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

Chapter 54

He keeps his word.

To be clear, you only go without speaking to each other for a week. But you are the first to initiate contact—a smile in the hallway. You are the one who sends him an invitation to go horseback riding. You are the one who begins knocking on his door to discuss politics and philosophy for hours on end.

He puts the reins in your hands, and you accept them with grace.

But you don't kiss again.

He's leaving the choice to you in this, too, you know. And Lord knows you want to do it, want to kiss him.

But then you'll see him interacting with the other women. Riding with Irina, reading with Rhea, playing piano with Rosa on the violin. And this is normal, you know. You can't expect him to completely ignore the other women just because you've asked for space.

But it still leaves you at a loss, somehow.

*************************************************

There's a knock on your door first thing in the morning.

"Come in, Meg," you call out, your eyes still heavy. It's been over a month since the Walden Incident (as you've since termed it in your head). It's not much time, but you have been grateful to find sleep and security already coming more and more easily with each passing day.

"Not Meg."

Your eyes fly open at the sound of his voice.

"May I come in? Are you decent?"

"Yes! I mean, wait. Give me two minutes." You slip out from under the covers and onto the floor as silently as possible, tugging on the tie of your robe to make sure it's secure. You take quick jog to the bathroom to rinse your mouth and face, before returning to unlock the door.

And there he is, looking unfairly put-together for just after sunrise, with an enormous tray of food, which he hands to you. "I was hoping to surprise you with breakfast in bed, but this seemed more practical." He turns to leave.

You get over your shock soon enough to call out. "Wait!" He turns back, his eyes...hopeful, almost. "I mean, this is a lot of food for one person. If you want to join me..."

He hesitates. "I wouldn't want to impose."

You give him a look. "At this point, I think you can trust me to tell you if I think you're imposing." It's the kind of gentle ribbing you used to fling at him all the time, the kind that has only tentatively returned to your vocabulary in the last few weeks.

You can tell from his relieved smile that he's noticed.

*************************************************

An hour later, the food is long gone, but you're still talking. And somehow, you've ended up on the one topic you had planned to avoid: the other women. It seems this habit comes along with the familiarity.

"I mean, Rhea is just incredible at politics. Sorry, I mean Lady Rhea," you joke. "Truly. She makes even Rosa and Irina look amateurish."

"Even Rosa and Irina?"

You snort. "Well, yeah. I mean, it's not as though making me look amateurish is a particularly high bar."

He doesn't laugh. Instead, a crease appears between his brows. "Why do you do that still? After all this time?"

"What?"

"Cut yourself down."

"Is it really cutting myself down if I'm just stating the truth?"