You were his princess, until a death tore you both apart. Loki wanted to be yours, but returning to the hideous realm of Asgard made you think differently. Why would he care? Someone you trusted with all your heart, someone you loved.
❕CONTAINS SMU...
The dress you wore was a gold gown, with fabric extending down your sleeves. The corset had pressed your breasts, slightly restricting your breathing. The hips flared, forming more of a mushroom shape rather than natural feminine hips. It had a simple design but an overall ostentatious look.
Walking into the ballroom, Thor greeted you. He gently took your hand in his and kissed the knuckles before grinning at you.
“Good evening Princess,” he welcomed you, not having dropped your hand. “Would it please her majesty to be seated near myself?”
“It would,” you returned the warm gesture and sat to the left of Thor. The other royals entered, filling up the seats in front of you. The only remaining seat was beside your left. Trumpets blared as the doors opened wide.
In came Prince Loki, Queen Frigga in hand. The queen truly looked so, wearing a radiant yellow dress. It had a half coat, which covered her shoulders in an elegant fashion. You gleamed as she bowed her head to you and left her son's side, to seat herself near her husband.
Loki took his place on your left, moving his chair vaguely towards you. His eyes glanced nervously at his father and back at his hands that were lying on his lap. His head was lower than usual, his shoulders dropped. You noted him fiddling with his fingers, a clear indication of fear.
“How has the disciplinary been going so far?” Odin boomed. His voice was shallow and loud, much like a king. In unison, the children answered positively, 'good's and 'great's flooded the evening with noise. The first course came then. Table etiquette.
Bowls of soup were kept over your serving palates, steam floating above. Taking the outermost spoon, you sipped the soup till the bottom, making sure not to hit the cutlery against the porcelain.
Odin kept asking questions about what you all were learning and whether it was being taught well. After soups came salads and finally, dinner.
The maids placed the dishes of veal and bread onto the tables. Wine was poured. It was the cheap kind, which you knew from the many chalices you had tried on Vanaheim.
The veal was paired with shallots and chives, and a leaf of rosemary sat on top. The bread was twisted into a sort of roll. You believed you were doing very well through the courses until Odin asked you a question.
“Princess Y/n! How is Vanaheim?” he snorted, “still adequate now after your mother, right?”
Adequate. Of course. Vanaheim was adequate in the eyes of the king who sat, ate and slept on gold. At least your kingdom had more trees than this goldhole. More happy subjects.
“Adequate as always, Allfather,” you replied, gripping your fork tighter than you needed to. You needed air.
"I've also heard you have taken up warrior training instead of ballroom dancing," Odin added. "Why?"
Taking a deep breath, still having an iron grip on your fork, you answered with a clenched jaw. "I think it would better me to have training in battle, instead of myself relying on soldiers." Your eyes were on the brink of snapping, and your fork was already half bent.
“Father, I believe it would be better if Princess Y/n and myself were excused to the gardens. Perhaps you could accompany my mother,” Loki stuttered, confidence fading away with each word. Odin simply raised his brow, not mentioning anything while Loki grabbed your hand and whisked you away to the grounds of the castle.
He held your hand while you calmed your breath, hesitant to drop it.
"Those are the apple trees there, and the vineyards further above. It smells nice, doesn't it? The breeze on your skin," The prince kept informing you about your surroundings, as though he was telling the readers what the gardens were. "And that's the tree where we would sit together."
You laced your fingers between Loki's, curling to meet his palm. "Thank you," you whispered.
"I get panic attacks too," he revealed, "They're horrible, and I usually deal with them alone. They started to happen after you left, and I just don't want you to go through them by yourself."
Loki gave your hand a small squeeze, gently lowering his head to gaze into your eyes. You looked through Loki's to see any signs of ill intentions, though you found none.
"I appreciate the gesture but it doesn't change anything," you dropped his hand, "We should get back." You walked inside, leaving Loki on the balcony. Alone.
"Ah! You have returned," Odin shouted, "Since you believe yourself to be a warrior, you shall prove it by battling my sons tomorrow. Thor, is this fine by you?"
"Yes, Father." Thor gleamed. The dark prince looked suprised as he entered the room, cocking his head sideways in order to understand what his father meant.
"Then it it settled," He boomed, "If you can defeat at least one, you may be allowed to continue with your training. Everyone is dismissed," The king commanded everyone to leave before further questions could be asked.
Fight the brother's to continue training? Who was that hag? He surely wasn't a warrior by the side of that walking stick he calls a sceptre. That bumbling babbling baboon.
That night you slept with a irritated mind. No tears, just rage. The kind that had the determination to prove to the king who was the better fighter. He could not tell you what to do. And you would show him. You would show Loki.
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