Loki X Reader One Shots || 𝐹𝐿𝑈𝐹𝐹 + 𝑆𝑀𝑈𝑇

Girl With The Gold Earring (Part 1)

CONTEXT:  The chambers of Loki Odinson have always been off-limits to everyone, including the staff of Asgard Palace---that is until Y/N.

After a brief encounter with the youngest son of Odin, Y/N---a lowly cleaner of the palace---is anonymously promoted to Loki's house-maid, where she learns of his quiet nature and artistic talent. Slowly, their relationship blossoms from professional to not-quite-so, when the prince asks Y/N to pose for one of his paintings.

Inspired by (but not really similar to it at all tbh) Tracy Chevalier's 'Girl With A Pearl Earring'

__________

No one usually disturbs Y/N as she sleepily slides a damp mop over the steps of Asgard Palace.

That's her job; to clean the entryway, scrub the stairs of footprints until their smooth surface is polished enough to reflect vague outlines of clouds.

Y/N has to do this during the early hours of the morning so the vestibule is ready for its busy day ahead. This means she has to drag herself out of bed before the sun, and trudge outside with various cleaning equipment hanging off her arms, only the moon to light her way. By the time Y/N is finished, the skin of her hands is raw and chapped and from manual labour, and numb from the cold.

She doesn't mind, really. She likes watching the little streams of water run off the step she's sponging at and dribble onto the next one, then the next, and the next. The gold-colour of the staircase shines through the suds, making it look like the steps are melting. She likes being awake for the dawn chorus; creatures declaring that they've survived the night by bursting into vibrant song. And the sunrises. Y/N usually finishes scrubbing just as the sun begins to stain the sky a delicate pastel peach; she takes a seat on the top step and observes as streaks of pink appear and start slicing the horizon to ribbons.

It's also better than her last job. Most jobs are better than her last job; Y/N was hired---originally---by the head cook of the servants quarters; a coarse-looking woman as large as a steam-train and twice as loud. She is called Ylva. Ylva never bothered to learn anyone's names, just barked 'girl' or 'lad' at you from across the room, then, if you failed to hear her over the roaring ovens and boiling pots, she'd throw some kind of vegetable in your direction to get your attention. She liked putting salt in everything until it was as bitter as her personality, hurling orders around to assert dominance, and cleanliness.

In Ylva's kitchen, cleanliness was the paramount concern. Oatmeal for five-hundred servants could burn to a crisp and she wouldn't bat an eye, but may the gods forbid you spill said oatmeal on a shiny countertop or let a drop fall to the spotless floor. Y/N's job was mainly to peel things and then cut various other things, but she spent a lot of time trying to mop up stains before Ylva got wind of them and reacted by blaming it on---and then firing---the closest individual.

Maybe it was this---Y/N's newly implanted instinct for tidiness---that got her promoted to tending to the front steps by the head of house-keeping, and then promoted again soon after that.

She hadn't seen her second promotion coming, literally and figuratively. She'd just finished working her way along the length of the last of the many, many steps, and there it was. Or, rather, there he was.

Just watching her.

He must have been there for some time. Y/N hadn't noticed him approach, although she should have done. He was almost two meters tall and dressed in thin moss-coloured linen; an utterly ineffective shield against the frosty air.