Late one evening, sometime near the end of the second week, Loki was summoned to the main hall by his father. Angrboda was sent to assist him, as most of the household had come to accept he couldn't travel very far on his own. She looped one of his arms around her shoulders and helped him to walk down the stairs and round the maze of corridors that led to the vast room.
"I can't believe I'm helping you, the first prince of Jotunheim, around the palace like you're an old man," she said, turning a corner carefully.
"Trust me, I dislike it just as much as you do," Loki hissed back.
"Why honestly would you starve yourself until you're too weak to walk around even your own home? What is the point in that?"
"This is not my home," he snarled, "and I am doing it so I do not have to visit the entirety of Jotunheim with my oaf of a father."
"It wouldn't do good to speak of the king that way, even if you are his son, your highness," she smirked at the term. "You could get into serious trouble for such treason."
"If he so much as lays a finger on me he will have all of Asgard ready to hack his head off," Loki retorted. She was starting to tire him, but he couldn't deny it was entertaining to have at last met someone with the same skill at arguing and insults as himself.
"Oh yes, your lovely family, who stole you and raised you to use you as a tool for peace. Something tells me that after all that effort, they won't be willing to break the treaty just because you got a little beaten up for stepping out of line."
"And you would know," he spat, thinking of his family there. Odin wouldn't care less, obviously, otherwise he wouldn't be stuck here now. Frigga was relatively powerless. Thor however, would not hesitate to come and smash some people about if he heard word of Loki's suffering, which was almost as irritating as it was endearing.
"I don't claim to be an expert, but that's what it looks like to me," she said, shooting him a cold smile.
"I can't believe my father was thinking of betrothing us," Loki muttered.
"I know, it will be a complete disaster," she said, mimicking his furious tone. Loki decided he would have to work on how loudly he talked under his breath from now on.
Once in the hall, Loki was surprised to see Laufey, his wife, Helblindi and Býleistr sitting on their thrones, all in full royal garb, all with matching gold crowns on their heads. Loki's throne had been brought out of its corner and placed next to Helblindi's. There was also a large crowd of people: a mixture of officials, healers, advisors and high-status servants. Laufey stood on Loki's arrival and picked up a cushion covered with a blue silk cloth.
All the eyes in the room were on the two of them, Angrboda forgotten as she assisted Loki in walking forward towards his father. Helblindi couldn't contain a small snort at the sight of his elder brother, the supposed Treasure of Jotunheim, hobbling towards Laufey with the aid of a serving girl slightly taller than him. They both looked so small in the cavernous room, surrounded by people ranging from four to six feet taller than themselves, it was almost comical.
"Seeing as your original crown was the wrong size, and also that you have the rare gift of sorcery, I had a new symbol of your royalty made." Laufey drew back the cover, revealing a small circlet on a red velvet cushion. It was made of strands of silver, around a quarter of an inch thick, looping delicately around each other. Around the front the metal dipped down in a 'V' shape with a small double twist at the bottom. Supported by these branches sat a large, roughly cut ice crystal about the size of a rose. Attached to the weaving patterns of silver were what at first looked like metal flowers, but on closer inspection were snowflakes, each six-pointed tiny star as unique as the real things. It almost seemed to give off its own light, and as Laufey ceremoniously placed it on Loki's brow it shone against his dark hair, bringing out highlights that were nearly blue.
The whole room was silent, as if expecting Loki to say something, but he didn't know how to react. The circlet was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and he could feel it sitting comfortably on his head, but at the same time it just added to the humiliation he felt at the way they made him dress here.
Loki nodded, murmuring a brief "Thank you," to his father, and the whole room relaxed. The king clapped his huge hands together and suddenly the place was alive with dishes being carried to tables which were pulled away from around the walls and arranged for a feast. Loki's knees sagged, and Angrboda helped him to his throne, where he climbed up and almost collapsed, glad that this time they allowed him a box.
Soon everyone was laughing and feasting, Helblindi talking loudly about his latest hunting quest and downing mug after mug of ale. Loki leant against the side of his throne, which had enough room that he could get comfortable on it without having to bend himself in awkward angles. The feast was fairly boring - he sat without eating throughout the whole thing, determined to keep to his plan of not eating; everyone was in far too good cheer to notice.
At some point in the evening, Helblindi fell asleep mid-sentence, his head lolling until he slid forward onto the table. Loud snores filled the room, drawing everyone's attention to the time, and they began to disperse. Angrboda helped Loki back to his room, even offering to give him a boost into the enormous bed to save him climbing up – she'd drunk quite a bit and was in a relatively good mood, willing to help for once without the venomous words that were her usual trademark. Loki politely declined, saying he had something to do before bed, and she nodded, kissing his hand like he was some kind of princess being courted, then departed.
Loki slumped on the floor, taking off his circlet for closer examination. It truly was beautiful, a perfect combination of ice and magic, which was exactly how he presumed his father saw him, but it was also very feminine. Something a maiden would wear, if it had been presented to anyone on Asgard. And as much as Loki accepted he was no longer on Asgard, it was still hard to swallow, considering he hadn't seen anyone else, male or female, on Jotunheim sporting such clothes and hair as he did.
Suddenly, he felt rage bubble up in his chest. Why, why was he being treated like this, like he was some kind of plaything, a doll for the Jotuns to dress up and fawn over? He cast the circlet across the floor, relishing in the dull scraping sound it made. He tore off his cloak, think back to his first tantrum where he'd destroyed his clothes. It had satisfied some of his frustration, but this time it didn't feel like enough. Instead he shoved everything he'd been wearing earlier in a pile by the wardrobe and began to search through it for something that resembled Asgardian wear. The closest he could find was a satin tunic with large slits up the sides. It was the only thing he'd seen in his wardrobe that was specifically designed to cover his chest as well as below the waist.
He pulled the outfit out, finding a leather belt at the back too, and flung them on the bed. It would be all he was wearing from now on. He decided against cutting his hair, only because he didn't want to annoy his stylist, or go through the procedure of having it regrown again. Instead he hurried into the bathing room, pulling at his earrings. The large colourful one that brushed his shoulder came out easily. The loops were harder to master – they sprung shut and were quite fiddly to keep open long enough to remove. The ear cuff snapped open with ease and he carefully slid it out. The studs were easiest to undo, and he pulled all three of them off, scattering them on the floor as he did so.
Loki decided he still had to do something to his hair, so he pulled at it, messing up the carefully slicked back front and breaking up the ringlets so they just looked like a tangle of waves. He was exhausted and hungry out of his mind, but he couldn't stop, not until he was satisfied he could still control his appearance. Looking up at himself again, he jumped back in surprise. The face in the mirror was no longer blue. It was slowly creeping back to a shade of pale pinky-white that was his natural Asgardian skin tone. Tentatively Loki reached up a hand to touch the mirror, then his own face, surprise written all over his face. How had this happened?
Hastily he thought back to when he was turned blue permanently in the first place. What had they done that had made him blue that he'd suddenly changed? His brain wouldn't work fast enough, and he let out a groan of frustration, desperate to find out the key. It felt like ice water sliding down my neck, when they put the first hole in...
He dropped onto all fours, searching for the smaller round gold stud and its back. He found it next to the bath, and gently put it back into his ear, now free of holes except that one. At first nothing happened, and he began to panic that he couldn't change back. Forcing himself to think carefully, to analyse the memory with care, he pushed down on the stud. A faint click sounded. A familiar icy sensation shot down his neck, and he turned to see himself becoming blue again. Once he decided this was the key, he took the stud out again and watched the blue patch fade. He put the earring back in, marvelling at the cold he felt and the blueness spreading across his skin. He had found it at last. But how did they do it?
It was all too confusing for the late hour. Instead he walked over to the bed and put a hand flat against the side. Magic flowed to his fingertips and the bed shuddered. Slowly it reduced in height until it stood with the top in line with his waist, the extra foot and a half transforming itself into a small table in the corner beneath the window opposite the bedside cabinet. Loki hopped into his bed with ease, glad at last he no longer had to clamber up like he was in an assault course. He watched sleepily as a lacy white cloth laid itself on top of the table, the style contrasting completely with the rest of the room. The spell had been one he'd learnt after spending one afternoon talking with Laufey about magic. Amongst other things he'd also learnt how to cast glamours that worked even when other people looked directly at the subject.
His mind drifted off to much needed sleep, his hunger long forgotten, and somewhere in the back of his head he was glad at last to sleep without needing a spell to keep him under.
A/N Plot! Only one week until Thor arrives :3