Tom Hiddleston & Loki Imagines (xReader)

Beast and the Beauty: Part 2

The train of your gown trailed along at your feet as you glided toward your war-room, a heavily-guarded chamber dedicated to past and future conquests. The guards stationed on either side of the entrance bowed their heads as you passed between them. Their reward was a smile that had them looking after you in admiration..

You snorted internally. Men.

Hanging along the back wall of the war-room was a map. An oversized map of the Nine Realms, complete with the smaller planets and satellites that were neither large enough nor valuable enough to be considered realms in themselves. They were throwaway territories, extensions of the larger ones.

Not to you, however. You understood the significant force you could amass from the seemingly insignificant planets. They were like a little army, awaiting your orders, ready at any time to attack at your word. Invaluable assets. It was too bad that the Aesir and their Vanir cousins tended to discount everything they deemed lesser than themselves; they'd missed out. But their loss was your gain.

Of course, you didn't need the additional resources. But it was just as well to keep up appearances. They might come prove useful, one day. It paid to be prepared.

The prominent feature of the map were the markings. Each of your conquests was marked: circled if subjugated, crossed out if destroyed. Of the nine marked, four were stricken through. All that remained of those civilizations were charred heaps of rubble—four testaments to your wrath and fury and pure brute strength. Four warnings of what would happen should the remaining five if they dared defy Your Majesty. Rebellion would not be tolerated.

None had tried as of yet.

A single painted nail tapped the parchment as you focused on one realm in particular, lips pursed in deep thought.

You had time. Not as much as you would like, and not as much as you'd had before. But you did have some.

Your breathing quickened as the thought crossed your mind. For as confident and collected as yourself, such an anomaly meant there was a notable source of distress—a falter, however slight, in your confidence. Even so, the mask of cool indifference never left your features. Only the most perceptive would have noticed the change in your breathing, or the flicker in your otherwise calm eyes.

The one individual in tune enough with your normal demeanor to take notice of any differences chose that instant to enter the war room. "Have fun?" you inquired absently, hearing Tjener's well-known step in the doorway.

"If he could have killed me, I don't doubt he would have." Tjener's upper lip curled in dislike. "He's a surly one."

"I don't blame him. Not with that sour grape of a father."

"Truth indeed. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree." Your advisor scowled, remembering the almost murderous glare Loki gave when left in his chamber. Seeing where your finger rested, he remembered his errand; he moved closer and lowered his voice, speaking discreetly into your royal ear. "But that isn't what I came to speak to you about. After disposing of our honored guest, I received word that the abduction of Vanaheim's head mage has been a success. He is now in the lowest dungeon, under guard and awaiting an audience with you."

Your eyes remained on the map, although your lips formed a ghost of a devious grin. "Oh, is he? Excellent. I may have to pay him a little... welcome visit. Does he strike you as the easily cowed type, or more stubborn and uncooperative?"

"Uncooperative." Tjener folded his arms. "He had a few choice words to describe you. I was ready to cut out his tongue then and there for such insults as he offered."