She found him again.
From the windows, her scent and body invisible to the inhabitants, she watched.
She, the dragon whom is fire personified, watched the Asgardian on the throne.
The Fire has been watching him for years
She has seen his pent up rage, his strides to belong somewhere in that family whom he cannot call his own.
She has grown fond of him.
Hmmm, yes, the fire loves him.
The Dragon starts to trill and purr lightly as she thinks about him
She wants to comfort that rage
Make it her own and extinguish it inside her belly of fire.
Alas, not even a dragon like her could make such strong feelings disappear so quickly.
The dragon decides it is time to meet her target. She has been watching him for so long.
"Loki? How do you do?" she says to herself, practicing.
The Fire makes her move.
She jumps back from the roof and becomes a flame in one swift movement.
In the Asgard night, the silent flame maneuvers herself to the doors that seal the ruined Hall of Asgard from the rest of the castle.
The flame took her Aesir form; an exotic-looking female with brown skin that tore her apart from the flat world of Asgard.
Foreigner.
She thought, "A dragon must be clothed," and so she spent quite a while raiding the rooms for suitable attire.
Silent and sneaky, she found her way back to those big old doors.
She thought, "A dragon needs food. Maybe one of the guards will suffice."
"No! Stop it." She told herself, "Stop stalling."
She gulped her fear
She held onto her lyre, a human instrument she hid under her scales whenever she was her dragonself.
"Halt! Who might you be?"
Those were the voices of guards in golden armor. So quickly Loki has pulled the army force of Asgard towards his side.
At first she thought he spelled them but what kind of trickster would he be if he casted spells to get his way?
She turned around to greet the stones called "guards" that blocked her path to him. Euphemism.
"I want to see the King!" she said innocently.
She would make these stones skip atop the water for her.
As expected, the guards brought her to the king (and rather roughly).
She fell upon the cold floor at the stairs of the throne. On her knees she stayed.
"Foreigner, she be," says one guard.
"This foreigner has requested your presence." said the other.
Loki was intrigued.
No, Loki is intrigued.
The Asgardian in green leans forward to get a closer look at the foreigner.
"You've just taken this throne not too long ago, am I right?" she asked, her eyes on her reflection upon the floor.
"Well, I would not say 'take." He said.
She looked up at him with all seriousness, "Have you taken it?"
"Yes..." he said, "But I've one more step to complete before it is completely mine."
She smiled but it disappeared like the breath of wind.
"Why are you-"
She cut him off, "You didn't give it your blood."
Of course he hasn't. The requirements of becoming a king have changed since his attempts to take it last time.
When the old king is dethroned for more than four hours, the new king must give his blood to the throne. From there the throne will recognize the new king, register his blood-his essence-and recognize him.
Odin has been gone for five hours.
"You are wasting time, Loki." She said. This time she looked him in the eyes.
Her eyes were bright green, neon-like in their color.
Loki had saw a tiny ounce of fear in those eyes.
"Who are you?" he asked cautiously.
She stood up on her feet (the floors...so cold...I'll make it warm)
She brought her lyre close and said to him, "I will sing your praises. I will sing your warnings. I will sing for you, Loki, if you are interested."
She knew not to give him a choice.
"No. You ARE interested."
Indeed he was.
"Why do I need you to sing when I can acquire a choir to sing my praises? And why would I want to waste time hearing people sing?" He asked.
He told her, "Right now I have no interest in singing or listening to anyone sing. I have a kingdom to rebuild."
He motioned for his guards.
They came near her, she stood firm.
When they were close enough she released a warning through the invisible aura she gave off.
Everyone has aura. Everyone can sense it. Those bad or good feelings that you get in your stomach are the result of sensing someone's aura.
Her's was so strong and daunting.
They stepped back in fear.
"What are you doing?" asked Loki, "Escort her out of this palace! I do not like the way she is looking at me."
"Really?" she said.
Her expression changed when she asked kindly, "Let me song for you."
"Why?" he asked, "How do I know you won't put some sort of spell on me? I do not trust foreigners and you look oddly despicable."
She scoffed and her grip tightened on her lyre.
She took a deep breath and calmed the raging fires within her.
She opened her mouth to sing one line in a language that was non-existent to those whom did not live at the core of Yggdrasil's roots.
"Kylrospeig kosta fohb. Gras hér liggja shik, logr greuobed hie, hjlresvkeytug heimili tugtemtoil."
The guards looked at each other in confusion.
Loki was...attracted to her voice
Purely, deeply attracted.
He paused, thinking of what to say.
He almost understood her words.
Almost.
He liked her song
But he did not like her…not entirely.
It wasn't until now that he noticed the flames from the candles on the walls raged and became calm.
When her singing voice ceased, the fire became a tamed beast.
He was amazed but trying his hardest not to be.
Loki was amazed. Loki is amazed.
