms spread mockingly wide. “Happy?” He fixes me with a hard, emotionless look.
I steel myself and barrel forward, throwing my arms around him in a tight hug.
He stiffens. “Lady Y/n, whatever you hope to achieve—”
“Shut up.” I squeeze tighter, turning my face so my cheek is against his chest. He sighs again and lets his arms hang, refusing to hug me back. I press on, forcing myself to say what I came here to say. “Listen. You’ve done some really bad things and turned yourself into a pretty awful person to be around.” I swallow, trying to keep the emotion out of my voice. “But regardless of where we stand or what is in the past or future, you need to know that I am always on your side. I want you to get better. I don’t want you to feel pain or be sad or hurt or anything bad. But you have got to stop self-sabotaging. You need to let yourself heal. The people who love you can only protect you from so much.”
I push away from him and leave the room without another look.
A/n Happy New Year! My requests are open so message me if there’s something you would like for me to write :) Let me know what you thought of this chapter and if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/639618035738607616/odins-ward-chapter-15
Masterlist
Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606 @hiddlebatchedloki @jooordanharrrop
Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/632631074124660736/odins-ward-chapter-7
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Word Count: 977
Warnings: Adult themes implied
Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24
Y/n’s POV
My breathing quickens and I desperately attempt to school my reaction. If I give Odin even a hint of my displeasure….Well, it is a terrifying thing to upset a king.
“What…” I gulp, forcing more enthusiasm into my tone, “wonderful news, Your Majesty!” By the end of the sentence, my voice sounds much too sunny. Unintentionally, my eyes dart to Loki’s and see that his pain has only intensified. I look away. The expression on Loki’s face is making it hard to keep my composure. I try to re-focus on the king. “I, of course, am so grateful to you and your family for graciously hosting me all this time.”
“Oh, happy to do it, I’m sure.” Odin’s voice reeks of insincerity. “You are to depart in two weeks. In the interest of your safety, my sons will escort you home. From that point on, we shall part ways and your life will be your own.”
Wrong. My life has never been, nor will it ever be, my own.
“Perfect,” I breathe.
Odin dismisses me and, with a final look at a now stoic Loki, I exit the throne room.
{***}
Five days pass without any contact from Loki.
I’ve seen him only at meal times and even then, he refuses to spare me even the most fleeting of glances.
I’ve done my best to give him space. I’ve needed time to deal with this news, and I’m sure he has, too. But really, I would feel so much better if we could deal with this together.
What horrid timing, I curse.
Staring blankly at the vase filled with flowers from the meadow, I try to talk myself out of visiting Loki.
He has his reasons for avoiding you. Perhaps he wishes to cut all ties without further interaction. Would it be less painful that way? Though perhaps he’s found someone else? What if….
No. I stop myself from spiraling down that hole. Because no matter his reasoning, he cannot get off this easily! I firmly believe that our suffering would be lessened if we at least talked about what’s going on. Mind made up, I slip out of my room and tip-toe through the darkened halls to Loki’s chambers.
I haven’t been here since I was a child, but I know the way still. When I reach his door, I knock quietly, hoping he’ll still be awake. I hear light footsteps approaching the door before it swings open.
Loki’s face is a picture of shock that he quickly tries to cover with a mask of indifference.
“Yes?” His voice is dry, detached.
I exhale, trying not to let his demeanor hurt me. “May I come in? I think it would be a good idea for us to talk.”
He shrugs, stepping back slightly to allow space for me to enter. “If you like.”
Determined to get a good conversation out of him, I stride to one of the leather couches and take a seat. He remains standing, looking at me with one eyebrow raised, waiting for me to speak.
The words don’t come.
Instead, I sit there lamely, opening and closing my mouth like a fish.
Loki sighs, impatience coloring his every feature. “Lady Y/n, it seems that—”
The formal usage of my name jars me, and I respond with more force than is necessary. “No. Don’t call me that, Loki. I understand this situation is hard on both of us, and I completely understand your need to process and think and whatever, but I’ve given you five days. I leave in nine. And Loki,” I exhale on shaky breath, the words flowing steadily now. “I’m scared. Yes, we’ll be apart, and that’s horrible, but you get to stay here with your friends and family and everything you’ve ever known. I’m getting sent into gods-know-what! I haven’t seen my father since I was seven. I don’t even know how to begin to act around him. And my fiancé—” I falter, the word and its meaning setting a knot deep in my stomach, “I-I am going to be marrying a complete stranger. That’s terrifying! And,” my voice cracks as the realization strikes me. I take a deep breath and look him in the eyes, praying that he can see the honesty I’m laying out before him. “I think I’ve been falling in love with you for a while now, and it breaks my heart that I have to leave you so soon.”
His cold exterior melts and lines of desperation crease his face. He comes to kneel in front of me, leaning his forehead against mine and kisses me deeply. I sigh into the kiss, suddenly feeling much more right than I did a moment ago. When he breaks the kiss, he takes my hands in his, holding them close to his heart. “Y/n, I feel the same for you, and believe me when I say that I am loathed to see you go.” His face contorts into sadness, and I pull one of my hands free to stroke his cheek.
“We have nine days,” I breathe. “There’s no use getting sad now. It won’t make it any easier.”
I lean in slowly, giving him time to pull away. I don’t know if he wants to continue our romance since our days are numbered. But he doesn’t stop me. Instead, he kisses me softly, running a gentle hand over the top of my thigh. When he pulls back, I’m greeted with an achingly familiar smirk and the mischievous glint I love.
“I have much to show you in such a short amount of time. It seems necessary that we cancel all appointments and scarcely leave this bedroom.”
His words send a thrill up my spine. “Please,” I gasp, crashing my lips to his.
A/n Hi again! Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list :)
Next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/637890992711843840/odins-ward-chapter-9
Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola
Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/637890992711843840/odins-ward-chapter-9
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Word count: 2798
Warnings: Violence
Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24
Y/n’s POV
Light floods my room and assaults my aching eyes.
“Good morning, My Lady.” Ragna’s high-pitched voice floats from my left, and I roll to see her standing near my bed. Her eyes widen as she takes in my face. She disappears, returning quickly with a cool washcloth.
“To help with the swelling,” she explains as she dabs under my eyes. I nod absently, not ready to focus on the realities of today.
When Ragna is done, she steps back. “My Lady, it is time to ready you for the day.”
I stand, following her mutely to my wardrobe. She puts me in a dress very similar to what I wore yesterday, although this one has sky blue accents as opposed to gold. While she does my hair in an updo typical of Alfheim noblewomen, Ragna tries to make conversation. “I’m sorry you did not sleep well.” Her words are careful, testing the waters and the limits of my politeness, but I hear real concern in her voice. This leads me to answer honestly.
“It’s…” I swallow and try to gather the right words. I must choose them carefully. “Difficult to be moved from what I’ve known for so long.” There. Not too revealing, but hints at why I’m so distraught.
Ragna is silent for a moment, her fingers expertly twisting my hair. “I can empathize, My Lady.”
I raise my eyebrows, grateful for any distraction and hoping she’ll go on. She does.
“When I was a child, barbarians kidnapped me from my village and sold me to the castle. I haven’t seen my family since.” There’s no sadness in her voice, no longing. She’s simply stating the facts.
My eyes staring at her through the mirror reflect the shock I feel. “That must have been very hard.”
“Yes,” she agrees. “Although it truly does get easier with time. Quite quickly, I adjusted to my life here. In all honesty, I probably would have died had I remained in my village. I was the youngest of seven, and my parents couldn’t afford to feed us all. My life in the castle allows me to be clothed, fed, and housed. I have a purpose, and I have friends. It is a better life than I was meant for, surely.”
I suck in a breath, lowering my eyes to my lap out of shame. Here’s a girl who has gone through much worse than I have, and she doesn’t let it break her. How weak I must be. “You speak of this so easily.”
Through the mirror, she smiles kindly, understanding clear in her eyes. “You will too, one day. It will take time, but you will grow to love your husband. You will have children you adore and rule over a realm that adores you.”
Love, I think wistfully. No, I have given all my love away.
A green-eyed man floats to my mind, and I hasten to distract myself. “What do you know of my fiancé?”
Ragna’s eyes sparkle and she launches into a fast-paced telling of everything she knows. I can tell she enjoys gossip, but I can’t find it in myself to be annoyed. After all, this could prove very useful to me.
“His name is Audunn, and he is very wealthy. That’s why your father chose him for you, I’m sure of it. His family is one of the founding families of Alfheim, and he is a pureblood. Not a single member of his family has every married someone not of traceable Alfheim descent, so it upset some people when he announced his engagement to you.” At my expression, she’s quick to reassure. “I mean no offense, of course, but you are Asgardian. Still, the Royal Family is Asgardian, so if Asgard blood is good enough to rule all Nine Realms, why shouldn’t it be good enough to marry?” I want to smile at her carefree conclusions, but don’t have it in me. “Audunn is handsome, but quite a bit older than you. I wouldn’t let that worry you, though. Age equals experience, and experience equals fun.” She tries to bite back a grin, and I can’t help releasing a shocked laugh.
“Sorry, My Lady.” But Ragna’s eyes still sparkle, and I feel my fondness growing for her by the second. She continues. “Anyway, he has no children, thank your lucky fates, but that means he will expect them quickly from you. But no matter. You are young and will surely be with child after your first few years together.”
Agitation rises within me. Children? I don’t think I’m ready for children.
Ragna stuffs a pin into the twist. “Your father is not an old man, and it is likely he will continue to preside over Alfheim for hundreds of years. But once he leaves us for the stars, your husband will rise to the position of Chief Diplomat and you will be extended that status as well. I’m not sure what the people will call you, though….” She furrows her brow as she thinks. “I don’t remember a time when your mother shared your father’s throne. Do you recall her title?”
“Duchess.” The word comes to me easily, though I wasn’t aware I knew this piece of information. “My father is technically a duke in Asgard.”
Ragna smiles at me through the mirror, adjusting a stray braid. “Duchess, then.”
Upon hearing the title directed at me, I gulp.
Finished with my hair, Ragna places an encouraging hand on my shoulder. “You will be wonderful.”
And although I do not feel like it, I smile back.
{***}
I sit on a bench somewhere in the castle grounds, enjoying the sun. Ragna lounges below me on the grass. I had offered her the space next to me, but she emphatically refused, saying it would not be proper for a servant to sit at an equal level with a woman of my status. I had fought the urge to roll my eyes.
A servant I haven’t encountered yet runs up to us. He’s older than I am, and it feels strange to have an elder bow deeply in my direction.
He does not look at me when he speaks. “My Lady, Master requires your presence immediately.”
I raise my eyebrows. Who’s Master?
Ragna jumps up and her eyes beg me to do the same. For her sake, I do, although I am already wary of meeting a man who makes his servant call him Master.
The servant walks a good fifteen paces ahead of us and does not look back. Ragna takes a place behind my left shoulder so she can whisper in my ear as the three of us speed-walk. “That is Sveinn, the manservant of your betrothed.” There’s a something in her voice, something odd, but my own panic at meeting my fiancé keeps me from placing it.
“Audunn? I’m meeting him now?”
“I believe so, My Lady.” Her voice is grave, a clear sign of the importance of this meeting. I straighten my posture. Ragna fusses over my dress as we continue our way up and through the castle.
Finally, and yet all too soon, we stop outside a massive set of doors.
“You are to wait here,” Sveinn instructs Ragna.
I consider protesting, but she has already curtsied to me and taken a step back.
I swallow as Sveinn knocks.
“Enter,” calls a deep, gravely voice. Audunn.
A set of guards opens the doors. I hold my head high, fake all the confidence I do not feel, and enter the chamber.
The man I presume to be my fiancé stands in the center of the dark room, turned away from me, hands clasped tightly behind his back.
Svienn moves to leave the room.
“Stay, Sveinn.”
The servant gulps nervously. “Yes, Master.” There’s that title again. So abrasive.
The silence resumes. I refuse to speak first. Audunn is the one who called me here, after all.
Somewhere nearby, a clock ticks.
“I thought it prudent that we meet, given our current status.”
I bristle at his haughty tone. “How can we meet when we do not look each other in the eye?”
Slowly, he turns to face me.
From across the room, I take him in.
He is of moderate hight and full of textbook Alfheimish features. His ears are longer and narrower than mine, his nose small and graceful. Blonde hair speckled with silver covers both his head and the lower part of his face. Ragna wasn’t kidding. He is much older than me.
He studies me as well. From the glint in his eyes, I can tell he likes what he sees. Gross. He’s dressed extravagantly, covered in an ornate cloak even though he’s indoors. With a hint of glee, I notice that his clothes are darker than mine. As of now, I hold a higher status than him.
That small bit of power gives me more confidence, and I take the necessary steps to meet him in the middle of the room. “Shall we sit and get to know each other?”
His mouth quirks up at one end. “That won’t be necessary. There is no need for you to be here much longer.”
I raise my eyebrows, taken aback. “Excuse me?”
He takes a heavy step in my direction, coldness in his eyes. “What is there to know about you? Soon, we will be wed. You will exist to give me pleasure, status, and heirs. That is all I need to know.”
I feel the fire of fury spread through my body, setting every nerve alight. My fists clench. “How dare you! I am so much more than an empty body existing only for you.” I straighten, doing my best to reel in my anger and return control to the situation. “You will not speak to me like that again.”
Audunn’s features harden and he locks his eyes on mine. “Sveinn, come here.”
Sveinn follows the order, his steps slow and shaky.
“Sveinn,” Audun barks.
The servant yelps and rushes to stand by us.
Audunn’s hand cracks across Sveinn’s face.
A gasp tears from my throat as I surge forward to stop the assault. Sveinn reaches a pleading hand from his position on the ground.
“Please, My Lady, don’t—” his voice is cut off with a sharp intake of air as Audunn strikes him again. “You will only make it worse.”
The poor man’s mouth begins to bleed and he looks at me with begging eyes.
I hesitate.
“That’s right, you listen,” Audunn growls, gripping Sveinn by the hair and forcing his bleeding face in my direction. I shrink back, horror seeping into my bones. “You did this to him.”
Horror turns to anger. “You’re the one beating him! You—” but before my words are finished, Audunn begins anew, striking Sveinn without reservation.
“My Lady, please.” Sveinn’s voice, broken and desperate, is what grounds me.
I try to force myself to de-escalate by focusing on my breathing. As soon as I’m silent, the beating stops.
“There’s a good girl.” Audunn’s voice sickens me. It reminds me of a poison apple—achingly sweet and unbelievably dangerous. “Sveinn,” Audunn throws him on the ground but releases him, choosing to walk a circle around me instead, “is what’s known as a whipping servant. Are you familiar with the concept?”
Heart stuttering, I nod.
“Good. Then you understand that anytime you do something to displease me,” his voice darkens, and he takes a menacing step in my direction, “poor, poor Sveinn gets a beating. Because of you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, forcing myself to be strong. Do not break.
“If you behave,” Audunn’s voice is back to being sweet and deceptively pleasant, “all will be well. I’m sure that is logic even a woman can follow.”
I exhale in my anger but otherwise hold it in. My body is coiled tight and by the gods, I want to let it spring.
But the look on Sveinn’s bleeding and fearful face keeps me from acting on my impulse.
Audunn stops in front of me, wearing a tight smile. “You are dismissed.”
I do my best not to run from the room.
Once clear of the door, I speed up. Before I know it, I’m running.
I hear light footsteps behind me, indicating Ragna’s pursuit, but I do not slow. I exit the castle and run past the bench where I sat earlier. I pass the apple orchard and the fountains. I run for as long as I can, until my legs give out. I collapse in a pile of sobs and gasping breath, finally breaking. The grass pricks my legs, but I barely notice. The weeping is my main concern, wracking my body and causing my chest to seize.
“Oh, My Lady.” Ragna’s voice is full of concern and distress. Hesitantly, she wraps her arms around me and I grip at her, unable to stop myself from seeking comfort.
“He-he,” I gasp.
“My Lady, I am so sorry. There were rumors but I-I never thought….” Horror colors her voice as she trails off. Instead of speaking, she concentrates on stroking my hair, and the action gradually soothes me.
My heart is in deep distress. It calls for Loki. I want nothing more than to be in his arms. Loki is mischievous and morally ambiguous at best ,but I know he would never do to me what Audunn has. Loki cared for me, loved me, respected me, and protected me. Audunn views me as his personal servant, made to be used.
I shudder.
“Ragna, I—” I sniffle. “I cannot be with that man. I’ll…” But my voice trails off, because I don’t know what I’ll do. I desperately want to end the engagement and leave this realm. I want to return to Asgard and ask them to take me back. I will even beg Odin himself. And I want to run into the safety of Loki’s arms and kiss him and hug him and tell him that I am his. I want him to be mine as well. It’s him I want to marry.
But I know that’s not what will happen. People like me and Loki rarely get what we want, simply due to our status. We exist as pawns, ready to be moved at the will of our fathers. As a man, Loki has more free will than I, but not by much. As a prince, he will be expected to marry an Asgardian noblewoman, just as I am expected to marry Audunn. It is my duty. And I must be strong enough to carry it out.
I sit up, willing myself to find any strength left in my body. “Will you help me get ready for dinner?”
Ragna looks relieved at my gaining composure. “Of course, My Lady.”
{***}
Audunn joins us for dinner. Every time he looks at me, I do my best not to grimace. I may hate this man, but I have no ill will towards Sveinn and desperately do not want to see him hurt. For the majority of the evening, we eat in silence.
As I pick at my dessert, Father speaks. “My council and I have set a date for your marriage ceremony.”
My stomach clenches. Loki’s face flashes in my mind, apathetic and detached. I do my best to mimic his mask in order to hide my fear. “Oh?”
Father grunts. “Three weeks from now.”
But I am not as practiced as Loki. A breath escapes me, and my voice is noticeably stained when I speak. “So soon?”
Audunn puts on a winning smile. “What she means to say, is that she is pleased. Isn’t that right, dear Y/n?”
I swallow down my bile and set him with a hard look. “Yes.”
Father doesn’t seem to notice the tension between us. “Shall I invite anyone in particular from Asgard?”
Yes. “No.”
Father continues, taking a bite of his dessert. “I will, of course, invite the Royal Family, though I highly doubt they will be in attendance. It’s unusual for the entire family to leave Asgard.” A thoughtful look crosses his face. “But perhaps the Allmother will come. She seems the most likely, if any.”
Hope surprises me, and I cling to it. “Yes, I wish she would attend. It would be lovely to see her again. Queen Frigga was always so kind to me.” An unexpected pang of longing hits me, and I realize I had been so focused on missing Loki that I hadn’t noticed I miss his mother as well. Now aware, I ache for her kind words and motherly affections.
Father gives me a small smile. “I will be sure to convey your words in the invitation.”
I nod, thankful. Perhaps if Frigga attends the wedding, I can get though it without screaming.
A/n: Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/638076748499681280/odins-ward-chapter-11
Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606
Link to previous part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/637789805440368640/odins-ward-chapter-8
Pairing: Loki x female reader
Word count: 5473 (wow I’m so sorry)
Warnings: None
Y/n: 18 // Loki: 20 // Thor: 24
Y/n’s POV
Loki and I do our best to make the remaining days count. He does as promised and keeps me in his bed as much as he can. When we are absolutely required to be somewhere, we attend together if possible and rush through our events if we must be separated. Every moment we spend together only does more to convince me that leaving him could be my undoing. I just can’t fathom seeing my best friend every day for half my life only to suddenly have him ripped away from me.
The sun is just beginning to rise. Normally, I would enjoy the sunrise, as it is a thing of beauty, but today, it may as well be an axe swinging to sever my head; today is the day I leave.
Loki’s arm pulls tighter around my waist. I wonder if he slept. I barely did, and not for sexy reasons. The dread kept us up most of the night, leaving very little energy for intimacy. Still, it was wonderful to spend my last night here in his arms. I know even at this early point in my life, that I will cherish him forever.
As long as I live, I will never love another as much as I love him.
Sighing, I turn to look into his eyes. We can ignore the day no longer. After a moment, Loki leans forward to kiss my forehead.
“Let’s get dressed. There’s something I want to show you.”
Confused but willing, I am soon dressed in what I wore yesterday. I’ll have to change into something more formal before I go to meet Father, I remind myself, doing my best not to cringe at the quickly approaching reunion.
I expect Loki to reach for me so we can teleport to wherever he wants to go, but instead, he offers his arm and we begin a slow and silent walk through the castle. The world is still asleep, save for a handful of servants rushing to get the palace ready for the day. They bow quickly to Loki as they go along but otherwise avoid eye contact, knowing better than to stare at the prince escorting a woman so early in the morning.
“Does it bother you that they don’t bow to you as well?” Loki’s sudden question breaks the heavy silence.
“No,” I answer honestly, having considered this before today. “I haven’t done anything to earn their respect. I don’t employ them, I don’t protect them, and I don’t command them. Why should they show deference to me?”
Loki lets out an odd sound, halfway between a scoff and a growl. “They should. You are the chosen of an Asgardian Prince.”
I stop walking and turn to give him a soft smile, doing my best to keep the sadness out of my eyes. “Not officially.”
He places a hand on my cheek sweetly, but there is regret in his voice. “Would that I could, Darling.”
“I don’t doubt you. I never have, and I never will.” The words leave my mouth without thought. For some reason, I just know he needs to hear this. And besides, it’s true.
A strange mixture of relief, love, and pain colors his face, although he is quick to mask it with a pleasant expression and a kiss on my hand.
We resume walking and are soon in a sort of attic located in one of the castle’s turrets. Loki releases my arm in favor of grabbing my hand and pulls me deep into what seems to be a storage room. He stops before an unassuming object hidden amongst the clutter.
“An old painting?” Surely he must understand my confusion. It’s just a shabby painting of a dusty blue door.
Loki grins with a hint of that trademark mischief and my stomach flutters. Not taking his eyes from mine, he reaches straight into the painting and pulls on the handle of the door.
“An old, magic painting,” I smile, catching on.
Loki’s grin does not last long, and apprehension gnaws at me. Why is he showing me this?
“Loki?”
He exhales loudly, running a hand over his face, and it becomes apparent that he does not wish to say what he has planned.
But he does.
“Y/n, you know I love you, but I—” he falters, giving me time to register the shop pain I feel stab in my chest. With a tightly clenched jaw, he gets the rest of the words out. “I cannot continue to be in contact with you once we are separated.” He looks me in the eye then, the hurt clear on his face. Loki so rarely openly shows his emotions, so I know how deeply he must be feeling right now.
I try to plaster my expression into something resembling an impassive calm. “I understand.” Despite my efforts, tears prick at my eyes and soon run down my cheeks.
Loki pulls me into a hug, tucking me securely under his chin.
“I understand, I promise,” I cry into his chest. “As terribly as it will hurt to never see you again, I think it would be somehow worse to hold on.”
“Yes,” he breathes, unable to put any strength behind the word. “However.” He clears his throat and pulls back slightly to look at me, his voice sounding somewhat stronger. “This painting is connected to you. Should you experience an emergency, write a letter and picture it appearing inside this door. I have a simple spell surrounding the painting that will alert me whenever something is placed inside the doorway, such as a letter from you.” His previously formal tone softens, and he looks me earnestly in the eye. “I shall check it straight away.”
I squeeze his hand in thanks, touched that he would prepare this and offer his eternal aid. I lean against him in silence.
The tolling of bells alerts us, and I squeeze my arms around him once before pulling away.
“We should get back so we can get ready.” I chuckle, though no humor lies within me. “Can’t have the whole castle know we’re screwing, right?”
His snort matches mine in terms of gaiety, but I appreciate the gesture nonetheless. “The way you were shouting last night, I’m sure they at least have their suspicions.”
A surprised scoff bubbles from my throat and I lightly smack my lover on the arm.
He smirks, true mischief in his eyes once more. “Not that I’m complaining. No, I adore every noise that comes from your mouth, especially when it’s wrapped around my—”
“Oh-kay! I cut him off, actually laughing now. “We get it, we get it. You’re a sounds guy.”
He scrunches up his face in confusion as we begin our descent down the staircase. “A ‘sounds guy’? Whatever does that mean?”
I shrug one shoulder. “You know. The noises your partner makes during sex turn you on.”
HE shakes his head in fond exasperation. “Dearest Y/n, wherever do you learn all these terms?”
“Books.” Duh.
He scoffs. “You and I must favor entirely different literature.”
I grin, stepping backwards off the last stair so I can tug on his hands. “That’s what makes us so fun.”
And, for just a few moments, we’ve forgotten what lies ahead.
{***}
“Lady Y/n, I am here to escort you out of the castle.” The guard’s voice is gruff and uninterested as he speaks through my door.
“Just a moment,” I call, stalling for time. “Dagmar, are you sure this dress is right?” I turn to my maid, who surveys my appearance with a careful eye. “Yes, My Lady. All of my research shows that this is the appropriate dress for a woman of your status in Alfheim.”
I wear a long, pale white dress that sweeps to the floor. Think golden ropes criss-cross the bodice and encircle my arms, the sleeves are long and elegant. The dress is entirely impractical and much too light for my complexion, but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m not exactly focused on impressing anyone at the moment.
The guard knocks again impatiently.
“I’m coming,” I huff, annoyed.
Aware that I am unable to delay the inevitable any longer, I turn to Dagmar. “Thank you. I mean it.”
She curtsies deeply. “You’re welcome, My Lady. I wish you the best of luck and all the happiness you may find in Alfheim.”
With that, I steel myself and stride to my bedroom door.
{***}
The walk to the horses feels like a death march.
Nobles and prominent Asgardians line the path, doing their duty of seeing off the King’s Ward. Some look uninterested, others gaze at me with hostility, some with fondness. I can’t focus on more than my breathing. If I lose focus, I worry it will become erratic with nerves.
At the end of the long, straight path lies the Royal Family. Thor, Odin, and Frigga look pleased. Loki sports complete indifference and keeps his eyes from mine.
When I reach the King, Odin begins to speak. His speech is loud and meant for the Asgardians making up his Court, not for me. “Lady Y/n, it was with open arms many years ago that I welcomed you into my home and family. I am happy to have provided you with an exceptional upbringing and the finest amenities Asgard has to offer. It is with great pride and a touch of sadness that I now send you back to your father, as I have come to have much fondness for you.” Lie. Several Asgardians dab handkerchiefs at their eyes in showy fashion. “Still, I know you are off to your home and you will be well cared for. My family and I hope to meet you again in the future, and encourage you to remember how Asgard has helped you when you one day sit in a position of power.”
I curtsey low as protocol dictates, though because I have ever-dwindling respect for Odin, the action is an empty one. “Of course, Your Highness. I extend my deepest gratitudes to you and your family for taking such wonderful care of me all these years and for sharing what you have. I, of course, will always keep Asgard and its people close to my heart.”
Speeches done, a servant arrives to help me onto my horse. On the way, Queen Frigga takes my hands and squeezes, looking kindly into my eyes. “I have complete faith in you, my dear. Please know that I have thought of you much like a daughter all these years, and although it breaks my heart to see you go, I know you are off to greater things.” She pulls me towards her conspiratorially. “You will be magnificent.”
My breath hitches and tears prick at my eyes. I’m touched. “Your Majesty, I have always had the highest respect for you and truly appreciate every way you guided and helped me through these years. You’ve been a wonderful mother figure, and I do hope to see you again.”
Tears appear in her own eyes, though she hides them well. She squeezes my hand once more before releasing me to the servant who fulfills his duty of getting me safely onto the horse.
I ride with Thor on my left and Loki on my right. As we leave, the people cheer and wave, though I don’t hear much over the ringing in my ears.
“Look, Lady Y/n, commoners have come to see you off! They adore you.” Thor’s comment piques my interest enough for me to crane my head around his tall form. I’m shocked to see that the spaces behind the lines of nobles are packed with Asgardians from the villages, all waving and smiling. Hesitantly, I wave back, and their cheers increase. Huh, who knew?
Thor encourages his horse to pick up speed, and Loki and I do the same, careful not to look at each other. We race from the castle and across the Bifrost. The wind whips my face, but Dagmar’s intricate braid ensures my hair remains neat and presentable.
All too quickly, we arrive at the end of the bridge. Thor moves to help me off the horse, but Loki huffs and steps in front of his brother, lightly gripping my waist. He still doesn’t look me in the eye, but his fingers linger on the soft fabric of my dress.
Thor grits his teeth, crossing his arms irritably. “Come now, brother, this is no time for possessiveness. You know Lady Y/n belongs to you no more now than she did back in the palace. It is time to let all this silliness go.”
Both Loki and I ignore him, but I can see the anger brewing beneath Loki’s surface.
The three of us enter the golden dome, and the closer we get to Heimdall, the faster my heart beats. I throw my braid over my shoulder and square my shoulders, doing my best to put on a confident air. Fake it till you make it.
Heimdall greets us with respect and instructs us on where to stand. I have only traveled by Bifrost once before, and that was when I was very young. Fear of the unknown brings a shake to my hands. Discreetly, Loki takes my hand in his, and I let out a breath, grateful for him even if our time together is shrinking down to seconds.
Without warning, light encapsulates our figures, threatening to burn my closed eyes. In the next breath, my feet his solid ground. The impact jolts through my bones and I stumble, unprepared for the force of it. Both Thor and Loki reach for me, having anticipated me being unbalanced. Again, Loki shoots his brother a withering glance. Once steadied, I take in the room. It’s not near as grand as the room in which Heimdall resides, but I can tell that this space holds great importance.
The boxy room is a pale, silvery white, much like the color of my dress. The podium we landed on is adorned with light-colored jewels that glow faintly. Eight guards in decorated silver armor stand in front of the exit, blocking our path. Immediately, they drop into low bows, their attention clearly focused on the two princes on either side of me.
“Rise, valued allies,” Thor speaks, and I can feel Loki’s annoyance at Thor delivering the command. Thor releasing the guards from their bow shows his rank to be superior to his brother’s when in fact, neither is yet a crowned prince.
A man clad in ornate silver robes steps forward. In taking in the room, I hadn’t noticed him before.
“Exalted Princes of Asgard, we are humbled to be in your presence.”
I do my best to hold in a huff. I’m right here! Isn’t anyone excited to see me? After all, this is my home…supposedly. I do my best to shake the bitterness off, but am largely unsuccessful.
“And we are here to complete a task.” Loki’s voice is cool, detached, and my heart begins to ache. A task, am I?
“Of course.” The man in robes snaps to attention. “If you will follow me, I will escort you tot he Chief Diplomat.”
The man, who still hasn’t introduced himself, turns and begins to lead us down what seems to be a very long and very wide tree branch. The guards follow behind.
With each step, I hear the blood rush in my ears. My stomach feels unsteady, and I must keep blinking in order to hold my focus. Get it together, Y/n. You cannot seem as frightened as you are. Hold your head high like you were taught and walk with all the confidence you can muster. You need to make a good impression on these people. I do my best to take the advice I just gave myself, and begin to feel slightly better.
That optimism disappears the moment we enter the castle.
The tall spiral stretches into the sky, its silver color looking rather dull in comparison to the sun. Based on its color and shine, I guess that it’s built to look grand in the moonlight, not the harshness of day. I can’t help but compare the building to Asgard, which feels much more like home to me than this place. The man leads us on a path to what I assume is the throne room, but no true monarch reigns here; Odin and his family rule all nine realms, but they have a stronger hold on some than others. And although he is not a ruler, he is the highest ranking official in Alfheim, so it is my father who occupies the throne.
I gulp.
He looks like me, I suppose. But he is of much taller stature and his eyes are a deep brown. Marks and wrinkles line his face, showing his age, his years of battle, and the stress of his job. As Chief Diplomat, he wears not armor but sweeping, heavily decorated robes. They are the palest, purest white one can imagine and adorned in shining braided gold ropes, much like the ones on my dress.
He stands and begins to walk forward.
“It is customary, I believe, to kneel when addressing Princes of Asgard.” Loki surprises me by being the first to speak, his voice a calculated mixture of cool authority and apathy.
A flash of hardness enters my father’s eyes before he breaks into a bright smile. “Of course. Please accept my apologies, Your Highnesses.” He kneels, bowing his head in deference to the men at my sides.
I have yet to be acknowledged by anyone.
Unable to stand it any longer, I clear my throat.
My father looks at me for the first time. Once Thor gives him the okay to rise, he puts his hands on my shoulders and looks me over. “Hello, my child. Welcome home. You hardly look as I remember.”
“That’s what happens when you don’t see someone for many years.” I’m a bit disconcerted by the resentment in my voice, and I can see that it makes everyone else uncomfortable too.
“Yes, well…” My father clears his throat and looks away, removing his hands from my shoulders as he takes a step back. “I am glad to see you now.” I can see the truth in his eyes, and my heart softens slightly towards him. I don’t have many memories of my time in Alfheim, but I know that my father was kind towards me…when he was around.
“Your Majesties,” my father steps back so he can see both princes once more. “I extend my deepest gratitude for you seeing my daughter safely to my home.”
“We do it gladly,” Thor answers, smiling at me with fondness. “Although I am saddened to have her leave Asgard, I know this is her home and she will have a wonderful life here.”
Loki says nothing, his mouth set into a hard line. My father seems uncomfortable under Loki’s gaze and turns his full attention to Thor.
“She will. I have a most prestigious marriage lined up for her, and once a wedding has been planned, I will be sure to extend an invitation to her gracious hosts.”
They’re talking about me like I’m not even here. Anger wells within me, shouting for attention. I take a deep breath in the hopes of calming myself. At the noise, Loki’s eyes dart to mine, the first time he’s truly looked at me since the early hours of this morning. Now, panic seizes my body and desperation strains my chest. Our time is almost out.
“My family will be thrilled to attend if we are able. But now, I’m afraid, my brother and I must return to Asgard.” Thor’s words show a clear intention of leaving, and my eyes go wide. Just as my father dips into a bow, I hear a strangled voice call out a single word:
“Wait!”
I’m shocked when the echo tells me the voice was mine.
All eyes are on me, with clear confusion and annoyance emanating from my father.
I swallow, hurrying to think on my feet. “It is customary, I believe,” I accidentally repeat Loki’s words from earlier, and I can see the twinge of pride in his eyes, “to extend an invitation of supper to my escorts.”
The hard line of his mouth tells me that my father is not pleased, whether with my habit of speaking freely or the possibility of continued scrutiny from his rulers, I don’t know. He quickly schools his expression though and enthusiastically agrees.
He certainly is a diplomat.
“My people and I would be honored to host you.”
Thor beams, amiable as always. “We are delighted to accept! Forgive our armor, we were not prepared to dine.”
Loki smirks and, with a flash of green light, is dressed in proper Asgardian dinner attire.
Father stares on in shock. “Well,” his voice is dry, and I can hear his fear. “The rumors are true. A sorcerer stands before me.”
Loki’s smirk deepens, and he clasps his hands behind his back in a false show of humility. Really, the stance just makes him look all the more powerful.
With clear effort, Father returns his tone to lightness. “If it pleases Your Highnesses, I will have my servants escort you to rooms so you can prepare for supper as you like. It will not take long for the food and hall to be ready.”
“Yes, that would be nice,” Thor agrees, offering Father a kind smile.
I can tell Father readily accepts this after Loki’s thinly-veiled hostility. “Wonderful! Y/n,” he is the first person aside from Loki to use my familiar name, and it momentarily strikes me. “Your handmaiden, Ragna, will escort you to your chambers and ready you for dinner.”
Ragna, a sweet-looking girl in her middle teens, steps forward and curtsies first to the princes, and then to me.
The first time someone has bowed to me. While it makes me a little uncomfortable, it also gives me a faint thrill of power. I immediately understand why Loki likes it so much.
Ragna sets off, and I realize that I am meant to follow her. I do so, forcing my feet to take action. From behind me, my father assigns groups of servants to Thor and Loki, and they are led down a parallel hall. I feel a jolt of panic at being separated from Loki. What if this is simply a distraction so they can leave without my knowledge? But I force myself to calm with deep breaths, trying to convince myself that that outcome is unlikely.
My handmaiden and I do not speak as I am led through the intricate, winding hallways. We climb many sets of stairs, telling me that we are heading up the spiral of the castle. Finally, on a floor high above the ground, we reach my chambers. She holds the door open for me and I step in, observing my new living space.
My chambers extend over a series of five rooms: a bedroom, bathing room, sitting area, tea/dining room, and what seems to be a personal library. Each room is long and narrow, most likely to accommodate for the height of this part of the castle. The room itself is that same pale, silvery white that Alfheim seems to favor. My bedding and couches are green, just enough to remind me of Loki and his chosen color, but it is completely the wrong shade. It’s much too light and like the green found in grass, not Loki’s ornate and deep emerald. It’s all wrong. My chambers are beautiful, and certainly more decorated than my room in Asgard, but I find myself missing my previous chambers with their warm, welcoming oak walls and deep purple accents. My eyes catch a table in the sitting room, and my heart sinks upon realizing that my magical flowers are not there. But why would they be, I question bitterly. Those belong on Asgard, along with everything else I treasure.
“Are your chambers to your liking?” Ragna has a high-pitched, timid voice, and I can tell that she fears me. I wish she wouldn’t.
“They’re lovely,” I breathe, trying to keep the pain out of my voice. This is your home now, Y/n. Better get used to it and just let Asgard go.
But it hurts.
Ragna can sense my displeasure. “The Chief Diplomat did not know what you favored, so he ordered the room to be decorated grandly, but in Alfheim’s neutral colors. If something is more to your taste, let me know and I will have it changed immediately.”
I think on this. Of course, redecoration is pointless depending on the date of my wedding. After that, I shall share chambers with my husband. “Will I be in this room long?”
Ragna nods. “Even when you are married, you will keep these chambers. You husband to-be has his own as well, and you will meet him in his chambers when he calls for you.”
It is not only her phrasing that makes my stomach twist. “He’s here in the castle now?”
“Of course. He must work closely with your father to learn all he can so he is prepared when the time comes for him to take over as Chief Diplomat.”
I scowl. “And he did not think it polite to greet me?”
Ragna shrinks under the harshness of my tone, and immediately, I feel bad. When she speaks, it’s through a wavering bottom lip. “I am sorry, My Lady.”
I sigh. “No, it is I who must apologize. My day has been long and the nerves from returning home seem to have gotten the best of me.”
Ragna smiles, and the beginning of trust shines hesitantly on her face. “All is forgiven, My Lady.” She pauses, then seems to overcome her nerves. “Would you allow me to re-do your hair? It is lovely, but wrong for our traditional style.”
I nod and follow her to the dressing table, doing my best to not seem attached to the Asgardian braid.
Ragna allows me to stay in the dress, praising my previous maid for ‘nailing’ Alfheim attire. “It shows your rank,” she explains, smoothing my dress out from below me. “The higher in status you are, the lighter your clothes.” I take notice of her light brown dress. Seeing my gaze, she nods. “I am a servant, so my dress is brown. But,” I hear pride color her voice. “I am a handmaiden to one of the highest figures in Alfheim, so that elevates my rank. If I worked in the kitchens scrubbing dishes, my dress would be dark brown. The kitchens are one of the lowest places you can go.” I hear resentment in her voice, and wonder if she once occupied a position there.
As Ragna continues talking to me, her voice becomes more confident and chipper. I can tell she is pleased to be here and will become even warmer to me with time. Perhaps one day, when my resentment and fear fades, I will have a friend in her.
A bell rings; Ragna straightens in response. “That signals dinner. I will escort you there and remain standing a few feet behind your chair. Should you need anything at all, simply wave your hand, and I’ll come to you.”
“Alright, thank you.”
She beams at my thanks. Perhaps servants aren’t treated as well here as they are in Asgard.
I follow Ragna down countless flights of stairs before she takes a hallway on our right. After a left, we enter a large dining hall, comparable in size to the one in Asgard. Due to my long descent, I am the last to arrive, and the men all wait standing behind their chairs. As they are higher in rank than my father, Thor and Loki take the heads of the table, my father and I are meant to occupy seats in the middle. Once Ragna pulls out my chair and I am seated, the men sit as well.
Interesting, I think. In Asgard, you just sit and eat, regardless of who is there. Yes, you stand for royalty, but you don’t wait for everyone to be in attendance. Just one of many new customs I’ll have to get used to.
The table is fairly long and feels much too big for the four of us, but soon the food is brought out and I wonder if the table is long enough. Roasted boar and hens and something else I don’t recognize are the main dishes, with countless varieties of fruits, vegetables, and breads surrounding them.
Thor grins and begins an easy conversation about how our friend Volstagg would adore the meal. Father extends an empty invitation of hosting him sometime, and Thor gives a pleased response that holds as little meaning as did Father’s invitation.
I take advantage of their distraction and glance at Loki. He wears a mask of apathy, but I know him well enough to see past it. His hand grips his knife too tightly and he stares blankly at his food, not eating. It is plain that he is in as much distress as I am. But we cannot allow it to show, because if Father finds out that I have been sleeping with Loki, all will be ruined, including me.
But would that be so bad, a rebellious voice within me questions. You wouldn’t have to marry that guy—my face scrunches as I realize I don’t even know his name—and you would be sent back to Asgard.
Inwardly, I sigh. No. Your duty is to your family and your realm, not to your heart and desires. Besides, it’s unlikely that Asgard would take you back. In hopes of covering my quickly tanking mood, I drink from my water.
Dinner is filled with casual conversation that holds no real meaning. I don’t know why I forced the invitation, as this is no true time with Loki. Still, I just can’t bear to see him go and will stall for as long as I can.
But time moves on and runs out all too quickly.
Before I can prepare myself, Thor is standing, and the rest of us must follow.
“I wish not to worry our parents any longer. Brother, we must return to Asgard.”
“Of course, I apologize for having kept you so long,” my father begins politely. But I don’t hear the rest of the conversation.
He’s leaving. He’s really going, he’s going to leave me here. My breathing picks up as panic sets in. I try to swallow, but can’t get around the huge lump in my throat. A white-hot feeling burns in my stomach, and I bite my lip, begging myself to calm down.
My footsteps drag as I follow Father, Thor, and Loki to the entrance of the castle. The same group of guards and the man in the ornate robe wait to escort the princes back to the Bifrost Room.
Thor turns to me, smiling kindly. “Lady Y/n, I am so glad to have met you. I wish you all the happiness in the world.” He bends to kiss my hand and then steps aside, allowing Loki the opportunity to do the same.
He doesn’t.
Instead, he nods curtly and turns on his heel, striding towards the exit.
I know why he did this. I saw the pain in his eyes and the strain in his shoulders as he fights the urge to run to me.
That doesn’t mean it hurts any less.
Without another word or glance my way, the princes leave.
A sense of numbness takes over. He’s truly gone.
And although Loki has completely faded from view, I do not take my eyes off the horizon as I speak. “When will I meet him?”
“Your fiancé?” Father’s voice is gruff and disinterested. “Sometime soon. He is a very busy man, you know.”
“Of course.” My words are polite but my tone is dead.
Father looks at me worriedly, unsure of what to do. “Perhaps sleep will do you well, my child. You have had a long day.” He gestures to Ragna, who flits to my side and carefully leads me to my chambers.
I keep it together as she helps me out of my dress and into my night clothes. My expression is blank as she brushes my hair and removes the makeup from my face. I mutter a polite, “thank you,” as her dismissal. She curtsies and leaves.
It’s the feeling of the cold, empty bed, so foreign from the warm embrace of Loki in his own bed, that breaks me.
I sob well into the night.
A/n There ya have it! Sorry it was sad :( Let me know what you thought and if you would like to be added to the tag list!
Link to next part: https://bonjour-rainycity.tumblr.com/post/637989270079078400/odins-ward-chapter-10
Tag list: @80strashbag @dark-night-sky-99 @what-am-i-doing10 @chxrryycola @ravenclaw5606
