i'd rather die.

𝖙𝖍𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖊𝖊𝖓

- 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙧𝙩𝙚𝙚𝙣 -
- 𝙞𝙣 𝙣𝙤 𝙢𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙞𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙚𝙨𝙨 -

The journey to the west balcony was practically miles away and I was really in no hurry to have an interaction with Frigga, or anyone for that matter.

Although I knew I had to speak to her at some point, I had been putting it off for far too long in the case of a certain prince being her topic of discussion.

It wasn't that I didn't want to see her, or that I found her company tiresome, in fact, I was practically dying to confide in her.

And I would have, were it not her son the only reason I felt the need to utter a word about - or live, for that matter.

God, feminism at its finest.

Words couldn't describe how badly I needed to see him; though I had a feeling if I did I wouldn't be able to stop myself from ripping his throat out.

Calm down you psycho.

Attempting to settle my nerves, I thought about the strange interaction at my quarters. There was something off about 'Aksel', though I couldn't quite put my finger on it.

Did I recognise him from somewhere?

I wouldn't say his features were particularly familiar, though he seemed to stare at me quite intensely, and then my body.

But it wasn't just that, it was just the way he reacted to me, his voice, his smirk.

Oh god.

Nausea smacked me like a wall and I had to stop walking for a moment, my knees almost giving out and my hand reaching out to still my fall.

I felt the cold of the marble floor beneath my fingertips, my eyes following the patterns of each swirl dispersed through the stone.

I could see the balcony doors in front of me, though I couldn't see Frigga through the warped glass.

There's no way.

Am I fucking stupid or was that Loki?

No. It couldn't be. Why, why would he do that? It makes no sense.

Maybe it was to see how terribly I was doing; to see how awfully he had destroyed me and rub it in my face.

Maybe that's why he had looked at what I was wearing.

The nightgown.

The beat of my heart slammed against my rib cage and I felt bile rise up my throat.

How pathetic - the power he has over you.

Screwing my eyes shut, I took one steadying breath, willing the throb of my heart to subside and the sting of acid at my throat to dissipate.

I rose from the ground shakily, my body feeling much heavier than it did four minutes ago and glancing up, I stared through the glass, attempting to prepare myself for what I could only expect to be draining conversation - I was aware of Friggas tactics in forcing me to spill the truth.

I swiped the sweat off my palms with the satin of my dress, the deep black a beautiful compliment to the colour of my skin - if i did say so myself.

Though as I neared the glass doors, I barely plucked one thought from my head about how I looked or who I was going to see.

I could only fixate on the realisation that I perhaps had just interacted with him; and more annoyingly, I was somehow disappointed that he hadn't looked like him.