A blanket made of baby fluff to warm you from the coldness of the world~
The first time they kiss, it’s not really what most people would count as a kiss, per say. But they were ten years old at the time, so Bri thinks it counts. The first time they share a (prolonged, warm, enthusiastic) mutual kiss does not come for another six or seven years. Much more age appropriate.
The first time they kiss is not long after Odin had taken the two princes through the treasure room and given them the ‘both of you were born to be kings’ speech. The younger, dark haired prince is sitting in the palace garden, under a mistletoe tree, with the Lady Bri. The girl was his best friend and closest confidant, sans his older brother, Thor. She was one of, if not the only person besides Loki’s mother and Thor who did not have even a hint of disappointment or suspicion in their eyes when he showed off his burgeoning magics. This he was doing now, summoning the imperfect illusion of a royal crown sitting regally upon his head.
“Father says that I was born to be a king,” Loki declares proudly, his smile wide and voice alight with child-like excitement. He watches Bri expectantly when she looks up from her book, and she does not disappoint.
“I doubt it not,” she agrees with a matching, warm grin, closing the small tome. “You will make a wonderful king one day, Loki.” (The two friends had dispensed with highness and m’lady long ago.)
Suddenly, the prince jumps to his feet, the crown disappearing with the shift in concentration. “Who says that I must wait for ‘one day’?” he asks cryptically, holding out his hand to Bri. “Come, I have an idea!”
Bri never could resist following Loki to the ends of the universe (or to Heimdall’s post at the Bifrost, which at ten years old was where their universe ended) when he got that look in his eyes. Because, whether it was mischievous or honest, that look always promised fun to be had. Taking Loki’s hand, she gets to her feet and scrambles after him towards the palace.
Preparation for dinner would not begin for another hour, so the vast palace kitchen was deserted, and the few scullery maids cleaning dishes would not disturb the play of noble children if it did not interfere with their work. Without pause, Loki goes to the table where the kitchen staff takes their meals and brings a chair to an open spot of floor. The chair is just a little too high, so he has to push himself up with a bit of effort, and his feet do not quite reach the stone. Once settled, Loki squeezes his eyes shut, and with a wave of his hands, the crown is back, and a shimmering green cloak to go with it. Bri claps her hands in delight.
“Hail, Loki Odinson, mighty King of Asgard!” she cries before dropping into a low curtsy.
“Rise, Lady Bri,” Loki replies, a splitting grin belying his firm and kingly tone. His gaze sweeps over the kitchen like there are more people involved in their game than just two. “Thank you, my lords and ladies,” he begins, “for coming to this council meeting. There is much for which I need your valued advice.” He pauses for a beat and his smile turns cheeky. “Though it seems that Prince Thor is absent once again.”
“I would not be surprised if he was out hunting frost giants with his friends, Majesty,” Bri pipes up with a giggle. Loki laughs.
“Always wise, Lady Bri,” he commends her. “Whatever shall we do with my dear brother, my lords?” Loki’s face drops then, his expression turning pensive. “Hmm,” he muses aloud, swinging his legs back and forth, “something is missing…” Then suddenly, he jumps down and rushes back to the table, returning with a second chair to place to the right of his own. He stops midway in getting back up and gives a curious look to Bri, who is still waiting patiently. “Well come on, Bri,” Loki directs with a small huff, “don’t just stand there, this throne is yours.”
“Oh,” she exclaims before clamoring up onto the other chair.
“Every great king has a great queen sitting at his right hand,” Loki explains once they are settled, “that’s what Mother says.” Bri nods. Anything that the wise Queen Frigga has to say about ruling must be true. “Now,” Loki adds, raising his hands, “hold still.” Bri squeezes her eyes shut and waits. Loki smiles to himself. Hovering on Bri’s head is a crown just like the one his mother wore when supporting his father in public affairs of State. Bri peeks an eye open and waves her fingers over her head. She could not see the crown, but could feel Loki’s magic like a tangible weight. She imagines that with time and practice, Loki will be able to cast illusions so perfect that you would not know them false by just looking. Or even be able to conjure things with substance, which he had confided in her to be a goal in his study of magical arts. The girl laughs in delight, her legs kicking back and forth.
“So,” she asks cheekily, “am I to be queen for this game alone?” Loki’s pale face flushes red and his eyes dart to the floor.
“O-Of course not,” he mutters, embarrassed. “There is no one else in all of Asgard that I would have as my queen.” Bri gives the boy a fond smile and places her hand over his.
“I’m glad,” she assures him simply. Loki looks up, his enthusiasm returned.
“When I’m king,” he declares, “you will sit at my right as my queen and Thor will sit at my left as my advisor. And our reign will be long and glorious!” Before either child really knows what is happening, Loki takes Bri’s hand and raises it to his lips, giving her a courtly kiss. She gasps in surprise and he drops her hand, cheeks going even redder than before. “I, um,” he stumbles, “I apologize. I do, um, that was far to bold of me and-”
Her own skin just as flamed, Bri leans over in her chair and places a small peck on Loki’s cheek, pulling back to smile at him reassuringly. In the background, one of the scullery maids laughs. Loki looks at Bri questioningly, but after a moment his smile and kingly act returns, perhaps even stronger than before. “Come, my queen,” he says, “the ambassadors from Álfheimr have arrived, and we must receive them promptly.”
“Of course, my king,” she replies.
When they share their first kiss, Bri knows that seventeen year old Loki does not desire the throne the way he once did when they were children playing games. But he gracefully transmorphs her favourite flower into a beautiful, glittering tiara and declares her the queen of his heart. And that is more than enough.