Out of reach • A Loki fanfiction

Chapter 1 - Hers

The Asgardian streets were never quiet, especially during weeks like these.

Another decennium of peace, meant yet another celebration. A gathering in the name of Odin, organised every hundred years by the most wealthy and rich councils of the two realms attending. A gathering, sometimes even called the 'one-month exchange', to celebrate and honour the treaty between the Asgardian and Vanir people.

But a pact of peace or not, tensions were always high whenever the two realms came together. Because Asgard and Vanaheim never became friendly towards each other, ever since the war ended, multiple millennia ago. The now deceased ruler of Vanaheim: Njord, was—according to Asgardian history books—the very root of the war. It was said he was irritable, simply short tempered. And that the ruler of Vanaheim had been pissed off, just because Asgard was prospering.

But Loki had read the books from Vanaheim too. Bought from merchants, or found underneath mountains of ancient literature. According to those, the Vanir simply asked former King Bor for passage trough the Asgardian lands, simply because the Vanir race were travellers, and could make use of the faster routes trough the golden city even more than the Asgardians could. Bor wasn't a generous person, though. And so he'd rather argue then to grand them access.

Needless to say, both sides of the story were quite contradictory. And Loki was sure both contained massive lies.

Asgardians believed King Bor's story, mostly out of pride. The Vanir most likely didn't even know there was another side to the tale, seeing the realm cut off their habits of being travellers after the war, and simply secluded themselves to what land and knowledge they already had.

Even so, it was only once every hundred years when both realms got a taste of each other. So next to some might call despite, the Asgardian streets were mostly filled out of curiosity, and maybe even adoration for the Vanir land and nature. At least enough of it to be packed with chatter, stalls, and sometimes even music.

Loki hadn't seen this decennia's guests yet, even though they had arrived this morning already. That would be his activity for the third day, when The Welcoming Dance was about to take place—a kick-off for the upcoming events. But Loki wasn't interested. He didn't know their names, or whatever his brother had rehearsed for the last couple of weeks. Because tensed political exchanges like these meant for the entirety of Asgard's council to expect that he'd be present during every single meeting. Not that he actually went. Right now he was supposed to sit in his chair around the oval table too. But Loki ignoring his 'duties' didn't mean that he was being left alone in his chambers, hence the reason why he now walked disguised along the every day civilians.

With a brown hood over his head, his signature green and gold hidden from the public eye and his face turned down, he let himself be unrecognisable as he made his way by foot trough the colorful stalls and average classed people.

He picked up an old book in one of the stalls, chewed on a juicy green apple while reading it and walked carelessly on. The sour fruit almost dripping off his chin as he was lost in the words, and lost track as to where he was going.

He had magic, true. But upholding an illusion portraying another person for as long as he was wandering, would exhaust him to the bones. Not as if he didn't gloat in the attention he would get after lowering his hood either. He liked being complemented. He liked how easy it was for him to get between a woman's sheets. He liked the way women talked about him when they didn't think he could hear. He liked the fact that his meals were being prepared just for him. And that they were brought to his chambers each and every day. But at the same time, Loki liked to be left alone.

It did Loki good to be expected to bargain for an apple, and to make his way trough the crowd like any other person.

What Loki didn't expect to go trough as a 'normal civilian', however, was that he was so disrespectfully pushed out of the way.