The Myriad Misadventures of a Midgardian Queen-In-Training || Loki x Reader

Chapter 18

Tying your own corset might just be the dumbest idea you've had over the past six months.

You've gotten away with not wearing one for so long, you were almost convinced you were finished with it - until Lady Amara called you out on it last week. She had been surprisingly chill about the whole skipping-class-thing - Loki had been true to his word on getting you off scot-free - and you now had a twenty-something week long streak of unmissed lessons, but apparently even being on her good side wasn't enough to escape steel-boned death. But you figured, hey - if you had to wear it, might as well learn how to put on the damn thing yourself.

You tug just a little more, terrified of causing some sort of internal damage. Looking in the mirror, you're disappointed to see that your waist looks mostly the same, if a little neater. Still, you're not going to suffocate for appearance's sake, so you decide that's enough. You back up towards the bedpost, feeling behind you for the string. After pulling it, you take a few steps forward.

The strings don't loosen.

Another brush of your fingers against the thin, silky ropes is enough for you to realize that you must have pulled the wrong string, and are now tied to the bedpost by a nice, tight double knot. You try in vain to loosen it - a difficult enough task with your hands behind your back, now made impossible by your short, stubby nails. Straining forward against the laces only tightens them further.

"Hello?" You feel utterly ridiculous, yelling without response, but that's the price you pay for sending Meg away so close to dinnertime. "Hello! Help!"

Nobody answers.

Closing your eyes, you begin to call for help at the top of your lungs. "Please! Somebody, I'm - "

"There's no need to yell."

Your eyes fly open, then shut again in embarrassment. Of course, he'd be the one to hear you. "Hi, Your Majesty."

"Are you all right?"

"Um, just..." You motion to the bedpost, where the knot seems to have gotten worse. As he walks around to stand behind you, you suddenly realize how considerably little clothing you're wearing: a shift, ankle socks and (thankfully decent) underwear, breasts pushed up by the corset...although your physical proximity was much closer while you were dancing, your attire - or lack of - makes this encounter feel downright scandalous, especially by the standards set by Lady Amara and the rest of the staff.

"And how was... this accomplished?"

"Hm? Oh." You almost twist to look at him, but quickly think better of it - no need for him to notice the heat radiating from your cheeks. "I, um. Meg. My maid. I told her I didn't need help, which, looking back, probably wasn't the best move..."

"I take it it's not often that you lace your own corsets?" You don't answer, still blushing furiously, and he chuckles. "I thought not. You are adventurous, I'll grant you that."

"Yeah, I'm such a rebel," you quip. "Reading, tripping over flat surfaces, corset lacing...you've got a real wild child on your hands, Your Majesty."

"I'll be sure to keep an eye on you, then."

Now you look back at him. "I was - "

"Joking. I know." He pushes you gently forward, his hand against the small of your back, and your heart races for a moment before you realize he's just letting you know you're free. You do a little twirl, straining to see back over your shoulder. You reach back to tie the laces - you've tied bows on the backs of dresses before, so you know you can't screw this up - but they're at an awkward angle, and it seems one of laces has escaped the bottom grommet. In trying to loop it back into place, you end up doing a full 360, your socks providing you with no grips to keep from sliding, and suddenly you're -

"Oh."

If he weren't so tall, your arms would be wrapped around his neck. As it is, they're pressed between you two, your fingers curled against his chest. One of his hands is pressed flat against your back, fingers splayed; the other is wrapped around your waist, pulling you so close you feel his hips flush against yours. He's the first to pull away, and when he does, you find yourself wanting...something.

Something more .

You clear your throat. "Thank you." He says nothing, instead walking around to tie the damn thing himself. "You know," you say, desperate to end the tension, "I'm not usually this klutzy, most of the time. I promise."

"Of course."

"I'm serious!" You hear your voice rising in pitch, and you can't keep the giggles from bubbling over. "I mean, I'm no - " You're cut short as he tugs sharply on the strings, causing you to stumble back against him. With his palm pressed flat between your shoulders, he directs you back to the bedpost. "Grab," he instructs.

You do so, confused. "I - oh !" The word leaves your body in a whoosh of air, and again as he pulls the strings again. "I - ah - really don't - wow - It was fine before, don't you - mmph - think?"

"You sound panicked," he notes.

"I am panicked."

You can practically hear him rolling his eyes as he responds, "There are many things in this palace for you to be afraid of, Lady (Y/N), but death by corset is not one of them. Not today."

When he finishes, he spins you back around, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection. Your waist is visibly smaller, but you can still breathe. Mostly. "Are you sure this is safe?"

"Perfectly. I'll see you at dinner. Don't be late." As he reaches the door, he turns back, one hand on the doorframe. "And please, next time, don't so quick to dismiss your maid. I have more than enough to worry about without having to rescue you from your undergarments."

Nodding dumbly, you watch him exit.

Happy half-birthday to me.