To be Loki'd - Loki x fem reader

Chapter 33 - Cold

"May we present to you the Crown Prince of Jotunheim, heir of the throne, Loki Laufeyson!" 

Hundreds of heads turned towards me at the sound of the brass trumpets, expectant and with shining eyes under the sharp chandeliers. I strode down the polished obsidian steps, my green cape lined with black fur flowing proudly behind my every step as I made my way down. I didn't feel nervous at all, simply bored and most unwilling to participate but hid it perfectly behind my closed-off air. That look of contempt or icy stare simply made people want me more just because everyone yearns for the unattainable. 

All of the guests were dressed in elegant and expensive clothing, jewels sewn in or pinned which were reflecting and dazzling in the ballroom. They sunk into bows or curtsies for the ladies whose fabrics drowned out the floor, splaying down. The crown felt proud on my black hair, acting like a grand beacon of life and hope to which everyone turned to. My boots resounded ominously on the floor, tapping it firmly and rythmically, almost sounding like a military parade. Any whispers or comments were hushed by even the quiver of my finger. I had to admit it still exhilarated me to know that people feared and respected me from cradle to grave. They parted like the sea in my path. Ladies giggled discreetly, grateful that their blue skin couldn't show the heat pooling in their cheeks just from my stares. But I focused up ahead on the throne like a parched man focusing on the clear water, the sole source of interest. 

My father smirked a little, proud that his son had finally given in to his duties and rules, proud that his punches, hits and punishments on my first weeks back had had this effect on me. Bruises were still fading everywhere from his rampages and a cut was dissimulated on my arm from an icicle he had thrown in anger at me for defending Frigga and Thor against his unfounded and cruel insults. 

Having finally arrived at the platform where my throne was, I spun round in a ruffle of leather and fabric, my eyes piercing the crowd to announce loudly, "The ball may commence!" 

Cheers and claps resounded around me like a tidal wave before the orchestra struck up a tune, officialising the beginning of the reveling. I sat on my throne and rested my head upon my palm, bored already. Everyone seemed to have a great time, everyone except me that was. My father was already talking to another lady, probably soon to be one of his new concubines, which disgusted me greatly. Jalid had found James and they were dancing happily to the thrum of the instruments, spinning and gliding with grace. 

I snapped my fingers at a waiter nearby who dashed afterwards to bring me the tray of drinks he was holding extremely carefully as he squeezed through people. I gripped the first flute of bubbly champagne so hard it's neck snapped in a clear sound. The server rushed to pick up the crystals and broken bits before putting them on his tray and hadning another one to me. I snorted, clearly mocking him as I took a long sip of the alcohol. 

The waiter gulped and on his way back mumbled too loudy for his own good, "Rude stuck-up brat." 

"Excuse me.", I hissed, feeling my emeralds glow sharper than the finest of stones. He spun round and tugged at his collar, all blood draining from his features. "Care to repeat?", I taunted, placing a hand on his throat menacingly and watching him squirm under my cold grip as I lifted him up. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry Your Highness.", he begged between strangled gasps, tears starting to stream down his cheeks. 

"I don't know if you are.", I growled, baring my fangs as I squeezed tighter. Violence was easier to me here, far from those who perhaps truly loved me. No one saw the scene, I had cast an illusion speedily before rising to hurt the man. Finally, I tossed him aside on the floor with a thump. My glare followed him as he ran off and I dismissed the illusion, back to sitting on my throne. "Pathetic.", I mumbled.