As the daughter of Loki, what was it that you were meant to do? What is it that you will become?
All the power you might behold one day, would it be for the good of the nine realms, or...
Is it the path of your father you choose to take?
(Yeira has...
I smiled down at her, speaking gently, "You are a little mischievous one aren't you, little one? You take after me."
She cooed in response, before yawning and starting to fall asleep. I laid next to her, yawning myself.
I had my arm over the small bundle that she was before drifting off to sleep. But right before I had truly fallen asleep she started to fuss.
So I sang to her, singing the lullaby the my own mother had sang to me so often as a child.
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"Goodnight my snowflake" I said to my daughters sleeping form. I stared at her a few moments, a smile playing on my lips. Then I laid back, and fell into a deep sleep.
*
"Loki, it is time." I was standing outside the throne room, ready with my ceremonial armour, Yeira bundled in a gold and green blanket. We were both in our Asgardian forms. Yeira had a blue periwinkle tucked into her hair, and underneath the blankets she was swaddled in she wore a simple little soft dress.
Today was the day she would officially be announced to the world. Today I would name her my heir, and my successor to the title of God of Mischief. She would be Yeira, Goddess of Mischief once I had passed down my title, or died. For now though, she would be Yeira, princess of Asgard, future queen of Yotunheim, and my daughter.
No one would hear properly about Layla. Her very name forbidden.
I followed my mother into the throne room to see many nobles and their families crowded to the sides, craning their necks to see the baby. Once I had made it to the front of the room, I nodded to mother, who then laid her hand on fathers, who took it as a sign to speak.
"Welcome to the celebration of Yeira's birth! My granddaughter-" I tuned out at this point. It was mostly saying how great it was to have her, then her titles, then the feast then the gifts, then the simple small talk afterwards. Yeira started to fuss, and I furrowed my brow. What did I- then it hit me. I was about to feed her when the maids came in with mother and whisked her away to get her ready for the ceremony. She was likely half-starved by now. I looked to mother with urgency. I felt horrible. She was hungry, and I felt as though it were my fault. I neglected her.
"Mother. I need to go feed Yeira. She was about to eat when you stole her from me." I whisper-shouted, my frown quite noticable. Her eyes widened, and her hand went up to her mouth.
"Oh, my goodness! We will get her a bottle immediately." She gestured to a nearby maid.
"Mother, Yeira takes her milk much differently than most babies would." She looked at me quizzically.
"In her milk, there should be two tablespoons of powder, one and a half cups of warm water. Then heat it over a bit, maybe about two minutes, then add in three drops of honey, a bit of cows milk, one drop of vanilla, then two snowflakes. Let it sit for about six minutes, then it should be ready. Remember to shake it." The maid looked at me then mother then nodded. Yeira was picky. As was I. I smiled down at her beautiful face.
