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

Chapter 61

Between the crying and the lack of sleep, you've left Meg with a nightmare of a makeup miracle to perform. She somehow manages, though, covering up the undereye circles and erasing the redness with a light, yet effective touch.

She herself is dressed rather more festively today: her typical white apron has been replaced with one embroidered with gold. You convinced her to dip into your palace-provided jewelry collection, matching the fine metallic threading with heavy gold studs, a layered necklace, and various other bangles and baubles. Even if she won't wear them outside of your chambers, it's worth it to see her eyes light up at the pretty things.

After all, it's your last day here; someone might as well make use of what you've got.

You hear the bracelets on her wrists jangle as she finishes the last touches of your makeup. You're more surprised, though, by the sound of a light sniff as she pulls away at last. You open your eyes to see her looking at you as though she might cry.

"Oh, Lady (Y/N)," she whispers. Her eyes are the brightest you've ever seen them as she places the circlet on your head. "You look beautiful."

You snort dismissively, but can't quite keep from smiling. "I thought you were done addressing me with titles?"

She shakes her head. "On any other day, I would call you (Y/N), but tonight?" She takes your hand gently, and leads you to the full length mirror inside your closet. "Tonight, you are truly a lady."

You are left speechless, both my her words and by the reflection that stares back at you. "Meg." Your hand flies to your throat. "This dress, it's...it's incredible." And it is. It's silver, almost white but not quite, and seems to almost glow against the emerald walls. The top is fitted, and just hits your waist before flaring out into a heavily layered skirt, draped with metallic, braided trim made to resemble chains. You've added dark red accents here and there - your earrings, your necklace, your lipstick...

And from your waist, attached by a thin chain, hangs the gold fish fork he'd given you the night of the meteor shower.

You're not really sure why. Maybe, in the back of your head, it's some last ditch effort to win him back.

How pathetic.

It all ends tonight. It is the last ball you will attend at the palace, and the first with no set theme or topic. You've already got your journal and your socks in a bag. All you have to do now is show up, dance a little, and not cry. You're going to do your best to avoid him; it's the only way, really. You can't let him see how weak you are, how afraid you are.

You will not frown. You will not sulk. And you will. Not. Cry.

Let's show this King of Midgard just how strong a mortal girl can be.

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

Your resolve is somewhat tempered by the fact that, upon your arrival to the ball, Loki himself is nowhere to be found. Neither are the other girls. No, wait - "Rhea!"

She turns to see you waving at her, and practically floats across the room, the soft teal train of her dress fluttering behind her. You want nothing more than to bury your head in the arm of the nearest chair, or to run upstairs to your room...but that would be rude. Not that it matters, not at this point, at least, but...okay, so maybe it does matter.

At least a little.

At least to you.

"Hi!" she chirps. She's not trying to gloat, you know she's not trying to gloat, but even Rhea, in all her maturity, cannot keep her triumph from leaking through. She's won. You both know it. It doesn't matter that you'd never seen the two of them act affectionately towards each other before last night, or that Meg threw the burgundy dress in the incinerator this morning, or even that the polls have tipped in your favor.