M. , I was jealous of the cinnamon bun too. I've been longing for one ever since Lottie had hers. -_- Thanks for all of your awesome reviews! They mean a lot to me! J
Forbidden Moons, you're amazing! Your support helps keep this story rolling. J Keep it up girl!
TEALHAIREDIDIOT, I'm so glad you like the story! I can't take any credit, it was all Loki's idea. ;) Thanks for reviewing! I appreciate it!
To say that Loki was in a bad mood would be an understatement. Mjolnir was here, in Midguard, within his grasp, but by some curse of the gods he couldn't claim its power. His one comfort was that his brother couldn't, either.
No, not your brother, he told himself, still adjusting to the truth. The bitter reality of who he was was slowly sinking into his being, but the sting was still poignant.
A monster, he thought to himself wryly. Well, then, I guess I'll just have to live up to that title.
Odin had not recovered from his collapse in the weapons vault. He had sunk deeper than ever before into the sickness known as the Odinsleep. During this time he was in a state of bodily hibernation, while it was said that his mind was still active.
Due to Odin's illness, and Thor's oh-so inconvenient absence, Loki had taken up the seat of King in Asgard. The seat of power that he had longed for so long was at last within his grasp. All that was left to be done was to ensure that nothing would threaten his Kingship.
The Warriors Three and Sif had already paid him a visit, begging for Thor's return. He had crushed their pleas with a few words that did little to obscure the threat beneath them. The Warriors Three had acquiesced quickly; Sif, however, had to be practically dragged away while she glared at him. Foolish girl. She didn't know who she was angering. She would do well to learn some respect.
Frigga, Odin's wife, was too overcome by grief and care for her husband to think about much beyond his sick room.
The only door left yet to close was that of Thor himself. And that was why Loki found himself standing on the edge of a crater in the New Mexico desert, one dark, rainy night. He had watched Charlotte's sister Jane drive Thor out to the site earlier that evening. He had watched her leave when the alarms went off, had watched Thor being taken into custody, and had bided his time until the right moment to speak to him. A few honeyed lies had gone down Thor's throat easily, and bought Loki more time.
His mind turned back to the woman, this Jane. She was a fool to help Thor. Her ignorance would be her undoing. She was pretty, but different from Lottie. They both had auburn hair and brown eyes, but Lottie stood several inches taller, and her gaze was darker, her features colder and more remote. In Jane's face was youthful innocence and naivety; but Lottie, though she was younger, carried burdens betrayed by the bottomless void in her eyes. It was that pain, that chilled soul, that first brought him to her room when she was little. He understood her as no one else could. His compassion for her then had led to his downfall now. She was dangerous. He was far too dependent on her. He needed her in a way that he had never needed anyone or anything before.
Turning, he walked slowly along the crater's edge, veiled by a spell from the watchful eyes of the guards below. Closing his eyes, he let the rain beat against his skin, cooling his rage, frustration and desire. He was cold. He was untouchable. His heart was iron. Nothing could thaw the impenetrable wall of ice that years of bitterness had erected around his heart.
At least, that's what he told himself.
But in the next moment, against his better judgement, he knew that he had to see her.
His unhealthy addiction.
Lottie.
