Loki

"Loki don't be rash."

I shoot Sigyn an irritated glare and keep walking. My footfalls echo before me, and servants and guards scuttle warily out of my way. Even as a child everyone knew to avoid me when I was in a 'mood,' as Frigga had so demurely put it. I ignore them, pushing into a side library.

Reaching up, I grab a leather tome which has become my solace, my reminder. It's heavy and familiar in my hands, as I turn to look upon the embarassment following me.

Elsa looks flustered and terrified. Good.

"Do you have any idea just what you are?" I hiss, grabbing her wrist. She lets out a yelp of pain, but I don't loosen my grip. She says nothing, but her eyes speak volumes, cursing me with a fire that I must admire despite how much I hate her.

"Enlighten me," She scowls, and I feel the air around her thicken and cool as she attempts to freeze my hand. I let out an inside, twisted smile. Joke's on her.

I set the heavy tome on the table with a thump, dust flying from the pages. This side library is all but forgotten, myself being the only consistent visiter for years. I flip open the book's brightly colored pages, landing on the horrific one I was looking for.

Bright azures and twisted blues mesh and bend together, painting a horrific although accurate portrayal. The darker cerulean hints at the beast within, the lighter dashes framing a false nature. But most of all, the vivid, scarlet eyes that pop from the frozen picture.

"This," I murmer as she recoils in horror, "Is who you are. A Frost Giant, a Jotun. Jotuns are the only creature save for a select few who can weild Yggdrissall's frozen energy. Today, you gave a very apt example of that, no doubt starting several rumours which will now need to be quelled."

"Why?" Elsa's voice is scarcley a whisper as she looks up from the painting. "What's wrong with being a Jotun?"

I snarl at her impudence, my hand itching to hit her, but Sigyn's stern glare a constant reminder that I better not. I settle for clenching my fist. "Because, Elsa," I spit her name with contempt. "This, is a monster. This, is who children pretend to slay until they reach the age that they really can slay them. This is the bad guy in everyone's nightmares, the black mark on a white page. If anyone ever found out what you were, not only would they call even more so for my blood, but they'd stop at nothing to string you up and torture you for pleasure!"

My rant has her step back with wide eyes, white hair falling around her face loosely. I feel Sigyn's hand land on my shoulder gently.

"That's enough, Loki," She says quietly, although a thinly veiled warning also sims through her tone. She turns to Elsa. "Look child, what Loki means to say is that you mustn't be causing scenes like today anymore. Any suspiscion, and death will be a longed for end to what will happen to you."

"But I can't control it!" She protests. "I thought I was brought here because I would be safe."

"And safe you will be, with training and time," Sigyn reassures her. "But until then, lets go get ready for the feast. Time has eluded me, and we have yet but a few hours to prepare you. Come," Sigyn's hand leaves my shoulder as she leads Elsa out of the Library with one last warning glare. I wait till their footsteps fade in the hall, before I let out a scream of frustration, knocking the tome off of the table with my backhand.

I run my hand through my hair once, before letting out a sigh of pent up energy, adopting another nonchalant expression. I straighten my tunic and then place my hands behind my back, holding my head high as I walk from the room. Most of my mood has simmered down, although I'm almost certain as I walk and flex my fingers greens sparks of energy fly from within, my eyes wide with menance. My thoughts confirmed as servants and such move from my presence.

The people of Asgard are pathetic really. They may not know my true nature, but they know of the horrors I've caused, the deaths I've brought about with pleasure. And yet instead of locking me up, they allow me free reign of them, cowering in my presence out of fear. At least even the mortals had enough dignity to fight for what they assumed their place was. It was the wrong place of course - their only true nature would be kneeling at my feet - but they fought all the same.

I'm not quite sure where I'm walking, until I see the one person that makes my fuming stop, my eyes widen, and my feet backtrack as fast as they can possibly ever go.

Frigga.

"Loki you stop right there!"

I stop, hating myself for listening, and hating myself even more so for wincing. I feel like a child all over again, getting caught for some petty prank. Although much like when I was a child, I'm still thankful that it was Frigga who found me and not Odin.

"Mother," I turn around on my heel rather quickly, a fake smile of cheer on my face as she marches up to me. Although I'm a good head taller than her, she's just as intimidating, and the guards and maids flee the hall, all too used to what is bound to occur. "How lovely you look today."

"Cut it out Loki," She scolds. "I heard about the courtyard." She huffs and sticks her hands on her hips, giving me the look. "Could you not have behaved for one afternoon Loki?"

I roll my eyes, a bad habit I do when I talk to Frigga. "Of course I could have, but that wench that I was forced to bring back with me apparently couldn't."

"Loki!"

Frigga's indignant scream silences me as my lips form a tight line. Frigga's disapproving eyes bear into me in a way that I wish I could say had no affect on me. But for one who's the God of Lies, I'm actually quite poor when it comes to lying to myself.

"She is your daughter and I will not have you talk about her in such a manner, is that clear Loki Odinson?"

I snarl as I meet her eyes. "That's not my name, Frigga."

She purses her lips. "Yes Loki, it is. You may have been born a Laufeyson, but I raised you as my child from then on. You are as much my son as anyone else's and I will not have you deny me that out of spite!"

A wave of guilt flashes through me, the same emotion I felt in my prison a year ago when Frigga visited me and I once again denied her my mothership. I'm repulsed, but that doesn't make the guilt go away.

"I'm sorry mother," I finally concede. "It won't happen in your presence again."

"Good," She says, reaching up and flicking a long strand of my black hair, her face forming a scowl. "Now we can deal with more pressing matters. You need a haircut before tonight."

"I'll do it when I get ready."

"Nonesense," She scoffs. "I cut your hair when you were a child, and I'll cut your hair until my grave," She turns on her heels and starts walking, and I follow wordlessly. "Besides. We need to discuss some aspects of tonight."

I must've been closer to the Royal wing of the palace than I realized, because we arrive at her chambers in a few quick turns. The Einherjar bow quietly before her, before opeing her chambers. Just as I remember it's open, a fresh breeze blowing through. Several of her maids look up with smiles that freeze when they see me follow closely. With a wave of her hand Frigga dismisses them, and they scuttle from the room.

She glides over to her vanity, and I take a seat, knowing how futile a refusal will be. She picks up an intricately carved comb, before running it through my dark locks. I will never ever admit how good, how familiar it feels. If I close my eyes, I can almost pretend evreything was how it was before.

"I don't know how Sigyn can stand the length of your hair," Frigga tsks, breaking the silence. Despite myself, I smile.

"I suppose you could say she's not fond of it."

Frigga smiles for a moment, giving me a knowing look in the mirror. "But she is fond of you, is she not? And you her?"

For whatever stupid reason, my cheeks tint light red. I shrug my shoulders, feeling like a boy telling my mother my crush - not a grown man admitting I love my wife.

"Hmn," Frigga has a knowing smirk as she runs her talented fingers along my scalp, pulling out any knots that have accumulated, while rubbing away the tension that's built. "I think even you must admit that you've come to adore her despite the bad start of your marriage."

I can't help but roll my eyes. "I still don't understand why I had to marry her. After all, she was the one who took advantage of me."

Oh Norns. Did I just admit that outloud?

Frigga laughs lightly. "Of course I know that dear. You were much too shy to ever insinuate anything, least of all with the Princess of Vanaheim."

A pout rolls pass my face. "I was not shy."

Frigga shoots me a dubious look, and I just cross my arms and look away. Satisfied, she puts down her comb, picking up a pair of scissors from her drawer. She picks up a lock of my obsidian hair, and snips it off about two inches from my scalp.

"If it makes you feel better," She smiles slyly, "I think the two of you make the most adorable couple. Always have."

I raise a jade eye to her. "Oh?"

"Yes Loki," Snip. "And I don't say that lightly," Snip. "You're my only married child, the only one I have to share with another woman. You have no idea how much that hurts me as a mother, knowing I'm not the only woman in your life. And so for me to approve of her, well," She smiles at me in the mirror fully. "It's not something to be taken lightly," Snip. Snip. Snip.

She sees the question poised on my tongue, and gestures for me to ask it.

"Did you always know Sigyn and i would turn out alright?"

Frigga shrugs this time, her eyes focused as she carefully protects my left ear with her one hand, while the other snips the hair around it neatly. "I always saw it, I suppose. No matter how much you hated her, I could still see that curiosity in your eyes. And no matter how much she thought to despise you, even from early on she had an admiration in her eyes for you."

I scoff at that one. Frigga looks up, serious.

"It's true," She insists. "Sigyn has always preferred your company. As a child did you ever notice how during Dinners and Feasts she always would hang around you? Why do you think she chose you and not your brother or any other Aesir like him?"

I don't respond.

"It's because she was always fascinataed by your intellect, Loki. Your desire to learn, to expand your knowledge. The Vanir have always been more akin to reading than training, to books than swords. She was naturally attracted to you."

I soak in Frigga's words for a moment, not shocked to know that they're right. Any other girl would have pursued Thor, the brawny one. But Sigyn had never been one so much for looks, than she had been for intellect. Whenever Thor would attempt a polite conversation, her eyees would dull, and no matter how hard she would try, a bored expression would settle on her face.

But whenever we spoke it was always more of a banter, a duel with words. Each trying to outsmart and outspeak eachother. It was a contest, a game.

"Although I must say," Frigga catches my eye again, "When you brought Hela home those first few years, I got a bit nervous. I would've smacked you silly had Hela not been such an adorable baby."

I smile at the thought of my other daughter. Hela hates me with every fiber of her being, and I don't blame her. I gave her up to Odin, too young to know the consequences. I had never bothered to visit her unless it was strictly buisness related, and I scorned her existence for the majority of her life. But I still love her.

"There," Frigga finally says, shaking her hands through my head, loosening any remaining strands of hair. "Handsome as a bug."

I can't help but smile at her old expression as she places the scissors down. With my hair short, and no product holding it back, the ends curl in a way that only Frigga and Sigyn know. I make a mental note to fix it later, before I stand and give my mother a mock bow.

"Thank you, mother," I smile at herwhen I stand up. She smiles at me too, albeit somewhat sadly.

"No," She murmers, "Thank you Loki."

I nod stiffly, before turning to leave my mother behind me with nothing more than hair clippings as a reminder of the past.