Summary: No one on Asgard, save for Thor and Odin, had the power to wield the mighty Mjolnir. That is, until you did in your tenth year. Ever since, you have been betrothed to Thor. Now that you’re finally old enough to marry and find love, you slowly realize it isn’t Thor you’re drawn to.
Everyone was so much taller than you.
Running in circles, trying to get away from the havoc in the marketplace, but still trying to watch their fearless prince. They knocked you down, in a place that put the scene unfolding right in your line of vision. The fallen prince, disoriented and out of breath.
The feeling of needing to help overwhelmed you when you saw Thor alone in the middle of the crowd, hammer lost, with the army of four frost giants advancing.
Mjolnir glinted in the corner of your eye. Without thinking, acting solely on instinct, you grabbed it and rushed forward to shove it into Thor’s grip.
The look in his eyes was unlike any you had ever seen before, and ever seen since.
You awoke in a cold sweat, as you always did when the memory greeted you in your sleep.
It was getting better, though- Despite how the memory was resurfacing, you weren’t as drenched as you had been earlier in the month.
Sighing, you looked out the window to see it was almost dawn. No use in trying to get anymore sleep- You walked into your bathroom and began to fill the tub with lukewarm water. You had barely even stepped in when your maid entered your chambers.
“Good morning, Lady Y/N.” she smiled, greeting you. Hardly, you wanted to respond, but you didn’t. Your ten years in the palace had taught you to hold your tongue. You gave her a small smile.
“Morning, Alva.” you responded. You saw her eyebrows knit.
“Not again.” she murmured. You nodded. She tutted, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, I don’t see why that day stresses you out so much. It’s because of those few moments you came to live in the palace.” Alva’s voice took a more playful tone. “...And led to your betrothal of the prince.”
“The prince.” you repeated. You turned to look at Alva, who had begun to brush your hair. “There are two, you know.” Alva gave you a tight smile.
“Of course!” she said. “I suppose I mean... The next king. Making you the queen.” she grew slightly quieter. “We in the palace never forget about Prince Loki. I’m surprised you don’t, though. You don’t see much of him.”
“I don’t see much of either.” you admit.Â
“Hmm.” Alva hands you a drying towel. “Well, Thor has his duties. But fear not, my Lady. Especially with your most recent birthday, you are in his thoughts for sure.”
As you walk to the dining hall for breakfast, you can’t help but dwell on the fact that her reassurance does exactly the opposite.Â
Despite your birthday, and the impending promise of a wedding that came with it, there were certain things you more than appreciated about being older.
Mainly, your etiquette lessons were over. Gone were the days of learning how to stand, smile, eat, drink, speak. One would think that being worthy of Mjolnir meant you wouldn’t need schooling on being polite. Apparently, one was wrong.Â
With your lessons finished, you were now free to do anything you desired until the wedding. And that was nine months away. For now, you had all the time in the world to peruse the palace, ride the horses, visit the marketplace-
The best part about the palace was undoubtedly the library. It was filled to the ceiling with books, new and old, on every single subject.Â
You had discovered the library and the freedom that came with it when you were fourteen, four years after moving into the palace. It quickly became the place you spent the majority of your free time.
At some point during all your reading, stacks of three or four books began appearing in the small sitting area tucked under a staircase you had found. You still didn’t know who put them there, but they appeared every month or so, and you always looked forward to it.
You found them today in their normal spot. You counted three books, two about the history of Asgard’s battles and one a collection of short stories about princesses.Â
You thumbed over the book of short stories, finding a page bookmarked. It was a story about a girl who come to the royal family similar to you: while she had been picked out of the crowd for her beauty, the manner of the situation rang true to yours. You settled into the cushions of your secret spot and began to read, allowing yourself to be lost in the world similar and yet inherently different than yours.
You were thrilled as this princess snuck out of her room every night, meeting a servant boy in the stables. She loved him, but struggled with her duty to the prince.
Before you could finish the story, you realized you were late to your meeting with Frigga. You glance down at your book.
You knew fully well Frigga would understand if you were late. Her talks with you were always light-hearted, as opposed to the ones with Odin, who endlessly picked at your character in an attempt to figure out how you were worthy of his son’s power.
But you weren’t one to take advantage of someone’s loving nature like that. You stood up, aiming to drop the book off in your chambers, but quickly realizing there wasn’t time. You would have to bring all three with you to your biweekly visit.Â
As you made your way towards the balcony where you and Frigga always met, you couldn’t help but wish as though you were more like the princess in your book. You didn’t even wish for a romantic connection- not that you would mind that. But you longed for a reason to sneak around, longed for a bond. You were so lonely.Â
You had thought that maybe whoever was leaving you the books could be someone to talk to, laugh with. But it was six years later, and no one had come forward. It was probably just the librarian, or keeper of records.Â
You tilted your head in confusion when you found the balcony empty. Distantly, you heard Frigga’s voice, and turned to follow it.Â
You found the queen in a small, somewhat secluded hallway. She was walking away from the single door, and greeted you with a smile.
“Hello Y/N.” you couldn’t help but smile back at the nurturing woman. She opened her arms, and you allowed yourself a brief hug. “How have you been?” she lowered her voice. “I’ve heard you’ve been having trouble sleeping.” your heart drops at the idea of Frigga worrying over you.Â
“It’s nothing I can’t handle.” you stop in the hallway and look her in the eye, reassuring her.Â
“Alright.” she nods “I believe you.”
You smile once more, and are about to say something when-
“Pardon me.” you feel a hand on the small of your back, and another on the side of your waist. “I’m sorry.” Loki says. He eyes meets yours for just a moment as he shifts you so he can slip past you in the narrow hall. “I didn’t realize quite how close you two were to my door. I can be a tad fast.” there’s a glint in his eyes, which stays as he looks down once he’s let you go. “Is that a good book, Lady Y/N?”
For a moment, you can’t speak. The places where Loki set his hands on you are warm, like he’s still holding you.
“Yes.” you finally manage. “it’s... about palace life.”
“Something not many can relate to.” Loki lets out a small laugh. “You’ll have to lend it to me when you’ve finished. Perhaps we could discuss it.”
“I... Of course.” you say.
“Two readers.” Frigga says, reminding you of her presence. “This castle will never be in need of advisors, that’s for sure.”
“Indeed.” Loki agrees with her. “Mother, if you’ll excuse me, I really must be going. I wouldn’t want to keep Thor and the Warriors Three waiting any longer.” before Loki turn around, he catches your eye on more time with a smile. “Always a pleasure, Lady Y/N.”
That night, for the first time in years, the second part of your memory returns.
You remember the fear you felt after giving Thor his hammer- How small and insignificant you were compared to the beings around you.
You remember someone, not entirely much older than you, sweeping you away from the battle to the edge of the crowd. Cradling your head against his chest, his body acting as a shield to all happening around you.
The raven hair, being the only thing your eyes could recognize.
