Loki X Reader || Girl With The Gold Earring

12 | A Date With Arne

Y/N had stood outside his door for several seconds before collecting herself up enough to make any kind of movement.

She'd upset the prince somehow, that much was clear. She just didn't know what she'd said; or done. She's always so careful, so aware of her place and the great divide between their social status. Her brain combs every sentence for faux pas before a single syllable even gets anywhere near her lips.

Was he angry at her for not staying overtime? They'd almost finished preparing today's paints, there was only one box of pigment left to convert to a paste. Surely he could manage that on his own? And it's not like she'd skipped actual work. She'd said she couldn't stay overtime. That's extra work; it's not mandatory, and she doesn't even accept pay when she does stay late. It's his fault she hadn't actually finished her shift; he'd practically shoved her out the door like she had some kind of plague.

The prince had been so eager for Y/N to leave, she hadn't managed to grab her cleaning supplies on the way out. He hadn't given her a chance to ask him to fetch it, either. She expected he'd turn around and see her bucket and mop propped up against the wall, then the door would open and he'd sheepishly push them into her waiting hands.

But it's been just over a minute of Y/N staring at that door, waiting for it to open, her eyes sliding boredly over the intricate little designs littered over its surface. Over a minute of nothing happening, the corridor vast and silent.

She'll have to just leave her mop and bucket with the prince for the night. That makes more sense than dragging them back and forth between the servants quarters and the rooms she has to clean, but, obviously, Alfdis would have some kind of anxiety attack if she knew. Maids are supposed to be seen and not heard, let alone leave their dirty rags and pails lying around as if the royal family's quarters are their own personal cupboard.

With a sigh---of puzzlement over the past five minutes, more than anything---Y/N began the long trek to the mess hall. She'll tackle her anxieties over the prince's strange behaviour at a later date. For now, she has other things to worry about.

Like trying to make herself fall in love with an apothecary's apprentice.

Arne had said he'd put together a picnic for them both, but Y/N thought it best to eat a little something before she goes, just so she doesn't look like a ravenous animal as soon as food is presented. She'd been so preoccupied with trying to free the prince from his obligations to the neighbouring kingdom that she'd barely touched today's snack; a plate of little thumb-sized cakes the colour of cherry-blossoms.

-- ❈ --

Arne was waiting for Y/N as soon as the moon was at its highest point in the sky.

You had to sift through endless amounts of stars to find it; that thin little sliver of pearly white hanging as if suspended on a string. Perfect for watching meteorites, Arne had pointed out, gesturing to the vast expanse of blackness before them, freckled with jewel-like dots; far away suns probably long-since deceased (another thing Arne had taught her). Y/N didn't think the sky looks like an infinite vacuum. She thinks it more closely resembles a reel of rich velvet material the colour of ink, sprawled over the horizon like a blanket. As if someone is trying to hide what lays beyond from view.

They laid back against the reassuring curve of Sól Hill, their shoulders shielded from the damp grass by a wide mat Arne had borrowed from his family's living room. As they waited for the meteorites---large hunks of rock from outer space, Arne had patiently explained again when asked---they chatted about various things. Arne told Y/N in his low, warming voice about his job and raising his five sisters after his kindly mother and never-quite-satisfied father had passed away---