Cleave | Loki x Reader

• II •

▪︎ sons of odin ▪︎

1522 A.D. / 3811 Y.o.N,
Asgard

Y/n

'It is with great pleasure that we hear of your progress and your heartfelt dedication you show towards your studies on the Midgardian realm. You honour your father indeed, Y/n Luziodóttir, for his legacy appears to have found a rightful abode within this blood and these hands of yours, dear child,' Odin's words of praise offered some solace in this rather uncomfortable situation I was in. Casting a fleeting glance towards Frigga, I inclined my head subtly, signifying acknowledgement of Odin's use of the term us.
Rule number one when in the presence of the God of Gods: regard the Queen as his equal, especially in matters such as this – matters concerning my fate.
'However, whether you can truly uphold this legacy remains to be seen, a tale yet to unfold ere all our eyes for us to witness and decipher.'

Once again, the implications for my future remained elusive, but I had always been aware of the fact that every step of the way would have to be planned out delicately, carefully.

'Now my child, we have reached a juncture in our history where fate alone shall direct the subsequent steps we are to take towards an era of great prosperity for all the Nine Realms.'
I sensed a shift in Frigga's and my mother's stance as they began to appear bigger to the eye, exuding an elevated air of significance – if that was even possible.
The consciousness of some impending announcement soon to be addressed hung thickly in the air, nearly suffocating my tiny form.
'As you must certainly have been made aware by now, are you, Y/n Luziodóttir, not only hybrid but also the last of your kind. The hero-born, known to be the offspring of goddesses and the Midgardian lineage of heroes. Naught but a handful of Midgardians are bestowed with the honour of the title hero, let alone heroine, rendering your kind an insufficient yet all the more precious one – For the hero-born are fundamentally entwined with prophecies regarding the end of our days – Ragnarök.'

My mother tried to conceal her malaise, but I'd caught her palm gliding down the folds of her kyrtill – an action mirrored by my own, as I too attempted to rid it of the dampness gradually gathering there.

'There has been a prophecy nagging at the back of our existence for over half a millennium now. You might have heard of it, though unable to gather its meaning, ung kona.'
The All-Father's gaze shifted towards his wife and he extended his hand, beckoning the goddess to accompany him at his elevated position on the dais.

'When the ascent of the last of the hero-born doth transpire,
to forge a lineage mightier than any afore,
they shall unite with an heir to the throne of old; henceforth ensuring the lineage of the mightiest of kings.
For once more, the result of this union shall be the delay of Ragnarök,' the Queen's voice resonated through the room carrying the words of the great prophecy.

'Hence, you, my child,' she stepped closer, bridging the gap between her radiant presence and mine by placing her hand – gleaming with raw, unbridled power – upon my cheek, 'play a vital part in the preservation of our race.
'Are you aware of what this union entails, hrein stelpa?' Her tone had softened and I felt as though she was addressing me alone. In a way, it gave me comfort, knowing she wished for me to fully comprehend what was expected of me.
Though Odin had made use of the term child in an exceeding frequency throughout the day, it was not a child he truly addressed, but rather the hero-born bound to safeguard his prosperous future.

'I must be wed to a son of Odin.'
'Indeed, my dear, but you must also bear his children, grant him an heir. Do you understand that as well, Y/n?'
'I do.'
I did not. Of course, I did not.