Pompous Fool

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Summary: Adora readies herself for the feast, while Loki anxiously waits for her to arrive.

Summary: Adora readies herself for the feast, while Loki anxiously waits for her to arrive

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Adora's father kissed her temple before he left the room, heading back to his own chambers to prepare for the feast while she put Milja down to sleep. She sat on the child's bed for a few moments, watching her sweet face relax and soften as she fell into slumber.

I hope I'm making the right choice, she thought to herself. Norns, she really hoped she was.

The plan to come all the way to Asgard, to secure an alliance with a realm that had been bullying and brutalizing her own for centuries, had been a calculated one. Adora had spent many hours contemplating every end scenario for a situation such as this, and few turned out well save for the childish notion that everything would work out like an old fairytale.

The sweet princess falls for the dark prince, and he catches her before she hits the pavement. It was quite stupid to hope for such things, but the small part of her mother and sisters that still lived on inside Adora prayed for this to be true. The pragmatist, the cynicism of her father that steered her ship through the rocky shoreline since their deaths, told her if she fell for such a man, he would kill her some way or another.

To marry a prince she hardly knew, and heard the most awful rumors about, was a risk Adora was terrified of, but willing to take. She had a responsibility, to her child and the children of her realm, to secure safety and health in their namesake.

While Odin was and had always been a conqueror, she knew him to be a fair ruler to his realm. If a deal was worth making, Odin would snatch it up for himself. Though she was tainted goods, it seemed Adora was the prize the Allfather wanted to reign in the black spot that was Loki Odinson.

They would legitimize one another, solidifying an alliance that would end a war neither side had ever wanted. The Vanaheim crusaders were rising in the East, bringing their racist tirade into Alfheim and Asgard alike, and they would need one another to defeat them.

I hope I'm making the right choice.

Adora brushed some of Milja's hair back from her face, those same curls that bounced about her own head. They were a gift from her mother, Ismene, as were their high cheekbones and copper skin. Where her mother and sisters had had the violet eyes of the Fae, Adora and Milja shared the rich browns of her father's, though theirs were not dead in their sockets like King Wylen's.

Adora was grateful. Those brown eyes would keep her safe.

She left her child behind, shutting the door behind her. Milja's guard Jeryl stood at attention outside while her nanny Fryla read from a book on the seat across from them. Adora thanked them for their services, as she usually did, then made her way back into the dressing rooms to prepare for the feast.

Meandering about the room for a bit, Adora took in the halls that would be her home for the next two weeks. After that time had passed, she would move to her bridal suite with Loki, and things would change forever. She wanted to enjoy her time as a guest in Asgard before it became her cage.

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