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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 4 months

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“A Strange Little World”- Loki x Reader

As the walls of duty and destiny close in around you and your secret lover, Loki proposes that you wash your hands of it all and start your own palace of dreams out in the realms.

Pairing: Loki x Asgardian!F!Reader Content Warning: sexism, forced marriage, military conscription, Odin is a massive c**t, some lusty thoughts, mostly longing and comfort fluff Word Count: 5.1k

You liked to ‘play house’ with Loki, but it didn’t mean the same thing to you that it would to other couples.

Whereas the mere mention of the game for most would conjure images of naughty romping and playacting in the buff, for two good little citizens of Asgard’s elite, it was a bit more literal than that for you.

Your lives were already so chaotic, with expectations raining down upon you like hot stones, forcing you to duck one way and leap another every waking second. Loki, as a prince of the realm, was moved around by his family and tutors like a pawn on a chessboard. He was kept constantly on his feet with everything from physical training to seidr sessions, diplomacy lessons, holding court, touring the front lines, etc. Odin had even begun to parade possible brides before his second son, evidently refusing to accept your rank as worthy of the royal family.

For your part, you were also being tossed about the whipping winds of life as a courtier. Finishing school had been rough enough, but your quest to join the Valkyries had only just borne fruit. Alas, this was against your father’s wishes to marry you off instead. Your days were spent doing everything in your power to convince your family to release you from a marriage contract made to a distant cousin years ago in order to join the elite team of fighters.

Not to mention, Odin considered Valkyries to be worthy of a prince’s hand.

What you never understood was how Odin, in his supposedly infinity wisdom, couldn’t foresee that allowing two youths to run around as playmates in childhood could possibly lead to a romance as adulthood took hold. As children, you and Loki joked about what you would name your own sons and daughters. When you both began to realize the jokes were turning into sincere wishes for your future, it all changed forever. Odin began eyeing you with suspicion and disdain where he once smiled with fatherly affection. He’d outright rejected your suit when Loki brought it to proposal.

Once it became all but apparent that your affectionate interludes with Prince Loki were temporary at best, you refused to give in to it. Instead, you began meeting in secret, which was easier than imagined for a Prince and his muse, for behind the armoire in his bedchamber was a hidden door, which led to a small winding staircase. The hidden passage led to a cozy sitting room with only a few chairs, a table, and a fainting sofa over by the window. The room was trimmed in gold, the walls a faded, light green. Perhaps once it had been used for the same purpose it now was, but for one of Loki’s own ancestors (you only hoped they approved of you more than the Allfather did).

Nothing brought you or your princely lover more joy than to sit in his private parlor and regale one another about your stressful days bowing to the whims of the Allfather’s court. Thus, like a married pair, you chose to sneak away after supper each night to Loki’s chamber to have dessert and tea, and to pretend that the hard, demanding world outside his window wasn’t there, perhaps dissolved away in an after-storm fog. Perhaps his sitting room was flying through the clouds, up, up, and away from Asgard…

The lovemaking was always sublime, but even at your quietest, sipping tea and sharing a slice of pastry, you were in paradise as long as he was beside you. You hung on Loki’s every word, no matter what he was describing or how well you understood it. In return, he smiled and took your hand whenever you expressed your own fears for your future.

“Like a husband and wife,” Loki had tenderly whispered once, a grateful smile unrolling like a banner across his lips. “I cannot tell anyone else what I express to you every night with perfect ease.”

You and Loki did what no one else in any of the nine realms bothered to do: you listened to one another. Loki wove a tapestry of emotion, conflict, and dreams whenever he spoke. Even describing the most mundane of daily activities was like listening to a sonnet. He observed the world differently from most people. His mind was beautiful (as was the rest of him). If only his wonderful thoughts weren’t wasted on unreceptive ears like the King’s.

Additionally, it was obvious that he found your own rambling monologue like the preface to a grand story in which he just had to immerse himself. Whether you were bemoaning your betrothal plans or how itchy your ceremonial robes were, he drank in your every word like a rich, intoxicating wine.

However, not every night was for unloading your troubles. Some nights, like the one you presently found yourself in, were for fantasy. You and Loki had just finished making love in his bed, and now you were wrapped only in his bedsheets and sitting in his secret room, waiting for dessert to be delivered. Loki had only covered his lap for the sake of the servant when he came with tea.

“Did you take the contraceptive I sent?” he asked once the servant left.

“Of course,” you replied, sighing to yourself. “I always do.” Of course precautions would be necessary if you were to continue sleeping with the Prince, but it sometimes drove home a fact that gave you great sorrow: one day soon, someone would be proudly carrying Loki’s heirs, and it wouldn’t be you.

He sat back in his chair and spread his legs apart, rendering the small lap blanket he’d halfheartedly covered himself with entirely useless. He looked out the window into the fading summer light with a dreamy gaze in his eye. “I’ve been thinking, and I don't like Henrik for a boy after all.”

You rolled your eyes and reached for the teapot, at least until Loki instantly sat up in order to get to it and pour your cup before you could do it yourself. “Thank you,” you said softly, taking a sip of the hot, floral tea, letting its mellow aroma settle your nerves for a moment before adding your thoughts. “And I told you before I won’t EVER allow a child of mine to be named…ergh…Henrik.”

Loki gave a hearty chortle as he reached for a handful of candied pecans from a small bowl. “Too common for my Princess’ babe, is it?”

“Too common for a stable raker,” you retorted. After a moment of silence, you added, “Out of curiosity, do you have anything better in mind?”

“There are hundreds of names worthy of a child of the royal family,” answered Loki, popping two nuts into his mouth and taking a moment to chew and swallow them before carrying on. “However, there are far fewer names worthy of a child of ours.”

You wanted to move forward with your scenario, naming your offspring, planning your household, raising your future higher than it could ever be in truth. However, you had something you needed to tell him now, before anything got too difficult for you to say.

“My father has summoned Birger for the official betrothal,” you blurted out, causing Loki to startle and put down his tea cup with a little too much force. “He says he shall arrive tomorrow.”

He scoffed, leaning back again in clear disapproval. “Does your dear father know that marrying one’s cousin is nothing short of repulsive?”

“You know he is of the old ways, he knows most disapprove of his plans,” you said sadly, looking at your reflection in the cup before you, a single tear falling suddenly from your eye and landing in the middle of the brown liquid. “But that still doesn’t save me from it!”

Loki grunted like a frustrated boy, biting his lip to keep from letting the entirety of his unflattering judgements loose on you. He was still your father, after all, and Asgardian custom always demanded respect from one’s children. But something was occurring to him: an idea slowly coming into focus behind his eyes.

You’d expected him to say something by now. “Loki? Darling? What is it?”

“It suddenly makes sense,” he answered, leaning over the table and extending his arms out to you, open-palmed hands asking for yours. “My dear, I’m afraid they’re plotting deliberately against us, your father and mine both.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, gasping with surprise as you folded your hands into his from the other side of the table.

“Odin informed me over breakfast today that I am to serve my military conscription, beginning four days hence.”

“No!” you nearly shouted. “Please at least say he’s sending you to Vanaheim or Alfheim--”

“--regrettably, Thor and I are both being shipped like common rats off to Svartalfheim. There’s rustling in the air of an invasion.” The bitterness in his voice was unmistakable.

For you, the tears came more freely now. “But it’s dangerous there! You could die on the front against the Dark Elves!”

Loki shrugged. “Even Odin wouldn’t sacrifice his sons so thoughtlessly. We will be fighting from the tents, my darling, please believe me.”

“So, the King is sending you away to fight at the same time I am to be formally engaged,” you realized. “Tearing us apart forever.”

Loki squeezed your hand as his skin turned cool. “A mandatory conscription is for ten moon cycles,” he reminded you. “You will be wed by the time I return.”

“And you can’t get out of your duty?” you asked frantically. “You’re a Prince! Use your privilege to revoke it!”

He shook his head and brought your right hand to his lips, where he placed a sweet, tender, sad kiss on your fingers. “Desertion is death, even for one such as I.”

“Then what are we to do?”

He shrugged, at a loss as much as you were. “I have no idea, I’m afraid.”

After a moment’s awkward pause as you contemplated your dilemma, Loki added, “And your cotillion, which I presume your father will hold with all the appropriate pomp?”

“The day after tomorrow.”

Loki looked over his shoulder, toward the setting sun in the window, which cast orange beams of light about the room behind your heads, giving the room a peaceful glow as night set in. “Truly, I thought Thor would have at least had his engagement gala by now with Sif. Meanwhile, I’d only imagined my own with you.”

You bit on your lower lip to keep it from trembling.

“However,” he went on, running his thumb casually over your knuckles, “I can imagine they are a rather dull affair. After all, every debutante ball I’ve been dragged by the ankles to witness has had the energy and excitement of an execution. A betrothal ceremony and celebration can hardly be better, can it?”

“As if that sentiment helps how I feel,” you mumbled.

You tore your hands from Loki’s grip, getting up from the chair and going over to the window, your back to Loki. After a moment, you sensed him moving in behind you before wrapping his arms around your belly, swinging you softly back and forth.

“You know it’s a crime to turn your back on your sovereign, Princess,” he said, his deep, gentle tone mismatching his words.

“Sadly, you aren’t my sovereign. Odin is,” you whispered, barely audible even to him. “And it seems to me that he has us like flies on his web.”

Loki’s mind was floating away the more he touched your warm body. “How lovely the sunset is tonight, chasing the fog away. Wouldn’t it be divine to walk down to the orchards on the edge of the city to watch it from the rolling knolls?”

You smiled and closed your eyes, losing yourself in fantasy. “I can almost hear Juni and Vali giggling and running around one of the fruit trees. Vali always tries to steal a lemon to throw around at her, the rascal!”

A moment of silence. “Juni?”

You turned your head, jerked out of your luxurious inner tableau. “Yes, Juni.”

“Vali is considerable,” Loki admitted, “But Juni? Is our daughter a cat?”

You giggled as Loki’s silly ramble reached a climax. “Can you see her debut? ’Now announcing to the court and the Nine Realms…Her Royal Highness, Princess Juni of Asgard?!’” His mock horror nearly brought you to your knees in laughter. “I’d sooner name her Thora.”

You turned around, facing your Loki and slowly cupping his cheek with a gentle hand. “Maybe we should stop this. It doesn’t matter now, does it? Juni will never be. Nor will Vali or any other of our ghost-children.”

“Ghosts are dead,” Loki stopped you, leaning into your cheek and shutting his eyes. “Our children are merely yet-to-be.”

“Never to be,” you corrected him, leaving the pair of you in depressed silence for minutes until he broke it with a kiss and a sigh.

“I should leave you,” you said, your eyes flooding with hot tears again. “Maybe it will be better if we never see each other again.”

He looked hurt by your decision, even frightened. “I can’t do that. I want to spend our last hours together in your arms and weaving our false hopes together in this strange little world we’ve made together.”

“Tell that to your father, and mine,” you snapped back, turning away again, not wanting for him to see you break down entirely. “It would make the separation even more difficult for us if we don’t just ignore one another until you leave for the front lines.”

After yet another uncomfortable pause, you felt Loki put a hand on your shoulder. It felt cold.

“Perhaps so,” he finally agreed. “But if you ever need me, I’ll come to you before your heart beats again.”

With nothing to say that wasn’t an outpouring of pleas and love, you quickly abandoned him in his secret closet, crestfallen and lonely once more. You didn’t make it back to your rooms in the palace, needing to hide behind a statue of Allfather Bor to hide your sobs.

Your father, Njord, was descended from one of the lesser branches of the Asgardian elite families. No royal blood to speak of flowed through your veins, but just enough nobility to warrant membership of the highest social class, and some degree of access to the court and King.

There was also just enough prestige in your lineage to call for a formal debutante ball when you reached majority, as well as a formal engagement cotillion to acknowledge the arrival of your bridegroom, complete with a banquet barge that spent the day floating carelessly in circles around the palace moat.

Njord, social climber he was, spared no expense for the revelries in order to show off the little status he held, going so far as to dare to extend an invitation to the royal family themselves. The barge was decked in your family colors: sapphire blue and silver, in the form of perhaps a few too many banners and garlands. You thought the decorations were so many that the yacht could sink under the added weight.

You were arrayed in the finest sapphire silk your parents could find, which, as it turned out, was merely a gown borrowed from a relative who’d never worn it. Still, between the soft, clingy fabric and the shimmering silver family crest hanging at your throat, you were a radiant sight.

Traditionally, the barge made three laps around the palace without the bridegroom on board. On the third go-around, he would embark and make a presentation before you and your parents, after which the boat would continue circling all afternoon as everyone aboard flooded their minds with wine. Those first three laps took nearly an hour to complete, and each second that passed, each inch that was sailed, you grew more and more nauseated.

You may as well have jumped into the water. You were already drowning in a sea of insincerity, lost in waves of mindless chatter about dish patterns. Meanwhile, your soul floated above your head, looking for Loki in each window of the castle, wondering which room he sulked in. Was he watching as your yacht floated by? Was he trying to get a good look at you in your dress? Or did he turn away and flinch as you rode past?

Birger and his mother, a widow with a perpetually-puckered lip, boarded without incident as the barge made a temporary berth at the palace gate. He was dressed in matching color to yours, his shiny blonde hair swept back into a bun, a gold chain obscured by a few to many ruffles at the neck. He was handsome, but his big brown eyes looked somewhat vacant, as if he was only partially aware of his surroundings. Or perhaps, he was looking for you.

Led along a red carpet, Birger and his sour-faced mother bowed at the waist before you and your parents, beginning the formal engagement ceremony,

“My father-to-be,” mumbled the hapless groom, “I am here to present myself as a suitor for--”

Trumpets sounded suddenly from within the palace in the musical chord that always announced the approach of the Allfather. It was so well-known that everyone turned and bowed at the knee in reflex, aside from yourself and Birger, who was still standing dumbfoundedly in front of you.

“It can’t be!” exclaimed Njord excitedly. “Y/N! Bow! The Allfather is here!”

Odin sauntered regally to the barge with his usual entourage following adoringly behind. The King was flanked on each side by his sons. Thor wore his usual light armor and red cape, looking as dashing and prideful as he ever was.

Loki, of course, had dressed himself as formally as possible, wearing every piece of princely insignia he owned, flaunting his rank like a peacock’s tail. His dark green jacket was buttoned to the chin and had nary a wrinkle. He’d braided his hair in a rope down the back of his neck, a style he knew all too well that you adored. Over his chest laid a gold sash tied at the hip, and around his legs were black trousers lined at the hem with gold trim. He even wore the tiny gold earring studs you once gifted him with for Jol.

You wanted him. You needed him. And he knew this ceremonial outfit of his drove you wild.

You scoundrel, you thought to yourself, your eyes unable to detach from his image as he drew closer.

“Lord Njord of the Westlands,” Odin called out, his booming voice going against what would otherwise have been expected from his old man’s frame, “I greet you in jubilation at the engagement of your only daughter, and my sons and I hope to join you in your revelries this afternoon!”

Njord looked about to urinate. “I…ugh….YES YOUR HIGHN--”

“--we greet you most humbly and invite you to our feast!” interrupted your mother, much more calm. “We are honored by your attention, Allfather!”

“Then let the festivities continue!” Odin declared with joviality. A cheer rang up from everyone aside from yourself, your intended, and your soul mate. You and Loki were tense and sorrowful. Birger was nervous now that his presentation would be witnessed by the most powerful man in the Nine.

The royal procession moved onto the barge, and once the boat sailed once more, Birger was invited to continue his formal proposal. He had come with a poem of his own creation: a simple, four-lined stanza about marriage that didn’t even rhyme. Afterward, he took out a lyre and began stroking out a painfully simple song that was traditionally taught to children as a first assignment at a music lesson. Loki was cringing from the stern of the boat, near a door that led down into the hull. You tried hard to stifle a giggle, and the urge to reject the man right out only grew as the insipid ballad went into third and fourth reprises.

You were so distracted that Njord had to recite your line for you after the presentation was (finally!) finished: “My daughter accepts your suit, and four cycles hence, you will wed before the Allfather and share in your joys and sorrows until the end of time.”

Your sadness reached an apex when you realized that not only would Loki be away for ten cycles, but with your wedding so soon, you could be well into a pregnancy by the time he returned, and what image would that be with which to greet your soul mate?

Another cheer rang up, but your nausea was making your face turn hot, and you only had a moment to absorb the event before the world turned to watercolor before you, and you sank to your knees. In your stupor, you could hear a few gasps, your mother calling your name, and a few scuttling feet.

Taking off like a shot, Loki got to you first in spite of the distance between you, using his godlike speed to ensure that he would be the one scooping you up instead of your fiance.

No matter, he was still standing on the red carpet, dumbfounded, a string having snapped on his lyre.

Loki ran with you into the hull, slamming the door behind him and seeking out anything on which to lay you down. He came across a cushioned bench under a porthole, and as soon as he set you down, you came back, smiling at the view of his face.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I didn’t eat this morning out of nerves.”

“Understandable, Princess,” Loki muttered sweetly, taking your hand in both of his, closing them around yours as if they held a precious jewel inside that needed to be protected. “You should know that this was all Odin’s doing. He’s trying to motivate me to turn my back on you by bringing me here.”

“I thought so.”

He went on. “Yesterday, he tried to tell me that you were excitedly preparing for your wifely duties with your…cousin. When I didn’t believe him, he forced Thor and I to attend the party today, as if rubbing my nose in your engagement would rend my love from me!”

Loki leaned down to kiss your forehead. “Do you need water, love?”

You nodded, even as the haze around your vision faded and your senses returned.

“Have another fetch it then, and leave us.”

Odin’s darker, authoritative voice was enough to force Loki to stand at attention, conditioned to do so from the first day he toddled upright. He’d followed you below decks.

Loki looked at you with concern, but you replied by stubbornly shaking off his offered arm as you got to your feet. “It’s okay, love,” you said to Loki. “I presume the Allfather wishes to personally congratulate me on my engagement.”

“Indeed, and to see to your health, of course,” Odin replied with a frown, looking expectantly at Loki again. This time, upon hearing your release, Loki defiantly kissed your brow again before looking his father in the face, brushing past him angrily to go upstairs.

After he was certain that Loki was gone, Odin turned back to you. You did give him a small curtsy. “I am glad to see you on your feet again,” remarked Odin. “Tis a pity to see a bride fall ill at her own cotillion.”

You didn’t answer him with words, instead refusing to look him in the eye deliberately.

Odin went on. “Of course, it is the proper course of action for you to move forward with the marriage, and I am glad to see you obeying your call to be a wife.”

Again, you refused him a reply, shifting your feet uncomfortably, wishing Loki would return with water for you.

“You would have made a poor valkyrie,” he continued, musing as if it weren’t an insult but a mere fact, “You lack the discipline and swiftness. I’m unsure why Brunnhilde accepted your bid at all. Perhaps it was a kindness.”

“Because she knew after I was inducted, you’d have no further excuse to refuse my suit,” you finally replied. “She and I are friends enough that she knows my heart.”

“I am the King of Asgard, I need no excuse to refuse any suitors who wish to taint my son’s lineage with their common blood!”

You shrunk back a little, genuinely hurt.

“You will both come to realize in time that I am only doing what is right. Your cousin is a suitable husband. Perhaps if you agree to end this silly affair with my son, I will double the worth of your wedding gift in gratitude.”

You scoffed and ignored the bribe. “So tainting Loki’s lineage with my blood is a mortal sin, yet tainting my own with incest is not a crime?” you asked incredulously. “My King, your logic repulses me. Please execute me instead.”

Odin didn’t seem to expect this. “Well, being so rash would hardly be appropriate here.”

You nodded, rolling your eyes and completely losing your decorum. “I should have known a creature with no heart wouldn’t understand!”

In the heat of the moment, you put your life on the line to brush past Odin, turning your back on him and immediately running back into the open air.

Loki was not far from you, but you didn’t move toward him, instead running to the ship’s railing and looking over the side. The moat wasn’t particularly deep, but no one, not even your father, knew you could swim.

Maybe, I could--

Turning back to Loki, running toward you full-tilt, you winked at him before leaping over the railing in one move. Your sapphire silk flew up behind you like a banner as you dove headfirst into the moat, swimming around the bend and out of sight.

You didn’t hear the splash from behind as Loki executed a perfect swan-dive in after you.

Moving quickly, you were able to find a small portion of the moat’s edge where you could hoist your body onto the side without climbing. By then, the barge was on the other side of the palace and wouldn’t be due to double back for nearly an hour.

Still, you could hear the chaotic shouts for you calling out from behind, and you quickly snuck behind a bush in order to wring out your soaked dress. You didn’t want to wait too long, and you were able to sneak your way out of town without being noticed or taken for anyone other than a soaking-wet maid in a ruined ceremonial dress dashing toward the beach.

The shores of Asgard were littered with waterfalls that poured out into the open sea. You hid behind one, tucked in a small cavern in the rock, waiting for Loki to come to you. There, no one else would find you and drag you home. However, you’d been here with Loki before. He knew the significance of the spot. He only needed to bide his time until he could slip away from Odin’s attention.

Father will whip me for hours for this, and then move up the wedding to tomorrow, you thought woefully.

The sun began its afternoon descent, and while you could occasionally hear guards and search parties calling out from the sandy shore, no one thought to look behind any of the cascades for you, and by teatime, it sounded like they’d given up or moved on. You were beginning to get cold, wondering if you would have to find a room in an inn for the night. Hopefully, no one would recognize you…

Fortunately, when the faint green glow of seidr began to split the falls open from the middle outward, just before the sun dipped below the horizon, you knew Loki had found you, and just in time.

There he stood, about ten feet below you on the shore giving you a dry spot to climb down the cliffside. He held a horse’s reins in his free hand, and the huge white stallion he had in his captivity was saddled and antsy to run.

“I’m sorry I’m late,” he apologized as you fell into his arms. “I swam after you, but you try getting past an entire city of people when you're Prince. Plus, I had a few things to gather for our ride.”

“Ride?” you asked, wiping away a tear with your closed fist awkwardly.

He nodded with a wink and a sneaky grin that was laced with excitement. “I think after today, we’ve both had enough of this nonsense, haven’t you?”

You smiled and stepped up to pet the beautiful creature on the snout. It leaned into your hand with a gentle exhale, indicating his contentment.

“Indeed.”

He helped you onto the horse, and then took his place in front of you at the reins. You’d never ridden before, and so you wrapped your arms tightly around Loki’s waist, which made him chuckle.

“Normally, I would protest that this was too tight a grip. However, it being you…you may hold me even closer if you can manage it.”

At first, you maintained a death-grip on him as you began riding off along the beach, away from the palace. Quickly, however, your trust of Loki and relief that you were putting distance between yourself and your intended gave you confidence, and only after a few minutes, you began to relax.

“Loki, when will we return to Asgard? Tomorrow?”

He brought your hand up to his lips, where he took a moment to kiss every finger. Each touch of his soft lips against your skin sent tiny bolts of lightning up your arm and down your spine.

“I was thinking, perhaps, my sweet Princess, that we would never return to Asgard. Let us find a new plot of land and make ourselves the King and Queen of it!”

“But your conscription!” you protested. “You cannot submit yourself to the axe on my account.”

“I won’t,” he insisted. “My projection will, however, be most glad to lose his head on our behalf.”

You rode vigorously along the coastline for a few miles until the sun was setting over the watery horizon, when you slowed to a trot, convinced that you weren’t being pursued by Odin or your father and Birger. Asgard itself was no longer visible behind you, and only the faint glow of the city’s hazy aura polluting the indigo sky indicated its continued existence.

“Loki, my love?”

“Yes, Princess?” he cooed back, squeezing your hand affectionately before returning it to the reigns.

There was nothing but the beach and sky before you for as far as you could see. “Do you…do you know where we’re going?”

A brief pause. You couldn’t see it from behind him on the saddle, but you knew Loki was grinning.

“Of course not, my dear. But isn’t that the best part of all?”

I'm back and revitalized (and married)! :D I hope you enjoyed my little return fic! HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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