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1860, Asgard

Loki

Of course Y/n hadn't died that night in Jennia. Where would this story be going if she had? No, she is far too fierce, far too blessed by the Norns. And most of all, far too fated for greatness.
So naturally, the blame was to be all mine.
With the tiny fleck of seiðr the night had restored in me I had managed to teleport us to the edge of the desert, where I was immediately dealt the first blow. On the black steed that answered to my call - not Sleipnir, for that matter - I found a letter attached to its mane. In my mind I was already preparing for the worst as I was breaking the waxen royal crest.

Loki,
I sensed the return of your seiðr to Asgard. (my mother and her weird heightened senses)
The entirety of our city mourns, believing you and Y/n to have perished in the treachery of the bitter deserts' night! Bless the Norns, you alive and well my son! Yet still, I fail to discern Y/n's force anywhere near.
Dearest, should any harm befall Y/n... even I shall be powerless to keep you from his wrath.
Alas, I am ever mindful of your abilities, your gifts, and harbor nothing but utmost faith in them. Thus, I hold fast to the belief that Y/n remains with us, and that if in your care, she is the safest she may ever be.

Do prepare for your return home, dear.

With all my affection,
Your Mother

Great, that. As you might have guessed by now, I tried my utmost to wake Y/n from her unconscious state before we arrived at Asgard's gates. But for the hundredth time that day, the Norns were far from in my favour. Holding her upright and steady in my arms as we galloped our way into Asgard, I cried out for a healer the second hooves clanked on city soil. Numerous people came rushing by, though I refused to give her from my arms if not for a palace guard. One came, soon the next. Behind them, I caught sight of the familiar bulky frame of my brother's. Hair ruffled and clearly agitated, Thor took Y/n from the arms of the first guard. Then he glimpsed me, but the guards were already ushering him back into the palace.
'But my brother,' I still heard him argue. What the guards told him in turn I couldn't discern, but with a worried expression plastered on his face, he nevertheless complied. I knew then that Y/n was taken care of. Safe with him. And I could finally take a proper breath again.
In a flash, folk kneeled before me, holding jugs and bowls of water to my dry lips,and immediately, I downed all of it. The desert had drained both of us severely, and I remained breathless at the gates of Asgard for almost half an hour. A different set of guards helped me to my feet eventually, escorting me to my next mission. Surviving my father.

'Neither of you should have survived this. No one has ever survived a Jennian night...'

My father has yet to grace me with a glance. Then, he turns.

'Why was your seiðr not sufficient enough to return her here before the night? Did I not instruct you to reserve it for only the direst of situations?!'

'Well, father,' I spit, the word emphasised by a drawl. 'In the desert one often finds oneself in more than just one dire situation.'

'What was it you wasted your energy on? Tell me, son!'

And just like that, it breaks out of me, 'FOR THE LOVE OF HEL, I HEALED HER! JUST AS YOU WANTED!'

For a breath there is silence, and it tempts me to believe that I have won.

'The second you needed to heal her, your duties had already been neglected. You were meant to protect her, not heal her once you've failed!' he roared, in his eyes something close to disdain.
When I was younger, I often wondered how he had conquered the Nine Realms all on his own these many centuries ago, and on days like these, his eyes granted me a glimpse into those exact times, and I wondered no more.

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