Archive of Our Own ^beta

The soft light of dawn spills across the golden spires and shimmering towers of Asgard, bathing the majestic city in warm, golden hues. Y/N stands at the balcony of the royal palace, leaning slightly over the edge, her eyes wandering over the sprawling vista below. The kingdom of Asgard stretches out before her, its shining white stone walls and towering structures bathed in early morning light. From here, she can see the vast expanse of the Bifrost Bridge, stretching far into the distance, the rainbow bridge gleaming like a thread of colour woven into the sky. The glittering rivers and pristine gardens of Asgard, flanked by golden statues, catch the light and shimmer like jewels scattered across the landscape.   

She has known this land all her life—walked its streets, trained in its courts, and now, here she is, in the heart of the royal palace, gazing down at it from a vantage she has never before had. 

She never thought she would see Asgard like this. From the high balcony of the palace, everything looks more magnificent than ever. The city, spread out beneath her, seems almost unreal—like a creation from the hands of gods themselves. I could stay here forever, she thinks, a fleeting thought that fills her with a quiet warmth.   

Asgard beneath her, still bathed in the soft, peaceful embrace of morning, seems almost otherworldly. The grand towers of the palace, the golden gleam of the Bifrost, and the distant mountain peaks all merge into one perfect scene. I don’t think I’ll ever tire of this view, she muses, a warmth blooming in her chest as she takes in the beauty.   

Her thoughts are so consumed by the scene that she doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching her from behind until a sharp voice splits the stillness.   

“ How wonderful it must be, ” the voice drawls, laced with sarcasm, “ to find one’s wife plummeting to her death first thing in the morning, hm? ”   

Y/N’s foot catches on the edge of the balcony as she spins around, startled by the sudden intrusion. Her balance falters, and before she can catch herself, her body tips backward. A startled yelp escapes her lips as her arms flail, desperately trying to find some purchase.   

She falls heavily to the marble floor, landing with a soft thud , her legs awkwardly entangled beneath her. Staring up at the sky in stunned silence, she can hardly believe the absurdity of the situation. Well, that was unexpected, she thinks, half-amused despite herself.   

For a moment, she remains there, dazed, simply gazing up at the pale sky as she tries to collect herself. It’s not so bad, she reassures herself. Nothing broken—only my pride. But then, as the seconds stretch on, the reality of what has just happened begins to settle in, and she realizes—   

1. Loki is already fully dressed in his royal finery, looking every bit the part of a prince, while she—still in her nightgown—lies sprawled awkwardly on the floor.  
2. He stands above her, his eyes flickering between glaring at her and looking away as if some deep discomfort has overtaken him.  
3. It is far too early for court matters to be stirring, yet here he is, impeccably groomed, which only adds to the strange urgency of the situation.

Y/N blinks, her mouth dry from the shock of the fall, but she quickly regains her composure, forcing a soft, sheepish smile. “Good morning, Your Highness,” she says, her voice breathless but light. Though I cannot imagine how this is a ‘good’ morning for either of us...    

Loki is silent for a moment, his eyes sweeping over her with that sharp, calculating gaze of his. He seems caught between irritation and some form of awkwardness. The corner of his mouth twitches ever so slightly before he speaks, his tone curt. “Need assistance?”   

Y/N blinks in surprise. Is he offering to help? Or is this merely another sarcastic remark? She quickly scrambles to sit up, the fabric of her nightgown shifting around her, and with a nervous laugh, she brushes herself off. “No, no, Your Highness. I’m quite fine, thank you,” she says hastily, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.   

She rises quickly to her feet, smoothing her nightgown as best as she can, and makes her way inside to grab her cloak. She can’t stand there before him, looking like a complete fool. I must have looked utterly ridiculous, she thinks with a quiet groan.   

Once she has draped the cloak around her shoulders and regained her posture, she turns back toward him. “But, if I may ask,” she says, trying to sound as composed as possible despite the lingering embarrassment, “why are you here so early?” It certainly isn’t the usual time for any formal court duties, and her curiosity gets the better of her.   

Loki’s gaze softens ever so briefly, though the change is fleeting. “Can’t a man visit his wife?” His voice is laced with an undercurrent of something Y/N cannot quite place—a tightness perhaps, one that seems almost out of character.   

Y/N’s thoughts flicker back to their wedding night, remembering how clearly Loki had made it known that their marriage was a mere formality, nothing more. The sharpness of his words had lingered in the air, and she has long since come to terms with that. Still, a small part of her wonders, Could it ever be different? But she quickly shakes that thought away, dismissing it as foolishness.   

A small smile plays at the edges of her lips. “Of course, Your Highness. It’s simply... unexpected. I wasn’t anticipating a visit so early, that’s all.”   

Loki lets out a dry, almost humourless laugh, his eyes briefly flashing with something unreadable. “I must be troubling you,” he mutters, his gaze drifting away, as though lost in his own thoughts. It is unclear whether his words are directed at her or himself.   

Y/N quickly shakes her head, her voice gentle. “Not at all, Your Highness. Please, do not worry.” She pauses, then adds, with a slight change in tone, “Have you had breakfast yet?”   

Loki raises an eyebrow at the question, clearly taken aback. “Isn’t it too early for breakfast?” His tone is incredulous, yet there is something else—an exhaustion she had not noticed before.   

Y/N offers a soft grin, her tone light. “Isn’t it also too early for court affairs?” she teases, unable to resist.   

Loki’s eyes narrow slightly, though his lips quirk upward for just a moment, a hint of amusement breaking through his usual reserve. “I’m not attending court,” he replies with a touch less sharpness. “I’m heading to my office. Thor’s coronation is only a year away, and there’s an endless list of things to do—guest lists, invitations, processions, security... I can hardly keep up with it all.”   

Y/N falls silent, observing him. There is something in his voice, a strain she hadn’t expected. It isn’t just the work; there is an undercurrent of something deeper. Perhaps frustration? Or even jealousy? She has heard the whispers around the palace regarding the upcoming coronation of Loki’s older brother, and it seems that burden is now weighing on him. Poor thing, she thinks. He may never be the one in the spotlight.    

After a moment, she speaks softly, trying to ease the tension that hangs in the air. “But a year is still quite some time. Surely there’s no need to rush.”   

Loki’s lips press into a thin line as he stares out over the horizon, his posture stiffening. “A year may seem like a long time,” he says, though the words sound almost forced, as if he is trying to convince himself more than anyone else. “But it’s not. There’s always more to be done. And then, of course, there’s Thor.”   

Y/N’s heart softens as she notices the faint bitterness in his voice. So, it is jealousy, she realizes. He feels overshadowed. She doesn’t say anything about it, though. He isn’t looking for sympathy—she can see that much.   

Instead, she smiles kindly. “I’m sure you will manage, Your Highness. You’re doing your best, and that is all anyone can ask.”   

For a brief moment, their eyes meet, and the usual hardness in his gaze softens just slightly. “Perhaps,” he mutters under his breath.   

Y/N seizes the moment to offer help. “Would you like me to assist with any of the preparations?” she asks, her eagerness slipping through her words. “I may not be able to do much, but if there’s anything I can—”   

Loki raises an eyebrow, scepticism written all over his face. “And how, precisely, do you propose to assist?”   

Y/N smiles gently, though her eyes sparkle with a playful glint. “Well, you won’t know unless you let me try,” she replies. “Give me ten minutes to freshen up, and I’ll be of use in whatever way I can.”   

He sighs, though his eyes soften ever so slightly. It is almost as if he is truly considering her offer. “I never agreed to this,” he mutters.   

“You did,” Y/N says teasingly, her eyes warm. “When you married me and promised to share all your joys and sorrows. The workload is a part of that, is it not?”   

Loki sighs again, but this time, there is the faintest crack in his usual composure. “Do as you please, Princess,” he says, his voice still curt but with less of the usual edge. “What’s the point of asking when you’ve already made up your mind?”   

Y/N grins, her heart lighter than it’s been all morning.   

“I’ll see you in ten minutes, then!” she says, the promise clear in her voice.   

With that, she hurries off, her footsteps echoing softly through the quiet palace halls. She can’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, things might not be as distant between her and Loki as they once seemed. And with that thought, she smiles to herself, feeling a small sense of accomplishment that lingers longer than she expects.