Your Majesty - Loki x OC

1: Politics and Petty Arguments

The sword came loose from his grip, and I was quick to aim it at his throat as he laid on the table. Slowly, with heavy, labored breathing, he raised both hands in the air.

"You want to know the difference between me being disrespectful and you being disrespectful?" I asked, my voice low. My glare burned into him, and I couldn't stop the flicker of satisfaction as he writhed under my gaze. "I'm dangerous. You dishonor me, I could spill your organs all over the floor with ease should I choose to."

I felt a warm hand on my shoulder and looked down to see Eira with her lips pressed into a thin line. "Freyja," She ordered firmly. "Back down."

I gritted my teeth, reluctant to lower my guard. With a sigh, I tossed Calder's sword back to its owner. "Consider yourself lucky. You just got saved by an elderly woman."

His throat jumped as he gulped nervously, but before I could laugh, another man spoke up. "Quit bickering! It's giving me a headache."

"Jari." I nodded once then took my seat, fingering the pommel of my own sword, sheathed at my side.

"Let's get on with this then." Jari sighed, stringy black hair falling to his shoulders. "The prince. Freyja, you suggested we offer him the throne."

"That I did." I hummed happily. "That would also solve us the problem of deciding who rules after Odin."

All at once, everyone seated at the table began to talk over each other, making a horrid, jumbled mess of opinions and ideas. I groaned, massaging the bridge of my nose as I waited for them to stop.

For ten grueling minutes, I sat and listened to them bicker. "Children, children!" I yelled over them after it became nigh on unbearable, even though I was, by a far shot, the youngest present. "One at a time please, for the love of my eardrums."

Eira shot me a look. "Are you certain that would be wise?" She questioned, drumming her fingers on the tabletop. "Calder is right about one thing: The prince is not to be trusted."

"Besides," Calder butted in, looking proud that someone agreed with him. "Is he even back on Asgard yet?"

I rolled my eyes. "Should I go ask?"

"Please do."

Standing to my feet, I strode towards the exit, glowering. My patience for politics and petty arguments only ran so far. I needed action to satisfy me. I need the sensation of my sword cutting through flesh, of blood dripping down my skin. Unfortunately, there wouldn't be any of that today.

Annoyed but driven, I stormed through the cold stone corridors of The Mountain Hold. I ran my hands along the rock, letting the cool stone ease my anger.

"Freyja!"

I turned on my heel, facing the familiar voice behind me. Grinning up at me was a young boy, not yet even five hundred years old. Though he was too young still to recall the true tragedies Odin had caused, he had been hurt by The Allfather. Just like I had.

I nodded at him with the faintest hint of a smile on my face. "Hello, Sigurd. How was it? Are Thor and Loki back?"

"They're back." He confirmed. "Odin was positively livid. He had a shouting session at Loki. Do you want to watch?" He was suggesting I view his memory of the event with magic. Sigurd was probably the only person who would actively invite me into his mind. He would share memories with me regularly, allowing me to know the boy better than anyone else.

I let out a small chuckle and ruffled his dark hair. "I need to save my energy. Maybe later. The council needs a report from you."

"Okay!" He started off in the direction of the council chamber, with me on his heels.