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

Chapter 49

The implication of those two words sinks down, swift and heavy, on the conversation.

Could he...is he really trying to suggest that...

"You can't pick me," you say softly. "Loki, you—"

"Why not?" He doesn't raise his voice, but his tone seems to grow tenser. "Do I not have a say in who I ask to be my wife?"

"Of course you do."

"Do you not trust my judgement? To choose the most worthy candidate?"

"Well, I—"

"Would you not want to?" He sits down next to you. Takes your hand in his. He rubs his thumb against the back of your hand a few times before he looks up, his eyes soft and pleading. "(Y/N), in case I haven't made it perfectly clear, your participation in the competition is entirely voluntary, as is the capacity in which you wish to stay. If you—"

"What kind of queen would I be?" you blurt out, pulling your hand away as you stand. "What kind of ruler? What kind of wife? What experience do I have in politics or, or diplomacy, that the other women don't have ten times over?"

He rises slowly, as if to avoid scaring you away. "You are every bit as qualified to be here as they are, I assure—"

"Even if that were true, you have to marry for love, Loki!" Your heart is racing, your chest heaving with the importance of this, because he needs to know. "Especially if that were true. If all of your options are of equal ability, then you need to marry someone you want to build a life with. Someone who wants to build a life with you."

"I see."

You aren't quite sure why the tears aren't going away, why the shaky numbness in your hands lingers still. But you swallow and turn away from him all the same. "I don't even know why this is an argument we're having. It's all hypotheticals. You can't—you have to—"

"Would you?"

"Would I what?"

"Want to build a life." When you don't respond, he clears his throat and continues, as if to clarify, "With me."

"I would." The words nearly sting your tongue as you speak them. "You know I would."

"I didn't know, actually," he says, so softly you want to—

Well. That's the problem, isn't it? You don't know what it is you want to do.

"Oh."

"But...why the hesitation, then?"

"Because you don't...you wouldn't..."

"Wouldn't what?" He comes around to face you again, though you keep your eyes trained strictly on the ground. "(Y/N), do you truly think there is anyone else in this competition whom I would even consider building a life with over you?"

You've never felt more as though your heart were about to beat out of your chest.

"You mean that?"

"I do." He speaks urgently, but not without care or thought. "Listen. It is as you said - merely hypotheticals. I'm simply trying to understand why you are so adamant to keep yourself out of the running." Before you can come up with another excuse, his forehead creases slightly, and he tries again. "Is it about—about what you said, about marrying for love?"

"Well..."

"If that's your concern...(Y/N), as queen you wouldn't—none of you would—have any...romantic obligations."

"Oh, my God."

"I'm not looking for someone to produce an heir with, I'm looking for someone to rule with, that's—"

"This isn't—I don't—" If your cheeks weren't absolutely flaming red before, they are now. His are, too, even in the low evening light. He clears his throat.

"What I mean to say is, I think love can take many forms. Friendship is one of them."

"Friendship."

He seems to brighten at that, taking your repetition as a sign that he's breaking through. "Yes, friendship. I trust you more than anyone else I've met here. I would trust you—I have trusted you with my life."

"You—friendship—I..."

Your heart is in your throat, swollen so much you can barely speak. Traitorous tears prick up behind your eyes; you angle your head down and squeeze your eyes shut, to keep him from noticing.

"(Y/N)?"

"You're right." You shake your head, and, once your certain the tears are gone, open your eyes to meet his. "You're right, I just...can I think it over? Whether or not I want to be in the running? As your friend?"

"Of course."

"I want you in my life. Truly. I just don't know...exactly what that means." It doesn't feel like enough. You grip his hand more fiercely still. "I just know I don't want to say goodbye."

His mouth stays in neutral, but you can see a smile, a hopeful smile, flickering in his eyes. "You'll return to the palace, then?"

"I will."

He smiles, before dropping back into concern. "But only because you want to?" he clarifies.

You nod. You give his hand one last final squeeze, watch as he disappears into a cloud of familiar green smoke. And as you step out into the warm summer rain you murmur to yourself:

"I do."