Cleave | Loki x Reader

• one - a betrothal •

Present day,
2011 A.D. / 4300 Y.o.N. (Year of the Nine),

Asgard

Y/n

A wise Midgardian once said, that it's a gift of life that we don't know what awaits us.
Well, if that's so, then I suppose that gift must be someone else's...

As I stride down the corridor, I feel the piercing gazes of all Asgard upon me; various types of seiðr trying to penetrate the walls of my mind. They always try to read me in these ceremonies. But there never has been a ceremony like this before.

Thank the Norns she won't be queen, they must be thinking, she isn't even Æsir.
Queen Frigga isn't either, but never mind me.
Their xenophobia isn't lost on me, subliminal though it may be. Xenophobia – a Midgardian word. How ironic for my people to invent a word which best befits the only being on Asgard with their blood running through her veins.
Fear of otherness.
And that's what it is: A fear buried deep in their subconscious. Though I am prophesied to save the worlds from falling into fiery nothingness, they still wonder if my blood might someday lead me astray.
This fear, their relentless probing of my thoughts, stems from the unknown, and it is okay – I love Asgard with every fibre of my being and will for ever be accepting of my fate. My fate to save their race. Our race.

Ragnarök means the destruction of all nine worlds. Starting with Asgard. They are to burn, but from the ashes, all is meant to start anew.
All but the Æsir; these all too powerful gods are to fall, never to rise again.
I cannot allow that to happen, and all I am able to do is pray for them to see that.

My dress billows around my legs as a soft breeze manages to settle my nerves.
Everything will be okay.
Thor will be king.
Everything will be okay.
The moment my inner eye travels over the letters of his name forming in my mind, I catch his all-consuming smile, broader than I've ever seen it, and my heart swells comfortably.
I hadn't even realised the motion of my head in his direction, standing near the entrance in waiting for his father – the All-Father – to announce him.
My hair, styled in an intricate crown, tickles my ears, and tiny hairs entangle themselves in my eyelashes. Silently, I curse Randi for suggesting this style. Revna would have been furious.
With every step, I fear the crown of hair might tumble and break, but it's just hair, I tell myself.
Everything will be okay.
I won't be queen.
Everything will be okay.
Yet still, uneasy lies the head that wears a crown – even if it's made out of nothing but dark hair and pins.

Turning over the emerald ring on my thumb again and again, I finally reach the dais. I settle at my mother's side.
My head held up, focus straight ahead, my gaze meets with a pair of eyes already in waiting to catch mine.
You did it, I think. You caught me, as usual.

What did you expect, his smirk asks me in return.
Sometimes, I wonder whether our conversations are ever truly spoken aloud or if they all exist like this one – silent and across a room full of people.
Good thing gods are never in need of glasses. He would certainly look magnificent with a pair, though, no doubt.
Everything will be okay.
We will be okay.

'My son, the prince of Asgard, and the Lady Y/n, future princess of Asgard, will you please stand before me?' Odin's voice echoes through the great hall.
Straightening my posture, I take a step forward at the same time he does. We've practised this a thousand times before. In the centre of the dais, we come to a halt, bow and curtsey to one another.
He takes my hand, bringing it up to his lips to place a featherlight kiss atop it –  just as he's supposed to.
What he isn't supposed to do is linger and whisper, 'You do look absolutely devine, m'Lady,' against the back of my hand.
Suppressing the gentle throbbing of heat rising in me, I make to face the All-Father when the prince adds, 'Even when that hair isn't what I had hoped to see you don tonight, yngri hetja.'
He squeezes my fingers and grazes the ring. He then follows my lead and faces his father as well.
I can't help but drown out Odin's words as my mind recalls the moment he just referred to.
My hair was different then.
We had been so young; at a ceremony much like this one – the start of it all, if you like – and now we're here. Finally arriving.