Summary: Everyone grows up with their soulmate’s voice in their head. Loki believes that he has no soulmate due to the absence of a voice until there suddenly was one.
Warnings: Canon violence, language (?), hella historical inaccuracies (I tried to do research but then got lazy)
Word Count: 702
Time: December 1533
Place: Hatfield, Hertfordshire, England, Midgard
(Y/N) tied her horse to a low branch on a nearby tree after dismounting. The man in front of her had pale skin and black hair that was slicked back. She knew that he was Loki; a feeling within her told her. She removed the hood of her dark cloak and took a step closer. He looked human, but because of the stories he told, she knew he was not.
“Hello, (Y/N).” His voice was as smooth as it was in her head, but it was different. The only way she could describe it was that it sounded solid. It felt less intimate. Like he could bless others with his words, but it was more special because he was here.
“Loki,” she breathed. She had kept pestering him to come, but now that they were together it felt awkward.
“You look more beautiful than I ever could imagine.” He stepped closer.
(Y/N) touched her hair self-consciously. There were multiple knots, and it probably looked like one of those bird nests the dogs always knocked out of trees. She had woken up in a hurry and her hair being trapped in the hood of her cloak probably didn’t help.
Then it occurred to her that she was wearing only her nightgown, and she tightly wrapped her cloak around herself. Loki wouldn’t hurt her, but no man has seen her in an outfit so revealing. Still, she took another step closer.
“I do not know what to say.” Fortunately, her voice didn’t shake or waver as she feared, but Loki could probably feel her nervousness.
They both took a final step closer. (Y/N) reached up and cupped Loki’s face in her hand which tingled slightly when they made contact. She admired his sharp features and bright blue-green eyes. She shivered in the cold winter air. Loki noticed and pulled her into a hug. (Y/N) leaned into him and felt a shiver shoot through her body.
“You’re real.” Her soft voice was almost lost in the wind. “I was scared that I was dreaming.”
“What has been bothering you? Tell me everything,” he whispered into her ear.
“My father,” she began, “he wants another wife. My mother isn’t dead. What if he kills her just so that he could marry another woman. I don’t want to lose my mother for such an idiotic reason. I don’t want to be alone. I would say I have my sister, but she is a complete brat. If anything, she makes this horrid situation worse. I just feel as if I’m going through this alone.”
Loki cupped her face in his hands, effectively stopping her rambling.
“You are not alone. You will never be alone,” he comforted. “You have me. You will always have me.”
They spent the rest of the night in each other’s embrace, talking about everything. It felt like they already knew everything about the other person. It felt like they were exactly where they belonged. In the middle of a forest, in England, on Midgard, in each other’s arms.
“I must go,” (Y/N) said as she saw small glints of the sun as it rose behind the trees. “I hope we do this again.” She pulled away reluctantly, feeling the biting cold of December once again.
“I hope we do.”
(Y/N) untied and mounted her horse. She smiled as she replaced her hood and turned to leave. She looked over her shoulder to watch a colorful beam of light surround Loki. When the light disappeared, Loki was gone as well.
Realizing the speed of the rising sun, (Y/N) pushed her horse to a canter. When she returned, most of the servants had already risen, and the stable boy was ready to take the horse.
She quickly ran back to her room, not caring about the servants who saw her. She knew none of them had the guts to tell anyone. Her cloak was hastily thrown into the closet and (Y/N) quickly jumped into her bed and pulled up her blankets.
I enjoyed your company last night.
Loki’s voice echoed through her head. She smiled and covered her head with her sheets. She could remember every aspect of his face, down to the mischievous glint in his eyes. It was a night she would never forget.