A Golden Cage (Loki x OC)

Part 1

The halls of Asgard were full of nobles whispering, and slaves shuffling about, hurriedly finishing the day's preparations. Laetherea on the other hand made no sound at all. Her bare feet silently walked the corridors, enjoying the cool contact of cold marble and the softness of her dress brushing against her legs. Her eyes scanned her surroundings as though she hadn't been walking these same halls for centuries, marveling at each tapestry and ornate vase. If she hadn't been so acutely aware of being scrutinized she might have reached out to let her fingers brush against the intricate stonework of the pillars lining the walls.

But she didn't. With each step that brought her closer to the Great Hall, Laetherea felt the servants staring at her with increasing boldness. Though if she returned the stare they would immediately look down and resume their task without a word. It seemed that if Laetherea didn't inspire them any admiration for rising above her condition the way she did, they at least had the decency to show her the respect due to her position.

She scoffed and walked away, chin up. There was nothing she could do to change their minds, she had given up long ago. They liked ganging up against her, it gave them something to do, something to help them forget that they were servants for a while. So she let them. Laetherea had better things to think of, she wouldn't let anyone's envy ruin her mood, especially not today for she had waited this day a long time.

"Loki," she whispered, despite herself.

A young girl carrying a tray of mead cups looked at her as she walked by, startled to hear her speak. She was too young to have known Laetherea when she was still a servant too, and held no visible enmity toward her.

"Come here," Laetherea called the girl, gesturing her closer. Visibly confused and intimidated, the girl hesitated a second before obeying and hurried over. Laetherea merely smiled and grabbed a cup of mead, quickly downing it and setting it back on the tray. Under the girl's puzzled gaze, the cup refilled on its own. "What is your name?"

"U-Ulleah," she stammered with a blush on her cheeks. Laetherea's hand rose and pushed back a stray strand of her hair, making Ulleah tense.

"Go, Ulleah," she told her gently. "The festivities are about to begin."

She was gone before Laetherea had finished speaking, leaving her with a lingering smile on her face. It felt good to be back. Now the halls were almost empty, all servants at their place, all nobles waiting in the Great Hall. Laetherea stood still in front of the closed double doors and breathed calmly in an attempt to convince herself that this would go well. With trembling hands she smoothed over her green velvet dress. It felt heavy but the warm, reassuring contact felt like a shield against people's prying eyes. She had chosen the garment carefully for her first public appearance in ages.

It was rather plain but elegant enough. Baring her shoulders but covering her arms, it ended in golden cuffs around her wrists. A similar jewel ensnared her waist, and two slits going from her belt down to the floor showed Laetherea's alabaster skin. First her hips, then her long legs, down to her gold-cuffed ankles. No unnecessary adornments, no trace of vanity or wealth other than the quality of the fabric. The noble ladies of Asgard scrunched up their noses when they saw her provocative garments, a testimony to her position in their society.

Laetherea laughed in their faces, repeating to herself, like a mantra, that answering their distasteful comments or looks was beneath her. Let them be hateful.

"The doors will remain closed during the festivities ma'am," a polite yet sharp voice told her, snapping Laetherea out of her thoughts.

It was a guard, waiting for her to step inside with a hand on the door. She nodded in silence and walked in. The shining hall was filled to the brim with people, the common folk standing near the door and slowly giving way to Asgardians of higher status until finally there was the throne – Odin sat still and stern, his shaft in his hand and his eyes darted on the huge doors of the palace. Next to him was Queen Frigga, occupying a much less grand but masterfully crafted chair, and behind them stood the best of the best, the close circle to the royal family, the most privileged beings in the universe. That's where Laetherea was to stand, though she knew several people would have objected to that if they had a saying in it.