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

Chapter 41

The five of you arrive back home to find Dad relaxing in the living room. Rodney and Charles excuse themselves to the car, while both Mom and Carlie head off to their respective rooms, you assume.

"Had a nice mall excursion?"

"Yeah."

"That's nice." Dad tries to keep his tone light, his eyes held stiff on the newspaper in front of him. It doesn't work. He's been on edge since you returned, like he doesn't want to let you out of his sight for even a second. Which is a nice sentiment, but a bit annoying in practice. He seems older, too. More tired. With the money you're sending home from being in the competition, your family has never been better off, but Dad, Mom, even Erik all seem perpetually tired and haggard. From worry, you suppose. You make a mental note to write them more often when you go back to the palace in two weeks.

That is, if you're still on speaking terms in two weeks.

Don't be ridiculous. They're not going to stop talking to me just because you got off to a rocky start. At least, that's what you hope. You still have to make an effort to smooth things over now, unless you want the next two weeks to pass like a kidney stone.

Might as well start with the person who's the least mad at you (at least, as far as you know).

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"Knock knock."

"Come in."

Carlie's room has been repainted since you were last here, from dark green to hot pink. Part of the growing process, you suppose, but it takes you by surprise. You shake it off. "Can we talk?"

She nods, wordless. You take it as an invitation to sit besides her on the bed, where she's lying down.

"I'm sorry that Mom and I haven't been getting along very well," you start.

"It's okay." You can tell by the repeated thwack of her little cleats against the headboard that it is decidedly not okay. But you don't leap to defend yourself; instead, you wait until she speaks again. "I don't think Mom is trying to be mean to you."

"No, no, of course not! She's just..." Worried? Stressed? Horrified? "I think it's..." hard for her to see her teenage daughter falling for a semi-tyrannical, eons-old, otherworldly being? "I think it's hard for her, is all."

"She just misses you. So do Dad and Erik. You've been gone long time." You hear the note of frustration in her voice. It stings a bit, as well-deserved as it may be.

"Did you miss me?"

"Yeah. A lot." She gets quieter, her cheek smushed into the pink fluff of the pillow. It matches the rest of the room, which used to be nothing but soccer posters and forest green trappings. The soccer poster have made it through the redecorating, you note. These kinds of things tend to go in circles with Carlie, you notice' no doubt when you come back to visit again in another two years she'll be back in another tomboy phase, or have gone off in a new direction entirely.

In another two years? Where did that thought come from? You hope The Choosing will be over by then. Kinda. Since coming home, your feelings about...all of that have shifted on a second-to-second basis. You thought you would love being home—but now you can't think of anything but how homesick you feel for the palace. You'd spent the last two years wishing you had more time with your family—but now that you're actually here, you can't spend ten minutes together without a fight, or a snarky comment, or even just a strong sense of awkwardness. Of disbelonging.

Carlie rolls over to face you, her eyes suddenly alight, interrupting your train of thought. "But it's easier for me, I think, because I'm excited for you."

"Excited?"

She rolls her eyes. "Dug. All the girls in my class are so jealous that I have a sister who's an actual, real-life princess. Because that means I'm a princess, too."

You smile, your heart breaking a bit as you take in your glitzy pink surroundings and realize that Carlie's room makeover might be partly due to missing her "princess" big sister. "You don't need me to be a princess, silly. You're a princess already, all on your own."

Another eye roll. Were you this sassy at age ten? You can't remember. "I know. But they're also jealous of you getting to be in the competition."

"Jealous of me?"

"Because it's romantic." She says it very matter-of-factly, before casually lobbing the next question at you. "Have you guys kissed yet?"

"Carly!"

"What? Aren't you supposed to be figuring out if you want to marry him?"

Does she really still believe that?

She takes in the shock on your face, and quickly adds, "I know Mom doesn't think so. And Dad and Erik and stuff. I don't know why. But I think that you wouldn't still be there if you didn't like each other at least a little."

"I..." You fix your gaze on the closet door, unable to meet her eyes for a moment. "I don't really have a good response for that."

She shrugs. "That's fine. You don't have to say it for me to see it."

"Okay, Little Miss Know-It-All." You give her a nudge and a look. "When did you get so smart, huh?"

She looks down, away from you. "When you were away," she mumbles, more to herself than to you.

Your heart sinks. "Hey." You put a tentative hand on her shoulder, relieved when she doesn't pull away. "I'm sorry I've been away so long. I won't let that much time pass before seeing you again, okay?"

"Okay." She sniffs, smiling up at you with teary eyes. "Promise?"

"Promise." You extend a pinky, hooking it around hers. "For the record, nobody's kissed anybody. He just sees me as a friend."

"Mom says you have to be friends with someone before you can really fall in love with them..."

"Yeah, yeah. We'll see." Even We'll see feels like a dangerous thing to say, to think. Before talking to Carlie, you hadn't quite allowed yourself to entertain the policy of a We'll see. It's amazing how freeing it can feel to have a judgement-free conversation with a ten-year-old. Speaking of judgement... "Don't tell Mom yet, okay?"

"Okay. Can I go have dinner now?"

"Of course." You ruffle her hair as she hops off the bed; she swats your hand away, but you can see she's smiling too. She leaves the door ajar on her way out, and your stomach drops when you see who is standing just behind it.

"Hi, Mom. Is dinner done?"

"On the table." She waits for Carlie to make it down the hallway before turning back to face you, her arms folded across her chest. "We need to talk."