Endlessly

Hnoss

"And what of the baby?" Tears begin to run down Kvasir's cheeks- causing a sting of guilt deep in your gut for being so short with him earlier.

"As of right now, the baby is stable as well, but the child's heart rate is low."

"The baby and I are going to be okay?" Hnoss has become so emotional, she barely chokes the words out.

"For now, yes. However, we have no idea what is to come for both of you." The healer takes a final look at one of the screens and departs.

"I have to go!" You scoop up your bag- the only thing you managed to bring with you back home. "I need to study a ne-"

Your father's powerful hand on your shoulder halts you in your tracks. "You are going to the healers, little bird. You are not well."

You take a deep breath, realizing, yeah- you had agreed to that, you suppose.

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You spend the entire afternoon, which you're certain is far too long in the healer's hall. You've had your blood drawn, urinated into a cup, and had been subjected to wildly embarrassing procedures for what felt like the entire day.

You go through all of the motions with silent compliance, until the moment one of the healers removes your bandage, the bit of Loki's shirt, and tosses it into the trash. "No! I need that!" You leap from the soul forge to retrieve it from the bin.

The healer gives you a bewildered look as you scoop out the fabric, the only bit of Loki you have left, like a maniac.

"Please, sit back down."

You obey, and she proceeds to clean and heal your gash the rest of the way, before letting you know that they are through with you and that you may finally go.

You step out of the doors, quickly pulling the rescued bit of fabric from your bag. It still smells like Loki; the flood of feelings that familiar scent causes drawing your expertly held back tears out of you at last. You swallow roughly, composing yourself, and braid the bit of fabric into your hair, proceeding to hurry home for any more news on Hnoss and the baby.

You're greeted by your mother, who is exceedingly thankful that your eyes have returned to their usual color- something you had been completely unaware of up until that moment, had happened.

She also gives you the best news you could wish for at this point regarding Hnoss. Her and the baby are still stable, but they've deemed her high-risk due to the nature of what they've just been through. At this time, the healers intend to keep her on bed rest for the duration of her pregnancy.

With a little extra pep in her step, your mother spends the next hour rushing you from appointment to appointment, preparing you for the upcoming day. Treatments to your hair, nails and skin, all dragging on for hours on end. Finally, you've reached your last appointment of the day- your dress fitting.

"Hm. I'll need to add an inch to your waistline since your previous measurements." Genevieve, your family's seamstress scoffs.

"Heh. Sorry... the nuts and fruit on Asgard are truly wonderful- I must have overindulged." You feel the back of your neck grow warm.

"The prince prefers warm tones; therefore, your gown will be either peach, coral or salmon." She continues, entirely ignoring your comment.

"Yikes- is there even a difference between the three?" You make an attempt to ease how awkward you feel with humor.

This time, all she manages is a brief glare up at you before she continues taking your measurements.

You decide it's best to keep your mouth shut for the duration of your fitting, silently praying for this day to just be over already.

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When you finally arrive home, you go straight to bed- gracelessly flopping onto your mattress with a whump.

Genevieve's comment about your waistline had gotten to you more than it should have, and you figure skipping dinner will help you get a head start on regaining your girlish figure.

You spend the entire night tossing and turning, plagued by nightmares of Hnoss' bloodied sheets, and the shattered look on Loki's face when you'd brushed off his proposal. You were such an anxious wreck by the time the morning sun began to peak over the horizon, that you'd actually become sick to your stomach.

Your mother bursts into your room looking quite possibly the most excited you'd ever seen her, until she takes one good look at you.

"Sweetie! What's wrong? You're horrifically pale!" She grabs hold of the sides of your face. "Oh, honey, you're so cold! Did you sleep with the window open?" She begins to investigate your room.

"No, I'm just anxious about everything... I'll be alright once I get some breakfast."

Your mother grins at you once again. "I have our entire day planned."

"Of course you do." You peel your aching body out of your bed, unsure as to what has got you feeling so sore.

"Oh, don't say it like that... this is the beginning of the greatest days of your life!" Your mother is in such an incredible mood, you can't help feeling a bit cheerier just from being around her.

The two of you spend the entire morning and early afternoon giggling, catching up, and getting you prepared for your first season.

Once your hair is expertly styled, including the ribbon of fabric from Loki's shirt woven in to the elaborate updo- a request your stylist was not remotely pleased with, your nails polished- something you never bother doing considering you've always got dirt under your nails, and your makeup applied to perfection, your mother and you head to Genevieve's to pick up your gown.

You slip into the peach dress- or was it coral? And Genevieve begins to immediately yank and pull on the laces, cinching your waist as snuggly as she possibly can. You begin to take shallow breaths, allowing the garment to give you that perfect hourglass figure.

"Oh... honey, you look like a princess." Tears fill your mothers eyes the moment you step into her view.

You give her a little spin to show off the entirety of the garment, because- well, it truly is a gorgeous gown. There is a reason Genevieve is the most highly sought after tailor in the realm, and you do feel absolutely gorgeous.

Your mother begins to pull you into a hug which Genevieve quickly halts. "Absolutely not! The dress will wrinkle!"

"Oh, of course... my apologies." Your mother and you exchange a playful glance.

"Father is here." You announce, looking over your mother's shoulder as he pulls up in front of the building in your family's carriage.

"That means it's time." Your mother gives your hand a little squeeze. "Are you ready?"

Nope. Never. I hate this.

"As I'll ever be." You smile.