Sorry this took a while, we're both very busy!
This chapter was written by Luc16 (:
I awake with my face pressed against the table. I groan slightly and straighten my back, hissing as a sharp pain runs through my neck. I fell asleep at my desk, I think, that hasn't happened in a while. I look blearily at my writing and scowl when I see a giant black streak across the page, ruining what I had written. I sigh and rub my face to wake myself up. I'll rewrite it later, I think. I stand and stretch my arms above my head, fully waking up. Odin's beard, I smell, I think. I look around for the bag I had packed but freeze. That's right, I didn't have my clothes with me because Odin had to throw me down to this pathetic little planet, I think angrily. I see the wardrobe on the right wall and stomp over to it, hoping the woman had thought to fill it with clothes. Luckily, there are shirts and pants hanging in the wardrobe and I pick out a pair of black pants and dark green shirt. There are some furry boots on the bottom of the wardrobe but I leave them there. My boots will suffice. I take the clothes and head to the bathroom.
The water of the bath soothes my aching neck and allows me to relax. I realize that I've been tense since the moment I landed in this country. I lean my head back and breathe in the steam of the bath. I think back to last night and the woman coming into my room. I scowl as I remember her laughing at my distress. I did not birth an eight-legged horse! It was humiliating that these creatures believed those disgusting myths. It was the first time I had seen her expression change from a steely mask to one of delight. She looked beautiful when she smiled, I think. What? I shake the thought from my head. I need to get ahold of myself. I can't let my temper get the best of me, I think as I remember shouting at the woman. She hadn't even flinched, she'd just laughed. I suddenly remember the way the light had played against her face, the way it made her white blonde hair shine. I shake my head again and get out of the bathtub. The heat must be getting to me. There was no way I was attracted to that creature. So we're back to creature now are we? A voice in the back of my head asks. Shut up, I think.
I dry off and begin to dress myself. When I've fully dressed myself, I look in the mirror and nearly smash it in fury. The pants are much too short, as they don't even cover my ankles. The shirtsleeves come to the middle of my forearms and the collar is cutting into my neck. This would not do. Do they have tall people on this planet? I undress and wrap a towel around my waist. I bark at a servant and order her to bring the Queen to my chambers. She scurries off as fast as she can and I slam the door. Why couldn't Odin throw me down with clothes? Oh that's right, he hates me. I scowl and look out the window. There was still something nagging me about this entire situation but I couldn't place my finger on it. Plus, I still need to figure out how to reverse the binding spell. I tap my foot, my anger growing as time passed.
Finally, a knock at the door snaps me out of my angry thoughts and I stride over to the door. I restrain myself from ripping the door off its hinges and open it to find the woman standing at my door with barely concealed annoyance. Her eyes widen as she takes in my bare chest and a light blush dusts her cheeks. I smirk down at her, anger momentarily forgotten.
"Like what you see, Frosty?" I sneer. She blinks and schools her face to one of no emotion, although I think her blush deepens.
"What is it you need Loki?" the woman asks in a calm, level tone. Her skill of hiding is almost as good as mine, I think idly. I mentally shake my head of these trivial thoughts and remember back to my anger.
"It seems I am taller than the average human. The clothes you provided do not fit and I am in need of clean clothes," I explain, my expression hardening. Her brow furrows and she looks confused.
"Didn't you come with clothes of your own?" She asks. My eyes narrow and I can see her twitch under my gaze.
"My exit from Asgard was not of my own volition," I say, my voice a deadly calm. She sighs, sensing my dark mood. I do not care. It was her fault I was in this situation. She steps back and looks me up and down. She touches her chin in thought as she stares at my chest. I endure this for a few moments before my temper rears its head.
"I am not your eye candy woman. Do you have clothes or not?" I snap. It's her turn to glare at me and she opens her mouth to retort. However, she pauses and then closes her mouth, inhaling deeply. She turns away and waves over a servant. She has more control than you do, the voice comments. I said shut up, I think.
"Go to my father's chambers and get some clothes for our guest," she quietly tells the servant. The servant's eyes widen and she hesitates. The woman gives her a look and the servant gulps, nods, and scurries off. There is a moment of silence and the woman still has her back towards me. Her father's clothes? Thinking along the line of parents, where were hers? As I thought more about it, she seemed awfully young to be ruling a country.
"Won't your father be in need of his clothes?" I ask, a sharp edge in my voice from my lingering anger. She turns around slowly and the look on her face makes me freeze. She has constructed a perfectly neutral face, devoid of emotion. She is in pain, I think. I only know this because I have made that face all my life. I suddenly want to wipe that mask off her face. She is too young to have to wear that mask. You were too young as well, the voice says.
"No, he will not," she says with an icy calm. I shiver involuntarily. She nods and walks away. I watch her walk away, curious about her reaction to her father. What had happened to make her react so coldly? And if she didn't like the subject of her father, why was she allowing me to wear his clothes? I ponder these questions until the servant comes back with a bundle of clothes. As soon as I take the clothes the servant runs off with tears in her eyes. What was with these creatures?
The clothes are still too small but at least they don't look as ridiculous as before. The pants are black and I can cover their lack of material with my boots. The shirt is a dark green with embroidery around the collar. I place the teal blue sash around my middle, like I'd seen the blonde creature wear it. I could tell he didn't like me and felt threatened by my presence. He should, I think smiling to myself. I push my hair out of my face and look outside. It is already past breakfast, not that I wanted to go anyways. I make my way outside, deciding to go and explore. It's not like they really wanted me here anyways.
The crisp morning air fills my lungs and I stride across the courtyard. The passing servants stop and stare at me but I keep walking. I do not care what these trivial beings think of me. Unless they think you are the mother of an eight-legged horse, the voice teases. Why won't you shut up? I think, angrily. You know you're talking to yourself right? The voice replies. My mind was much too active. I look around at the scenery to distract myself from my thoughts. The sky is a startlingly blue with no clouds in sight. The town is bustling with activity and color. There are deep magentas, bright blues, and shocking greens. There were smiles and laughter, giving the day a happy music. The kingdom seems happy, I think. Even though she is so young, she seems to be doing a good job.
I receive a few stares and second glances but for the most part, I walk through the town without anyone bothering me. I pause at a stand selling different colors of inks, elaborately designed stationary, and quills with uselessly long feathers. I suddenly get the feeling I am being watched. I whip my head around and see a shadow of movement. I narrow my eyes but there's no one there. The stall owner calls to me, asking if I'm interesting in buying anything. I take another moment to scrutinize my surrounding but eventually turn back to the stall owner and tell him no. I walk away and remind myself to ask the woman for a little spending money. Not but a few paces away, I receive the same intuition that I'm being watched. I glance behind me but see no one of a threat. However, what was behind that bush? A stick juts out of the trunk of the bush at an odd angle and I tilt my head to get a better look. At that moment, something runs into my leg and I look down in surprise. I stare at a pair of large green eyes that are attached to a small human. By the innocent look on her face, she is a child of about four years old. I watch her features morph from happiness to surprise to fear. Before she can cry, I crouch down at her level and try to soften my features.
"Hello small one, where is your mother?" I ask gently. The child's lip quivers and she grabs at her dress uncertainly.
"Do you know where she is?" The child shakes her head, her pigtails flying. I look around but no one seems to be looking for a lost child.
"Do you know what she was wearing?" I ask. The child looks up in thought.
"Blue," she replies.
"Blue," I echo and look around. I sigh in frustration; lots of people were wearing blue.
"What is your name?" The child looks at me with large round eyes. I try to seem as comforting and trustworthy as possible.
"Anja," the child sings as she rocks back and forth on her heels.
"Well Anja, my name is Loki. Let's go find your mother," I say holding out my hand. She looks from my hand to my face and back to my hand. Slowly, she places her hand in mine and grips it with much more strength than I anticipated. I straighten up but I have to stoop slightly to hold the child's hand. We walk back the way I had come, looking around for her mother. Suddenly, the child gasps and smiles, pointing to the left. A couple stands off to the side arguing.
"Mother!" Anja cries, letting go of my hand and running to her mother. Her mother whips around and encircles her daughter in her arms.
"Where were you?" Her mother says pulling away from the embrace.
"I told you not to run off," the man, I assume the father, says gruffly. Anja fidgets and says, "I liked the pretty cloth." The mother sighs and the father crosses his arms.
"But then Loki helped me!" Anja says, pointing towards me. Oh child, don't bring me into this. The father turns towards me and he scowls at me. Before the accusations can start flying I step forward with my hands slightly raised.
"Your child ran into me and I simply wanted to bring her back to her parents," I say calmly. The man continues to scowl and the woman pulls her child closer. Time to go, I think.
"I'm glad we were able to find you. Good day," I say and turn to walk away.
"Bye Loki!" Anja cries. How I wish I could keep the innocence of a child, I think as I turn my head to look at her.
"Goodbye Anja," I say and walk away before anything else happens. I weave through the crowd trying to put as much distance between the family and myself. I eventually slow my pace and relax, enjoying the breeze blowing through the marketplace. So now we are gentle? The voice persists. I do what I want, I retort. Obviously, it replies. Great, I was talking to myself in my head. Yet again, I have the feeling that I am being followed. I turn my head slightly, pretending to look at an ornately decorated mandolin, trying to catch a glimpse of my stalker. What I see makes me whip my head in disbelief. Did I see-was that a snowman? I scan the crowd but whatever I saw is gone. I shake my head; maybe I was still sick from yesterday. I sit down on a low wall and take a deep breath. I had to admit; this country and its people are beautiful. There is so much life it's slightly overwhelming. I had been imprisoned for quite a while and had just recently been allowed to participate in life outside confinement. I momentarily forgot about my predicament and drank in the relaxing freedom this country emanated. My moment was broken by a nasally woman's voice.
"I don't trust her. Not after the frozen summer fiasco," the woman's voice says.
"I agree. How can we feel safe when our own queen is a danger to us?" Another woman's voice, higher in pitch, replies. I turn my head slightly to see who was talking. Two women stand by a fruit stand, examining the fruit. One was taller with a long, sharp nose. I assume she was the first one who spoke. The second woman was shorter and plumper with a child hanging onto her skirt, sucking his thumb.
"I don't want my Egil being frozen just because she can't control her powers," the plump one continues, touching her child's head. The child looks up at his mother at the sound of his name but continues to suck his thumb.
"Honestly, she's 21. She's had years to master her power so they shouldn't be this out of control. Plus I think she's too young to rule anyways," long nose comments. I find my anger rising and I suddenly want to defend the woman. Even if she did get me into this situation, she doesn't deserve to be treated like this.
"I was so sad when the king and queen died, leaving their daughters alone. But you know what I heard. I heard that Elsa didn't even comfort princes Anna when she learned of her parents death. How selfish is that?" The plump one asks. Long nose scowls and shakes her head. I grow still as that information sinks in. Her parents were dead? That meant that I was wearing her dead father's clothes. That doesn't settle well in my stomach and I'm suddenly thrown back to the death of my mother. Grief nearly overpowers my emotions as I think back to the day I was told my mother was dead. I close my eyes and take deep breaths, pushing the tidal wave of emotions aside.
"How did Arendelle get stuck with a selfish, icy queen?" Long nose asks, disgusted. I'm on my feet before my mind can catch up with my body. I walk silently behind the two women with my hands behind my back.
"Selfish? I would hardly call her selfish," I say, my tone returning to the deadly calm. Both women whirl around and gasp at my expression. I have my neutral face on but Thor has told me that it is one of my scariest appearances.
"I heard that she agreed to marry a man she didn't know to save her sister's life," I continue. Long nose's mouth opens and closes like a fish and the plump one looks down at the ground.
"Th-that's nonsense," Long nose says, her mouth twitching. I raise my eyebrow and stare at the women. Long nose gulps and the plump one seems to shrink beneath my gaze.
"I-I did hear that," the plump one whispers. Long nose shoots her a glare.
"I advise you women to talk less about the faults of your queen and more about the good she has done for your country," I say, my voice becoming colder. The women shrink and look at the floor. I stare them down for a few moments longer, making my suggestion more of a command.
"Good day," I say and walk away. I catch the stunned look on the fruit stand owner's face but ignore him. I make my way back to the castle, suddenly tired from the events of the day. I look at the sun and realize that it's past dinner. I sigh; realizing my lack of energy is due to not eating. I walk through the castle, making my way to the kitchen. The halls are long and tall. The fading light allows me to see some of the designs on the walls. They interweave bold colors that normally wouldn't match but in these patterns, they are stunning. I eventually find the kitchens and without even asking, food is placed in front of me. The woman must have expected my arrival at the kitchens after not attending breakfast, lunch, or dinner. I try not to eat like a ravenous animal but I'm starving. After finishing my meal, I politely thank the cooks and walk back to my bedroom. I collapse on my bed, already feeling my body relax, when something pokes my side. I roll over and reach under my sash bringing out a small, leather bound journal. My heart squeezes in pain as I run my hands over the soft, black leather. My mother had given me this journal and had enchanted it to have infinite pages. I have kept it with me at all times. It has become so much of a habit that I did not even realize I had brought it with me or put it in the sash.
I stand and walk over to the desk, sitting down. I open the journal and let it fall open to a blank page. I look up at the ceiling and close my eyes. Dear Mother, I write…
Forgive me for not writing sooner. I have endured a painfully eventful week and have had little time to sit and write. Odin has forced me into a marriage and thrown me onto this puny planet without the resources I need. For one, I am out of clothes and must use the woman's (her name is Elsa) dead father's clothes. I must ask her for some money so I may get my own clothes. Apparently she agreed to marry me if Odin healed her dying sister. Something about this isn't right but I haven't discovered what is amiss.
The woman is demanding and rude. On my arrival, she accuses me of being spoiled and pretentious! I know what you would say, I probably deserved it but I had just been bodily thrown to this planet. This warrants a little sympathy, does it not? Don't give me that look. I will apologize to her when she deserves it. Anyways, despite my situation, I find this country surprisingly charming. It is full of color and noise. It is full of life. At first, it's overpowering but I think I could become used to it.
I found this amazing ice castle. It is purely made of ice and the way it sparkles and shines in the sunlight is magnificent. It could only have been Elsa who created it. Did I mention she has ice powers? Would you like a description? If you insist…She has blonde hair that is practically white. She has startlingly blue eyes that match the blue hue of ice. She is almost as good as I am at controlling her facial expressions. Almost. Last night, I heard her laugh for the first time. Her face lit up and she tried to cover her laughter with her hand. It was quite endearing.
However, it has gotten late and I'm quite tired. I shall write to you tomorrow. Goodnight Mother.
I close my journal rather roughly, slightly frazzled by my realizations. I tuck my journal underneath my pillow and lie on the bed with a huff. Why did I write my mother that she was endearing? She wasn't at all endearing. She was standoffish and rude. Are you describing her or yourself? The voice asks. Shut up, I think wearily already drifting off to sleep.
