The Myriad Misadventures of a Midgardian Queen-In-Training || Loki x Reader

Chapter 2

You don't say anything about the letter when Mom and Carlie walk through the door, instead waving at them with the hand that isn't holding the curling wand. Carlie runs over and hugs you, careful not to get burned. "Happy birthday, (Y/N)!"

You smile down at her. Annoying as your little sister usually is, even you have to admit that she can be a sweetheart when she wants to be. "Thanks, Carl."

"Carlie," your mom calls from the bathroom. "Go shower and change, quickly." She pokes her head out, and you stifle a giggle, seeing she only has lipstick on half her mouth. "We're meeting your father in fifteen minutes. You decided where we're going?" That last question was directed at you, and you nod, nudging Carlie to go.

Thirty minutes later, you're finally in the car, and it takes all of your effort to keep from confessing to your mom. Well, half your effort - the other half is spent trying to keep your gaze away from her pocketbook, where the envelope (closed and tucked away just as you found it) now resides. You practically jump out of the car when you reach the restaurant, eager to have a little space. You're relieved to see Dad already standing by a table, and are about to hug him, when he steps aside to reveal -

"Happy birthday, kiddo."

"Erik!" You throw yourself into your older brother's arms, trying to process the fact that he's here. "You came!"

"Like I would miss it." He ruffles your hair, and you roll your eyes, smoothing it back as best you can before reaching up to get him back. "Man, how long has it been since I last saw you? A week, and you've already grown a foot more?"

"It's been over a month, and I have not grown that much." You cross your arms, pretending to pout, but you can't keep from smiling for long. Erik's college is a few states over; you never would have expected him to make the trip home just for your birthday.

Carlie runs up. "Hi, Daddy!" She doesn't seem at all surprised by your brother's presence. You turn on her.

"You knew?"

"Of course!" she chirps. "He came this morning, after you left for school."

You look around at your family. "How long has this been the works for?"

Your dad shrugs, pulling out a chair for you. "A while now." You sit, giving the menu a cursory glance - you've been here often enough to know exactly what you plan to order - as you listen to your family recount the time and planning that went into surprising you.

One meal later, you can't help but notice that, despite the light mood, Dad seems...tense. Stressed. Before you can ask him what's wrong, Erik turns to you and Carlie.

"So," he says, "Anything else that's new? What cool stuff have you been up to that I missed?"

She giggles. "My team won regionals last week, so we're starting to get ready for All-State next month!" You feel a surge of pride. Your little sister is a truly gifted soccer player, even at eight years old, and it warms your heart to see how much joy she gets from it.

"That's awesome! And how about you, Birthday Girl? Any exciting stuff on your end?"

You don't want to ruin the good mood, but you feel as though you're about to burst - you can't keep on pretending everything's fine. "Well, I got a letter in the mail today."

"Really?" asks Dad. He looks at Mom, who has paled slightly at the mention of the letter. "From who?"

"Actually, I don't know. Mom and I were thinking we could open it here, right, Mom?" She nods. It breaks your heart to see her fingers tremble as she pulls the envelope from her purse, exactly as yours did earlier.

When she's done reading the letter, your entire family is silent for a long, long moment.

"I don't get it."

You almost laugh at your sister's bluntness. From the mouths of babes...

"You know," Mom says, looking at your father, "I have to go to the restroom. Carlie, why don't you come with me?"

"But Mom, I don't - "

"Carlie."

Your little sister nods, sensing the warning in your mother's voice, and hops down from her chair. Dad waits until they're around the corner before unfolding the letter and rereading it silently. "Well," he begins. "This is...this is something, Bean." When you were little - five, six tops - he nicknamed you that because you refused to sleep unless all of your Beanie Babies were tucked in besides you. Hearing him call you that now, you weren't sure whether to laugh, smile, or weep.

"Lemme see." Erik skims the page. "You just made the cutoff, then, huh?" You and Dad both nod, and Erik leans back, letting out a slow whistle of disbelief. "They can't seriously expect you to do this."

"I read it while Mom was out getting Carlie," you admit. "The amount of paperwork in there...I'm pretty sure they aren't joking."

"This is ridiculous."

"Let's look at this positively." You and Erik both turn to look at Dad. "They're choosing eight girls at random. I'm sure there are millions, maybe billions of, uh, 'heterosexual females between the ages of sixteen' out there." He blurts it out quickly, with the special discomfort reserved for fathers discussing their daughter's sexuality. "The odds you actually have to go are - "

"Highly unlikely. Astronomical, even." You feel yourself cheer up considerably. As if on cue, Mom and Carlie come back into sight. "Dessert, anyone?"

The tension seems to evaporate after that, as you debate whether you should order chocolate or vanilla cake, and for a while everything feels normal again. But as you blow out the candles, blinking smoke from your eyes, you catch a glimpse of Mom and Dad exchanging a look, and you can't shake the feeling that something is terribly, terribly wrong.