masumiet

[masumiet]

The Strand of Fate (Loki x female reader)

summary: In the peaceful realm of Asgard, tranquility reigns. Life within the palace flows in its usual rhythm: quiet and predictable. The routine is disrupted by the sudden arrival of a young princess from Alfheim, sent away from her homeland by her father. Officially, she has come to stay with the royal family of Asgard for an indefinite period, under the pretext of gaining experience in courtly receptions and strengthening ties with their allied realm. P.S.: add your name instead of the written. And good readings to everybody :)

Chapter 1: The Arrival

Sylveya sat in a large marble bath filled with steaming water. She lazily ran a cloth over her skin, washing away the dust and grime that clung to her after the exhausting journey in the carriage. Her eyes were slightly swollen from tears, her gaze hollow and fixed on an empty void.

The room was bathed in the soft morning sunlight pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Numerous pots with living flowers were arranged around the room’s perimeter. It seemed the servants had taken special care to prepare them for her. The inhabitants of Alfheim were renowned for their love of nature. Her homeland was abundant with gardens—both man-made and wild. The light elves dedicated much effort to nurturing the small beings they regarded as the true children of nature.

A pleasant aroma of honey, mint, and lavender wafted from the water. The maids who had prepared the bath explained that they had added a special herbal infusion to help her recover from the long, exhausting journey between realms. The fragrance soaked into her warm, damp skin. The calming scent of lavender soothed the princess, leaving her indifferent to her surroundings.

Sylveya submerged herself completely in the water. A scene from the morning before, back in her homeland, flared vividly before her eyes.

***

The young woman burst into her father’s study without knocking. Her movements were abrupt, her eyes blazing with fury. Freyr, the King of Alfheim and the god of peace and prosperity, lifted his head from the papers scattered across his desk. His brows furrowed, his eyes narrowed. Setting the delicate quill aside, he crossed his arms over his chest. His blue gaze was heavy and stern.

“How dare you barge in like this?” His voice thundered. Watching his daughter, so desperate and fierce in her actions, he sighed. He had anticipated this—he knew she would come. He had expected her resistance. The man understood that his command would not be obeyed without protest.

“Father, how could you give such an order?” the girl cried, halting before his desk. Her petite frame was taut with anger, her cheeks flushed with indignation—a stark contrast to her pale, delicate complexion. Her blue eyes, icy in hue, roiled with a storm.

The man exhaled deeply, studying her silently for a moment. His forehead creased with lines of tension, his lips pressed tightly together. He saw her mother in her—just as emotional, willful, and untamed. He lamented the loss of the gentle little girl she once was. But those days were gone, and a wall had risen between them—a wall he knew he had helped to build.

“You left me no choice, Sylveya. You have forgotten your status and the responsibilities it entails. You dared to act recklessly and with undue liberty. You dared to forget yourself!” His tone was sharp and unyielding. He was firm in his actions, certain of the command he had issued. “When you go to Asgard, you will not behave as you do here. Under the royal tutelage of the King and Queen, you will learn to conduct yourself with the dignity befitting your station.”

“I don’t want to!” she shouted, her voice breaking with emotion. Tears brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “I don’t want to leave my home, Father!”

“You will,” Freyr said gravely, his expression unwavering. “If you refuse to go willingly, I will order you taken there by force. It is your choice how you wish to present yourself before the King and Queen of Asgard—bound and humiliated or with your dignity intact.”

Sylveya was stunned by her father’s words. He had never spoken to her with such cruelty and severity before. Her eyes widened in disbelief and hurt, a tear slipping down her cheek to wet her dry, parted lips. She stared at her father for a long moment, struggling to process his declaration.

“Why are you doing this to me?” she whispered, still unable to grasp what was happening. A storm raged within her, her anger flaring. “My brothers said I’m like Mother. They told me I’m her image, that my gestures and expressions remind them of her. Is that why you don’t love me, Father? Because when you look at me, you see her?” she spat bitterly, her words laced with venom.

“Enough!” Freyr slammed his palms on the desk, the sound reverberating through the room. His daughter flinched in fear. “You know my decision, and you will obey! By evening, a carriage will be waiting for you, so I advise you to prepare yourself. Now leave! And do not shame me before the royal family of Asgard.”

Sylveya stared at her father in disbelief, unwilling to accept his words. Tears spilled freely from her eyes. At last, she let out a cry of anguish and frustration before fleeing the room, slamming the door behind her as she ran past the guards.

***

Emerging from the water, Sylveya gasped for air and opened her eyes. Pain was etched across her face as the memories resurfaced. She regretted her words to her father—she knew she had caused him pain, speaking to him in a way no daughter should address her parent. Letting out a heavy sigh, she stood and stepped out of the bath. Streams of water ran down her body, pooling on the sun-warmed floor. Gently, she picked up a large, soft towel from the stone table and began drying her skin.

The maids entered the bathing chamber, their gazes lowered. They approached her carefully, holding out a robe to help her dress.

“Your Highness, please follow us. With your permission, we will assist you in getting ready,” one of the maids said, bowing slightly in deference.

Sylveya gave a brief nod and walked toward the exit of the bathing room. Pausing at the open door, she reached out to a nearby plant, lightly brushing its petals with her fingertips. She felt the life and harmony pulsing within it, and a gentle smile graced her lips at the sensation. Stroking the stem one last time, she left the room and returned to the quarters prepared for her by Her Majesty.

***

Sylveya sat at the vanity, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair cascaded down her back in loose waves, glistening in the sunlight thanks to the natural oils crafted by the royal artisans. As one maid wove tiny, jeweled flowers into her hair, another delicately applied a light floral perfume to the princess's neck.

Dressed in a white silk gown, with a natural glow to her face, bright eyes, and her luminous pale skin, Sylveya embodied the archetypal image of an Alv—a Light Elf of Alfheim. Though her lineage was divine, her delicate appearance came from her mother’s heritage.

The door to her quarters suddenly opened, and Frigga entered with poise and grace. Sylveya immediately rose from her stool, turned to the Queen of Asgard, and executed a deep curtsy, her head bowed in deference.

“Your Majesty, thank you for your warm welcome. It is an honor to be your guest,” Sylveya said softly, her tone respectful and serene.

The goddess smiled warmly at the young Alv and stepped closer. Sylveya noticed the calming aura emanating from her—a serenity that the princess herself could not share. Her body was tense, her soul burdened by the recent quarrel with her father.

“I am glad to see you in Asgard, Sylveya,” Frigga said gently, taking the princess’s hand and examining her face with maternal affection. “Your mother was a dear friend of mine, as you must know. I have wanted to invite you here for quite some time, and when I received your father’s letter, I couldn’t refuse. How do you find your quarters? I personally oversaw their arrangement—I heard you favor light tones and greenery.”

Sylveya’s eyes darted around the room. Everything was indeed to her taste. These quarters even reminded her of home. The thought of Alfheim filled her heart with longing, causing it to ache with homesickness and sorrow.

“Everything is simply wonderful, Your Majesty. It is an honor to reside in such luxurious chambers,” she said with a polite smile. Sylveya wanted to bow again in gratitude, but Frigga stopped her with a firm yet gentle squeeze of her hand. Sylveya’s eyes widened in surprise, meeting the goddess’s steady gaze. Frigga smiled softly and released her hand.

“Please, call me Frigga,” the Queen said kindly. “I have known you since your birth, and you are like a niece to me. I wanted to tell you that the entire palace is at your disposal. The maids will show you our gardens, stables, or library—wherever you wish to go.”

The maids, lined up respectfully at the side, bowed deeply to affirm the Queen’s words.

“Additionally, I wish to inform you that a ball has been planned for tomorrow evening in honor of your arrival in Asgard. I hope you will take the opportunity to make some friends at court and enjoy yourself. My sons are currently away on a mission. They should return either late tonight or early in the morning, so I decided to schedule the ball for tomorrow. This way, you’ll have time to rest from your journey and adjust to the palace.”

“It is a great honor, Frigga,” Sylveya replied with a grateful smile. She smiled because it was expected of her. Yet the thought of being presented to so many strangers, who would surely stare and gossip behind her back, did not appeal to her. She was well aware of the nature of courtly society.

Late that night, Sylveya sat on the windowsill, her knees drawn to her chest. She hugged her legs as she gazed at the midnight view. The windows of her chambers faced a part of Asgard relatively free of structures and floating isles. Before her stretched the open expanse of sky, scattered with stars, and the radiant dome of the Bifröst’s gateway.

She had been sitting there for hours, lost in thought. She couldn’t imagine life away from home, but she had no choice. Regret weighed heavily on her heart—regret for the words she had hurled at her father. She regretted not embracing him, not kissing him goodbye as he stood by the carriage and helped her into it.

Her melancholy was interrupted by a brilliant pillar of light descending from the cosmos to the gateway of the Bifröst. Sylveya pressed herself against the glass, straining to see what was happening. But the pillar of light appeared and vanished as quickly as it had come. She kept her eyes fixed on the bridge, her father’s words about its workings echoing in her mind. Such light could only mean someone’s arrival. Patiently, she waited for the travelers to appear.

Finally, she saw them: a group of riders on horseback galloping across the bridge toward the palace. There appeared to be five of them. Sylveya watched them intently as they drew closer. Two riders led the group, their laughter echoing faintly even from a distance. One had dark hair and wore Asgardian green, while the other was blond, clad in steel armor with hints of red. She tried to get a better look, but they were still too far away.

"So, these must be the princes of Asgard," she thought, curiosity lighting her weary gaze.

[masumiet]

Have Mercy

One Shot Masterlist | Complete Masterlist

Summary: You're a powered being with healing abilities and you try to bring Loki back from the brink of death. Pairing: Loki x Female Reader Word Count: 1832 Warnings: Fluff, heavy kissing, slapping, mentions of death (close call), injury, a very flirty Loki,

You didn’t know how much time had passed since you all started the ambush. Tall sequoias canopied above blocking the setting sun. The air was thick with smoke and heavy from the fighting. You heard multiple teammates calling for healing, but none was louder than Thor. His troubled voice blasted through the comms, “Medic! We need a healer quickly!” His deep command tore you away from the battle you were in and you fought your way over to him. “Priestess, please! Come quick!”

Through fire and volley, you found Thor kneeling on the ground with Loki in his arms. Lifeless. Steve was circling them, trying to shield the brothers from a barrage of attacks.

You knelt on the ground. Your knees hit soft mud as your eyes scanned Loki’s body. His sharp face was paler than usual. Blue-ish tint had started to stain his lips. And your naïve-self hoped it was just because of the cold seeping from the wet ground. “Thor, I’ll take it from here. Go help Steve. I can’t worry about my life when I have to worry about his!”

Thor nodded to you. But before he laid Loki down, he whispered in his ear, “I know you are stronger than this, brother. But I swear on Yggdrasil if you are pretending, I will not hesitate to cleave Stormbreaker into you.” Thor sniffed and placed him down to the ground.

You nodded your head and patted Thor’s shoulder. “He’ll be fine,” you feigned, as you tried to get a better look at what had happened. You didn’t have the heart to tell Thor that you could feel how thin and fragile Loki’s life string was. A hair, compared to the cord that we all have. Worse, the thick rope that the Asgardian’s life used to be. You didn’t even know if you were skilled enough to weave it stronger.

There was a large gaping hole that tore Loki’s chest plate. His skin had burned and was raw from the impact. You couldn’t see any entry wounds. Nor blood. But the bruising and dent on his chest was not a good sign. A stray missile, perhaps? Maybe jumping in the way to save his brother. They vex each other constantly. But deep down they care for each other like most siblings do.

You straddled his body, holding your two hands out, placing them over his wound. A soft resonance emitted from your palm down to his skin. You kept your hands on him as the pulse of your powers worked their way through his body. You can see tiny mends of his scrapes and scratches. The raw skin around the wound had returned to their usual pallor.  He’s reacting at least. There’s still some life in him- whatever little is left.

You persisted. With every pulse, you can see his wounds healing. Ribs cracking back into place. The blue on his lips retreated ever so slowly. But his lifeline was stubborn. If you could hold out just long enough, his own regenerative powers might kick in.

Grasping at straws, your mind quickly raced with ideas to help speed the process along. You remembered that sometimes, shock was a good way of knocking someone back into the land of the living. “Ugh, don’t get mad at me, okay? I’m only trying to save your life,” you vowed out loud in case he was able to hear you. You quickly pulled your palm back and slapped Loki hard across his cheek.

Small capillaries burst where your hand met his face. Aside from the new hue, Loki had remained the same. Still and quiet. His line fading from your grasp. You panicked at your failed attempt.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You didn’t know how to tell Thor that you couldn’t save his only brother. Ideas and thoughts ran past your mind all muddled and incoherent. Ways and spells. Teachings and theories you’ve learned on healing and regeneration.

You cupped Loki’s cheek, healing the bruise you had left. Your brows knit together, puzzled as to what to do next. Hopeless in feeling and thought. You didn’t want to look up. You didn’t want to see Thor’s face and have to tell him an awful truth. They had just reunited this past year. It wasn’t fair. And it would be all your fault because you couldn’t save him. You couldn’t save Loki. Your heart turned solemn as angry tears threatened to drop from your eyes.

By now the fighting had stopped. You didn’t realize how quiet the world had gotten around you. How still the air was from flying projectiles or weapons. The team gathered loosely. Giving you space to try and save Loki’s life, but the look on their faces betrayed the faith they were trying to offer you.

Your thumb brushed Loki’s cheek, wiping away the mud that speckled his face. He would’ve been appalled if he knew where Thor had left him on the ground. You smirked at the thought as your thumb rested on his chin and traced his lips.

His cold lips opened slightly at your touch, and you were struck with an idea.  You grabbed both sides of his leather collars and brought him to sit up towards you. His slack weight was heavier than you anticipated, and it took your remaining strength to sit him upright. You closed your eyes as your lips crashed into his, honing your powers into that desperate kiss.

You had never done this before. You had never needed to do this before. But you were hoping that your breath of life could pass onto him and carry him through till his own powers could take over. You sucked hard on his upper lip, not wanting to break any contact. Your fingers entwined themselves in his hair, desperate to keep him close to you. “Please. Please. Please,” you whispered into his mouth. Tears fell from your eyes and landed on his cheek. Your arms wrapped around his neck, unwilling to let go. Unwilling to accept the truth.

Still, you continued.

You felt a low rumble from his chest. A hopeful sign that it’s working. You just needed to hold on a little bit longer! You opened your lips for a breath of your own. And when you closed your mouth around his, your power pulsated in between you.

You felt his temperature return first. The warmth in his lips, the heat in his breath. You could feel his lifeline winding itself tighter and stronger.

His mouth returned your kiss. Sluggish and tentative. But they held on to your lips, tightly. His hands embraced your hips so delicately you didn’t even know they were there. You naturally leaned into the kiss more. Your power still pulsing through you. One last intake of breath and you passed it along towards Loki.

His grip tightened around you and he pulled you closer onto his lap. His arms snaked around you, holding your head close to his, unwilling to let you go.  You could hear small groans and heavy panting. But you honestly didn’t know whether it came from you or from Loki.

His tongue touched your lips, asking for entry. Catching your breath you opened your mouth once again and Loki gainfully ran his tongue inside against the roof of your mouth.

You didn’t realize that your powers had finished. With nothing left to heal, your powers subsided. But you were so lost in the kiss that you had forgotten where you were and what you were doing. Slowly, you pulled away. But Loki’s kiss followed you unwilling to release you. You bit his bottom lip as a warning, holding his face in between your hands.

“Darling, what an indecent way to ask me out,” Loki grinned from ear to ear. His voice was rough and garbled. He kept his face close to yours, running his nose against your cheek. “I accept!”

The world came crashing back around you. The time. The place. The situation. The shock froze you in place just staring into Loki’s blue-green eyes. “I always thought you harbored affections for me. But now I am certain,” he taunted.

You slapped him.

You couldn’t think of anything else to do. You felt betrayed somehow. Tricked. Even though you knew that he was genuinely in peril. The fact that he was joking about it even now, irked you.

Loki’s eyes narrowed. His brow furrowed as he slowly turned his head to face you again. His chin jutted out, trying to contain the smirk that was coming forth. “Is that how you like it?”

You tried to push yourself off of him. You’ve had enough of his antics. You were utterly embarrassed at being caught in this situation. Especially with the team around, surely watching.

He caught your wrists as you pushed on his chest, stopping you. “Do it again,” he commanded. His grin was out in full force now. Dazzling you to the last inch of your nerve.

“Ugh, the thanks I get for saving your life!” pushing him down as you stood yourself up. “Next time I’ll just leave you limp in the mud.” You sneered, walking away with your head held high and your face heated and red. From humiliation or from desire, you didn’t know.

“Well, that’s very hard to do when you’re kissing me like that, my angel,” Loki yelled after you. He couldn’t stop smiling as he watched you angry and flustered. All because of him. Oh, I’m in trouble.

“What do I gotta do to get a kiss like that?” Bucky asked teasingly as you stomped passed him.

“Die!” you growled back at him. The words felt mean as they left your mouth. And you regretted saying them instantly. He was only trying to lighten the situation. But you couldn’t help the shame you had inside you.

“Oh, c’mon doll. I was only teasing.” Bucky raised his arms in defeat and followed you back to the quinjet, laughing.

“Loki!” Thor scolded as he held his hand to his brother, helping him up. “I hope that you were not deceiving us just to try and gain favor with the priestess. I know you’ve been seeking her affections.”

“Brother! I am genuinely hurt! Did you not see me lying there at the last inch of my life?” Loki contended, pointing to the ground where he once laid.

Thor rolled his eyes but smirked, clapping Loki on the shoulder. He was glad to have his brother back once again. “She’s very talented that one. And I do not want to see her get hurt, Lo-. Loki are you listening to me.”

Loki was at a loss for words, watching you. “She gave me my life back, brother. I have felt her lips against mine and I’ll be damned if I don’t feel them again soon.” Loki smiled as he swatted away Thor’s hand on him. His eyes solely on you, plotting how to get you to kiss him again.

A/N: I know it's been awhile. I do plan on finishing my series' soon. Thanks for staying with me. Life has been hard and you guys get me through it.

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[masumiet]

[masumiet]

MBTI Booklist! (Credit :  @Indepth_mbti)

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