Extra Chapter

"Of Course I Want to Build a Snowman"

{A.N. I wasn't going to write this since the story only has one follower so far, but… Oh, well. I figured I should go on ahead. Even if it would end up being more just for my own fun. Oh, well. Regardless, I hope you enjoy reading this extra snippet!}

Loki had almost seriously hurt his one and only brother, his best friend, his greatest companion, only last summer. Though, in Thor's mind, it was merely last winter, and he had fallen off of a snowbank. That was slightly true, but it was due to Loki's idiocy. He should have been faster, should have been more careful. At least, that's what he was telling himself every second of every minute of every day. "This was all my fault… I'll never be able to control these powers."

His father, Odin, demanded that he be locked away until he could handle this "gift", and despite Frigga's persistent protests against shutting out the boy, Loki agreed. "I might end up hurting Thor again." He had said, chest heaving with guilt and self-hatred. "I'll come out when I can get a handle over this… this…"
"Curse." His father finished, face stoic, tone as sharp as the edge of a dagger. Loki didn't respond; only flicked his gaze to the ground.

Still, that never stopped his mother from coming inside to visit and check up on him, making sure he was alright and healthy to the best of her abilities. Loki loved her so very much; she was his hero, most definitely.

The winter after the accident, Thor came knocking, requesting to build a snowman. He asked, he begged, he sang, he was adamant. But nonetheless, Loki's only response was, "Go away, Thor!" Though it tugged at his heart to be so harsh with his brother, he knew it was for the best. "I'm doing this to protect you… If only you could know that." He whispered into the palms of his hands one snowy afternoon, though outside of his bedroom it was delightfully warm and sunny.

After the first attempt Thor made to get Loki out to build a snowman, the dark haired child sat against his wall, emerald gloves appearing dull on his phalanges. He bent his head down, suddenly sick to his stomach without any sort of virus. He gulped down a gush of air, trying to calm his racing cardiovascular muscle and fill his lungs, but that did nothing for the butterflies flittering around in his stomach. He sighed, gazing outside at the world of Asgard.

"Of course I want to build a snowman." He gripped the windowsill until his knuckles whitened beneath the rubber gloves. "There I've said it, I've confessed." Loki squeezed his eyes shut, each word tasting bitter and leaving a sour aftertaste on his tongue. "But I need to stay locked up inside, although I hate to hide I know it's for the best. You know you're still my best friend. I wish that I could be out there by your side."

Loki picked up his head, studying his own reflection in the glass. He squinted, trying to get a good examination. He thought he detected, perhaps, a dark blue splotch on the side of his face. Quirking a brow, he looked closer, face only inches from the frosted window. Slowly, the splotch began to grow, spindly lines overtaking the rest of his face, turning him a dark blue shade. He screamed and flailed as if trying to smack this thing away. He tumbled backwards and tripped over his own feet. An internal chill filled his bones and ran into his blood stream.

Panicking, he picked himself up to look back at his mirrored image. Staring back at him was a foreign boy that he did not recognize. A complete stranger, and a disturbing one at that. The child's skin was a deep cerulean, almost black. His eyes flicked and were a disconcerting mixture of red and yellow. This boy-whom was surely his own age-began following his every move.

When Loki moved his head, so did He. When Loki raised his hand, He raised His. "Gah!" Loki cried, frustratingly rubbing his knuckles against his eyes. When he pulled them away the odd imposter was gone, and in his place was Loki once more, where he should be. He gripped at the fabric above his chest, heart thudding angrily against his ribcage. There were no more blue spots; just a frightened, trembling boy.

He looked away from the window, deciding he wouldn't look at his reflection for a very long time. Mayhap he was just going insane. Slackening his jaw, he finished, "Of course I want to build a snowman… Oh, how I'd love to build a snowman."

{Outside}

"Why is Loki locked away in his room?" Thor asked at the dinner table that night, placing his fork not-so-gracefully down on the porcelain plate. Frigga coughed on the stake she was eating and began sputtering, putting a napkin up to her lips. She was unable to answer. She daintily took a sip of her wine out of her golden goblet and looked to Odin for an answer, unsure of how to respond.

Odin grunted, dropping his food. "The mention of Loki has stifled my appetite." He ignored Frigga's annoyed stare and looked to Thor. "I do not believe you were called on to speak. Were you?" He questioned, wiping his greasy hands on a napkin and not meeting Thor's expectant eyes.

"No, Father, but-"
"But nothing. You know the rules. Please, do be patient and wait to be spoken to before you speak."
Thor squirmed in his seat, unable to stay quiet. He pursed his lips, but it was of no use. "Look, really quick, I just want to ask this one question. Please?"

Odin shot him a fierce glare, but Frigga smacked his arm, waging a finger. "It's just one question. Why must you be so strict?" She smiled at her son sympathetically. She knew that he wanted nothing more than to see his brother again. This entire isolation thing is just one bad idea.

"Fine, Son. You see, Loki is merely…" He searched his cranium for the right words, trying to find some way he could tell Thor without giving anything away. "Loki is going through a difficult time right now, you see. He will come out. Eventually."

"When is 'eventually'?" Thor persisted, hoping that that meant soon.

"I don't know," Odin began, eating once again. "But by the looks of things, 'eventually' could very well be the equivalent to 'never'."

Thor folded his hands in his lap. He wasn't very hungry anymore.

{Years Later}

Why does Thor have to do this to Loki? It has been about three years now, and right as winter rolled around he came knocking again. It broke Loki's fragile heart to stay unresponsive to Thor's pleading, but there was simply nothing he could do about it. "I'm doing this because I love you, Stupid," He muttered, running a hand through his black tresses. He stood in the middle of his room, in front of a fireplace that has long since been unable to produce warming flames.

Even if Thor was long gone into the abyss that was this massive castle, Loki still answered (perhaps it was best he didn't hear, anyway), "Of course I want to build a snowman. And run around and laugh and play. I'm really lonely stuck inside my room, my life's all gloom and doom, but I have got to stay!"

Giving himself a mental pep-talk, he quipped, "Hang in there, Loki."

He turned towards his door, and upon hearing sad shuffling, he gazed into the keyhole. There was his brother, solemnly dragging his feet, obviously bored and alone. That was all because of Loki; his despair and lonesomeness. He toyed with his gloves nervously, feeling a soft wind beginning to blow. "I know you're feeling lonely. I know I am, too. But my powers will not subside."

As he spoke the wind continued, coming to almost a dangerous howl as if proving his point. The young Asgardian squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to calm, but that only increased his dread. Trying to take slow, measured breaths, he spoke gently, "Conceal, don't feel, conceal, don't feel!"

Alas, all that Loki would do was feel. He felt the strong winds whipping his dark locks, smacking his face, tearing at his clothes. "D-Don't feel it… don't let it show…"

{More Years Later, Current Time}

"Loki, Sir," An unfamiliar voice sounded from outside of his bedroom door. Loki was sitting on his bed, eyes closed, leaning against the wall. He was most relaxed in complete and total silence with no interruptions; the fact that someone other than his parents or Thor was calling for him was highly odd. Unsure if he should answer or remain silent, he questioned with caution, "Who is it?"

"It's one of your family's loyal guards, Sir. I have… the most terrible news. You were aware that your dear Mother, Frigga, was leaving for a two week journey, correct?"

"Yes," He slowly began, tone tilting. What was this guard getting at? A knot started twisting in his abdomen, the hairs on the back of his neck rising. Something was off about this whole situation, something in the air that didn't settle quite right with Loki.

"Well… There was an accident."

Loki's heart dropped.

{-}

Today was Frigga's funeral, Loki knew. That was all he could hear bustling through the halls; or, more accurately, that's all he could hear as people sluggishly moved as if through a heavy fog or a thick cloud. Loki couldn't take it; his mind, his body, his heart and spirit, his world; everything was crumbling around him and inside of him. This couldn't be happening. Dead? His mother? Impossible.

Gripping onto his matted, untamed mane he screamed at the top of his lungs, throat burning, eyes tearing up. It was a bloodcurdling holler, one that erupted deep from his diaphragm like an exploding volcano. There wasn't a centimeter in his bedroom that wasn't covered in a frozen layer. Snow lay in unattended clumps, and the flakes continued to rain heavily down. As each screech filled the room, the wind around him blew faster, and sharped crystals spurted out randomly, in miscellaneous spots, sharper than any blade.

He screamed again. And again. And again. Until finally he could no longer do so, for a hot metallic taste splattered his tongue, and he fell to his knees as coughs racked his emaciated, lanky frame. Loki doubled over and folded into himself, face twisted with an inner agony that was more painful than any physical wound.

He wouldn't be able to attend the funeral. In fact, he doubted he would be able to even stand for a long length of time. It took hours for him to appear to recover, but in his core there was a hole that could never again be filled. Loki sat on his heels until Thor came, knocked-but only once-said his piece, and departed. Even after Thor had retreated into the confines of his own room, Loki still simply sit there, unmoving.

Until after he felt his heart slow a bit, he opened his mouth and forlornly, dejectedly, started to say, "Thor? Yes, I know you're out there… That must have been rough on your own." The knot in his throat made it almost impossible to speak. He placed a hand over his pink lips and looked towards the ceiling at his light, trying to burn away the water itching at his eyes.

"But now my powers have grown much too strong. I've feared this all along. Must be alone…" Loki hiccupped but held it together the best that he could. "You deserve much better than what I can be. There's nothing that I can do…"

Loki grit his teeth to the point they may chip and returned his fingers back into his unkempt, messy hair, clenching at his scalp. Uttering one last guttural growl, he helplessly said, lips barely parting from one another, "Of course I want to build a snowman…"