Cleave | Loki x Reader

• VII •

▪︎ mirror, mirror ▪︎

1788, Asgard

Loki

Sif. The Lady Sif. You might have heard of her. As far as I am aware of, Midgardians know her as Thor's wife. Unfortunately, it has fallen upon me to disappoint the believers out there, for she is not. I wish she were, believe me.
But once again, I digress.
Let me start by telling you that Sif had been the only girl apart from Y/n truly worthy of the shield maiden title. No other wielded a sword quite as elegantly, and not one possessed a more glorious mane of hair shining as golden as the sun. From the moment on Sif had first set foot into our halls, she had been the centre of attention. Y/n, initially, thrown off by her, - undeniably so - began to enjoy the shift in attention at one point. Although they eventually grew fond of one other, in the way her posture never quite relaxed, I would still detect Y/n's unease whenever the three of us were in the company of Sif.

Apart from her duties as a shield maiden, Y/n hardly ever spent time with other girls. Just as to Thor and Yours Truly, was it Y/n denied to possess any actual choice in deciding with whom to best accompany herself with. She was to become the saviour of our whole race, and the most important girl in all the Nine Realms - in better terms: she was to content herself with the likes of us. Princes and all the petty little spawn of the elite.

Sif had been one of the few Æsir girls our age, and was privately being tutored by her father for most of her life, and even though she soon became the fourth, and only female, member of the self-proclaimed Warriors Three did she enjoy spending her free moments with dear Prince Thor (and whoever happened to be with him already - which most days would mean Y/n and Yours Truly. Little to no time had passed from that moment on to when I first thought myself to have caught a glimpse of - for the lack of a better word - something in my brother's eyes whenever they settled on the Lady Sif.
Initially, I'd believed he was merely contemplating whether his own golden locks were suddenly being threatened and whether he ought to consider washing them more frequently. However, over time, his pupils had begun to resemble little black heart-shaped dots every time his gaze grazed her.
The way I see it, this quite plainly called for mischief.

About a week or so earlier, the Mirror of Mycha had come up in one of our lectures on Asgardian Relics and Where to Find Them. The Mirror is an enchanted object capable of causing the person gazing into it to fall in love with the one holding it. Perhaps Lady Edda ought not to have disclosed to us its current location in her lecture.
That same day, I waited patiently for the guards at the Vault to change shifts - just for safety - and swiftly make my way into the vault by casting a cloaking spell to shield me from their watchful eyes. Odin's Vault used to be vast and gigantic when I was no taller than my father's hip, but on this particular visit, the walls and ceiling felt like they were caging me in. The room no longer appeared as wonderous and full of glory; instead, I was instantly beset with unease. Quick, I lunged for the mirror, and in an instant, gone was I.
The veiled mirror in hand, I sprinted down the corridors, heading for the courtyard where I knew I would find Thor, Y/n, and Sif. I nearly bumped into Thor and, as a result, dropped the mirror when he caught it just in time, then offering his help to carry it.
'And you don't even plan to inquire about what it is I'm, most suspiciously, carrying through the halls? If it's perhaps some part of my next grand scheme, no?'
'No, Loki. You see, somehow I'm convinced that the Norns are finally on my side when it comes to your mischief-making, brother,' he replied casually. 'So if you indeed plan something sinister, then perhaps you ought to reconsider your choice of day.'

Pah! Sure, brother, you wish, I thought.
Just before he could exit the halls and step into the courtyard, I hastened to say, 'You can give that back to me now, thank you,' snatched the mirror from his meaty hands and added, 'Oh, and would you please be a dear and tell Sif Odin sent for the both of us to deliver him this mirror? I'll be here, waiting for her.'
An acknowledging grunt was what I got out of him in turn. Not long after, Sif entered the main hall, yet to my horror, Thor was trailing behind her like a petty dog. Such a good boy.
'Odin asked for me?'
'Yes, uhm—' I trailed off. I couldn't possibly unveil the mirror with Thor present. How could I get this damned oaf to leave? Before I was able to say even anything at all, Thor had snatched the mirror from my hands in a single swift motion, leading the veil to slip off and fall noiselessly onto the marbles.
'What is so special about that mirror that the two of you must carry it to father together?'
'No, Thor wait!' My plan was about to take a drastic turn for the worse. Neither Thor's jealousy - nor Y/n's, for that matter - would be triggered if Sif were to fall in love with Thor, and not me! Had Thor been right? Could it be; were the Norns about to throw a wrench in the works of my absolutely glorious scheme?
'Loki? Thor? Are you in here? I didn't know where you had gone to so I— Oh ... Thor, I uhm—'
No, no, no, no, no, I cried out - yet inside the sacred doors of my mind, not into the palace halls. Aside from a million and one different curses, my cries were doing quick work of fogging my mind in deafening waves of unspoken sound. Y/n was gazing deeply into the mirror. By the way she failed to meet the eye of the blonde-haired oaf holding the mirror, I knew my plan had disastrously backfired.