The King’s Ball
Loki was extremely nervous, to say the least. He was attending the King’s Ball, which wasn’t a high honor in Asgard, no, anyone was fit to attend as long as you were fit to be wed and a resident of the city. But nerves come wired in his blood. The Prince of Asgard was handsome, and Loki felt unfitting to his beauty.
Regardless, the day has come and Loki is dressed in his finest forest green robes, and a brown belt to match his boots. He has his raven black hair fallen across his shoulders, with a few small braids tied in here and there for a little extra craftiness.
Loki walks out of his home and to his garden to pick a present for the Prince. Everyone is to bring a gift, and you want to leave the best impression possible. He’s been growing his flower garden for ages now, and the poppies and peonies are especially perfect. You can only find these flowers on Midgard, and he bargained one of his finest plants for seed packets of these two flowers. He picks a small bouquet, placing them in a glass vase full of water.
Loki sighs, thinking his gift, even though impressive to him, would be nothing the Prince hasn’t seen before. But Loki’s never been to Midgard, not once, and those seedling packets were very special to him, anyway. Besides, he takes his gift and makes his way to the King’s Ball.
–
If there’s one thing the Prince can do, he can throw a good party, that’s for sure. There’s golden silk cloths hanging from the ceiling, and woven around the banisters of the kingdom, beautiful shrubbery and statues of Asgard’s Greats, as well as various fountains.
Not to mention the food offered at the King’s Ball. There were various options of cakes, sandwiches, finger foods, hors d'oeuvres, and the finest ale and wine you could ever drink sitting on every table. There was a large space in the middle of the room to dance, and the dancefloor was illuminated by moonlight.
There were many, many ladies all fawning over the Prince, whereas he was nowhere to be seen. But Loki just hearing them speak about him was making his stomach turn. He was gripping the vase of flowers so tightly he thought it may break into several shards.
These ladies, however, came to win the Prince over. My goodness, they had their finest silk robes tied tightly among their bosoms, as well as belts to match their ensembles. Each one with hair so elegantly coiffed, and make-up perfectly etched onto their faces. That itself was making Loki feel even more sick.
There were some eligible bachelors, as well, and Loki felt even worse looking at them. All high profile subjects of Asgard, either hunters, farmers, soldiers, blacksmiths. They were dressed in the finest varieties of silk known to any Asgardian or Midgardian.
Loki was but a botanist. A botanist with Jotun blood. Nobody knows it, but he came from a long line of Jotun royalty. But, he left his father, Laufey, and his old life behind to pursue something different – his passion for plants and the way they grow. Some Asgardians came to him for seedlings and saplings, but nothing too special. He wasn’t a high profile soldier in any class of the word. He did not learn the trade of anything, or acquire any of the accolades. He simply studied all he could about botany and the study of plants to keep his mind at ease from the crushing weight of his past. A past that if anyone knew, would get him expedited out of Asgard immediately. Jotuns are not allowed in Asgard after the war that happened long ago between Asgard and Jotunheim. He would be absolutely crushed if his dreams were ripped apart from him seam by seam. So, nobody is to know. Not even the Prince.
Regardless, Loki was not prepared. There was a pit at the bottom of his stomach stirring something unmeasurable. Asgardians were to come up to the Prince at various points in the night, if lucky enough to catch him between sips of ale, and introduce themselves and present their gift.
Loki hadn’t caught sight of the Prince quite yet, and he’s been there for quite some time now.
Loki greets people with small “hi’s” and “hello’s”, but nothing more, nothing less. Simply being cordial, is all.
He gazes around the room, finally spotting him. The Prince of Asgard.
His long, blond hair cascading down his shoulders and down his back, his piercing blue eyes, his tanned, remarkable skin bathed in the moonlight. He looked absolutely divine.
He was wearing a white set of silken robes, with a red robe tossed over his shoulder tied with a golden belt. He had golden leaflets adorning his hair on either side, and gorgeous golden necklaces and bracelets to match. Godly.
The Prince is chatting with a fair-skinned Asgardian, her brown wavy locks cascading down her back. She was wearing a green set of robes, and tied off with a brown belt.
The Prince was laughing and smiling at the lady as she presented her gift. He thanked her and set it on the large table beside him that was holding many other gifts. Cakes, crafts, books, etcetera were all on the table.
After seeing how many other gifts were on the table, he has the sudden urge to leave. His thoughts were panicking him, and quite frankly, his gift could never be as good as the others. Loki turns tail to leave, and feels a sudden tap on his shoulder.
“Just where do you think you’re going?” says a kind, but strong voice. Valor and dignity smoothed in between the lines.
Loki is frozen. His hands clench the vase even tighter, and he doesn’t want to turn around. But he swallows his pride and does, and sees the Prince himself towering above him.
“I- I was just.. Going home,” says Loki.
“Without introducing yourself to me?” asks the Prince.
“Well…” Loki’s small voice trails off.
The Prince laughs a hearty laugh. “Shy one, you are. It’s okay. Tell me, what is your name?” asks the Prince.
“Dear Prince, my name is Loki.”
“Please, call me Thor,” says Thor.
“Okay… Thor,” says Loki.
Thor’s eyes advert to Loki’s hands gripping the vase. “What is that you have there? Are those for me?” Thor asks kindly. Loki hands him the vase timidly, his hands shaking.
“Poppies and Peonies, for you, from Midgard,” says Loki. “I grew them from seedlings, in my garden.”
Thor’s eyes light up in surprise. “All the way from Midgard? Thank you, Loki!” exclaims Thor, taking the vase and holding it to his heart.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Sir Loki. I do hope we meet again,” says Thor.
“To you as well, Thor,” says Loki, and nods to the Prince, dismissing himself to go home.
-
Loki’s walk home was nothing special. His nerves were shot and he was simply ready to crawl into bed and never come out ever again.
As he arrives at his home, he peers into the garden to check on his flowers. Then, to the other side to check on his spices. Before making sure everything seemed alright, and no vermin had gotten in and eaten any of the fruits of his labor, he slipped inside and began to disrobe.
He sets his finest robes out to be hand washes and rung out in the morning on the table in the main room, and gazes at his various bookshelves for a new read.
He eventually picks something out, a botany book no less, and makes his way to his bedroom. In his bedroom, there are various types of hanging plants and plants among the windowsill that all keep him plenty company since he lives alone.
He opens the new book and flips to the first chapter, eventually dozing off before getting the chance to finish it.