You wince as one of the young handmaidens pulls the corset strings tighter than you've ever worn them before. Another straightens your skirts while a third begins brushing roughly through your hair.
You hate having so many hands on you. You're perfectly capable of dressing yourself.
"Okay, thank you," you call out, grabbing their attention. "I'd like some privacy, please," you say, stepping off the small stool.
"But, my lady, you're not yet ready for-"
"I know...I know," you say, bringing a hand to your forehead. "I'm just...I can get ready on my own. Thank you."
The three young women cast glances to one another before they all rise and curtsy, leaving you in the ornate chambers that you have spent the last few hours in alone.
Looking at yourself in the tall standing mirror in the corner of the room, you sigh. Half of your hair is pinned up, your skirts are awkwardly positioned half tucked and half spread, and a strange red paint stains your lips.
This isn't you.
Letting out a small sigh of frustration you grab the corset strings and rip them apart, not even bothering to save the ugly orange dress. Stepping out of it, you move to the bathroom and wash your face, removing all the makeup the girls have slathered on. You pull the pins from your hair and let it fall.
You're not royalty. And you're certainly not going to start acting like it now.
Drying your face, you focus intently on your seidr. You don't even know where to start. Closing your eyes, you think about what you could possibly wear.
And then it hits you.
Letting out a breath, you focus on the feeling of your magic in your fingertips - strengthened by the galdramenn enchantments surrounding the city. You keep the image of the dress you remember in your mind as you feel the threads beginning to materialize on your body.
The sleeves, the bodice, the skirts.
Opening, you find yourself in an emerald green, full-length dress with off-the-shoulder taffeta sleeves and a corseted waist. Its golden accents laced throughout the layered skirt cause you to smile.
The dress you wore to your first audience with Odin.
Focusing on your hair, you try to remember how you had worn it. You furrow your brow in concentration - you've never been good at hair. You try to recreate the soft waves you had worn that night.
Getting close, you're satisfied with the look you've created.
*KNOCK* *KNOCK* *KNOCK*
"Come in, Thor," you laugh, recognizing that ham-fisted knocking anywhere.
"Stunning, little sister," he says, crossing the room and kissing your cheek. "As always."
"Thank you," you say bashfully. "I'm not used to clothes like these...will this be okay?"
"It's perfect," says Thor, he himself dressed in his formal regalia. Even his hair has been tamed beneath a silver, winged helmet that you've never seen him wear before.
Thor offers his arm and you take it. Gently, he pulls you through the palace until you hear the music and general boisterousness of a massive party somewhere up ahead.
YOU ARE READING
Undaunted (Loki x Reader)
Fanfiction'The end may justify the means, my Valkyrie - but only if there is something out there that justifies the end itself.' With the nine realms now facing a threat far greater than you could have imagined, you and Loki are sought by those once considere...
