●part 2 in the works●
'"It shall be with great pleasure that I, Odin, King of Asgard and protector of the Nine Realms, announce the royal engagement of my firstborn son, Thor, scion of Asgard," Odin's mighty voice booms through the crowds, making it...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
▪︎ hers ▪︎
1903, that very same day, Asgard
Loki
On the training grounds, bathed in the first breaths of a glorious dawn – that’s where I found her. The remnants of a star-dappled night even van Gogh couldn't have dreamed up still lingered over the parapet, casting the faintest glow on her figure as she ducked and swerved. Every strike, each step part of a lethal dance.
I had come to know Y/n as quite the opposite of what you'd call a morning person, yet something about the sight of her... kept me from questioning why. This was, after all, the start of her seventh century. Her seven hundredth name day. Only the night afore, held safely in my arms as we lay by our secluded pond, she had given voice to her concerns. Her breath warm against my neck, voice strained and weary, she had murmured, 'This might as well be the century Odin will want to see the binding over and done with.' Then, raising her chin to rest atop her hand on my chest, she’d fixed me with those wide, unwavering eyes. 'Cannot seiðr somehow rewind time? Is there truly no possibility to that?' Stifling a low laugh, I leaned up to press a kiss to the crown of her head. 'Darling, you already know the answer to that,' I had whispered to her then, though silently pining after the idea just the same. Norns, how I'd wished to hold her all throughout the long night.
Now, watching her perform on these damned grounds, I felt a rush of something profoundly exhilarating. The early light skimmed over her as she moved, quicksilver and deadly. With her seiðr she animated the combat dummies around her to move and teleport in sync with her own skillset. She blinked in and out of place, teleporting effortlessly as she anticipated each opponent’s movements, her focus astute and absolute.
A thrill ran through me as I watched her, admiring her swift calculations. She was always one step ahead, predicting each flash of movement, turning mere combat into something that looked, almost, like art. Again. I'd seen it countless times before, and still she never failed to amaze me anew. However, that morning was different. Something in her step – she was clearly on edge.
Just as one puppet materialised beside her, she sidestepped with startling precision, not even glancing its way as she flung a dagger into its heart – my dagger. She moved faster than I could anticipate, the second dagger slicing past me just as another figure blinked to life mere inches from where I stood. It was all I could do to sidestep its path when the blade embedded itself in the target. Her aim was lethal; I knew as much.
She had sensed me, then.
Well, two could play at that game.
With a smirk, I slipped into the shadows and reappeared right behind her, pressing her against the wooden fence of the arena.
A flicker of surprise rushed through her, only to melt into something much warmer. Good old mischief. My lips sucked in her earlobe as I pressed harder into her, her back hot against my cool chest. 'Don't you think this is getting a bit old, Mischief? Something new for a change, perhaps?' she murmured, her voice thick with playful reproach as her breath mingled with mine.
