Cleave | Loki x Reader

• VIII •

▪︎ reconciliation ▪︎

1800, Asgard

Y/n

Descending the marble with Revna after Midgardian Studies. That was when I first noticed the voices.
The bickering. Familiar, that. Drawing nearer to the Grand Hall, the noise only increased in its magnitude.

'Well, Loki's really gonna have to hoof it then.'
It was Thor's voice carrying over from across the hall to where I stood plastered between the two sides of the massive door.

A ring of Æsir loomed at the foot of the throne, centred around a large stone table adorned with what appeared to be some kind of miniature display of life. Without halting to listen in, my intrigue at this godly assembly – to which I hadn't received the invite to – proved too overpowering, and so I marched onwards.

'Why is it suddenly me having to hoof it?'
Loki.
That I found comfort in the sound of his voice – layered with that familiar twinge of theatrics – ultimately managed to unnerve me. Rather ironic, really.

'Well, because it's your turn,' sounded Thor's voice, now only a few steps away from me.

'Says who? Why? Why is it suddenly me?' By then, Loki had his back turned to most of the other attendants as he was busy in a face-to-face brawl of wits with his brother.

Meanwhile, I had arrived at the table and settled between Idun and Bragi. With a certain gesture, the two gods acknowledged my arrival. From the far end of the table both Frigga and Odin greeted me with an incline of the head – their faces adorned by an expression which appeared far from welcoming to the idea of my being there.

'Because clearly this isn't me,' Thor retorted matter-of-factly.

'Just because it isn't you, it isn't necessarily me either.'

'It's got your shape to it. I am broader.'

'What do you mean, it's got my shape? It's wearing armour; it could be anybody.' Loki was growing more exasparated by the second – and so was I.

'It's wearing a helmet. It doesn't look like anyone!' I huffed, sharper than I'd anticipated.

'I just don't think it's me,' Loki mumbled. He had to have the last word no matter what, remember?
A silence was now dangling over the table, and I believe the Æsir gave it just so the princes could discover exactly who had interrupted their petty little quarrel.
Heads turned, and eventually, they had me detected.

'Y/n. Wh–what are you doing here?' Thor stuttered. Loki, though visibly surprised, remained uncharacteristically silent.

'Your bickering could be heard all the way down to the kitchens. Apart from that, I mean to learn of your endeavours here, as why should I not?'

Defiant, I locked Thor's gaze in mine. At that, I sensed the All-Father's eyes on me, fiercer than before. Yet I refrained from meeting his raven's stare.
Odin's mighty voice carried across the table, 'What you see here before you, my child, is the desert of Jennia – as you might have recognised by now, seeing that only a few summers past you traversed these very dunes yourself.'
Thirty-five Midgardian summers had passed, yet here on Asgard, the seasons, much like the time, expand far more than Midgardian understanding would ever be able to comprehend.

I glanced down at the table, this time concentrating on what lay before me without any bickering taking up most of my headspace. The miniature display of life was indeed Jennia, its dunes and endearing springs proving as much. Heat emanated from the golden sand and the tiny waters sparkled mysteriously.
I recognised the magic – it was Loki's, or rather, Frigga's... The sensation of her seiðr enveloping me, tickling the hairs on my skin, felt almost exactly the way his did. And it made sense – all that he knew, his mother had taught him, and everything he created on his own, he did so on the foundations she had paved for him.
Sometimes, I forget that Loki is one of only a few existing seidmen in the Nine Realms – Frigga had fortunately seen the potential her son bore and had crossed the boundaries of natural law, deciding to instruct him in the art of wielding it.