Cleave | Loki x Reader

• XI •

He leaned in, whispering, 'You do know that you're the most beautiful maiden here tonight, do you not? If not, then I fear it shall fall to moi to prove you wrong.'

As the last of his words had left his lips and he began to pull back, I felt his mouth brush against my earlobe – his tongue flicking out for just a heartbeat.
A small gasp escaped my lips, and my hand jerked between our bodies, slapping his thigh as revenge.

Clearing his throat at my seemingly unexpected reaction, he leaned in once more, his voice low and dangerous and full of mischief, 'Careful there, darling. Dangerous territory. Or are you aspiring to be extracted from the room thrown over this very shoulder of mine?'

This time, I was the one to move in close, my lips almost grazing his ear.
'I suppose, with your father present, you're not the one who gets to decide whether or how I'm sent from the festivities.'
Hidden by the voluminous sleeves of my gown, my finger leisurely traced along his abdomen. 'But now having heard your idea... I do so wish you were.'

We stood in the centre of the giant room – the realisation of the fact dawning – yet thankfully, the fest was in full bloom, with people either swirling around in dances or huddled close in embraces underneath the enchanted flower canopies.

'We should retreat to your flower,' I murmured. 'I rather enjoyed the way you looked in the moonlit snowfall. So very handsome indeed.'
I let my arm slip from his and, with a boldness that surprised even me, took his hand in mine. At that, something soft and lovely swam in his gaze, a silent awareness of my daring to take his hand in this room full of people.

We had spent but five minutes underneath the beauty of our flower spot when a grinning Thor came striding towards us – enthusiasm and radiant joy in him step. The eldest prince, clad in a red and gold breacan, over which he wore a tight-fitting golden shirt and his red cloak, exuded strength and warmth.
Where Loki had decided in favour of classic handsomeness, Thor had settled on warrioresque regalty.
Seeing his hairy, tanned legs peak from beneath the breacan felt almost like a fever dream.

'Y/n! Brother! There you are!' he boomed, his presence impossible to ignore.

Loki greeted his brother with a familiar flicker of annoyance in his counternance, whilst I allowed Thor to take both of my hands and bring them to his mouth in one swift motion.

'You shine just like the grander of our two suns, dearest Y/n. You're...' he didn't finish his sentence.
For a moment, I thought his boisterous demeanor might falter, but before I could dwell on it, Thor had already released my hands and turned to face his brother. His wide smile now firmly back in place.

'Loki, have you not greeted our elders yet? They appear to be in waiting of you.'

'Of course, I have. Almost half an hour ago already.'

'Well, yes, of course. What I meant was whether you have with Y/n yet? I take it you are to escort her there tonight, no?'

Right... An occasion as grand as this demanded a high lady to be presented to the king and queen on the arm of a gentleman.
Naturally, Thor would assume Loki was to fulfil that role when he had been the first that night to offer me his arm. Still, I somehow felt as though I was suddenly being caged.

All of it was way too close to the reality of accepting our fate as the prince and the saviour.
Yes, I had chosen Loki. I had decided that I wanted him and no one else to fulfil the prophecy with me, but no one knew yet, and this... this was hitting home with a gigantic boulder.

'Your Lady Mother is also in attendance, Y/n/n,' Thor's voice pulled me from my musings.

Mother? Here?
It was a possibility – she was Vanir nobility, after all – but why would the information of the fact fall first to Thor instead of her own daughter?