The young queen (Loki x OC)

45

As the elegant dining hall of the palace hosted the royal luncheon, the atmosphere remained far from serene. The long, ornate table was meticulously set, and at the head of it sat Ophelia, now the Queen of Jotunheim, beside her sat her mother. Seated three places away, Prince Loki was positioned next to his family.

Throughout the meal, Ophelia absentmindedly stabbed at the meat on her plate with her fork, her thoughts consumed by the recent argument with her mother and the burden of the secrets she once again had to conceal from the others.

Loki observed Ophelia closely. Her gaze seemed distant, staring into nothingness, her eyes hardened, and her lips pressed into a thin line. The cutlery in her hand slowly frosted over, and an undeniable chill crept into the atmosphere, growing colder with every passing minute. Frigga cast a worried glance toward him, and he reciprocated with an uneasy look.

As the tension mounted in the room, the frosty ambiance mirrored the internal struggles and conflicts hidden beneath the regal façade. The intricacies of royal life, laden with expectations and the weight of hidden truths, painted a complex tableau in the grand dining hall.

"Queen Ophelia," Frigga began gracefully, her voice carrying a regal tone, "I hope that, now that you have ascended the throne, our realms will find even greater unity. We would be honored to extend an invitation for you to visit Asgard. Your previous stay was undoubtedly filled with hard work, but we wish to offer you a true royal experience, fitting for a queen."

As the words hung in the air, attempting to bridge the gap between the realms, Gwendolyn, raised an eyebrow, a subtle hint of skepticism evident in her gaze.

Ophelia, trying to maintain composure despite the tumultuous emotions within her, replied, "Thank you, Queen Frigga. Your invitation is appreciated, and I will certainly consider it."

Ophelia chose silence, her gaze fixed on her plate, an emotionless mask concealing the turmoil within. Her mother, Queen Gwendolyn, observed her closely, eyes boring into her daughter's stoic facade. The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken battle raging beneath the veneer of regal composure.

Gwendolyn's scrutinizing gaze weighed heavily on Ophelia, who felt as though she teetered on the edge of an internal storm. The struggle to contain her emotions threatened to explode, but she knew that in this grand gathering of royals across the realms, she couldn't afford to reveal the discord within the Jotunheim royalty.

Ophelia sat patiently through the seemingly endless courses, her regal posture concealing the restlessness within. The clinking of cutlery and the murmur of conversation filled the hall, creating a facade of normalcy that masked the tensions simmering beneath the surface.

Loki, attentive to Ophelia's unease, maintained a supportive presence. His eyes occasionally met hers, offering reassurance in the subtle language shared between them. Frigga, too, observed the strained dynamics and exchanged concerned glances with her son.

As the last dish was served, Gwendolyn seized the opportunity to address Ophelia privately. However, before she could utter a word, Ophelia rose from her seat, the scraping of the chair echoing in the suddenly silent hall. Every gaze turned towards her as she stood, her regal poise contrasting with the turbulent emotions beneath.

"Thank you all for joining us today," Ophelia began, her voice carrying a calm yet distant tone. "Your presence truly honors us." She nodded graciously to the assembled royals.

"With your permission, I will take my leave. Please enjoy the rest of the luncheon," Ophelia concluded, a polite smile masking the storm within. She executed a graceful nod to the attendees, leaving the hall with measured steps.