(A/N) Hello! I realized there were a few errors in the previous chapter, and for that I apologize. It should not happen again.

Also, I completely forgot to mention the time period in which the story begins—chapter one is started two years after the events of Frozen occur, and although it may be a bit confusing at this point (within the next few chapters an explanation is in order), Loki is the character after the events of Thor, The Avengers, and Thor: The Dark World have come to pass.

Anyways…a thousand thanks to those who have read this and enjoyed it! Please leave a review (the motivation will help new chapters come more rapidly)!

Love you all!

Disclaimer: I own nothing (unfortunately)

P.S. Let me know how you like the chapters alternating from Elsa to Loki's point of view, and whether or not you believe I should continue in that way or simply remain with one character. There is a poll on my profile…please just take a moment to choose! 3

Loki

The only thing that remained, amidst the destruction and chaos surrounding, was the throne. Without an occupant it sat on its dais, welcoming to any stranger who so desired to be seated there, and to wield the power of which the position defined. It was towards this I went.

Stepping around the remnants of the palace's crafted walls and ceiling, I stalked across the now open-air chamber, eyes focused on nothing but my ornate prize. I descended onto it nobly, the movement contrasting to the crooked action which had just come to pass at my hand. But how I gained position was no longer a matter of any importance.

Settled amongst the slightly frosted wolf furs, I examined her handiwork. My fingers ghosted over delicate patterns carved into the wide-sweeping arms, ignoring how much the intricate swirling designs mimicked those which rose on my own skin whilst in my Jotun form. There was no way in Hel she could have known the abstract shapes, or be able to replicate them. Commanding and whole in its rightful place, the throne was perfection. And circling it was the shambles, the ataxia. In a gruesomely comical way, the state of the area surrounding me represented my life. Pure demanding, power, against a backdrop of insanity.

My focus shifted, settling on a half-visible figure lying flat on the red-tinged sheet of ice which had formally been the floor. Under the shards and remnants, it silently wriggled, fighting to be released from the spike which impaled it through the stomach. I waved my hand in its direction with a sigh. The double twitched one last time before stilling, neck twisted pitifully in the wrong direction, body drenched in crimson. Seeing oneself die was never desirable.

From the magicked pocket of air I had created just as the double "destroyed" it, I drew out the stone which had caused this destruction. Other than I slight crack on its exterior, the shimmering gem remained intact. In the weak moonlight, its dark facets gleamed, boasting its beauty but shrouding it as well. As I turned it over in my hand repetitively, the power which thrummed within whispered against my skin. How foolish I was to have parted from it.

With my treasure in my grasp, I reclined back in the comfortable throne. All was quiet save for the persistent wind and distant, echoing howls of winter's predator. My eyes closed blissfully, as I basked in the feeling of success. This acquirement had come so easily, it was disappointing. However, it had occurred with little problems, and compared to the last several years' experiences, was a great relief.

As I lounged, my mind unwillingly traveled to thoughts of her. Somewhere amongst the rubble, she lay dead or nearly so. By actions of my own hand, I had probably killed the first woman I had ever lov…no. Love was too strong a word. She was the first child toward which feelings besides cool tolerance or lust were felt. So what was one more death, especially to one who betrayed me and the oath she made? She was a lying, conniving bitch. Her death was deserved. Towards it I should feeling nothing, as she was nothing.

My obstinacy was nearly broken at the sound of a quiet groan. Mind out of synchronization with body, I fought the urge to leap up from the dais to search for the source of the sound. Leave her. Let her die alone, just as you were left to die alone. But the cruel path of my fate was not paved as such.

Noises of labored struggle shattered peaceful silence as she attempted to force herself free of the freezing trap which had descended around her. At this, I stood up abruptly, concealing the stone. In the direction of the noise I crept, drawing a gleaming knife from my belt. If destiny did not desire her dead, I had to be the one to make it so.

Nearly to the amassed mound of rubble confining her, I slowed, wanting to savor the sounds of her struggle, which in moments would prove fruitless. Although unaided by physical strength, the heavy slabs of ice glowed faintly and shifted, reforming themselves to create just enough room for a small person to fit through. Desperately, she dragged herself from the entrance, unaware of my watching.

Caring not as to whether her death was "fair" (When is dying ever fair?), I went to close the distance between us to deal the final blow while she was incapacitated. But just as I made to move, the single word torn from her lips caused me to freeze on the spot. "LOKI!" Her voice was desperate, pleading. It was the sort of praying cry one says only in times of immense panic for someone they greatly love. And it was said for me. Or, more correctly, the double of me. Curiosity overpowered the urge to kill her. Quickly, I shrouded myself from her view. A smirk crept over my features. So she did care about me.

Although she was obviously injured, pain was disregarded as she wheeled around, blue eyes scanning wildly. They locked on the green-and-black-clad figure motionless in a pool of blood. She flew across the expansive space, a fresh trail of frost left in her wake. Upon reaching the clone, she fell to her knees, a mask of anguish sliding over her delicate face.

She gently shifted the body so its head, which flopped around pitifully even at the only slight touch, could rest on her lap, while one of her hands frantically searched for a pulse, saying my name over and over. When she did not find one, a sob, even more pained than the ones to which I listened while she wept, echoed through the crisp mountain air much like the howls of the wolves. For the second time she broke down, cradling the double's head and stroking its mussed hair, staining its face and her own with tear tracks which rapidly froze. The blood, although practically frozen itself, still stained her shimmering gown, but its ruin was not noticed. All she acknowledged was the dead man in her arms.

Her lack of attentiveness to her surroundings made creeping behind her laughably possible. I knelt down, releasing the concealing enchantment, as well as the plan to kill her immediately. This could be used to my advantage…She still did not notice my presence. With a flick of the wrist, the clone vanished like smoke, leaving no traces of its existence behind. Through her tears she gasped as her arms were emptied, the blood gone. I leant forward and looped my arms around her waist. With a devilish grin, I lightly licked the shell of her ear, letting the coolness of the Jotun form seep into my tongue. "Surprise…"

Her scream could be heard on every planet in the universe.