Guys, this chapter. I love it. I love it so much. Today is my birthday, so, this is my present to all of you. I do think this is my favorite chapter of the fanfiction, just because it's beautiful.
I hope you enjoy it.
"Papa, please. Let me help," A young girl said aloud to the old man, her softened face smiling endearingly. They were in a single room shop filled with various shelves. On the shelves were bottles and bags, trinkets and scrolls. The floors were made of old, dark wood that creaked when you walked on it, and the windows were scratched and difficult to see out of. Old maroon drapes hung around some of the windows, but there was a larger drape that divided the entire room.
It was a shop. In front of the drape there was a small counter, a door to the outside, and a small display window that shows off some freshly picked flowers and a few bottles of different ingredients.
This was an old fashioned potion and chemical shop. Science and magic were one in the same here. The family owned shop, named The Old Hickory, was one of the last remaining potion shops in Asgard. It was stationed in an isolated part in one of the poorest towns, and, was practically falling apart. There was not much to it, but, The Old Hickory was humbling. The products were good and trustworthy, and for those who knew of the shop understood the quality and time put into their products. The use of transmutations were so few nowadays; the ability started to vanish around 500 years ago, and now, it is extremely rare to come by. Everyone simply 'poofed' things into existence, but by doing this, they destroyed the natural boundaries of balance. Thus, those items never lasted. The transmuted items lasted forever.
However, many did not know of The Old Hickory. The nearby desolate and poor village did not help business, but they had their regulars. They often supplied remedies to the local herbalist and healer, who surprisingly, was very popular. The Healer only used items from The Old Hickory, but other than that, customers were few to come by. Living was difficult.
Behind the drape was the workshop that doubled as a living space, where the two figures stood around a large table. The girl, now, was using her strength to push the table aside as the old man plopped a stack of golden hay right in the center of the room. The girl smiled, before running over to one of the various shelves.
Her crystal cyan orbs scanned the shelves, searching for an item that she needed. As she searched, a bell rung. She glanced back to her grandfather, in which he smiled weakly and moved past the large maroon curtain and into the front of the shop.
"Why hello there sir, what can I do for you today?" The old voice said sweetly to the customer. The girl smiled to herself. Her grandfather was so nice. Even though they had very little, they gave what little they could give and never used their abilities more than for the good of others.
The girl of 17 found the item she was looking for. It was a small pebble situated on a higher shelf. She reached up and grabbed it, only to hear,"Of course sir. Thank you for your patronage. Your order shall be ready as soon as the moon rises. The Healer will use this potion for your needs."
Her Papa was one of the kindest men she knew. Even though he was plagued with old age, he always managed to use whatever strength he had to remain healthy and run the shop. When she was little, her Papa would use the last of his earnings to buy her a ribbon for her hair on her birthday, sometimes even denying his own food to buy it. The two of them never transmuted objects for their own needs, because they knew the greed that could come with it.
"Celia, we have a new order," Papa said, entering the back room once more. He found his granddaughter transmuting various objects before her. Her hands hovered over a stack of hay and the pebble, her blue eyes now glowing.
Celia did not have any parents. Her mother had died upon her birth, due to the horrible conditions of living, and her father committed suicide as soon as he discovered he'd be raising a child on his own. Papa, her grandfather or grandpapa, was alone in life and took on the responsibility of bringing up small Ceila. He understood she never had a mother, so he tried to teach her compassion and loyalty while also infusing wisdom and strength.
Papa discovered that when Celia carried the trait to transmute objects, and unfortunately, that she is the last person with the power to do so. The very last being who could perform ancient magic.
Celia, so young and naive, thought that somewhere out there, there had to be more like them. But, the unfortunate truth is that in many other planets, stars, and galaxies, transmutation did not exist. The physical beings that inhabited the land could not perform such a task. It was only the Asgardians. It was her, Celia.
Papa gave his granddaughter a warm smile when her eyes returned to their normal hue. In front of her was a rope, golden in color and twisting in some intricate pattern. Celia lowered her hands and wiped them off on her dirty, stained-brown apron. The girl then pushed some of her brown locks behind her ears before she asked,"Another order?"
The old man nodded, saying,"This one requires a lot of time, sweetheart. It's tasking. You can't perform this one today after already transmuting this first order."
Celia frowned, shaking her head,"Papa-"
"No." He said firmly,"You are not burning out of me, Celia." The young girl smiled weakly, moving closer to the man. She knew he only wanted the best for her, so then she hugged him deeply,"Then at least let me get the items. The walk to town is far and if you need time to prepare the grounds, then let me do what I can." Her voice was soft, fluttering.
Papa, who was slightly shorter than the girl sighed. The girl pulled back from the embrace, before the man regretfully whispered,"Alright. You may go. This is the early pay for materials," he handed her a small bag of coins,"and return before the sun begins to set."
Celia flashed her teeth, nodding her head,"I understand, Papa." She whirled around and removed her dirty apron and placed it on a nearby hook. Underneath was a ragged, patched, and dirtied light blue garment that hung to the floor. Celia then took the cloak from the next hook over and swung it around her neck. The cloak was not in better condition than her dress. The girl then grabbed a large, straw basket, before moving to her Papa.
She leaned forward and kissed his wrinkled cheek softly,"I'll be back soon."
Celia had went into town. It was a good hour walk to the village on a winding, rocky road. By horse, this walk would be a mere 5 minutes, but on foot? It was tasking. Papa would not be able to do this would sapping his strength before the transmutation. Yes, Papa was older, and it took more out of him to transmute objects; however, he could fuse objects together in a way she never could. He was extremely talented in ancient magic, but even so, age has affected his abilities to successfully perform transmutation.
Once, he even fainted and woke up ill after making an item. Without money coming in, Celia had to care for Papa and try to run the shop on her own. She used all of the small coins to pay for soup and small items to help him recover. But, she never transmuted items of her Papa's stock to create a remedy that would heal him. Celia often wished she did, but she knew he'd be extremely disappointed with her when he woke. She didn't want to lose his love or affection, it was all she had. She would not go against her teachings.
Luckily, he broke through his fever and was working again the next week. Since though, transmutations have been increasingly hard for him and Celia has been taking on more of the workload both in and out of running the shop. She was the one who pushed everything aside to lay out the blankets for bed, and she was the one who made the small chimney fire. She did the scrubbing of floors, the laundry, as well as ran the shop whenever her father was unable to move from lack of energy.
Celia had to learn to run the shop basically on her own. Therefore, she didn't mind running to town. In her basket now were large leaks, a few interesting colored stones, and a scarf that was traded in from the black market. All of these items were to be used to create a potion that the Healer would use. Of course, the Healer herself would never come to the shop, she'd send people who were asking of her help to go.
Celia glanced up to the sky, noticing that the sun had been falling. Oh god! She was late! But, nothing truly bad would happen, right? Nothing could happen. They lived in such a remote, dismal little crook that not a soul cared for. Celia continued on her path, noticing the sky darken quicker when she was actually paying attention. Was she really that far behind schedule? No matter. She will simply apologize when she went home.
Finally, her home came into view, which was the shop. Celia was about to enter, but found herself frozen at the entrance. The front window where she displayed a few trinkets and flowers were broken in. The flowers were shredded and the items were gone. Her eyes widened in realization as she dropped the basket and ran inside.
"PAPA!" Celia shouted, rushing through the front of the shop and into the back quarters. Her body halted at the front of the workshop. All of the bottles were smashed, the items inside, gone. Stolen. Everything was stolen and destroyed. Their entire life, their materials. Gone. The shop was in disarray, as shelves were broken and curtains were torn... How would they live? How would they buy food? Celia's eyes searched the room, shaking her head back and fourth in disbelief. Who would do such a thing?
Celia could feel her body tremble as she finally heard a sound. A low, weak groan.
"PAPA." Celia cried out, moving through the room. She knew it was not a big room, but she couldn't believe how she missed her grandfather. He was on the floor against the wall. Piles of wood were on top of his old frame, and some other pieces of the wood were protruding out of his chest. "Oh god, Papa."
As best as she could, she lifted the heavy pieces of wood and carefully pulled her grandfather out of the rubble. Her eyes instantly began to water at her loved one's deep and labored breath. His old, wrinkled face was beaten, bloodied, bruised. He was injured all over his body. The man groaned again, his lip blooded and his eyes closed.
"Papa, please, if you can hear me. Please wake up. Papa..." Celia whispered, her hand resting gently on his wounded chest. Suddenly, his eyes slowly fell open as he said softly,"My beautiful Celia. You're here."
His voice was so quiet. It was barely audible and his words almost sounded like a simple breath. Celia could feel water droplets slid down her face as she murmured,"Yes, I'm here Papa. I'm here. Look, I'm going to heal you, okay? I'm going to-"
"No, Celia," he whispered, shaking his head as best as he could,"Never use your powers. Never show them... Bad people will - hurt you - for them."
Celia sniffled, understanding. Her Papa would rather die honorable and would want Celia to remain truthful to his word. As much as she desperately wanted to betray him and heal him, she couldn't. She couldn't go against her love for the man that cared for her when no one else will.
"Papa, please stay with me. You can't just leave me," she cried, taking his hand in hers, but stopping. There was something in it.
Papa shifted as best as he could to raise the wounded limb,"They didn't take... one thing. It was your mother's. I was waiting... until you were... 18." His breaths were deep. It took him a long time to say a single phrase. His eyes were too, watering. Celia knew he knew what was coming. She didn't want to believe it.
But, in her hand dropped a beautiful, silver necklace. It was plain, with no carvings or design. It was shaped like a tear drop and was very simple. But, it was elegant. It was real silver. Celia could sell it to save her Papa.
"I know... what you... are thinking," he whispered between breaths,"Don't... My time here is done... It's up to you... my sweet Celia... to live on..."
Celia could feel the wetness pour out of her eyes. The necklace now laid beside her as she desperately clung to her father's hands. "I love you so much, Papa. I need you to stay with me." Her body shuddered, her head shaking back and fourth in disbelief.
How was this happening? Her grandfather couldn't leave her. She needed him more than anything. Yes, she could do the basics, but she had no guidance. He was all she ever had. He was her family, her friend, her brother. She hadn't wanted anyone else but the compassionate grandfather who showed her the errors in her ways, taught her their family's life work, but most importantly raised her with strength, morality, and kindness. She could never replace his kindness.
Her grandfather smiled weakly. Tears streamed out of his eyes, before he whispered even softer,"You revive me... with your love... My Celia... remember... where there is love... there is life."
He did not breathe again. His crystal blue eyes fell closed, tears falling freely as the skin fell limp. The life slowly drained from his face, the animation that fueled his body dissipated. The life of her Papa was gone, his hands now weak in Celia's grip. He was now a breath away into death, a world without love or compassion. Without feeling or understanding... he was alone! Celia shook her head, her face morphing into complete despair as she cried his name aloud.
"PAPA... oh god Papa..." She screamed as she sobbed over his body. She shook her head back and fourth, unable to comprehend the fact that she lost him. She lost her best friend, her father, her mother, her companion... It was so sudden. Celia could feel her world ending, spinning. Everything was spinning and falling.
She could feel her chest collapse as she racked herself in sobs, holding the hands that were still so warm. It was like he was alive and just sleeping... Peacefully. He was peaceful, and he'd wake up tomorrow morning with another day's work, just as they always had. But she needed to get him help. Celia still felt like something could be done to save him he-
"What happened here?"
Celia with reddened eyes glanced up to a figure by the curtain door. A man. The customer that was to come at nightfall to pick up that potion... the potion that was never completed because of her late arrival. "I-I-I..." She began to say, but her breath kept hiccuping and her body kept shaking. She could barely speak,"I-I I'm s-s-sorry. I don-t-t have y-your p-otion ready."
Tears fell out of her big blue eyes as she held her bloodied and dead Papa closer to her. The customer saw this. His own emerald eyes widened in shock, watching the girl, before he ran out of the shop. Ceila couldn't even hear the shouting outside when many large men began to enter. They looked like guards with swords and golden armor. Celia cried, watching them approach her and the corpse.
"Let us help your Papa," one of them said aloud, reaching out a hand to take the body. Ceila shook her head,"NO!" She shouted, clutching the limp figure closer to her. Tears rapidly fell from her eyes as she violently shook. "You can't- t-t-take him from me! H-H-He-e's all I have left. You c-can't do this you-"
"Shh." She head someone whisper behind her. The costumer. She felt him kneel down beside her as his hand came up to rest against her the small of her back. He spoke calmly to her in a soft and easy tone close to her ear,"My guards will take your grandfather to The Healer and see if we can do anything to ensure his life's continuance. But you must let them move him before it becomes too late to change what fate has horribly bestowed upon you."
His voice was like velvet, cooing her and trying to relax her. Her head turned so that her big, reddened eyes stared into his emerald orbs. She sniffled, just trying to search for any sort of trust or understanding in his gaze. And she found it. She found him begging her to believe his words and therefore, she simply nodded her head to him. The man then looked up to the guards and then signaled for them to lift the body. Celia felt the weight of her Papa lift from her lap, and when that happened, more tears fell down her face. Papa was gone. Her face morphed into complete and utter despair as she clutched her ragged cloak to her body as if it were her last means of life.
The customer was sitting next to her with a concerned face, wearing some formal fancy cloak with intricate patterns. But, Ceila then cried,"It's my f-fault. It's all my fault, oh god... If-If I came b-back sooner he'd be... he'd be..." Her face had a fresh well of tears falling out of her eyes when suddenly, she felt strong arms wrap around her body. Her head now was resting on the costumer's chest where she desperately clutched the fabric of his clothing, sobbing freely and unconstrained.
"Shh," he cooed against her head, his hands rubbing her small frame gently,"It's not your fault. It's never your fault."
The guards had taken the corpse of Papa down to the Healer. The men would report back to the wrecked home that Celia refused to leave, after they received the results. Outside, the costumer insisted he stayed with the girl.
"But Master Loki you cannot stay with that peasant," one of the remaining guards insisted.
The raven haired man shook his head,"Thank you all for assisting me here. I will await to hear the results with the girl." The guard understood that this was the final answer from their Prince. There was no fighting back his orders. Therefore, he nodded his head, hopped up on his horse, and rode off to the Healer.
Loki had come to get a potion for his brother, Thor. The Princes of Asgard had the luxury of simply healing their injuries when they got into quarrels instead of allowing their body to naturally repair itself. The Healer, known all over Asgard, often personally attended the royal family. But, like everyone else, the princes needed to run to The Old Hickory to pick up the remedy. Often times, it'd be an assistant who'd do it, but today, Loki took matters into his own hands when Thor begged him to not tell a soul about his torn arm.
The Prince then made his own team, rode down to the shop mid-day, and came back at night to receive the item. But of course, they found no such thing. They found a girl, crying over her dead grandfather and a destroyed shop. The thing that got to Loki though, was that in the middle of the girl's tears and the death of her Papa, she apologized for not having the potion ready. It was like a sharp dagger was plunged into his chest and he felt physically weakened at the sight before him. It was horribly sad to see the girl literally decaying and crumbling before him as she wept. She was beautiful, but also, her sadness was one he almost felt aquatinted with. And again, she was apologizing. Wasn't the old man dying enough? Loki knew then that he had to do something.
It was obvious the two figures did not have much to their name. The Old Hickory was the smallest and shabbiest of shacks, and the amount of items within the shop were minimal. Thor and Loki in their youth, when they had to buy potions, originally thought the shop was a disguise for a secret passage. They thought it had a trap door under the floors, where people would magically create the objects of desire. They didn't think it was possible for such a small, run down store to make such powerful potions. Now, they didn't know how the objects were made because they knew their original idea was simply a child's fantasy. They did not know about transmutation and still, did not know.
Loki reentered the shop and made his way to the back room. He found a very odd sight. He found the girl with a broom sweeping. His eyebrows narrowed and his mouth gaped a bit. Her father just died and she was cleaning? He noticed her face was still tear streaked and her body still trembling. She wanted to fix her shabby home. She wanted to live her life again, but when would she see that it would not be the same?
The Prince's mouth closed shut, pity clear in his eyes as he stood there silently, watching the girl push around broken glass. He'd never seen poverty so close. The girl before him was small, even boney from long weeks of no income. Her hair was brown, dirty, and there were the small black smudges on her neck and arms from chimney soot. Her dress was practically a rage that limply hung off her body, and the few homely objects in the room appeared to be a pot, a few pieces of silverware and ceramic plates. There were also a few blankets stacked in the corner. That was all that was there besides the house and what would have been the workroom itself.
But he noticed something. On the floor was something silver. Loki tilted his head and he walked forward. He picked up the object carefully, only to find it to be a dull, boring tear drop pendant. "Stop it!" Celia cried, running forward and snatching the necklace out of Loki's hands. She clutched it tightly, before Loki lied,"It's a beautiful necklace."
Celia's electric orbs watched him carefully before saying,"He gave it to me during his dying breaths... It was my mother's."
"She is deceased?"
A nod.
"Your father too?"
Another nod.
"I suppose you have no siblings," Loki asked, only to have the girl respond,"None, sir."
Loki frowned. She was alone. This poor, starving girl was alone. Most of Asgard had been thrown out poverty and into good living. Majority. Only 5% of Asgard actually lived in the outskirts, and majority of those were actually beginning to gain a wealthy status. This place was true poverty in Asgard, and it made Loki even pity the girl that she was in it by herself.
"Then after your grandfather is revived, I'm sure I can find some work for you in the city," Loki offered, but the girl shook her head.
"No, I enjoy my life here. It's simple and beautiful in a way you could never understand," Celia responded, clutching the necklace closer to chest,"Yes, it is difficult. But this room, this one room is my birthing room, my education, my training, my life. It might seem so small and worthless to you, a man with guards and followers, but to me? This place is filled of irreplaceable memories that warm the heart and sooth the soul on the rainiest of days."
"Then you will not come with me?" Loki questioned, his face unreadable to the girl.
"No sir, but I thank you."
It was then the guards returned with long faces. Papa did not wake.
Celia got on with her life after 2 months. It was the most difficult, heartbreaking experience to try and recovery from the loss of her Papa. Every day since, she had been slowly bringing The Old Hickory back to its former working state. The broken glass and windows were discarded, and an old drape now hung in the front window of the shop. She had sold her kitchen table for a smaller stool-like stand, using the coins left over to buy the standard transmution ingredients.
Customers slowly came back to the shop and Celia performed as best as she could. Her body grew tired from channelling nature to manipulate the elements. She ended every day on an old, rickey chair in front of the warm fireplace. She often wept there for a long while, remembering what the past was like and how much she dearly missed her grandfather. This was when she held the necklace he had given her close to her body, clutching it as the last physical representation of the man who raised her.
Customers were still few, but sometimes, she found random men and women wandering in and asking for random and expensive products that often earned Celia the most meager amount of profit. It fed her for the night.
Celia couldn't say she enjoyed this life; it wasn't a life without her Papa educating her with torn and tattered library books. She missed his smile, warmth, and lively attitude he brought to the already dismal shack. He made The Old Hickory a grand palace with his aura. It was beautiful with him around. But now, as Celia glanced back to the dismal shop, she knew it no longer held the magic it once did. Her Papa would tell her to leave the shop, move on from the past, but still, she couldn't bring herself to abandon what she knew was life.
This old falling apart hut was her past. Celia frowned a bit, removing herself from the seat, pushing it aside, and moved to pick up the tattered quilts from the corner of the room. Carefully laying them onto the floor, Celia then brought herself to cuddle with the fabric. She snuggled it closer, noticing now that the nights grew colder as winter began to take hold. She never touched her grandfather's quilts, regardless.
Her blue eyes stared deeply into the weak flames before her. The fire seemed like the only thing alive, and even so, it was dying out. Celia could feel her eyes mist over. Is this what she was destined to do the rest of her days? Mourn and practice transmuation that would eventually end her life? Was this worth it? Or would she take up the familial trait of her father and chose them simpler path. Suicide.
Perhaps it was more soothing.
But then, the bell to the front door rang. Celia perked up from her blanket, alert. Someone was asking for service at this time of night? Her blue eyes narrowed, perplexed at the thought. Her body, in turn, stood up and moved past the curtain boundary to greet the customer. It was probably an emergency.
It wasn't.
Before her was not one, not two, but three men. Their hair was greased and sprawled across their forehead. Their faces were covered in a layer of sweat and grime, their clothes torn and ratted. One of them smiled with a mostly toothless grin,"See, I told ya' the old man had a girl here."
Celia could feel her hands retract into a fist instinctively. What was he talking about? "Can I help you men?"
The second man chuckled loudly,"Yous all alone now?" His body too a step forward. Celia felt her heart thump and her stomach churn. She automatically knew these were bad man.
Finally, the third man lightly punched the second man's arm. "'Course she is, Bogart! We gots rid of that man-witch last time."
"And now we gots to get rid of the she-witch. The lastest of 'em," The first one said, grinning.
Celia's eyes opened wide. She knew who these men were. She had to. Their smell radiated off of their bodies, their stench inflitrating and gagging Celia's senses. But, what was more, is that she knew that her Papa's dying words to not be taken lightly. There were people out there who murdered those who used ancient mahic. Celia's lips parted,"You killed my Papa. You are those men."
Her voice shook in fear, her eyes widening in realization. There were tales of a radical group who thought transmutation was some form of the ultimte evil because of the forced shifting of nature. These men brutally killed all of those who had the ability to transmute items. She didn't think these tale of such cruel, murderous people were real. But the stories were true. These men killed her Papa, and now, they were going to kill her.
"'Nd look! She gots a pretty new necklace!"
Celia clutched the pendant tightly, protectively... "Who are-"
"Such a shame, yeah? She's a beaut. A pret'y thin'," the second man commented, moving even closer.
"Les 'ave fun with 'er first, yeah? Girl can't fight us off. Transmu'tin flesh? She ain't got that in her. She can't fight," The third one added, now taking a step around the small counter.
Celia's eyes were wide and paralyzed with fear. Her body froze as she took in what was happening. Bad men, killing... They had no good intentions. It took her a second for fear to relinquish the numbing feeling over her body.
She ran. She ran as fast as she could into the back room but felt one of the man roughly grab her hair. Celia screamed, feeling her body thrown backwards onto the floor. She fell on her stomach, trembling as she glanced up. The three men hovered over her, each with an expressive grin of lust and satisfaction.
Celia's eyes grew wide as one of them reached downwards to her face. As he did, her eyes squeezed shut tightly and her body flinched away. She expect him to touch her, but the touch never came. Instead, she heard a large crash and shouting.
"Wha' in the name of-" one of the men said, before there were two more crashes. Celia kept her eyes shut tightly, shivering as she was expecting something to still happen. But when nothing came, her eyes flashed open. She saw the three men sprawled on the floor before her. Their eyes were open, but their bodies were still and lifeless. Dead.
"Oh god," Celia whispered in shock, her hand coming up to cover her mouth. Her body trembled. What happened! What was going on? Her body began to overheat. Her world began to spin. This was too much. She was hot but she was cold. She was terrified and overwhelmed. Celia's eyes rolled into her skull, and with that, she fainted against the hard floor.
Loki, since he met the girl in the shop, had watched her. He often sent guards, disguised into the village, to gather information on who the mysterious and brave girl was. The guards, by order, would seek out tales of the girl in town as well as and buy potions to help feed her business profit.
Loki was also curious as to why she had no idea who he was. He was Loki, the Prince of the planet she was inhabiting and yet, she stared into his eyes like any other man. An ordinary man.
He had found out few things about her. She and her father ran a small potion shop. No one knew their methods of how they created their products. They never spoke of how. But, rumor had it that it was transmutation. The ancient magic was dead, really. But at the same time, it was because of some crazy radicalism group who believed and preached wrong, horrid, and fully false thoughts on those who performed transmutations. Majority of that group died, but still, most people who wielded ancient magic died at the price. Practically, ancient magic was an extinct concept. Except for this one shack. This one girl.
Celia.
When Loki discovered her name, he found him saying it over and over again as he thought of her reddened, sapphire eyes that were so, so brave.
When a guard reported word had it that a bunch of drunkers were taking the hour walk towards her hut, Loki instantly took action. As fast as he could, he made his way to the desolate location by a majestic black stallion. His only thought was about her tearful face as he rode, his raven hair whisking behind him. When he entered the shop, he saw the men hovering over the shaking, poor girl. Loki, somehow, felt enraged by this violent act. Within seconds, he used his god-like abilities to quick discard of the drunkards' lives. When Celia glanced up, Loki was not in her line of vision. But, he gasped when she then collapsed on the floor. She was overwhelmed.
Loki frowned, his eyes saddening as he moved beside her unconscious figure. The girl was considerably smaller than the last time he saw her. Her face seemed aged, probably from the claimed physical stress that came from ancient magic. The magic was known to physically hurt its users because it draws energy from a stronger power source.
The girl was still on the ground. Loki kneeled down beside her and carefully lifted her head to lay in his lap. His hand came up to gently stroke a strand of messy brown hair out of her face. Celia's worried face was now relaxed, but it still had creases plastered into the skin from stress and worry. Loki's fingers caressed her face continuously, breathing lightly. He was completely absorbed in the sight of her as he whispered,"You should have come with me."
Since, Loki had arrived at the palace gates with the unconscious girl in his arms. She was covered by Loki's cloak, and he demaned she was brought to a large, golden healing room often used for Thor and Loki. The palace guards and servants were very confused by this act, wondering who this mysterious figure was and how she provoked such an odd facet of their Prince's personality. But, they did as they were ordered and brought her to the room.
It was warm. Too warm. Celia had been cold for so long that the heat surrounding her body was almost burning her skin. But it wasn't uncomfortable. It was welcomed. It was like being starved and getting a tummy-ache from fullness. It was a good warmth. It was soothing the cold shivers that racked her body painfully. She felt relief washing over her senses, removing that peircing pain and creating a calm and serene environment. It was so warm.
Her crystal blue eyes fluttered open slowly, her long lashes slowly allowing golden light to flood her vision. Celia felt her chest take in a large, relaxing breath. She never felt so comfortable in her entire life. When her hand fell onto the pillow holding her head, her eyes fell shut once more. But then, everything registered.
Celia's eyes widened and she shot up to sit on the bed, as if it were electrically charged. A bed. A real, plush bed. It was cream colored with beautiful silk sheet running over the soft layers. Real silk. Her hand reached over to touch the fabric, hesitantly, and feeling the mattress. An actual, real bed. This was her first time ever seeing a bed as grand and nice as this. She had slept in a bed only a few times in her life.
But, this wasn't in her shop. No.
The girl could feel her breath hitch in her throat as she stared at the room around her. It was golden and held the brilliant color of the sun. All along the wall were large, ceiling high windows that were covered with cream colored curtains, pooling to the floor. Beside each window was a 10ft tall golden solider. Huge horns protruded out of their helmets and each held a sword pointed downwards. The floor was soft white in some glassy and to Celia, unknown material. She looked upwards to gasp. A crystal chandelier hung down from 20ft high ceilings. All around her was beautiful white furniture that had golden encrusted edges and defined the word luxury.
The bed she residing in had a golden comforter with white swirls that painted out flowers. The swirls were embroidered with white silk threading. Above her head was a canopy that was too, golden, and had small crystals intertwined with the bedposts.
This, was a dream.
It had to be. Celia's feet lightly hovered over the floor, as if she was afraid to get off the bed and into this wondrous room. She was afraid to shatter its image. But, she did it. Her toes wiggled momentarily before lightly touching the floor. Slowly, she lowered her weight on to her feet and stood.
It was then that she felt the fabric on her body fall after her. Celia glanced down to her figure, only to gasp. On her was a white laced nightgown that touched the floor. It was soft, unlike anything she's ever felt before in her life.
Where was she?
Her feet padded across the room to the furniture, only to find her silver pendant laying across one of the furniture's surfaces. Her fingers picked up the necklace, its familiar surface calming. But, she saw something beside her move. A figure was next to her. A woman.
Celia stared at her with wide eyes, only to realize that she and the woman shared the same motions. She realized that she saw her reflection. She was looking at a large, full lengthen mirror.
The image looked so much younger, so much more her age of 17. Her life was restored, bringing pinkness to her cheeks and energy to her limbs. Her eyes were sparkling and her brown hair was now vibrant locks, curled to frame around her face. It didn't even look like her. She looked... So foreign. She didn't recognize the beautiful girl staring back at her in the mirror. No longer did she have aged lines on her face from stress and worry. She looked like herself.
What had happened? Where was she? Celia took a moment to scan the room, finding nothing to held identify her location. She then moved over to the large, cream colored curtains that blocked the windows. She saw light streaming in from outside. Carefully, she parted the soft fabric.
Celia felt her hand come up to her mouth as she gasped. Her eyes saw a sight she had never seen. Something, she had never even dreamed. Her sapphire eyes watered at the sight of Asgard's grandest city. She saw the crystal blue sky meeting a luscious green land. In the land there were golden, miraculous cylinder buildings that reflected golden light and some even hovered in mid air. There were so many buildings, so many unbelievable sights. Words couldn't even comprehend what a miraculous view was before her, nor did Celia realize that she was at the very center of it all.
"You've never seen the city before, have you?"
Celia felt her heart leap in her chest. She turned her head around slowly to meet a handsome young man with dark, slicked back hair and piercing green eyes. The costumer. But his attire was different. More formal, much more formal. Her lips parted, before turning back to the city before her,"No, I have not."
"It is quite beautiful. You are still in Asgard, but a far different Asgard then you know," he said softly, moving beside her to gaze out the same window.
"I can tell."
The man turned to look at her, saying,"My name is Loki. I brought you here on the account that I thought you were dead." He took a step back, before bowing deeply to her. He never bowed to anyone, but for some reason, he felt it was the type of formality needed for this fair creature.
Celia looked at him, nodding her head,"Loki, I give you must most humble thanks for your hospitality. My name is Celia."
The girl quickly curtsied in response. He had bowed, correct? Celia let out a small laugh,"Forgive me, I'm not that good at introductions." Loki grinned at her, before replying,"Do not fret, Celia. You will feel so very overwhelmed during your early stay here."
The girl tilted her head,"I'm not to return home?"
Loki paused for a moment. He had the cottage burnt to the ground, corpses inside. He did not want Celia with her special talent to return to such a home. He wanted her here, with him. Loki; however, responded,"One of the men, apparently, set the house on fire with his last strength. My guards removed you in time, and since, we have healed your body to health."
Celia didn't respond. Her face turned out to gaze out at the city once more.
"This troubles you?"
Mist spread over her eyes,"It's like my childhood has been destroyed... My memories, gone. I feel as if my mind is leaving me in my youth. Is not that strange." Celia pressed her lips together in a hard line, her vision still casted outside the window.
Loki sighed. The girl was always so sad. She had such a hard life. She had no one. Loki knew it was his job to help this brave girl to happiness. Why? She was beautiful and kind when everything was falling apart. Something in Loki struck him at that moment. Something tied her to him, as if a thread had tied their hearts together. Loki felt attached to her and her pain pulled at Loki's heart.
Loki walked away from the window,"My father and I have discussed your presence. When I explained your story and humble backgrounds, he only wishes to help you like I have."
This gained Celia's attention. She turned around, her hands holding one another in front of her stomach. Her face was sad, but curious. Loki continued,"Therefore, he also knows of your ancient magic. He does not fear or despise it and I parallel him in these feelings. He truly wishes for you to teach both me and my brother the art of it, so that we may learn to fight more efficiently if we are found without weapons." The girl kept watching him.
"My father is willing to offer you a room here and a pay for your service. I beg of you, sweet Celia, to accept this offer."
Celia could feel her eyes mist over once more. Fighting? She had never built weapons before. She never wished to fight another. And truthfully, she was very overwhelmed by all of this luxury. The girl; however, seeing as her house was burnt down, could find no other option. She'd have a place to stay and money, and when she had enough to move out and live on her own, she would... Perhaps this was her new start.
"Ancient Magic cannot be taught, Loki," Celia said softly, her body moving into the room itself. She commented,"It's inherited from a family line... I can teach you the fundamentals, the history, but nothing more. A swan cannot teach a snake to fly, but it can show the snake to crane its neck towards the sun and to take flight."
Loki nodded his head,"Then a simple knowledge foundation in the magic shall be good enough."
Celia smiled. This man was so kind to her and he had no reason. She didn't really know who he was. All she knew is that he was compassionate and kind, caring and understanding. Loki saved her from a burning house, attempted to bring her father back from the dead, and now tried to give her a new start. Or did he feel that much pity for her?
Her smile faded,"And when I have taught you all I can, I will leave you for others teach you more."
Loki's expression didn't change. In fact, he almost looked saddened by it. His face was so young. He appeared the age of 21. He was youthful, bright. He did not have lines of worry worked into his skin as she once did. His hands were neat and un-calloused, his skin appearing baby smooth.
"But first," Celia said aloud, hesitating for a moment,"who are you really?"
"Loki," He insisted, his green eyes almost pleading her to stop asking these questions.
When she didn't move and stood her ground, Loki accepted defeat.
The god frowned. She was not going to budge. Celia wanted to know who he really was. She didn't play with games of mirages and fake stories. She didn't like lies, nor did she live in the past. She kept fighting onwards. She wanted the truth. Even when her Papa died, she wanted the truth. Loki, for some reason, couldn't bring himself to fight the girl before him. His lips parted, letting out a soft breath of air,"I'm Loki, the Prince of Asgard."
Celia could feel her breath catch in her throat. Her eyes widened and her hands came up to cover her mouth. The Prince? That is who this kind man was? The one who held her as she wept, gave her a home and fought for her happiness... He was the Prince? A brave, valiant figure. Of course, Loki could only be fit as a Prince.
The girl was not educated in the sense of who truly ruled Asgard. Papa and her were so far away from the city and the city's affairs never once intruded on their lives. They had no need to even once think about the names of the Princes or who was ascending to the throne or died... None of it mattered to Celia or Papa. But now, Celia couldn't help but be fascinated by the figure before her. A prince! A real live prince.
But then, Celia gasped,"Oh goodness! That's so important! How could you not... " She cut off her sentences as she took a step backwards,"I've been so informal with you! Even that direct statement was bad... And now look at me bantering off like some sort of... Oh god. I'm sorry I-"
She was cut off by the roaring sound of Loki's laughter. His white teeth flashed as his lips pulled back in his large grin. He shook his head back and fourth, just simply amused by the girl in front of him. She had no limits, no boundaries. She wasn't afraid of him and she was not fawning over him because of his rank. She actually had to stop herself from going off on her own little tangent. It was quite adorable.
Celia was not trained to be proper or formal. She had basic manners and spoke well, but this was not her life. She learned to see people for who they were, their basis and not for their fortune or rank. Perhaps that is why Loki had found her so interesting. On that one night long ago, when they first met, Celia had looked at him directly in the eyes and said she would not go with him. She didn't care if he was royalty or not. If she did, she would have probably still given him the same answer.
She didn't let her mind get involved in petty things such as the royal family.
Instead, she saw Loki for who he was. She saw him as the man who held her as she wept, who saved her when she was about to be defiled... she saw him for his heart and his desire to protect someone who to him, is a small insect. Loki had cared for the littlest of nature's bugs, and that is why Celia found herself too, interested in the kind-hearted man. Not prince. Man. She would not define him by his rank.
Remove the title, he was still a man. Remove the man, there is no title.
Loki then heard the door to the healing chambers swing open. Both figures turned to greet a larger figure, the other Prince of Asgard. Thor grinned widely, stepping in with his hands resting on his waist,"So you're our new tutor."
The God of Mischief could feel himself growl.
Her body moved through the grand isles. The shelves were high, reaching upwards towards an endless ceiling. There were what seemed like thousands of novels stacked in these racks, scrolls stuck in every little nook and cranny. There was an endless amount of knowledge placed within this room. A library. The grandest, most exquisite, and largest collection of books in all of Asgard. The area was so large with winding stairwells, hidden doors to more rooms, and ladders for the higher up shelves. All of the isles led off a central point in library, which was colored with rich indigos and silver colors. There were large, ceiling high windows randomly placed throughout the room with intricate, soft curtains ebbing at the edges.
Celia loved this.
She loved the pursuit of knowledge, especially since books were so few to come by in her past. Celia devoured novels- she wished that one day, she could write one. She wanted to document her life; she wanted others to come and understand her. Celia wanted to show how her life at the shop was, in fact, a good one, and not a pitiful experience.
Celia was moving throughout the isles, her fingertips lightly tracing over the bindings of various old novels. Transmutation. Surely, the oldest and grandest library in Asgard would contain some information on ancient magic. She was sad to find, that after hours of searching, she could barely find anything that mentioned more than a few words of the sort.
Where had these books vanished to?
The crystal eyes fell shut as she moved into the center of the library. Somehow, a strange sense of defeat washed over her. She didn't have a lesson. She couldn't do her job. Celia didn't want her first day tomorrow, after a week of recovery, to be a failure.
She had been allowed to settle into her new bedroom, explore the palace, and basically become accustomed to her new life. On her body was a soft, pale pink dress that tumbled to the floor and gently moved with her body. She was give gifts, such as the dress, simply to look the role and not to damage the image of the palace.
But, she was still frustrated. She was endlessly frustrated. The lesson. The lesson was her first true intergration into this world. It was her first task. Celia frowned, her body once more moving down an isle she never had traveled before. It was longer than the others, twisting and moving further away from the central room. Her eyes scanned the shelves, unable to find anything worthwhile. Yet, as she moved, her body halted.
"Loki?"
In the isle, staring up at one of the shelves, was none other than Loki. His face turned to Celia, almost looking surprised. His eyebrows raised and his lips curved upwards,"Celia, it is late. You should be retiring to your chambers."
The girl shook her head, replying,"I'm looking for novels to help my lesson for tomorrow. I cannot seem to come by the texts with ease. I have been tasked with this for hours."
Loki, who had a novel in his hand, shut it and tucked it under his arm. He moved forward, closer. Celia saw his emerald eyes pierce her. Her heart fluttered ever so slightly under his gaze.
"We keep books on transmutation stored away, as many would try to burn them," Loki explained. He then motioned down the isle,"I can show you the room, if you'd like."
Celia's eyes widened, flashing her teeth,"Oh please do! That would be so helpful."
Loki nodded his head,"Very well. Come, I will walk with you."
The two began to move down the winding isle. It was silent at first; Loki had his hands held behind his back as Celia held hers in front. It almost felt like both had something to say, but couldn't say it. Loki wanted to express his complete and utter excitement for tomorrow's lesson. He was excited to see Celia's face light up when she talked about transmutation. But, he was not the first to speak.
"I'm quite afraid for tomorrow."
Loki glanced over to Celia, his expression perplexed,"For the lesson?"
"Yes."
"You should not fret," Loki easily said,"You will be treated with respect and I must say, I look forward to it."
Celia sighed, shaking her head,"It's not that."
Her eyes fell to the floor. Loki tilted his head. His brows furrowed, now lines of concern on his face. What was she worried about? He had never seen her so troubled until this moment. Why had she cared so much about a simple lesson? Loki asked,"What is it, then?"
Celia was quiet. The soft padding of their feet against the floor echoed down the isle. Loki was confused by the silence, and he was about to ask again, but then he heard her voice,"I do not want to disappoint you."
Loki stopped walking. Celia, followed suit. The Prince stared at the small girl in disbelief, almost in shock of her words. Disappoint? How could she ever disappoint him? She was here in the palace because her character had impressed him! Celia was nothing of the sort when it came to disappointment. But perhaps, it was because she wanted to live up to Loki's kindness.
She didn't want to make him feel like he made a mistake by bringing her here.
"Don't ever think that, Celia," Loki took her hand into his. He gave it a gentle squeeze, noticing her eyes were casted down to the floor. With a single finger, Loki lifted her chin to face him. "You continuously prove that you are a higher being than most on Asgard simply by living."
Celia stared into Loki's eyes. Her lips parted, her breath soft. He was so kind. She was terrified of not living up to his expectations. She was a peasant and never taught a lesson in her life.
"Loki," she whispered,"I am still frightened."
Loki's formed into a hard line, his jaw tightening,"If anything goes truly amiss, I will fix it. But I promise you, you will be wonderful."
Celia watched him for a moment, nodding her head. She wanted to believe him. She had to. And when she gave in, Loki smiled warmly and finally, led them to the room where Asgard kept their books on ancient magic.
"Then why can't we use these items to fight!" Thor demanded, sitting in a large, red chair. His elbows were on his knees, his hands clasped together. His eyes stared at the girl before him who kept her ground. His tutor was arguing back! A peasant!
Loki was beside him in a matching green chair. His body was reclined, his hips resting on the edge and his knees spread apart. It was casual. His eyes kept flickering back and fourth between the girl who had nothing and the golden boy. It was an interesting match up.
"Because ancient magic is not a method to war or bloodshed. It is a part of using planetary material to create others materials through natural or artificial conversions. It is a part of the ground we walk on, and I believe that war is a man-made concept for the desire of power!" Celia fired back, her eyes narrowing. She had begun her lesson in a small room. After the walk in the library last night, Celia had some books picked out and opened on a small side table. Loki even chose one of the books. He was very sweet to her and throughout their time together in the library, he made her feel confinement about today.
Celia had started with the very basic idea: everything is balanced and equal. She went off into discussing how one uses transmutations, and when she did not include a sword or a magical weapon on the list, Thor went off.
"But you still could," Thor replied arrogantly,"And who are you to tell me otherwise-"
"Thor," Loki warned from his seat,"calm yourself."
Thor glared at his brother,"Why are we not in combat! This learning about a dead culture is worthless. It will not save us in battle when the Ice Giants are hailing ice pits at us!"
"Perhaps. But perhaps there is something more to Celia's words," Loki answered quickly, his green eyes flickering from his brother to the girl. She stood there patiently, her expression unreadable. Thor was settling down, inhaling deeply to calm his nerves. He was never a boy to be schooled.
But, Thor was not expecting the next act from his tutor. He watched the girl sit down onto the floor, her sapphire eyes watching him. She crossed her legs, sitting quite informal, and smiled. "Talk about your culture first then, before I speak of mine."
Loki's eyebrows raised. Quite the peculiar girl. He rested his face on his hand, glancing over to Thor. Thor looked stupid. His jaw hung open slightly and his face was completely perplexed. Thor was clearly expecting more of a fight from the girl, but she chose to not fight. She chose to talk it out. Thor would have kept the verbal argument until he left the room, but the tutor had chosen a different way. A natural way.
Communication.
Thor, over the next hour, spoke all about Asgard. He even went up to the chalkboard and began to saw pictures, diagrams. His expression would change often, mostly displaying his excitement over explaining who he was and where he came from. Celia, in turn, took his seat in the big red chair as Thor lectured her. Sometimes, she'd glance over to Loki and they'd exchange wide grins. Thor was lost in his own world, carrying on and on about the multiple aspects of transport, schooling, ranks. Celia asked questions all along the way. She was excited to learn about the culture that she never knew of.
Finally, by the time Thor was out of breath and could not think of anything else to say, he grinned widely. "That was fun."
"It was interesting to hear," Celia replied softly, slowly standing up from the seat. She moved over to the chalkboard, scanning the various scribbles of Thor's handwriting. It was funny, entertaining. She saw him talk about the culture, and not war. It was beautiful to see a side that was so child-like. The drawings on the board captured her attention.
But then, Loki and Thor stood up from their seats. "Father," Thor said aloud, grinning widely, as the King of Asgard entered the room. Thor proudly added,"Come meet the tutor." He motioned over to the girl whose gaze was plastered to the various drawings. Odin, the King, watched her. He walked over beside her, saying rather bluntly,"I was not aware that my son was teaching his teacher. I thought it was opposite."
Celia broke her concentration, glancing up to an older man next to her. Her eyes narrowed, her head tilting. Loki and Thor couldn't help but chuckle as they exchanged glances. The girl wasn't too sure who this man was, obviously.
"Father, it's a method," Loki answered for Celia, emphasizing the word 'father'.
The girl, thankfully, was not stupid. She picked up on the hint quickly and gaped. Her face widened in expression, as if she had seen a ghost or something. Loki could see she even stopped breathing for a moment as she sharply bowed, and then realized her mistake and curtsied, but then questioned the correct method to greet a king and once more bowed to him. Odin looked to his sons, only cracking a small smile at the edge of his mouth.
Odin knew of Celia's humble beginnings. He was happy to hear that the person who would be tutoring his sons was not only the last person would could teach them transmutation, but the fact that Celia had no ties to the outside world and therefore, could remain loyal.
Odin simply placed a hand on the girl's shoulders. Her head slowly lifted, before she stood. "Child, welcome." He then removed his hold, only to see Celia's nervous face change to a softened expression of wonder. What a kind king.
"Come Loki, Thor. There is much I wish to discuss." The King's left eye almost twinkled at Celia, before swiftly exiting the room. Loki followed after, his hands behind his back and his face, never turning to look at Celia again. Thor, however, after his brother and father exited the room, froze. He whirled around, asking,"I know of your origin, your beginnings. It is why I was so clearly apprehensive."
Thor began to approach the girl,"I have no reason to apologize to you. Our status is incomparable and you are weak. But, that does not mean you are not an Asgardian. You are my superior in knowledge of transmutation, and with that, I must believe you."
Celia's blue eyes narrowed. Her hands her clasped in front of her waist, curious as to where he was going with this. Thor's face was not cruel, nor was his tone. He seemed genuine as he continued,"Why should I trust you."
A smile. The girl smiled as she easily replied,"Thor, in friendly recompense, I see you as a student. In time, I suppose, we could very easily become friends during our studies." She saw in his eyes hesitation. She saw that perhaps, that answer wasn't nearly as good as it could be.
Her beautiful lips parted as she added,"Because I will never let you down. You must trust me on a whim, but I will not fail you. You must believe me, my words, and understand I will hold your friendship in the highest of lights. Only, of course, if you will accept it."
Thor flashed his white teeth, almost laughing,"I will accept your offer, Celia." His large hand landed on her head, scuffing up the brown locks. A radiant sound of Celia's laughter echoed through the room. She took his hand off her head, saying,"Leave! You're late already you crazed man!" Thor chuckled, before whirling his body around and exiting the room. He had an extra pep to his step.
The smile never left Celia's face. Thor was kind. He was rough and bloodthirsty, yes, but deep down inside he had such a pure heart and such a youthful spirit about him. She saw him as a person who would soon become a close and trustworthy friend. She was happy to have one. A genuine friend. It was heart warming to feel something like that. Celia shook off the thoughts of Thor as she began to hum softly. As she did, she cleaned up some books that were apart of her original lesson. She also picked up her small, personal book from the library here. With everything collected, she exited the space and back to her quarters.
When the classroom was silent and Celia's light humming dissipated, something moved. Behind one of the pillars that stood by the far wall appeared Loki. His eyes were saddened, almost misty with wetness. His hand came up to hold the pillar for support.
His brother was going to try and take Celia away from him.
Knock knock.
"Come in!"
The door to Celia's bed chambers opened. Her aquamarine eyes shifted to the entrance, only to see Loki enter. Celia was in a smaller room which was now her home. Against the wall was a bed with a soft blue comforter, filled of white frills and golden buttons. Besides the bed was a small, white and beautifully carved side table that held a small lamp-like structure. Across from the bed was a small bathroom, a vanity, and a wardrobe.
On the other side of the room, there was fireplace with a cute plush chair. Stationed against the wall near the fireplace was a table, covered in piles of books that Celia had taken from the library and was allowed to keep in her own, mini library. The shelves besides the table were empty, awaiting the books to fill it.
It was very homey, very Celia.
She was by the vanity, brushing out her brown hair. When Loki entered, she placed the brush down on the vanity's surface and made her way over to Loki. She was wearing a simple, sky blue dress that had long sleeves, a corset like midsection, and a skirt that trailed to the floor. It made her eyes sparkle.
"Loki, what a pleasant surprise," She said aloud, smiling,"Is something wrong?"
The god shook his head,"Something has gone amiss."
"And that is?"
"You never taught your lesson," Loki grimly stated. His emerald eyes almost looked saddened. Celia's face instantly mirrored the expression, but hers was more concerned than that of sadness. Her voice then delicately replice,"Ah, you are right. I'm afraid Thor's antics threw us off."
"It troubled me. Thor's idiocy could have only made your transition here more difficult."
Celia shook her head,"No, not at all. It was just a childish outburst."
"A common thing with him," Loki almost sneered, before his gaze shifted to the floor.
"Between you and me," Celia said softly, snickering slightly,"He reminds me a bit of an over-grown child who is playing dress up in his father's armor."
Loki's eyes widened momentarily, before he suddenly let out a roar of laughter. His lips curled up into a huge, beautiful smile as his face was lightened with his grin. Celia joined in too, and before they knew it, both of them were leaning against the small, round table covered in books. Loki began to, in the middle of his roaring laughter, shout,"WEAPONS."
Celia could feel tears well up in her eyes from how outrageous both of them were acting and at the mental image of Thor parading the the King's attire. It was so out of character, but it was so jovial. But then, the weight of the two leaning against the table caused the legs to shake. The wood, in combination of the loads of books and the two people, began to snap and suddenly, the entire structure came tumbling down.
There was silence as the books avalanched downwards. They crashed into the two laughing people, sending them forwards into the ground. The laughter stopped.
There was slight groaning and the sound of small shuffling beneath the piles of hard books and piled paper. Celia was the first to pop up her head. Her locks were sprawled all over her face, and as best as she could, freed one of her hands. When she saw a book move nearby, she reached over and grabbed it. As she lifted the novel, she found Loki's head beneath it. Celia; however, looked down at the book that she was now holding. Her eyes almost lit up as she beamed at Loki.
"Would you like a lesson?"
About two hours later, Loki and Celia had stacked all of the books up in several piles in a large semi-circle around the fireplace. The table was shoved into the corner, the broken pieces feeding the fire. Both figures were in the center of the semi-circle of books, the books serving as a boundary between the two and the rest of the room. Loki had off his jacket, thrown over the tops of some of the large, towering book stacks. His body was relaxed, sitting and leaning back on his hands. Celia was laying with her stomach on the floor, her eyes scanning pages of the same book she had removed from Loki's head. The roaring fire only aided the peaceful ambience the two had created.
"So what Papa often did was add a bit more salt," Celia said aloud, pointing at one of the images displayed in the novel. Loki leaned over a bit, looking down at the image. Not the picture in the book, but the eyes of Celia. Her face was so bright, so expressive as she talked about ancient magic. Loki had an interest for the subject because of the girl's enthusiasm.
"And so the transmutation worked better?" Loki inquired.
Celia nodded,"It lasted longer and worked faster. Luckily, Papa had taught me many of his tricks as he aged."
"You did luck out. Over 50 years of secrets from wisdom."
"Right," the girl added, smiling as she glanced back down to the book. Her face was so absorbed in the ancient text with circles and triangles. Loki found himself often staring at her as she became lost in the book and forgot to actually explain what she was reading. It was sad that she could possibly be the last person alive to ever understand the old novel. Really understand it, such as knowing how much energy and time it took as well as the after effects. A scholar would never know that.
Loki, when not looking at Celia, found his gaze locked into the roaring fire. The silence between the two, surprisingly, was not awkward. It was peaceful, almost a silent understanding. They sat there in their own worlds, dozing off to the sounds of their beating hearts.
"Loki," Celia said softly, tearing her eyes away from her novel.
"Yes?"
"How did your guards know that I was in trouble?"
With a sigh, Loki shifted his position. He laid down more, but on his side,"Well, one of them who was with me on the night of the first assault, was doing a daily round in the town, when he overheard the drunks speaking ill favor of you. When this was reported back to me, I sent them out to protect you."
It was a bit of a lie. Really a lie, but Loki did not want to say he had men stationed to watch her, come to her shop and act as customers ... He knew she'd be angry at that.
"Right, thank you for that," Celia murmured, before she spoke clearly,"and for everything. A week has passed and I feel as if I've been reborn into a new life. You have been very kind, Loki."
Loki smiled, nodding his head,"You're quite special, Celia, it is my greatest honor to bring you under my care."
Loki knew Celia saw him for, well, him. Celia didn't care about his ranking, or his wealth, or his powers. She cared about his words, how he spoke to her. Loki's words were his most powerful attributes, and she cared for them when everyone else would simply tell him to shut up. With Celia, he was heard, understood. It was the first time in his 1000 years of life where he felt like he had something true with someone. Yes, he had brotherly love with Thor, but that came with years of time spent together. Celia walked into his life 2 months ago and managed to, somehow, become his every thought.
She was kind, generous, compassionate. She loved reading and loved her independence. She was against violence and protected what she loved. Celia was beautiful inside and out. Loki somehow didn't care that she was a peasant. She was humble, down to earth, and treated everyone like a equal regardless of their heritage. No one was more important or more valid than another based on rank. To her, Loki was no lost Prince of Asgard.
Celia viewed him an an equal... even to Thor.
Loki jumped slightly at the sound of Celia's book shutting closed. The girl slowly sat up, placing the novel on the stack behind her. She then laid down a few feet away from Loki, mirroring his position. Their feet hovered by the fireplace. Celia tilted her head a bit as she rested her face on her hands. Loki was staring at the fire, the embers. Celia softly said, "You seem lost in thought."
"A bit."
Celia nodded, smiling. She would not pester him any further on his thoughts. Her blue eyes somehow managed to catch the reflection of the fireplace's bright light. It made them almost glow a brilliant sapphire. She tilted her head back only, only to find herself captured in Loki's gaze. Loki had found his vision now latched onto the girl's beautiful, soft face that no longer looked aged or sad. She looked happy. Loki brought her that happiness. It made his heart warm. It felt good to do that. The god then whispered,"You are quite beautiful."
Ceila stared at him for a moment as if his words did not make sense. But, within a second, she understood. Instantly, the girl shot up from her position. She sat facing the fire, her crystal eyes staring into it. Loki could see the blush creep on her face. She was being shy. She couldn't understand this compliment she very well deserved.
But really? Beautiful? Celia, when she heard those words, couldn't seem to find any other way to react. So, she tried to get out of it, sort of. She sat up, turning her cheek away from Loki's form and tried to ignore his comment. But her cheeks were warm and her heart beat, somehow, began to race. Her lips parted momentarily, before she heard Loki move beside her.
"Celia."
She did not look.
"Celia, look at me."
Reluctantly, the girl slowly turned her face to meet Loki's gaze. Since she moved, he too, sat up and was now right beside her. He was very close to her. "Why do you not believe my words?"
Loki smiled softly, his hand coming up to gently cup her face. With the smallest of effort, Loki's thumb caressed her cheek, sending chills down her spine even though she felt so overwhelmingly warm. Celia felt her heart beat so fast in a way it never has before. Her aquamarine pools widened as she felt a new sort of warm fill her body with such a strong, beautiful sensation.
"You are beautiful."
Celia could feel the breath in her body slowly dissipate as she stared into those wondrous, beautiful emerald orbs, never wavering. Celia then felt Loki's breath on her mouth. He took a moment to once more gaze deeply into her eyes, reflecting the beautiful flames and illuminating her face, before he softly brought his lips to press gently against hers.
I actually had so much fun writing this chapter. I hope you didn't mind the length. Part 2, the last part of Celia and Loki's story, will be the next chapter! I don't know if will be an 13000 word chapter... It could be. Did you like this length? Do you want more of this or do you want to get back to Rebecca sooner?
Let me know in a review!
