Loki's stared down at the object in front of him, he felt almost afraid to touch it. When he finally let his hands rest on the casket and lift it a little, he felt a sensation unfamiliar to him spread over his skin as he turned an icy shade of blue; the same colour the frost giants were.
"Stop!" The familiar, booming voice of the All Father ordered from the steps behind Loki.
The trickster God remained still, unsure of what was wrong with him, "am I cursed?"
"No."
"What am I?" Loki pressed, replacing the casket.
"You're my son" Odin told him, no sign of uncertainty in his voice as he did so.
Still the colour of ice, the colour of the Frost Giants, Loki turned to face his 'father'. His voice wavered slightly with his next question; "What more than that?" His eyes examined his father as his face fell slightly. No... "The casket wasn't the only thing you took from Jotunheim that day, was it?" He knew the truth, he didn't want to accept it, but he knew. Loki was not an Odinson, as he was raised to believe...
"No," Odin confirmed, "In the aftermath of the battle I went into the temple... I found a baby. Small for a giant's offspring... Abandoned and left to die; Laufey's son."
Loki was not an Odinson; no. He was Laufeyson.
His entire world had come crashing down, and it was all because of that trip to Jotunheim. If he hadn't gone, he wouldn't have found out. If he hadn't gone with Thor on that foolish damned journey...
Jóhanna paced back and forth in her room, her hair a mess because she kept running her hand through it in frustration. She had been dismissed, but she still wished to be near him, she wanted to be inside his head again; it was so much easier.
Sighing, she lay on her bed, checking beforehand to make sure Loki had not placed any vermin or cold blooded creatures in the sheets. Although he seemed... different, she could not help but suspect him a little of playing tricks on her.
Months. Months had come and gone and that idiot had not found her weakness; Loki had not found out her greatest fear. Jóka couldn't help but smile at the thought of that intelligent idiot being dumbfounded by her apparent fearlessness. She only hoped that he would never discover what she feared, for he would undoubtedly mock her for it.
The servant let her eyes drift to a close...
Loki smirked at Jóhanna, his arms wrapped tightly around her and his breath cool on her exposed neck. His hair was not slicked back, as it usually was; it was hanging by the sides of his fine features. Even if she had not seen him for a year, she was sure that she would be able to recall every detail of him; right down to what he looked like with blond ringlets in his hair.
His thin, perfect lips pressed against her skin as his hands glided down her body, removing her dress and letting it fall to the floor...
"Ah!" Jóka screamed as she woke, more in despair and anger of her desire of dreams to become reality.
Hopeless.
How had she allowed herself to become so hopeless?
Like a lovesick puppy, rather than a servant obediently serving her master, a pining young maiden, desperate to be loved.
If Loki knew about this he would surely be sickened...
As Jóhanna sat up, leaning over the edge of her bed, head in hands, she heard a soft tapping on the door. It was likely to be a Oleg, coming to taunt her more than she could bear.
"Go away. I am in no mood for your mockery, Oleg!" She ordered in a strong, disciplinary tone.
"I... I'm not Oleg!" The voice was a girl's, unfamiliar and timid. Jóka stood up, curious as to what she was here for, though she did not open the door, instead she edged closer to it and pressed her ear against the wood, listening to the girl. She heard a shuffle of discomfort, "I – that is to say, Loki – has ordered to see you."
No sooner had the girl had finished speaking, that Jóhanna yanked the door open forcefully, "Where? When? Why?"
The girl was tall and slender, 'perfectly' shaped, as far as Asgardians go. Her blonde, straight hair looked worryingly thin, as though she pulled it out in aggravation daily. She looked startled, her icy blue eyes widening, "In the uh... In the throne room."
"M... Master?" Jóhanna asked, stepping cautiously into the room she had been asked to go to. It was empty aside from the single, slim, elegant looking man with his back turned to her. She knew it was Loki through stance and build, so she took a few steps closer to him, "Sir? Why did you ask for me?"
Loki turned on his heel when she was close enough to reach out and touch him. Her wrist was caught and his green eyes burned into her chocolaty ones. A smile spread over his thin, beautiful lips and he drew closer to her. Jóhanna was frozen to the spot, what was happening?
Their lips crashed together. She did nothing; still too stunned to move or kiss back. Still, Loki pushed harder against her, his lips against hers. It took her a good few minutes to bring herself to pull away.
"What? W... What just happened?" She asked breathlessly. She may not have kissed back (no-matter how much she wanted to), but it was as though the breath had been sucked out of her.
Loki vanished.
Blinking, Jóka turned on the spot, searching for the man who had just kissed her, he was-
He was slouched on the throne; staff in hand and tall, golden, demonic horned helmet adorning his head. He had used a spell to trick her. A frown came over her, "Why did you...?"
"To see what you would do..." his face remained unchanged. Loki felt like he was shaking uncontrollably, but nothing showed. He had used a spell to do that to see what her reaction would be, to see how she felt. Not the way he had hoped.
The thought of why he was on the throne didn't even cross Jóka's mind as she reached up and felt her tingling lips with her fingertips. Then her mood changed, "Is this a game to you?" She demanded, anger simmering, "You know, I should have expected this from the trickster. Make the servant girl feel something, secure it with a 'kiss'" she waggled her fingers at the word kiss, "then inform her it was all just a lie, something to make sure that she despises herself for letting herself genuinely feel something for once?"
He was taken aback. He didn't know what to say... What had he done?
Jóka turned to leave; when she was nearly out of sight, she turned back slightly to look over her shoulder. Her voice quivered with anger, "You don't deserve a servant, let alone a kingdom, if this is what you do."