#medusa!reader

“Mind releasing him? I need to talk to him about a mission,” Steve says, leaning against a nearby wall. You sigh dramatically.

“If I must...” You mutter standing up.

“Thank you,” Steve says but you merely wave him off. You walk up to Tony’s concrete statue and take a moment to savor the peace before kissing his stone lips. You step back and watch the statue turn into a man. Tony gasps in a breath when the transition completes.

“That was... rude,” Tony says. You wink at him and return to your seat. Before Tony could go off on a tangent, Steve pulls him away. You smile, shake your head and return to your book. You only get a few sentences in before you sense that you’re not alone.

You’re eyes glance up from the page and notice the god of mischief staring at you. His gaze is calculating and curious. You arch an eyebrow, silently wondering what questions are running through his head.

“Are you able to turn anything into stone?” Loki wonders, walking further into the kitchen. The Asgardian has been aiding the Avengers for a few months. While he’s been on multiple missions and such, there are some who are hesitant to call him an Avenger. Thor vouched for him, told the group that he hadn’t been in the right mindset during New York but few believed him. However, the god of mischief was proving to be useful and a good ally.

“Anything with eyes and a soul,” You told him. “Those with blindness are tricky for me,” You explain. You weren’t Medusa, just her daughter. You had inherited most of her abilities but you were still your own person and there was a difference between the two of you. You mother is mainly reptilian while your mainly human.

“And you can reverse the effects?” Loki questions.

“With a kiss,” You smirk slyly. “Very cliché if you ask me but I didn’t make the rules,” You shrug. The edge of Loki’s mouth lifts just a smudge. You find yourself briefly wondering what he would look like smiling broadly, even laughing obnoxiously like his brother. You wondered what he looked like without the weight of the world on his shoulders, a truly care free god of mischief. 

“And your hair?” Loki asks, moving even closer. You stare at him for a moment, wondering where he was going with this. 

You and your mother shared many things. You both had the same eyes, the same skin tone, and the same texture of hair. Texture of hair as in snakes. However, while your mother had so many snake in her hair you couldn’t care to count them all you only had about a dozen of them.

They’re live snakes. You can hear their thoughts in your mind. You can feel their fatigue and their anxiousness. You can see through their eyes and smell through their noses.

While the snakes are a part of you and you love them all dearly, they made many people uncomfortable. You’ve felt like an outcast your entire life, even when you’ve been apart of the Avengers for a few years. You knew your teammates cared about you, they’d protect you just as fiercely as the others. However, that didn’t stop the staring nor the obvious discomfort they felt whilst looking at them.

You’re not ashamed of your snakes, at least that’s what you tell yourself. You love your snakes but you feel self-conscious about the stares and the judgement. So, in order to avoid such things, you cover the snakes. You wrap them in a comfortable scarf and hide them unless your in your room or somewhere alone.

“What about it?” You question, Loki. The god moves until he’s right beside you.

“I can hear them, I can see them moving around,” Loki tells you. “Why do you hide them?” You stare into his eyes, not looking away as he takes a seat beside you. He moves the chair to the point where you’re legs are pressed together. 

“There’s a few Ophidiophobic’s on the team,” You explain. He frowns his eyebrows. “People who are afraid of snakes,” You clarify.

“So, you hide yourself to make others comfortable?” He asks. You slowly nod. “Which leaves you uncomfortable,” He continues. 

“At least their not staring or avoiding me,” You whisper. Loki’s lips press together. You’re eyes dart to his hand as he slowly raises it.

“Well, I am not an ophidiophobic,” He says, his voice low and tender. Your body tenses as he touches the wrap covering your snakes. The rustling under the fabric becomes more frantic as the snakes feed off of your anxiety. You wanted to stop Loki but you don’t. You just watch as he slowly unravels the scarf freeing the snakes.

You’re eyes downcast to the floor as you feel his eyes taking in the image of you. It’s the first time he’s seen you without the scarf. You didn’t want to see the same look in his eyes as everyone else.

It’s only a couple of minutes of silence. The only sound is the sound of your snakes hissing and slithering around. After a few moments, a blue hand gently cups your chin and raises your head. 

You gasp softly when you look into the red eyes of Loki. You observe the blueness of his skin and how different yet similar he looks. His hand moves from your chin to your cheek. His knuckles brush against your skin lightly.

“Beautiful,” He whispers. You notice the snakes closest to his hand slither forward and rub against his skin. Loki smiles, watching them fondly.

“They like you,” I whisper, his eyes returning to mine.

“Don’t hide from me,” He pleads. “Your beauty is in your difference from the others. Should they stare then they should stare in jealousy that they will never posses the beauty you do,”

“I have reptiles for hair,” You laugh sadly.

“You have the softest skin and the most beautiful eyes and the most unique hair,” Loki tells you. “It is an honor to be able to look upon them,” He says, his eyes going back to the snakes that seemed to be entirely entranced with him. “Everything about you is magnificent, it is a shame you feel as if you should hide such beauty from the world... It truly is dimmer without your smile,” 

“Since when did you go from Mr. I’m Going to Conquer the Earth to Mr. I’m Going to Woo the Snake Girl?” You ask, trying to break up the seriousness with some humor.

“Since I became hopeful that the Snake Girl could look at me as I look at her,” Loki whispers. “You’re so beautiful, love. I would be honored if you would allow me to spend time with you and convince you of that fact,”

“Do you know what you’re getting into?” You whisper.

“Hopefully a relationship with the most beautiful Avenger,” Loki smirks, winking at you. You smile, letting out a small laugh.

Aslaug looks to her beloved child’s lover, the goddess of love, fingers twisting the locks of her young son-- Baldur. Freydis’s face contorts neither confirming nor denying the truth. For Aslaug, it was the only confirmation she desired.

“Have you seen the earth-shaker?” Freydis says, batting at pluming clouds, just barely a mist.

“Bjorn?” Aslaug asks and turns her gaze through the opening of the waters to where the lapsing waters of the ocean. Usually, she could find Bjorn riding his horse across the open waters, claiming the lives of travelers ill-intended.

“He is not there.” Aslaug’s lips widen, pulling upon her face a great smile. “Where has he gone, sweet Baldur, hm?”

Aslaug’s fingers prod the boy’s full stomach as he plays with his bow, loosening his arrow from the grip. His chubby little hand drops the fistmele and so the arrow careens toward the water below.

“He’s gone to see (Y/N), the one nicknamed  Medusa.”

“In Lagertha’s temple.” Aslaug laughs low behind her cup. “Well, we should watch after him. He is, after all, a man.”

There was a time for everything.

For example, the task of gathering water at the foaming shores of a sandy beach was best done in the earliest of mornings when the sun had yet to peak the horizon completely. For then the men were at home caring for their daily activities instead of staring upon your flowing hair that remained uncut down your back. Bound in straps of leather through its braid, you step into the inviting, calm water.

Ubbe, raise the sun and start the day, For Lagertha’s pride waxes the way, Let us weave a new song of praise, While our goddess seeks the kill of the day.

As you sing out to the water it swells and then grows, churning around your feet as if it too were playing like the birds in the sky around your feet. The small fishes that normally grace the shallow waters nip your toes.

“Are you just going to stay out there to play? I haven’t all day!” You sway, looking out toward the horizon.

The crystal-like waters withdraw from your feet, residual beads drawing back into the great ocean to take the form of a great chariot drawn by aqueous steeds with fish-like tails, ascending out of the water. The man riding the chariot pulls the leads tight, stepping down from his mighty chariot with a billowing cloak.

“I forgot. A priestess of Lagertha has no time for me.” He chuckles, wide steps thundering the beach. He comes close enough that you might touch him.

“Well, she did make the olive tree.” You raise your hand to his short beard, dripping water over your dry gown. “And you?”

“Didn’t I make the horses that drive them and horses that haul their goods?”

You scratch the underside of his chin.

“Yes my old friend, yes, but it wasn’t enough.” You turn to watch the sun beginning to peek over the horizon. Its warm rays will soon infest the shoreline and you will have to go back inside. Bjorn breathes in,

“Humans are greedy. They take and take.” Bjorn moves beside you. “The priestesses are the only ones who give.”

“Is that meant to be a compliment?” You ask, turning your face to admire him.

“Maybe.” He nods, turning his piercing blue eyes toward you. “Why did you become a priestess to my mother’s temple? Why not mine?”

He’s full of questions today.

“She preserved me as a child.” You say. “She weaved my hair into these beautiful waves.”

Bjorn leans to look at your hair, glossy and soft in bundles down your back. He holds his hand at the wrist in front of the folded skirt around his hips. He then raises his head back up, smooth blonde strands pulled into a short ponytail upon his head.

“I can’t argue with that. How many suitors have you now?” Bjorn asks.

“I’ve lost count.” You admit. “Lagertha guards the maidens. To be a priestess, I can’t. You understand why I said no to yours, don’t you?”

No. His face reads.

“Yes.” He answers, and finally, the rim of the sun breaks from the horizon. You clap your hands together, bowing at the waist.

“Ubbe has finally raised the sun.” You say. “I should go in now.”

Like most mornings he visited you, the visits were short. It wasn’t proper for you to see him so often. You fret at times what Lagertha would think about a goddess who spent her time with a god and so, most days, you spent the time tending to praise of your goddess. Bjorn turns, extending to take one of your hands that has clapped together. In a smooth and endearing motion, he kisses the top of your hand.

“Am I going to sprout pearls on my hand now?” You tease. Bjorn lacks your humor, swashing in the warm waters back toward his chariot manned by several hippocampi.

“Until next time, priestess.”

“Until next time, lord of the seas.” You incline your head in respect for him. Bjorn takes the reins of his chariot and commands them back to the waters below. As you extend your hand to wave him away, watching as he descends below the top of the water, you aren’t alone. Below the visiting goddesses watch as you start back with your amphora toward the temple where divine Lagertha visit.

“He’s in love!” Aslaug’s voice rises, tender in celebration of a union that could have been, but would not. “I should have seen it.”

“You deal with late stages of love and I with young ones.” Freydis reclines upon her arms, her long legs bouncing flowing fabric.

“Poor Bjorn.” Aslaug sighs, flapping a fan of peacock feathers. “Go on Baldur.”

They both agree on that alone, watching your figure become small in comparison to the raised golden pillars of Lagertha’s temple. Baldur, the small boy with a cleft lip, slips off the cloud with his arrow raised high to seek Poseidon in the waters below. Lagertha’s chariot has settled in the wide opening of the temple to receive her divine sacrifices.

“Now, Freydis… Where is my beloved Ivar?”