Loki X Reader || Girl With The Gold Earring

8 | Stone Peacock

Y/N has to scurry back down to the servant's quarters to fetch Loki a uniform, and then navigate her way back up to his chambers. Upon her return, she finds Loki pacing anxiously like a worried father-to-be walking the halls of a maternity ward.

He hurries over to her as she closes the door, and Y/N smirks at him.

"Miss me that much, did you?"

He rolls his eyes as he takes the uniform from her. "Did anyone see you?"

Y/N had not been thinking about whether anyone had seen her; her prince was upstairs, and she was on a mission. Her path could have been blocked by The Queen Of Vanir herself, and Y/N would have pushed blindly past her, accidentally trampling her regal robes.

She shrugs. "Only a couple of broom-boys, and about thirty guards."

Loki's eyes go wide, his fingers stopping at his borrowed shirt buttons.

With a nonchalant hand, Y/N flaps his concerns away. "They saw me but they didn't see me; maids are invisible."

"I saw you; all those months ago on the palace steps," he says, tucking his dark hair into the back of his shirt collar. "Who's to say everyone else wont?"

"Loki," Y/N takes his case from the bed and places the handle in his palm. "You're not everyone else."

-- ❈ --

Out in the hallway, Loki closes the door to his Vanirian chambers for the last time, a smile peeking out from below the wide rim of Mr Merlmon's straw hat.

The Vanir palace doesn't seem to have many sconces, just wax sticks— perhaps, Y/N thinks, because they are unnecessary; the moon is large in the sky, peaking through thin clouds like a bright eye through a veil.

Loki doesn't look so wan in the lighter hallway; just a little hungry, a little unloved; a toy left in a cupboard and forgotten about.

Y/N reaches out to take his hand, then remembers where they are, and tucks it back in her uniform's wide sleeve.

They set off in silence, close enough together to bump elbows, although the wastefully wide hallways give them more than enough space to spread out:

Y/N imagines the whole decadent building plonked down on top of the jungle, heavy marble crushing swinging monkeys, colourful birds and lush trees so that Her Majesty can sit high up upon her throne in the clouds.

Tea lights huddle in wall recesses, and Loki lowers the brim of his hat as they pass a broom boy lighting each wick slowly with a splint.

The boy pays Y/N and her stolen prince no mind, and they continue, the boy's candles helpful in lighting their way as they move further into the palace.

It is when they begin passing more functional rooms—a dining room, a large hall, a closed door with humming voices escaping through the jamb like flies—that Y/N feels Loki tense by her side.

He lowers his hat again as they shuffle past their first guard.

He's a tall male, his armour a dark, menacing metal in the low light. The flickering wax sticks throw his features into hard shadows and Y/N can feel his eyes, sharp on the back of her head scarf as she scuttles by his feet.

His steely gaze tracks Y/N and Loki's backs until they turn around the next corner, out of sight.

A sense of relief passing wordlessly between them, Loki lets out a breath through his nose.