Sidereal, Part 6
A/N: Guess what? I finished all of my apps. What does that mean? More stories. Sorry to have kept you all waiting. This one is dedicated to @theyfckup, she’s been encouraging me in the continuation of this story.
Title: Sidereal
Chapter: 6/?
Summary: This is the story of a fallen queen.
Author: royalbluehues
Warnings: Anger towards Loki, because he’s a little sh**.
Pairings: Loki x Reader
Part 1
Query (noun)
a question, especially one addressed to an official or organization.
Part 6: The Query.
As you left your realm, you stilled the stars but left the new moon. If the men of your kingdom were so ready to rid your family, you would turn a blind eye on them in turn. The kingdom would be safe with the lights of the castle; that would be enough illumination to drive away the monsters.
Bjorni had stolen two horses, and that’s the way it’s been the whole way until you reached the trading post. You have never officially ridden for so long as you had that night. Blisters had erupted on the skin, and each step you took was miserable. You met a farmer along the way who was delivering crates of food to Vanaheim from his harvest. He directed you to the trading post and you paid him with two silver coins from the little bag of money you had in your pocket as well as the two horses. As you parted ways, he gave you a small bag of mandarins, which Bjorni scarfed down the second you handed it to him. You weren’t hungry. Your stomach was turning with each thought that entered your mind.
The Bifrost gravitational pull brought you to a golden, circular dome. You almost lost your footing, but Bjorni’s hand shot out to grab you. As you steadied, you pushed your wild hair aside, and let your gaze wander. It was unlike anything you have ever seen. The windows allowed peaks of the galaxy, and the golden interior designs glinted prettily above you. A man stood in the center of an upraised pedestal, his golden eyes watching your every move.
Bjorni stood in front of you, sword out and pushing you behind him. You moved his arm away, and whispered for him to stop. “I am-”
“The Princess of Bjartsgard.” A voice to your right said, and you looked in that direction. A tall, blond haired man stood there. He was handsome, with hair reaching his shoulders, and muscles bigger than the size of your head. His blue eyes were warm, but pity underlaid them. “My lady, I am Thor Odinson,” he bowed and looked at Bjorni, “you must be?”
“I am Bjorni Tygarsson, first of her Majesty’s Queensguard.” Bjorni looked so small compared to Prince Thor, the thought almost making you laugh.
“Prince Thor,” you spoke, “I came to speak to your father on important issues. Ones that are crucial to me and to my people.” You voice was raspy, and each word you spoke tore up your throat.
“I am sorry what has happened to you. I cannot imagine what you must be going through,” he spoke sincerely, and you gave him a small smile in return, “come this way.”
His silver armor gleamed in the light, and you followed him, Bjorni following in tow.
You watched his red cape billow in the wind, the fabric reminding you of the red flags that were waving when you entered the kingdom. Thor helped you climb on a horse, and you cringed each time you shifted when the animal took a step.
Asgard was large; it was beautifully abstract, with the golden castle in the center of the kingdom. The kingdom was proud of its advancement; and they made it evident with floating panels and ships that you could see in the distance. Mountain ranges surrounded, providing an organic feeling amongst the machinery. As you crossed a bridge, you watched it pulsate different colors of the rainbow beneath the feet of the horse, leaving you in a trance. The rushing waters roared, and it offered a cool breeze. Exhaustion had finally crept up on you, and you struggled to keep your eyes open.
Passerbys watched you ride behind Thor, their expressions one in horror as they observed you, but you were oblivious, nearly being lulled to sleep by the sway of the horse.
“My lady, you must stay awake. You will be meeting the king very soon,” Bjorni whispered, looking just as tired as you felt. The two of you had not had a proper meal since the day before, only eating the few mandarins the farmer had given you.
“Y-yes, yes. Of course.” You spoke slowly. You forced yourself to keep your eyes open. You were in a tired daze because the next thing you knew you were being helped off the horse and walking behind the Prince.
Bjorni’s steps synced with yours, and Thor pushed open dark wooden doors with knots. The crown prince walked ahead, and you hesitated before entering, looking to Bjorni who gave you a tired smile. “Are you alright?” His voice was soft, and you narrowed your eyes, and shook your head.
“No. But I cannot think about it now. I have other duties to attend to,” your voice cracked and you cleared your throat. “You’ll be here? Once I return?”
He bowed his head. “Of course.”
Somehow, that little affirmation made you want to burst into tears. You hated how childish you seemed, but he was the last person that was from your home. The home from where your parents were from.
With a glance, you walked ahead, putting one foot in front of the other, the pain in your thighs and feet nearly making you grimace.
The room was somewhat dark, a few beams of light hitting the walls. There was a fire that was lit, and books and scrolls were stored on shelves. The carpet under you was finely detailed, reminding you of the ones from home.
There was a table in the middle, and there sat King Odin, with his wife Frigga. Thor had sat down with another man who was observing you. He was pale, with dark hair that reached at his shoulders. He looked out of place amongst the family, and when your eyes met, you held it for what seemed like forever. You stopped a few inches in front of a chair, keeping your respective distance, and tearing your eyes away from the man.
You cleared your throat, “King Odin.” You curtsied stiffly, wobbling as you did so. The old king looked at you, his good eye looking you up and down. You turned towards the queen and repeated the action. Her hand was covering her mouth, and her eyes were watering.
She stood from her chair, the wood scraping loudly against golden floor. As you watched her soundlessly round the table, you felt eyes drill into you from the side. You knew it was the two men.
“My dear,” Frigga whispered as she took you hands into hers, “Oh my darling, what have they done to you?” She let go one of your hands, and lightly traced her fingers on your neck and your cheek.
You locked eyes with her, feeling the slight burning of tears pricking your eyes. They killed them. The words never left your mouth though, and your clenched jaw was the only restraint you had in not pouring into a tearful mess.
Frigga stepped back to look at you, observing your torn silver dress. You had forgotten just how terrible you must have looked. Your hands were still stained red, and no doubt you were splattered with blood on your face. Your hands fell to your sides, twitching.
“Your Majesties,” you cleared your throat again, “I have come to ask you a great favor.”
Odin folded his hands together, not having said anything in the whole time you entered. His eye urged you to continue, and the silence in the room, granted the crackling of the fire, seemed to unnerve you.
“My lord,” you licked your chapped lips, your eyes flickering to the two men at the opposite side of the table, and then flickering back, “my lord, I have come to ask you for assistance.”
Odin finally opened his mouth to speak, “In taking back your kingdom.”
You nodded, straightening yourself back up, lifting your chin a bit higher, allowing yourself to compose yourself. “Yes. To take back what has been taken from me. My birthright and my throne.”
“And you require my men?”
“Yes.”
The man sitting next to Thor spoke. “And what will we be receiving from this in turn?”
“Loki.” Frigga hissed, turning to him with a scowl.
Loki raised an eyebrow, leaning forward in his seat, “I believe I asked a fair question, mother.” He looked at you, his face blank with emotion, “Excuse me for sounding forthright, my lady, but your council planned against you. They massacred your family, took your crown. But may I ask for what reason?”
For the first time, you were at a lost for words. You felt idiotic, not being able to answer the question that was being asked of you, so you chose your next words carefully. “I do not know. Which is why I came here, my prince. I came here to Asgard in hopes that I would be given justice for the cruel intentions of those who planned this.”
Prince Loki spoke again, each word burying you deeper into the hole that had sunk beneath your feet. “I do not know how they do things in Bjartsjord, my princess. But here in Asgard, we determine offers and accept them only if they grant merit. Currently you have no throne. You have no crown, nor money.” His green eyes pierced through you, each roll of his tongue slashing at you. “Each war, my lady, results in a loss of lives and money. What you’re asking for is a lost cause.”
Frigga mouth dropped open at her son's words, Thor had widened his eyes, and Odin was still staring at you, watching your reaction.
You will not cry. By the Norns, you will not. You chest heaved, your hands at your sides began to shake, a bitter taste settling into your mouth.
Anger towards the prince awoken in you like a growing fire, you tiredness wearing off at in instant and flickering on your icy persona. You turned back to the king, balling your shaking fists.
“My king, I have survived an ambush meant to have killed me. I have entered my city to find my parents and my sister beheaded, their bodies swinging and their heads mounted on display for the people to spit at. I have been humiliated, exiled from my own home,” your voice was tremulous, “No, I do not have money, nor do I have anything to offer you in turn. Maybe this offer seems fruitless, but I cannot sit back and idly allow this to happen. I will take back what is mine. Even if it comes down to war. I will avenge my family’s death, and I will sit on my throne. All I ask is that you help me in taking it back.”
Odin narrowed his eyes, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head.
“Allow me time to think on it,” The old man leaned back into his chair, “I have rooms awaiting to accommodate you and your friend.”
You were still tense, your fingers digging into the heels of your palms, but you were expecting that response. “May I ask one more thing, my lord?”
The king said nothing, so you spoke. “I only ask that you to remember that you were my father’s friend,” you bowed your head, all too tired and too properly curtsy. “May the Norns help you in your decision.”
You turned to give the dark haired prince an icy glare, turning on your heel to exit the room.
Part 7: Suadade.
Part 1: The Ascent.
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