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Chapter Text

“I would ask for your son’s hand in marriage.”

Loki stared down at the man before him. He was respectfully on one knee in front of the dais that Loki, Thor and their parents sat upon. Thor and Loki flanked their parents on the tall dais.

The man had grey skin and was barrel-chested, dark brown hair streaked with green falling down his back. His beard, which was braided with ribbons and beads, hung down past his belt. His bright yellow tunic clashed with his hair and the wide brown belt he was wearing. Black leather leggings hugged his legs and were tucked into tall brown boots.

“As you know, you must first woo Prince Loki before you may ask for his hand,” Odin said regally from his throne. He was lounging back in it, one hand resting on the armrest and the other loosely clasped around his staff.

“I would ask permission to woo him, then,” the man responded.

“Arandir, Prince of Kant of Nidavellir, I grant you permission to court Prince Loki Odinson,” Odin boomed from his place on his throne. Frigga looked over apologetically at Loki as he quietly groaned. “You may join us in the garden for tea tomorrow afternoon.”

With the decree Odin waved his hand, dismissing Arandir. The prince stood and bowed respectfully before leaving the chamber through a pair of grand gilded doors that were propped open. His footsteps echoed in the room for a few moments.

A murmur rippled through the gathered courtiers as Loki slunk further into his throne. “Must I?” he murmured, looking balefully at his mother. At sixteen he was tall and gangly, all long limbs and sharp angles and silk tunics that hung off his thin frame.

“It is your duty,” Frigga said softly, reaching over and taking his hand in hers. “Give them an honest chance. You can always refuse them.”

Loki didn’t respond, leaning his elbow on the armrest of his throne and thumping his chin into the heel of his hand. He glared off into the middle distance, not making eye contact with anyone.

Loki sat sullenly as a courtier stepped forward to announce his marriage to another courtier, and a parade of warriors and citizens came forward one by one with problems they wanted their king to fix. Thor chimed in every once in a while, providing possible answers when prompted by his father. Loki sat in stony silence, glaring off into the middle distance.

The next day found Loki in his dressing gown, curled up on the window seat in his chambers and looking morosely down at the gardens. The sun was shining brightly, glinting merrily off of the teacups and pots the servants were setting out. It was as if the weather was mocking him.

There was a gentle knock on the door. Loki closed his eyes for a moment, using magic to see who was on the other side of the door.

“Come in.”

“Loki, why aren’t you dressed?” Frigga scolded gently as she closed the door behind her with a soft snick.

“I won’t be attending tea today. I’m feeling poorly.” Loki drew his robe tighter around himself, hands clutching nervously at his sleeve ends.

“Loki,” Frigga hummed, sitting beside Loki on the window seat. “You know you must attend.” She wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close and laying a kiss on top of his head.

Loki sighed and leaned his head on Frigga’s shoulder.

“You could tell them I’m ill?” he tried.

“You know your father wouldn’t believe that. And then he would drag you kicking and screaming out to the garden, dressing gown and all.”

“I wouldn’t care,” he said with venom in his voice.

“Maybe not, but I’m sure Prince Arandir would enjoy the show.”

Loki huffed but stood, dislodging Frigga’s arm. He stalked over to his wardrobe, flinging it open and crossing his arms as he regarded the rows of silken garments.

He reached forward and pulled out a long, black robe with a high neck and sleeves that cinched at his wrists. Silently he moved behind the gilded screen in the corner of his room, jerking the robe over his head and sliding on a pair of leather breeches.

As he came back around the screen, Frigga approached him and straightened his collar, running her hand over his shoulder before reaching down and grasping his hand.

“Just for the afternoon,” Frigga said reassuringly.

Loki hummed and crossed to the window again, watching Odin and Arandir as they arrived in the garden and sat down, jovially talking. He hated the garish apparel that seemed to be Arandir’s style. Today he was wearing a scarlet tunic and bright orange leggings, the same boots as yesterday and an array of braided leather bracelets and necklaces.

His hope was to put Arandir off with his somber, simple outfit.

“Will you not be hot?” Frigga asked as she fingered the tight cuff of his robes.

“Perhaps I’ll faint and be excused,” he said hopefully.

Frigga just shook her head, leading him out of his chambers and down to the gardens, hand resting on his arm.

As they passed through the cool halls, Loki steeled himself for an unpleasant afternoon.

When they emerged into the warm sun, Arandir instantly greeted them.

“Prince Loki!” Arandir stood and crossed the distance between them and offered his arm. Odin was step behind, ready to take Frigga’s arm. “Black suits you!”

Loki gingerly laid his hand on Arandir’s, keeping his body as far away from Arandir’s as possible. Arandir lead him towards the table that had been lavishly set with teas, sandwiches and various other finger foods.

“It is a lovely day, is it not?” Arandir asked as he escorted Loki to his chair, pulling it out for him.

“If one enjoys the sun, I suppose they would say it is a lovely day,” Loki said with an upturned nose, hands clasped delicately in his lap.

“I enjoy the sun very much. And being outdoors. Hunting and horseback riding are two of my favourite activities. Do you enjoy hunting?”

“I find chasing beasts to be intellectually uninspiring.”

“Do you prefer to be indoors, then?”

“I prefer activities that are mentally stimulating,” Loki repeated, speaking slowly as if to a child. “Reading, chess, and the like. Have you ever played chess?”

“I have not. Perhaps you can teach me.” Arandir seemed unaffected by Loki’s tone.

“I only engage in activities that are worth my time.” Loki let a cold smile slide across his face.

“Arandir, tell me of your latest kill,” Odin interrupted when he noticed Arandir’s smile start to fade.

Arandir was easily distracted, and went on to boisterously describe his latest kill, punctuating exciting moments with a wave of the sandwiches he was shoveling into his mouth.

“Have you tasted any of the food that has been shoved down your gullet?” Loki interrupted during a lull in the story. He had watched in growing horror as Arandir’s beard accumulated a collection of crumbs and bits of food.

“Yes, the food is very good, thank you for such a wonderful feast,” Arandir beamed at Odin and Frigga. “I would take a stroll through the garden, if everyone else would like to as well?”

“That sounds like a splendid idea,” Frigga said, standing and lacing her hand through Odin’s bent arm. Loki mirrored his mother, stiffly placing his hand on Arandir’s arm.

“What is your favourite type of flower, Prince Loki?” Arandir asked as they started down a path. There were trees lining either side of it, carefully groomed into beautiful and intricate shapes.

“I do not enjoy flowers,” Loki said shortly. It was a lie; one of Loki’s favourite pastimes was reading in the garden.

“What do you enjoy, besides books and quiet?” Arandir asked carefully.

“Not much,” Loki answered shortly.

“Prince Loki, have I done something to offend you?” he asked, annoyed.

“You eat like a boar, you dress like a child and you have the intelligence of a bilgensnipe.”

With a sneer, Loki turned and flounced away, glorying in the spluttering that he heard behind him.

“Come back here!”

Loki took off running, Odin’s angry words nipping at his heels and urging him quicker towards the castle.

He didn’t stop, nor did he slow down to enjoy the bewildered looks of the warriors and servants he passed.

He slammed into his bedroom a few minutes later, chest heaving and a genuine smile on his face. He leaned against the wall beside his door, a small giggle escaping him.

This small act of rebellion sang through him as he ripped open the choking collar of his tunic, yanking it over his head and throwing it carelessly on the floor. He crossed to his bed and flung himself down on it, chest bare and arms eagle-spread.

He lay there as his breathing slowed down, a sense of dread slowly starting to creep in as his heart rate slowed. Odin would not be happy with him, but it was perfectly within his right to deny a suitor.

As he lay there, Loki dreaded the line-up of suitors that were bound to follow.

Chapter Text

After being confined to his room for a week following his small act of rebellion, Loki was itching to go to the family library and get more books.

When Frigga had appeared at his door that morning and told him that Odin was letting him out of his room, he had hastened to get cleaned and dressed. He was wearing a plain green tunic and black pants and boots, gold bangles glinting at his wrists. His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, tied by a plain leather strip. He floated around his room as he got ready, buoyed by the idea of different books.

He opened the door to his room and stopped short at the sight of two guards. They were dressed in matching light armour, each with a sword at their hip.

“I was not informed that I would have an escort this morning,” he said, swanning past them and turning left, towards the library.

“Apologies sire, but we’ve been told to escort you to the throne room,” the guard closest to him said, stepping into his path.

“Fine, we shall stop by the library first and then move onto the throne room. He didn’t say directly to the throne room, did he?” Loki’s tone brooked no argument. The two guards glanced nervously at each other before falling into step behind him.

When they entered the library, the librarian stood and greeted Loki warmly. She was an older stooped woman, wearing a long maroon dress with a white knitted shawl around her shoulders. A pair of round, wired glasses sat on the tip of her nose, and her silver hair fell in long waves down her back.

“Sire, it’s nice to see you. I’ve missed you this last week.” She reached forward, taking Loki’s hands in her own and bending her head over them.

“Hello, Sylvana. I’ve missed you too,” he answered warmly, pressing their clasped hands to his forehead lightly. “Anything new that we’ve gotten in?”

“Ah yes, follow me.”

She tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, towing him into the stacks and waving her free hand; as she did, four different volumes floated down from the shelves.

“You’ll like these. A bit of history, a bit of intrigue, and some fanciful stories. I had them brought in especially for you.”

“You are too kind,” Loki said, taking the books as they floated into his free arm. “If it is amenable with you, I will take a look around and see if anything else catches my fancy.” He walked her back to her desk and made sure she was comfortable in her chair, taking the four books with him as he wandered slowly through the stacks.

He could sense the two guards getting nervous, shifting and clearing their throats by the door. The more they fidgeted the slower Loki moved, a sense of satisfaction blossoming from his chest and settling warmly into his stomach. His magic flowed out from him, allowing him to sense all lifeforms around him and outside the library. The smell of dust and old leather settled into his nose and he closed his eyes, hand resting on the spines in front of him. He basked in the quiet and the safety of the familiar senses, perking up only when he felt his magic ping with a presence outside the door. He drew back his hand, tucking it around the stack of books nestled in his other arm.

“I’m done here,” he told the guards, leading the way and opening the door just as Frigga reached the other side of the door. “Oh, Mother, hello!” He feigned surprise. “We were just on our way to the throne room. How serendipitous.” Without missing a beat, he tucked her hand under his free arm and started walking to the throne room, the two guards falling into step behind them.

Frigga’s eyes bored into the side of his head as they walked, but she remained silent, their footsteps echoing on the marble floors below them. When they reached the throne room, it was filled with courtiers who were lounging on cushions around low tables, talking and laughing. Odin stood and clapped his hands, beckoning his wife and son forward. “Finally, Loki deigns to join us,” he boomed as they climbed the dais and took their respective seats. The gathered courtiers tittered behind their hands. “My son, I have another suitor for you.”

Loki barely had time to settle his pile of books between him and the arm of his throne as a small, round man stepped forward. “This is Lord Ank of Slipanor. I have given him permission to court you, Loki.”

As Loki properly looked at the lord, he despaired more and more. The man was barely five feet tall, balding and about as round as he was tall. A navy doublet strained to cover him, buttons pulling at the buttonholes. He seemed to shrink into himself as he stepped forward.

“Sire,” he said with a short bow, his eyes travelling no further north than Loki’s chin. “I had hoped you would be amenable to an afternoon playing chess.”

Loki sat up a little straighter. Maybe this one wouldn’t be such a waste of space after all.

“That would be fine,” he said. “Where shall we play?”

Lord Ank’s eyes flicked to Odin for a moment, as if for permission.

“Here, if it pleases you.” He beckoned to a set of servants who had been standing against a wall. They moved forward, one setting down a table and a chair, the other setting down another chair and a beautifully carved chess set. Loki looked at the setup, torn. On the one hand, he preferred a quieter space to play the game, but he had no doubt he would win and looked forward to trouncing the small man publicly.

Loki stood gracefully, taking the few steps down the dais to the small table and sitting. Ank sat in the other seat, setting up the board so that Loki could play first.

Loki started easy, and let Ank win the first game. Lord Ank tilted his head in a respectful nod as Loki congratulated him and asked for another game. This time he let the game draw out, letting Lord Ank think that he was winning and then suddenly defeating him. Ank blinked for a moment when it happened, before clapping politely at Loki. Loki glanced to the dias, where he saw Odin watching them while muttering quietly to his head advisor. Frigga smiled fondly at him, and Thor was too busy talking to his friends to pay attention to the chess game.

Ank set the board up for a third game and Loki wasted no time in winning, already getting bored. He watched the nervous man run his pudgy hands over his balding head before nodding at Loki.

“Clearly you are a master of the game,” he said quietly, picking up Loki’s hand and bowing over it. “It was an honour to play with you, and I would be honoured to meet with you tomorrow to play again.”

Loki sighed quietly, pulling his hand away. “Alright,” he said, standing and inclining his head as Lord Ank bowed to him. “Tomorrow.” Loki climbed the dais and sat back down as servants raced forward to clear the table and chairs. Lord Ank made a deep bow before exiting the throne room.

“He likes chess, that’s good,” Frigga leaned over and murmured, squeezing Loki’s arm.

He hummed, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. He had a feeling this courtship wouldn’t last long.

The next morning Loki woke up, dreading another afternoon playing easy chess with Ank. He lay in bed, finding it hard to move. Lazily he grabbed a book off his side table, flipping it open and getting absorbed in it. Enveloped in his thick blankets and getting lost in his book, Loki didn’t notice time slipping past him. He was interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Are you ready to come to the library?” Frigga asked as she opened the door. Seeing Loki still in bed she tsked, rushing forward and sitting on the edge of the bed. “Do you not want to play chess Lord Ank today?”

“No,” Loki said, idly flipping a page.

“Give him a chance, my love. At least you will be doing something you like,” Frigga urged as she plucked the book out of Loki’s grasp, carefully slipping a bookmark in before closing it and placing it on the bedside table. Loki looked longingly at the book but sat up with a long sigh. Frigga went over to his wardrobe, pulling out an emerald tunic embroidered in shining gold thread, and his customary black pants and leather boots. She helped him dress and did his hair, elaborately braiding it back away from his face before snugging a circlet across his brow.

When she was done, she smoothed her hands down his shoulders and wrapped him in a hug from behind. Loki squirmed out of the embrace, straightening his tunic.

“Okay, let’s get this over with.” He swanned out of the room and led the way to the library, spirits lifted by the fact that he would be spending the afternoon in his favourite place.

The table from the day before was set up in the middle of the library, the same chess set sat on top. There were two guards on either side of the door, and Odin was standing and talking to Ank. As they entered, Lord Ank crossed to the door of the library and offered his arm to Loki. Odin followed, offering his arm to Frigga.

“Thank you,” Loki murmured as Frigga let go of his arm, slipping his hand into the crook of Lord Ank’s arm. They walked to the table, and Loki sat as Ank pushed the chair in for him. Odin and Frigga moved to a pair of chairs a little way away, to act as chaperones.

Loki barely waited until Ank had sat down to start the match, moving his chess piece with deft fingers. Ank stayed quiet as they played, and Loki beat him easily in under ten moves.

“Would you like to go first this time?” Loki asked, hoping for a bit of a challenge.

“If that would interest you, sire, it would be my pleasure.”

Loki had to hold himself back from sneering at Ank’s spinelessness. With a nudge, the board spun around so that Ank had the white pieces in front of him. This did not end up posing any more of a challenge for Loki, who once more was able to best Ank in a matter of moves.

“Another round? This is quite enjoyable,” Ank said, hands moving to reset the board.

“No, thank you,” Loki said, standing.

“A walk through the bookshelves, perhaps?” Ank asked, hastening to stand beside Loki.

“No, I think not.” Loki turned and looked at his parents. “No,” he said, tilting his head in Ank’s direction and stalking out of the library. He heard Odin sputter for a moment and then start talking to Ank, likely trying to placate him, but Loki didn’t care. The man was too stupid and dull to be worth any more of his time.

Chapter Text

It was not long before word got around the realms that Loki was difficult to woo, but up for the taking. Suitors flocked in from across all nine realms; it got so bad that they ended up with a barracks and guest wing full of potential suitors, as they could only go one at a time and had to wait their turns.

Loki endured it for two years, the volume of suitors tapering off near the end of the second year. He had encountered them all- a variety of genders and species, from the stupidest to the most boring to the ugliest the nine realms had to offer. None had lasted longer than four encounters, most not making it past two. Throughout it all Loki had kept his head down and met with everyone he had to; although he had caused mischief throughout the ordeal, he had ensured he wouldn’t cause enough to get in any real trouble.

Nowadays, they only had three or four potential suitors waiting their turn at any one time. Loki, now eighteen and more than over the entire idea of ever getting married, was tucked away in his room. This was one of the few places suitors were not allowed to go, and he took full advantage of that fact. Idly he swished his hand through the air, making lights dance in front of him. He was already dressed for the day, a black tunic embroidered in silver thread and gathered at the waist by a silver belt. He had used magic to braid back half his hair, letting the other half hang down his back. A silver chain hung around his neck, a small snake pendant dangling from it.
The lights in front of Loki turned into the image of two snakes intertwining, and then a tree with one apple, a small featureless figure plucking the apple of the tree and eating it. The figure fell to the ground, bursting into a shower of sparks along with the rest of the image. Loki sighed and picked up one of his books before immediately putting it back down. He was bored, but afraid of leaving his hall for fear of being chased down by a suitor.

Steeling himself, Loki slipped out his door. Thankfully, his father had stopped posting guards outside his door once Loki had figured out how to sneak past them. Unbothered, Loki exited the castle and entered the gardens, enjoying the cool wind that ruffled lightly through his hair and brushed against his cheeks. The sky was overcast, the sun casting a diffused light over the plants. Loki’s fingers brushed against the soft petals of the flowers around him, and he took a moment to bend down, inhaling the light scent. A sense of calm washed over him as he found a spot of soft grass under a tree, and he leaned back against the rough bark and existed.

Loki was woken a while later by hot sun shining down on him, and the sensation of being watched. Letting his magic flow out and around him, he sensed a presence close to his left and a few more farther away; he cracked his eyes open a hair, trying to see who was closest to him. Through his eyelashes he recognized one of the women waiting her turn to woo him, sitting on the grass a few feet away from him. Leila, he remembered, from Alfheim. She was tall and radiant, with luminescent white hair and sharp cheekbones that frames a rose petal mouth. Her skin seemed to glow in the sunlight, giving her an ethereal aura. From what Loki had seen, she was as smart as she was ugly.

Feigning just waking up, Loki stretched and sat up fully, pretending to be startled when he looked at Leila.

“I apologize, it seems I fell asleep outside,” he said, brushing a hand through his hair to ensure it was all in place. “May I help you?”

“Accept my proposal of marriage, when it is my turn,” she answered, her voice melodious.

“Woo me properly, and I might,” Loki rebutted.

“And what would that take?”

“Games of wit, many gifts and a lot of personal space.”

“What kind of games of wit?”

Loki, sensing the opportunity for a prank, looked up into the tree above him.

“Do you see that apple?” he said, pointing to the highest apple in the tree. It was easily twenty feet above the ground. “It is the tastiest, as it is at the top. Figure out a way to get it for me.”

Leila stared up at the tree for a moment before toeing off her soft slippers and started trying to climb the tree. She jumped for the lowest branches, but they slipped through her fingers a few times before she was able to grasp a sturdy branch. Using it as leverage, she jumped until she was sitting side-saddle on the branch. All her motion had attracted the attention of the others in the garden, and soon all the suitors in the castle found themselves at the tree, trying to outdo one another to get the apple at the top.

Loki stood back watching, amused as the great oafs tried to beat one another to the top of the tree. Leila, despite her head start, had not made it more than a few branches up. Some had managed to make it halfway up the tree, sitting or standing among the branches like a group of the largest, ugliest birds Loki had ever seen. He chuckled quietly to himself and lost himself in the thought of his suitors turning into birds and flying away.

His attention was dragged back to the tree by a sudden burst of motion. Three suitors had reached the same branch and were now tussling, trying to be the first one to the next branch. One pushed, one shoved and suddenly the third was falling out of the tree, taking out a few suitors below him and landing on the ground below with a sickening crack. Everyone froze for a moment, and then everyone was climbing down from the tree, rushing to those who had fallen out. Loki froze, a sense of dread flooding his veins. He turned and ran to his room, locking the door behind him and curling up on the floor, hands over his mouth as the sickening crunch replayed in his mind.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, the cold of the flagstones seeping into his bones as his mind reeled. At one point, a voice called through the door requesting Loki come out and go to his parents’ chambers, but he hoarsely refused, continuing to sit in stunned silence. He was only interrupted when Odin burst through the door.

“What is the meaning of this?” he thundered as the door banged against the wall. He reached down and pulled Loki up from his crouched position, depositing him unceremoniously on the edge of the bed. Frigga followed behind, white-knuckled hands clasped in front of her. She glided around Odin and sat on the edge of the bed, pulling Loki’s hands into her own and squeezing tight.

“Unchaperoned, surrounded by suitors and one of them ends up almost dead, several others seriously hurt.” Odin was breathing heavily, his face a dangerous shade of red. “What have you to say for yourself?”

“I didn’t mean it to happen,” Loki said quietly, turning pleading eyes to his mother.

“You didn’t- you didn’t think, is what you didn’t do!” Odin burst out. “I’ve hit the end of my rope, Loki. This is it. We’ve been patient and lenient with you, but no more. We’re sending you away. This circus ends tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yes, it’s all been set up for exactly this reason. You’re being sent away, and you won’t come back until you’re betrothed.” He glared at Loki and Frigga. “Wife, do the magic.”

“Mother- what?” Loki panicked, pulling his hands out from his mother’s and scrambling towards the door, trying to duck around Odin.

“I don’t think so,” Odin said, grabbing Loki’s arm and holding him in place as Frigga approached.

“I’m so sorry, my baby,” Frigga said with tears in her eyes as she pressed her fingertips to Loki’s temples, and the world went dark.