Birthday Entrance
You awaken the next morning to an unfamiliar churning within your stomach.
Closing your eyes as you sit up in bed, you sigh as you put your head in your hands.
29 years old.
Slowly scooting your feet to the floor, you stand up and bring yourself to your mirror, pulling at the bags under your eyes as you assess your current physical state.
Pathetic.
Sighing as you turn away from the mirror, you hear a light knock at the door before it slowly opens.
“Miss Y/N?” your handmaiden says.
“Yes?” you call out.
“There is an invitation for you,” she says, holding out a small white envelope.
Slowly shuffling over, you flip the light on as you take it from her hands.
“Thank you,” you say as she bows and shuts the door behind you.
Slowly turning the letter in your fingers, you open its seal and pull the single sheet of paper from its confines.
You are cordially invited to attend Miss Angel’s 29th birthday dinner. Food, drinks, and dancing to be had. Come dressed to attend one of the most prestigious events of the Asgardian calendar.
Sighing as you hold your head in your hand, you groan as the letter flutters to the floor.
Knock knock knock.
“Y/N?”
Sif.
Smiling lightly as you open the door, your friend stands there with a cake in hand, smiling broadly as she begins to sing awfully off-key.
“Happy Birthday to you! Happy Birthday to you!”
Holding up your hand as the laughter rumbles through your body, you bend over as she laughs with you, scooting by you and sitting down on your bed, pulling two forks from the pouch on her side as she pats the bed next to you.
Sitting down beside her, you take a fork and begin to eat, the cake and icing melting in your mouth with every chew you make.
Rolling your eyes in the back of your head, Sif smiles with a mouthful as she swallows it down.
“It is time you stopped grieving,” she says.
“I know…” you drift off.
“Eventually you will have to step out in to the sun,” she urges.
“Happy Birthday to me,” you retort sarcastically before taking another bite.
Setting the cake down, she wipes her hands off on her legs before turning her body to you.
“You have had your time for self pity and recuperation. Now, it is time to take your rightful place in this universe.”
“I never asked for this, Sif,” you say weakly, tossing your fork onto the bed, “I never asked to be a guardian. I never asked for the universe to bow at my feet. I never asked for all of this power,” you whimper.
“All I asked was to be loved,” you whisper.
“And you are,” she reassures you, putting her hand on your arm as you slump back down on to the bed, “But whether you like it or not, your time is upon us. This universe has been without guidance for a great deal longer than it should have been, and you are the remedy it needs.”
“I wanted Loki to be my healer…” you choke out through tears, closing your eyes as you try to conjure his face in your mind.
“I know,” Sif lulls, rubbing your back as you sigh heavily, “And maybe he will come around. Whether you believe me or not, I am here by your side. Forever.”
“You better be,” you eye her playfully, wiping your face with yours hands, “You’re my Warrior.”
“At least we are on the same page in that regard,” she smiles, getting up and crossing the room.
“Now, clean yourself up and start getting ready. The festivities will begin around 5 this evening.”
“Sif…it’s 11 am,” you say incredulously.
“And that is why this self-pity party is over,” she says as she eyes you wearily.
“Why?” you ask hesitantly.
“Because it is 2 in the afternoon, Angel,” she says.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel.
Hearing Sif call you that was still so…ominous.
Traditionally, when a guardian takes his rightful place, he leaves behind his birth name and takes his father’s name as guardian.
But calling you by your father’s name was absurd.
But, you also didn’t care for your mother’s name either.
So, you decided to take on her nickname…the name everyone called her ever since she was a little girl…the name by which she was always introduced.
Angel.
Taking a ragged breath as you look over at your wardrobe, you notice the incredible dominance of green as your eyes start to water…your gaze flittering down towards the broken shackle that still lays helplessly on your vanity.
And just before you had decided to give up on the party, a light rapping comes at your door.
“Come in,” you sigh as you stand to your feet, your half-length slip tumbling to your knees as you stand.
Watching as the door doesn’t open, you furrow your brow as you walk towards the door, slowly opening it as you stick your head out in to the hallway.
“Hello?” you call out.
Confusion covering your face, you go to close the door as a glimmer of light catches your eye.
Looking around at the front of the other door, you gawk at the sight of the gorgeous dress.
Walking out and standing in front of it, not caring who sees you in your undergarments, you finger the lacy fabric cast softly over the white silk as the dress, adorned with sequins and decoration, is made to fit your form exactly, the corseted bodice giving way not to a ball gown, but to a flowing sea of miniature pearls and lace.
Your mouth agape as you remove it from its hanger, you rub the material between your fingers, your eyes watering at the beauty of it’s presence.
Walking back inside your room as you kick your door shut, you slowly walk back to your vanity, calling for your handmaiden as she unlaces the corset, allowing you to step in while she affixes the dress to your body.
“Do you know who sent for this?” you ask, your eyes wide as you twirl in the mirror.
Not saying a word, she holds out a letter to you, giving you a light smile before she leaves.
Watching as your hands tremble, you carefully open yet another letter as you side it out of it’s envelope.
Angel,
May this dress give you the confidence and strength you need for the road ahead.
All my love,
Frigga
Clutching the note to your chest, you send up not a silent “thank you,” but a silent apology, for as you read the letter, you heart sinks at the revelation that Loki is, once again, still absent.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Smoothing out your dress one last time, you hear your door crack open as your handmaiden sticks her head in.
“Your escort to the party is here,” your handmaiden says.
Turning around, an air of confusion migrating across your face, you watch as Odin slowly appears at your door.
“My wife told me the dress was beautiful,” he says as he takes a deep breath, shaking his head, “…but the word does not do it justice on you.”
Crossing the room as you smile at him, you watch as he takes your hands in his, squeezing lightly as he sighs.
“Forgive me, Angel,” he says, his face contorted with pain, “I did not know about Michael…or about your feelings toward this entire situation that has careened out of control. Had I known, his trip would have taken a very different course, and yesterday would have had a very different purpose.”
Squeezing his hands back, you look at him as you shake your head. “I should be the one apologizing to you, berating you that way in front of everyone. You have been a wonderful father to Loki. No parent is perfect,” you whisper, shaking your head.
As the two of you stand there, hand in hand as you take a deep breath, you roll your shoulders back as you sigh.
“Either way, It’s in the past, Allfather,” you say.
“Odin,” he corrects, “If you can call my wife by her name, then you shall do the same for me.”
“I shall try,” you respond playfully.
“Have you thought any more on the proposal I sent your way yesterday?” he asks as his face gets stern.
“Well…since I do not look kindly on polygamy…” you trail off, leaning in and cocking your eyebrow playfully as Odin chuckles.
“A Guardian needs a proper home,” he says as he looks in to your eyes, “Somewhere that they feel comfortable, and accepted,” he says as he wraps your arm around his, turning the two of you towards the door.
“It would be an honor for you to call Asgard home, you know,” he says with an air of pride in his voice.
Feeling the tears prickle the back of your eyes, you walk with him in to the hallway as you stop abruptly, turning to him as sad smile crossing your face.
“But Loki…” you drift off.
“…is the one who suggested it to that morning,” Odin interjects, bringing his hand to your cheek as he wipes away a stray tear.
“What?” you ask breathlessly.
“Just because my son is a stubborn frost giant, does not mean that his heart hasn’t been thawed,” Odin smiles.
“I know he has been distant,” he says as he searches your eyes, continuing slowly down the hallway, “But that does not mean that he does not care. He knows, deep down, that what happened was just one unfortunate incident after the next, born out of a desperate need to be your best for him,” he says.
“I miss him,” you admit.
“I know, my child,” he says as the two of you stop just shy of the Grand Hall.
Feeling your body begin to shake, you take a few shallow breaths before you feel Odin pat the top your hand in reassurance.
“You are not alone,” he says lowly, his voice ricocheting through your body as you nod and take a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back once more.
And as Odin nods to the door attendant, he swings the door for you both, putting a horn to his mouth as he roars your introduction to the party.
“I now pronounce to you, arriving at 5:06 in the early evening, Miss Guardian Angel and her escort, Odin, King of Asgard!”