Loki Laufeyson One Shots

An Unexpected Proposal (1)

Afternoons in Asgard were my favorite. The sunlight pooling in through the gilded windowpanes, the warmth of the rays upon your skin. The way the library looked like some sort of opulent dream, cast in various hues of cerise and saffron and emerald.

It was paradise, an escape from the expectations of life as a courtier's daughter. Always under the watchful eye of my mother, avoiding insistent questions from my peers about marriage and children and power — none of which I had any decision over at that moment. And, of course, the seemingly endless amount of suitors; every single brute, rake, and creep borne of Asgard's royal court.

So hiding away in the library had been my sanctuary, my safe place; unknown to most. Well... except for the arrogant and unbelievably conceited youngest Prince.

My safe place was apparently the same as his safe place. And with that unfortunate discovery, we ran into one another more often than I would've preferred. Often enough that it was easy to presume to be planned.

It was there that I found myself curled up in my favorite couch in the rearmost corner, away from the hustle and bustle of librarians adjusting stacks, of the prying eyes of my least favorite royal.

Tea that morning had been an utter disaster; my mother and I having gotten into yet another fight over my lack of interest in any of my male peers. Her concern for my heightening age and continual rejection of any man placed in my line of sight was burgeoning, though I couldn't find it in me to give into her whims.

I wanted love, not a match based on status or power; a feat she had yet to not dismantle with sharp words and seeded disapproval.

I let out a heavy sigh and licked the tip of my finger, casting the page aside before moving onto the next.

"Ah, another dramatic day in the life of a Lady of Asgard." Cooed a provocative voice from my right. "Should I fetch you a quill so you may write poetry about your tragic existence? Or is that too much effort for someone who merely thinks they're suffering?"

A scowl crossed over my features as Loki came into view, leaning casually against a bookshelf just beside me, arms crossed over his broad chest, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Bugger off, Prince." My reply was not polite or kind, but I wasn't really in the proper headspace for his condescension today. "I'm not in the mood."

Loki was, as usual, the picture of nonchalance. His smirk only widened at the tone of my voice and obvious frustration with his presence. It was something he seemed to take great joy in whenever we happened upon one another.

His gaze roamed unabashedly, taking in my compact form, head turned away from him. He merely tsked, shaking his head as he pushed off the shelf, stalking over to take the cushion beside me.

"Just what do you think you are doing?" My jaw dropped low of my own accord as I automatically shut the book on my own hand.

"Providing a much-needed distraction." Loki purred, stretching his arms along the back of the couch like a self-satisfied cat. His fingers came dangerously close to brushing my hair. "Your sulking is ruining the ambiance of my favorite reading spot." One eyebrow arched as he glanced at my trapped palm. "Though I must say, watching you punish literature due to my arrival is... unexpectedly entertaining."

I scoffed, yanking it out from between the pages and folding the corner of the paper down instead. I normally wouldn't have defaced a novel in such a manner, but then again, most days, I wasn't in need of a bookmark due to such a brash interruption.

"What do you want, your highness?" Another rough exhale left my lips as I turned to face him.

"To see if your frown could curdle milk." Loki said cheerfully, plucking the book from my lap and examining the spine. His nose wrinkled. "Ah, mortal poetry. How... quaint." He snapped it shut with one hand. "Tell me, little stormcloud, what has soured your mood so thoroughly today?"