Prepare yourselves! A blowjob is coming (and Loki is too).

The prince was standing stiffly as he perused the darkness of the herb pantry, the hanging dried roots and flowers, scarce petals littering the dusty, sugary-salty-peppered floor, a faint current sweeping through the hollow hallways of the sleeping palace making its way between his slightly parted legs, through his hair and pushing gently against his cape, moving on to swing the hanging boughs in the sweet smelling room. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, a picture of contentment.

In front of him, on her knees, the servant girl tried her best not to choke. It wasn't the first time she was doing this, and somehow she hoped it wouldn't be the last. She wasn't very sure about what it meant, but the feminine part of her enjoyed the attention it involved and the fact that it came from a prince. He wasn't even very rough with her, and he certainly smelled nicer than the boys in the kitchens. Looked better, too.

She opened her eyes to gaze up at him through her lashes while her lips rubbed back and forth, over and around him. The tip reached the back of her mouth and it tickled in an unpleasant way, but she was better prepared for the feeling now at least. Moving back, the girl could take a better look at his up-turned face and silently hope for his approval before she closed in again and reached the raw smelling leather of his tunic.

Loki looked down for a moment, somewhat bored with how slow she was going, when he caught her pleading eyes looking up at him. She had something of the cow about her, he thought with displeasure. Her large eyes stared but told him nothing, and from that position her nose looked quite big and he could hardly see her lips moving around him. He signed, and with a hand in her curly mane pushed her head lower so that he wouldn't have to look at her. The girl groaned a little when he pushed himself in too deeply; he almost apologised.

There was a lute playing in the corner - a machine turning a magical tune on its own - and there was a shadow dancing on the wall, swinging leisurely in a fuzzy outline. She sat herself at a vanity of worn wood and propping her soft face in her palms, the girl started into the ornate mirror. Avildis was spending another night entertaining herself with chocolates and dreams and music. There was going to be a feast in a couple of days. The All-father was to announce the date of Thor's coronation, and then there'd be eating and drinking and much merry-merry making. She supposed it was too early to get ready for it, but she might as well get a head start. Midnight is a perfectly reasonable time of day.

She brushed her hair until her arms were sore, then tried to braid it, then failed and had to brush it again. It was a bore, that mess of wires, and although long and beautiful and straight (her finest feature, she thought) she never could do anything with it. She wanted to fashion herself two long braids and have them hang heavily down her front, like the ladies on the tapestries. The latest fashions were beyond her skill anyway, and Avildis didn't like having the servants do things with her hair. She used to have an old maid tend to her, but she was taken away when the girl grew up.
Avildis was much more alone the more she grew, though she wasn't sure yet how much she minded it. She supposed she missed her brothers, but she was too bitter to linger on the thought - too bitter with Thor over their father's preferential blindness, and bitter still with Loki for betraying everything she felt for him.

They settled in a new rhythm and now he could reach deeper down her throat. With a twitch of his features, Loki was pleased to realise she was getting better at it. Shyly the girl even extended her tongue to trace a brief icy-wet line over his sack before dragging her lips up his length again. He started to thrust harder and she tightened her lips as much as she could, holding him against the roof of her mouth with her tongue. His hand tightened in her hair and started thrusting harder and deeper, shushing the girl when she whined and groaned at his shoving. She lifted a dirty paw to hang onto his hip and he was almost there, cursing under his breath at the involuntary flinch her intimate touch gave him. Heaving and groaning almost pitifully, the young prince bent forward for a moment, his eyes tightly shut as he spilt down her throat. He kept her head firmly against him for a moment longer to enjoy the warmth of her mouth, and to make sure she took it all in.

"No." the prince said harshly when she tried to pull away. "Clean me up first." Loki smirked. "With your mouth." he added quickly when he saw her lifting her apron. He could tell with amusement that the girl wasn't quite sure what to do, but she leaned back down anyway and started to brush her tired tongue down his cock. She may've been stupid but she was a fast learner, he thought with a chuckle. She used her lips too, sucking up the left-over salty liquids from his skin and even kissing him in places, leaving in the end no part of him unsatisfied.

After squirming a little, the little servant was let go of and groggily she got up off the floor. She sloppily wiped her mouth with her sleeve and rubbed at her knees, looking with a bit of resentment at the prince for holding her down on the cold stone floor for so long. He didn't look at her, however. He was busy fixing the front of his trousers and straightening his coat, still breathing heavily from the exercise.

Loki wasn't really a very debauched individual - at least not by Asgardian standards. His only "companion" so far had been the girl before him, and she didn't need a lot of convincing. She was a few years younger but ironically more experienced than he. It probably had something to do with why he would only let her take him with her mouth. The princeling felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach and the tip of his pride at the thought of his so groomed and majestic self soiled in the nether depths of her fleshy cum-towel. Her legs were nothing to boast either, so he was satisfied with just using the top half of her.

Walking out of the pantry, with no little regard for stealth, Loki took to fixing the rest of his appearance in a beautifully patterned old mirror hung for cleaning - it must have belonged to some lady of the court. He fixed his hair and straightened his collar and tried to wipe the sweat off his brow, while the girl looked at him mutely. He thought that maybe she was waiting for something, but he couldn't be bothered.
Turning his face this way and that, he had to admire the features fine if not overly manly. Loki couldn't deny a note of sadness about them that night, but he had a mouth made for laughing and that was good enough. Laughter had been his truest friend and companion, even when he had very little to laugh about.

"I'll call on you again if I need you." he mumbled to the girl so quickly she barely caught it, then made out of the kitchens in a whirlwind of dark green.
There would soon be even less to laugh about. Loki remembered, in spite of himself, that the feast for announcing Thor's coronation was to take place in a week's time. He tried not to think about it. He wanted to be happy for Thor - and he was, he reminded himself - but there was a nagging feeling that dragged at his heels. A feeling of envy and slight and frustration at not being seen.
'Is there anything to see?' he thought sometimes. It had never really been explained to him why Thor was the favourite. He was older, but age never carried much weight in Asgard. He was a splendid soldier, but he had the - unfair, Loki thought - advantage of Mjolnir. The hammer was the only reason Thor beat Loki in battle every time, but nobody had the goodness to admit it.
Marching back to his rooms, Loki tried to put those thoughts out of his head. He had developed the habit of becoming depressed after his "sessions" with the servant girl, and he didn't like it. He was determined to be happy about Thor, even if it meant lying to himself. Lying was what he was good at, after all.

The sun was beginning to rise, and Avildis decided she might as well go to bed. The lute had stopped playing hours ago. With a wide, tired movement she heaved from the vanity and let herself fall in the cloudy softness of her bed, face first. The night had been a success. Avildis had decided exactly on her hair, and her dress, and the makeup she now wore to bed, too happy with it to take it off. Maybe she would dream of a handsome hero and he'd find her looking pretty. They could have breakfast without her.

She had to be there at breakfast. The queen wouldn't have it any other way. It was more than just a breakfast: it was a chance to make sure they all knew what they had to do tomorrow, a very important day for Thor. The dining room was emptier than usual, reserved only for the royal family and its extended members.
Frigga had her litter of children gathered around her next to the rich table. Thor kept playing with fruit while he listened to his mother and his sisters. He was more cheerful than the birds than sang outside.

Avildis was leaning against the back of a chair like a used rag. Her arms hung beside her and her hair sagged on her shoulders. She still wore the makeup from last night - and somehow it managed to make her look better when it was worn out, as it no longer looked like makeup but instead seemed a very natural part of her.

"Have you received your instructions already?" asked a cool voice beside her. Turning almost in disbelief, she saw her grinning brother Loki there. Avildis wasn't sure how she should treat him. She wanted to pretend she was as mad at him as ever, but she was too tired for that. She mumbled noncommittally in reply.
"Sorry, what was that?"
"I haven't, and I don't care." she said. He paused for a moment, but didn't move from her side, straight as a rod.
"Are you still mad at me?"
"Maybe." Loki couldn't contain a chuckle - or he didn't want to. "You find that risible?"
"No, no..." he looked down at his boots, not hiding the mockery in his tone. "No, it's quite serious, you're right."
"It's good that you're laughing." the girl went on. "You'll be the one who will have to deal with 'the king', not I. You'll be marched to wars a couple of realms across. I'll be here, stitching tattered capes with funny colours."
Loki looked at her quite seriously now, his eyes silent slits. "Do you really think he'll make a bad king?" he asked silently.
"Yes." answered Avildis like it was obvious, looking up at him with wide eyes and a pout. "Don't you?"

Loki chose to look blankly ahead instead of answering her. Of course she was right. Thor idolised war like the realm idolised him. Loki wouldn't go so far as to say Thor would seek it out, but he recognised in his brother something he too felt: a need to prove himself. Thor wanted to prove to the realm that he could be as mighty as their father. Loki only wanted to prove himself to Odin - he didn't care about the rest of the realm.

"I told father I wanted you to be king." she whispered suddenly.
Loki turned his head away and smirked. "Really?"
"He wouldn't listen, of course."
"And I thought you-"
"I do hate you." Avildis quickly interjected, leveling a death stare up at the giant by her side.
"Then you must hate Thor even more." spoke Loki with a questioning tone.
His sister only shrugged. "It isn't a matter of hating."
"You think I'm better, then." grinned the prince.
"Yes, when your mouth is shut."

She then got up and dragged herself to Frigga, listening on her instructions absently. Loki let her have her escape, but kept watching her curiously.
Avildis had grown a bit those last five years. She was still the slightest in their family, and he knew that he positively dwarfed her in both height and width. It gave her an impish air he could easily find endearing. He had always seen something endearing about her ever since they were children...

His hands clasped behind him, thumbs playing with the jutting bones of his wrists, Loki paced around the room and pretended to contemplate a breakfast. Beneath his little sister's bites and scratches he could feel a kitten's softness. There was always something forced about her when she tried to be aggressive. Loki could tell it was a very artificial thing for her. So he was confident in the thought that she didn't hate him nearly as much as she thought she did, and this in turn made him feel warm in the hollow of his chest. Whatever his sister felt for him, it at least wasn't indifference, and this made him feel a little guilty because for so many years he had been indifferent about her. But it wasn't too late to fix that.

The dining room was empty save for servants cleaning up the leftovers and the little princess having a few last minute bites before she went back to bed. She felt herself burning with tiredness whenever she only got a few hours of sleep - her stomach itself didn't seem awake.

Loki approached her from behind with measured steps. He decided on a gamble.

"Oh, sis?"
"What?" she turned her tired pair of greys on him.
"Would you- er, do you mind if I ask-" Loki wasn't sure where this loss of words came from.
"If you're going to ask that we have a talk to patch things up again - because there's nothing else you could ask me - then fine."
"Oh. Thank you." Just like that. He wasn't sure when she developed the ability to guess so clearly the intentions of others, though he admittedly was being conspicuously obvious, somewhat intentionally.
"Just not in my room, because it's a frightful mess."
"Of course. Mine, then?"
"Not now. I'm going to sleep now." she said, picking up an apple and making to leave, going for the wrong door, turning and coming out the right way finally, leaving Loki in a perplexed sort of amusement.

The Master of Mischief spent the rest of the day trying to figure his younger sister out. The core of her being was the same as it was decades ago, or at least the same as he remembered her. She seemed a freer spirit than the rest of the family, though in that way more trapped by courtly life. The microverse of the palace didn't agree with her way of doing things - or the lack of it - but because she was a royal it couldn't blatantly disagree with her. They didn't know what to do with her either, so she was just allowed to do what she wanted. Avildis was left to drift into obscurity. That is what would have happened to himself, Loki realised, if he had lacked focus like she did.
Did she like anything, he wondered? Loki toyed with the thought of being her knight in shining armour, like she had been for him in a way. She didn't manage to save him from Odin's slight, but her effort was valiant.
"I suppose bravery has many forms in the house of Odin." he mused with a good-natured smirk.

The next day, Avildis was woken in the afternoon by a round of insistent knocking. Blinking sadly in the golden sunlight, she rolled out of bed and ran to the door with the vigor of an angered newborn.
"Who is it?" she called, trying not to sound like she'd just woken up.
"Good 'morning', sis." answered Loki on the other side.
With a pitiful whine, the girl opened the door to him and leaned on it, trying to block both his way in and his vision of the inside.
"What time is it?"
"Not too late. May I come in?"
"No."
Loki sighed with sincere regret, and with the most innocent look he could muster started pleading with her: "Sis, listen, I really am sorry about th-"
"It isn't that." she gently said. "Really, it isn't. I just..."
"Should I wait for you to get ready?"
"If you can?"
"Of course." grinned Loki with renewed enthusiasm. "I'll be in the garden, just down the corridor."
"All right." smiled his sister tiredly and gently closed the door after him.

The fresh water of her bath woke her up completely, and she prettied her face and hair like someone with a purpose. The prospect of fixing her most tenderly loved friendship that afternoon infused her with happiness. She didn't even choose a dress with the usual painstaking care - she would have to change it for the evening anyway, into a gaudy golden thing to match the family.

The girl practically ran to the garden, her hair swinging down her back and the skirt of her dress billowing around her ankles as she stopped to look for her brother. She saw him seated on a bench, waiting for her in a stiffly regal pose. They both smiled as they saw each other. Smiles looked natural on Loki, but Avildis felt her cheeks stretch to an extent to which they didn't usually.

They had lunch together, neither of them eating much to save room for the evening feast. Both naturally slight, the siblings couldn't fit as much food in them as most others seemed to. They used the first half of their meeting to catch up with one another, which meant it fell mostly to Loki to do the talking, as Avildis admitted, somewhat with embarrassment, that nothing at all had happened in her little world.
"Well it's only natural," said Loki, "you living up there in that secluded little tower. You should have your rooms closer to the center of the palace, you'd find it much easier to do things."
"Like what, though?" she pouted.
"Well, you could take trips in the valley with the other ladies... I remember you used to be keen on flowers. Is that still so?"
"I suppose."
"You could go riding!" offered Loki.
"I do like to ride..."
"Or go to the mountains sometimes. Remember how beautiful they were when we were last there?"
Avildis was now just finishing her meal while she kept her eyes to Loki, waiting silently for more.
"And there are dances far more frequently than there are grand affairs, really. Just spontaneously organised feasts and balls. I suppose Fandral knows more about that..."
"Is he that very blonde friend of Thor's?"
"The very same."
"But what would I be doing there?"
"I don't know..." pondered Loki. "I'll admit, I don't much like them myself. You should, though, you're far more pleasing to the eyes."
"I'm selfish about who I do the pleasing to." she grinned over the rim of a cup of mead.
"Only for your mirror?" grinned her brother too.
"Yes. I save myself for the most worthy audience."
"It would do you good to go to some dances though."
"I don't dance."
"I could go with you."
"I thought you didn't like them."
"Oh the sacrifices I make for family... There's gossip too, you know. Those are the best parts - and I'm not the only one who thinks it, but the only one brave enough to admit it. Do you like gossip?"
"I do." she confessed with a little smile.
"And all the young courtiers and warriors and ingenues and parvenus attend. I'm sure you could find some fun in them."
"At their expense, you mean?"
"Why? Would you eat them up?" Loki asked, leaning forward with such a conspiratorial air that Avildis bloomed into laughter. "I meant it figuratively, of course." added her brother with an unrepentant grin.