I’m pretty proud of the language in this one. It’s been so long since i’ve written anything solely Loki that I’m concerned it’s drifted from his character. Also Asgardian!Reader is my new favourite thing - I hope you guys like it too. This request was made by @luchmich and I think it’s the first Christmas fic I’ve written ACTUALLY about Christmas! All of the other ones were just about snow. Not all that Chrristmassy to be honest, depending on where you live… Ah well, enjoy!
The palace was wonderfully quiet
in the evening. The only sound that could be heard was the soft padding of your
feet on the crimson carpet as you wandered through it. Your mother was a close
friend of The Allmother, Queen Frigga, so every year when the world was at its
coldest and the nights at their longest, you and your family were invited to the
castle for several weeks.
As you turned a corner, you felt
a slender arm link with yours. Loki pulled you against his hip and fell into step
“Good evening.” He smiled. You bowed your head.
“Every year you refer to me thusly, and every year I must remind you not to.”
“Then I suggest you desist, as your words are having no effect.”
Set in an AU where Loki is an actual son of Odin. The story is set after Loki has inherited the throne. You have been brought before the King after being caught stealing food from a cart.
The golden doors opened and the guards either side of you dragged you forward, a pair of handcuffs around your wrists – a feeble attempt at keeping you captive. You smirked at the thought of such puny methods being able to stop you. Had you wanted to, you could’ve unlocked the cuffs and been out of the palace before the guards so much as blinked. However you suspected the King knew as much and so you faked submission for as long as was necessary. King Loki sat upon the throne with an air of confidence unlike anything you’d ever seen before. The sceptre in his hand reached high into the air – parallel with the god’s pride, you wagered. He look down upon you with a serious expression that was something you hadn’t expected from the God of mischief. Upon reaching the centre of the hall, you were forced reluctantly to your knees by the brutish men either side of you. Loki waved his hands dismissively and they retreated soon after. Looking up at him from your position on the floor, you flashed a roguish smile – some hair had fallen across your face and your cheeks flushed, giving you a dishevelled appearance that was also oddly charming. It didn’t seem to affect the King, however, who simply arose from his throne and approached you. You were surprised to see him hold out a hand to you. Looking from him to his hand and back again, you waited for his image to flicker and disappear, or a grin to break out as an indication of his trickery. Yet the God remained in this position for some time until his expression began to reveal the irritation he was feeling at your distrust. Sighing, you placed your cuffed hands in his and allowed him to help you to your feet. Once you were up you stared straight past him, awaiting his oncoming interrogation. The God started to circle you before speaking.