In the depths of his library, Loki studied complicated spells and illusions. Before him was a scrap of parchment and a quill that looked as if it were ready to fall apart. His hand was aching, and his mind was tired of the intense studying he never seemed to quit doing. Loki lived a rather lackluster life and he was growing tired of it.
Loki was bitter towards most things. He disliked the Asgardians to no end, and he especially disliked the man he'd once called father. It wasn't exciting stewing in contempt in his surroundings; Loki often found himself stirring up some sort of drama to cool his steaming boredom, but even then, whatever disaster he'd caused didn't leave much excitement in its wake.
"What has become of myself?" he spat bitterly. "I am nothing but a paper weight."
"Not entirely true," an amused voice said; Loki lifted his head slowly. Approaching was his adopted brother, Thor Odinson. There was a time Loki's expression would have softened into sibling love, but it stayed hardened - perhaps, harder than stone.
"Thor," Loki nodded his head cordially and choked, "Nice to see you."
"You too, brother," Thor smiled a brilliant, gleaming smile. His eyebrow lifted and his eyes wrinkled. Thor – not very quietly – approached Loki with valor. On his face he held an expression of triumph and excitement. Loki sighed inwardly and trembled with the excitement he didn't have to hear whatever it was his brother had done.
Loki straightened the papers he'd been so diligently working on. Hastily, he slammed his spell books shut and slid them away on the lonely table he'd been sitting at. Very slowly, he breathed, and ask Thor, "What have you done now?"
"We've won yet another battle, my brother. Triumphant, as always."
"And what battle was that?" Loki inquired, rather curiously. It was quite difficult to keep track of Thor's adventures those days; it seemed he were hardly ever home, as he was always "keeping the peace" between the nine realms.
"Light elves. A slight quarrel in a village that could have turned out to be disastrous."
And, so, there it is, Loki thought. Always like him to exaggerate his quests.
"That's nice, Thor," Loki groaned. "I'm glad you were able to settle such an extreme dispute."
"I did!" Thor smiled. He gazed at Loki for a moment, before his gaze shifted towards the books Loki had been reading.
"What have you here?" He said quietly. He removed a chair from a different table across from Loki and slid it beneath his rump. Thor grasped the top book firmly and nearly slammed it on the table's surface so hard, Loki's parchment almost went soaring into the air, and would have been disorganized; much like Loki's head at that moment.
"Magic things," Loki growled. He leaned back in the wooden chair and crossed his arms. "Not that it would interest you, you're more into swords and women and drinking."
"Again, not entirely true," Thor chuckled quietly. "I do enjoy the occasional curse. They're always fun to learn about, aren't they?"
"You could say that," Loki sneered. "They're especially fun to learn about when you plan on casting one on your brother."
"Is that so?" Thor slapped the book shut and placed it atop the pile once more. A smile spread quickly across his lips and his eyebrows lifted. "Let's see what you've got today, then."
"No," Loki chuckled and looked towards the ground. He could feel Thor's eyes burning into him, and it made him feel uncomfortable. Was it a friendly challenge? Or was it something much more sinister? Loki didn't know why Thor would actually ask a curse be inflicted upon him, for Loki was merely jesting when he'd spoken.
"Leave," Loki waved his hand delicately above the table. "I have work to do."
"Your loss," Thor's eyebrow raised humorously. "Come visit me later. We have catching up to do, horses to ride, people to harass. I know you enjoy harassment."
"Slightly," Loki's chest expanded with a deep breath. "I'll consider it. Again, I ask you kindly to leave. I really do have things to accomplish today."
"Alright, alright!" Thor's lips curved in a smile, and he rose. "I expect to see you later. Farewell!"
Loki's jaw tightened. He watched as Thor strode heavily through the hall, cape billowing behind him. And then, with a flash of silver and red, he disappeared through the large oaken doors and was gone. Loki's shoulders sank and his eyes began to throb. The books in front of him seemed too intimidating to even consider opening, so he simply gave up on the craft and began a new one: art.
Loki had a leather book filled with charcoal sketches of various things: his wife, his brother, his mother, flowers, trees, the library, fountains, and various animals; however, there were no sketches of himself. Loki avoided any sort of self-portrait, much to his wife's dismay. She told him every morning she rose and every evening she lay to rest he was handsome, beautiful, or charming. She told him his looks were unlike any other; he was gifted. She believed he was truly a masterpiece. No matter how much she whispered it in his ear or touched his face with her delicate hands and spoke, "You are the most handsome, Loki," he would not believe her. And so, he avoided the task of even sculpting his face on the paper.
"Irrelevant," Loki grumbled quietly underneath his breath. He untied the book and released the pages before him. In his hands, he held a single bit of charcoal, and off he went, with the only image in his mind: a golden throne.