It was a beautiful night, the light of the full moon bathed the lawns in its pale lunar glow and the sky was studded with stars, like a beautiful canopy above them.
The air was warm and tinged with the sweet scent of orange blossom and jasmine.

Belle and Loki wandered along the path, winding their way through the rose garden, and into the orchard where they stumbled upon an ornate stone bench, concealed amongst the trees.
They sat companionably discussing literature and poetry, and as before when they'd spent time together in the village, the conversation flowed easily and the pair revelled in each other's intellect.

After sitting for quite some time, they set off walking again and eventually found themselves lay side by side on the ground, their heads almost touching as they stared up at the night sky.

He pointed out all the different constellations, and explained the convergence to her.
At one point he absentmindedly took hold of her dainty hand, placing his own hand against it in order to demonstrate planetary alignment.
Shuddering at his touch, she listened with keen interest and asked many questions, to which he was more than happy to provide the answers.

When a shooting star streaked by, Belle excitedly urged Loki to make a wish. Sniggering, he poured scorn on such fanciful practices, which earned him a playful jab in the ribs, so he obliged her.

"Well, what did you wish for?"
He asked immediately afterwards.

"I can't tell you, otherwise it won't come true."
She giggled.

Rolling over onto his side, he propped himself up on his elbow in order to look at her,
"You do realise that a star is merely a gigantic incandescent cloud of gas that has collapsed in on itself?"

"Oh my, you certainly know how to destroy a romantic notion don't you?"
She cried, disapprovingly,

"I'm more or a realist than a dreamer."

"But just because you're not romantic by nature doesn't mean you have to be so cynical."
She chided, though still smiling.

His brow furrowed,
"I'm not incapable of romance....but it is the stuff borne of fairy tales. Which do not come true. As neither do wishes."

Turning to face him, she mirrored his position by propping her head against her hand,
"Perhaps you've yet to find your happy ending."

"Happiness is overrated. I have everything I desire, so I'm willing to settle for being content."
He retorted.

"But if you have everything your heart desires then why are you only content? Surely you should be happy."
She pointed out.

Lost for words, he blinked at her. It wasn't often his silver tongue became tied, but her observation had stumped him and he could not think of an adequate response.
Her words hung in the air like a fog, as a loaded silence descended, affecting the atmosphere around them.

He met her large blue eyes and felt his pulse involuntarily begin to quicken. It felt as though she were gazing into the very depths of his soul, searching around in the darkness for something. The smallest shaft of light perhaps, to which he was convinced she would not find. Yet still it unnerved him, having her peer into them in such a way, for it was his eyes that often betrayed him. Behind them, was where his deepest fears lurked and his demons hid.

Unaware of the inner turmoil he was feeling, Belle was completely lost in this unexpected moment, transfixed by the intensity of his gaze. Her heart was in her throat, and she couldn't help wondering whether or not he sensed the strange tension too. It was as if he altered the energy around them, sending little ripples through the air which crackled against her skin.
He slowly began to incline his head towards her, and she was suddenly struck with the overwhelming realisation that he was about to kiss her. Exhaling shakily, she found herself closing her eyes in anticipation.

But no kiss came. Instead he sat up abruptly, stiffly as his spine, shattering the tense atmosphere.

"Um, it's getting late. We ought to be heading back now."
He mumbled, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Her disappointment gave way to frustration. But she was frustrated with her own presumptuousness. Had she merely imagined whatever it was that seemed to silently pass between them? Had she been a fool once again, imagining something was there that actually wasn't?

He was on his feet now, and did not bother to offer her his hand as she stood. He was well aware of his lack of courtesy and could detect what she must've thought of him. Unfortunately the truth was he just didn't want to risk any further physical contact. He'd almost lost his senses to her again. The urge to kiss her had been almost defeating in its intensity, and he needed to remain in control of his wits and the situation. He couldn't allow such distractions, and for some reason she was his one weakness.

"Forgive my unchivalrous conduct, won't you?"
He felt compelled to mutter, as they walked back towards the palace.
"It's just that, out here...well, I can make no promises. Don't trust me."

She came to an abrupt halt, his declaration rendering her immobile so he was forced to stop and wait. Blinking, she raised her eyebrows quizzically, and he met her disconcerted look with smouldering eyes.

"You see Belle, at least whilst we remain within the palace, I can try and remember to behave. Inside I'm obliged to remind myself that I was at least raised as a gentleman."
He explained, then hurriedly averted his gaze and took off walking ahead of her again.

It took enormous effort for her to make her legs work, as his proclamation made her
Weak at the knee. He did desire her, but he was being mindful of his behaviour. Which meant that he must respect her.
So was it possible that he felt something more for her than just simple physical attraction?
Dared she even hope?

They walked on in awkward silence, with him several paces ahead of her. She didn't have the nerve to broach the subject further, and once inside the palace, he hurriedly bid her goodnight, with a strained smile that did not meet his eyes.

Instead of retiring to his chambers, he paced the hallways for a while. Too restless to sleep and too inflamed to be still, he headed back outside through a side door and took a deep breath of soothing cool air. Hoping to shake off the irrational agitation that gnawed at his insides, he contemplated how to quell the rising passion that stirred his longing.

Then suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, the hairs on the nape of his neck rose. His keen instincts alerting him to an unknown presence. He could always detect when he was being watched.
Instead of returning inside he stepped forwards into the darkness, calling out a challenge into the night,
"Show yourself immediately whoever you are, if you value your life!"
He growled, his hand instinctively falling to the dagger at his belt.

A few moments passed, until at last a dark figure emerged slowly from the shadows.
Using his sorcery, Loki immediately disappeared, then materialised behind the cloaked stranger.
Crooking his arm around the man's neck, he gripped him in a choke-hold, rendering him incapacitated.

"Who are you, and what business do you have here?"
He demanded, squeezing tighter as the hapless man struggled against him.

"I am an emissary....from Avonlea.."
He gasped, attempting to loosen the grip Loki had on him,
"...I am here by the order of my King."

Stunned by the man's proclamation, Loki felt his guts twist into knots. He knew there could be only one reason for this man's presence, and he did not relish the thought of having to hear what he had to say for himself. Still, he had to ask the inevitable question..

"I won't ask you again, what brings you here?"
His grip tightened further and the man began to cough, clearly struggling to draw breath.

"Your majesty....I am here...regarding the....princess"
He gasped, with great effort.

Releasing the man from his clutches, he shoved him hard, causing him to fall to the ground.
"What is your name, messenger?"

"Gaston..."
He croaked, clambering to his knees,
"...and I am not merely a messenger, I am betrothed to the princess."

Approaching menacingly, Loki loomed over him.
So this was the famous Gaston. Taking in the man's wide nose, and square jaw he could almost see why Belle had been so reluctant to marry him. Not to mention his voice. He spoke irritatingly slowly, like a half-wit.
Fighting the urge to give him a good kicking in the ribs for good measure, Loki folded his arms defensively across his chest.

"I do not quite frankly give a damn who you are. You are trespassing and will pay dearly for such an offence. How did you gain entry into this realm?"
He growled, his expression fierce.

"The guardian granted me access-"

"Do not lie to me!"
Loki bellowed, cutting him off sharply,
"The gatekeeper would have informed me of your arrival...now tell me the truth slippery one, before I gut you like a fish!"

Rising to his feet slowly, Gaston looked upon him now with a disdain that bordered on contempt.
"I do speak the truth. I was escorted to your throne room in order to seek an audience with you, but you were not there. I was instructed to wait whilst someone went to summon you."

"Yet you did not wait, instead you invade my privacy by scuttling around in shadow like an assassin."

"I am no threat to you sir, I only wish to speak with the princess."

Loki's jaw perceptibly tightened,
"This princess you keep referring to....is not here. And what could possibly lead you to believe she would be? Also, if she's apparently missing, has it not occurred to you that perhaps she does not wish to be found?"

"The King, her father, has received information to the contrary."
He declared, an air of defiance in his tone.

"You may tell your King that he is very much mistaken, and I advise him to be less eager to jump to conclusions every time some misbegotten fool fabricates such false allegations which have no validity."

"His source is very reliable, there is no reason to doubt the claims."

Incensed by the man's arrogance, Loki lunged at him, using both hands to grip the front of his doublet and lift him off the ground,
"You insolent wretch! You dare to doubt the ruler of the nine realms and King of Asgard?!"

"No....but I do doubt you, the wicked Loki!"

Loki's face paled at the man's words, his stomach dropping as though he'd swallowed a lead weight.
He quickly checked himself, the illusion of Odin was still in place, it had not wavered, so how was it possible that a native of Avonlea knew of his secret?
And then a realisation dawned on him...magic. This man came from a magical land, and someone had to be aiding him.

His face contorting with rage, he lowered him to the ground but kept a tight grip on his jacket,
"Tell me who made it possible for you to access the bifrost?"

Struggling against his grasp, Gaston seemed to quickly realise that Loki was far too strong, but he was stubborn. And fortunately for Loki, not overly intelligent,
"I am sworn to secrecy and will tell you nothing. My King has enlisted the help of many in order to find his daughter. And we know she is here and I demand to speak with her."

"You are in no position to make demands, you ought to kneel before me and grovel for forgiveness."

"If you do not comply, I shall return with an army. His majesty will not rest until his daughter is returned."

"Do not attempt to intimidate me with your empty threats, they carry no weight here..."
Loki snarled, his lip curling like a savage dog,
"...but you won't be returning, because you won't be leaving."

"If you kill me, his majesty will declare war on Asgard. He's awaiting my return...if I don't return you are sealing your fate."

Ignoring his warning, Loki raised a dark eyebrow and looked upon him pityingly,
"I never said anything about killing you, you presumptuous fool...I will make you long for death, for your fate will be far worse."

As he spoke his form began to change, and his hands grew icy. The frost spread from his fingertips onto Gaston, creeping its way along his arms, freezing him slowly.

"Stop! Have mercy! Belle cares for me deeply.."
He begged, but his words trailed off as his body succumbed to hypothermia.

"If it brings you comfort to think that, then so be it..."
Loki sniggered cruelly,
"...but the truth of the matter is....she doesn't."
A surge of angry energy coursed through him, enabling him to freeze the man instantly where he stood; his eyes still wide in shock, stared back at Loki from behind a cocoon of ice.

***************

The following morning, rather than heading straight to the throne room which was his usual routine, Loki found himself heading for the library instead. The previous nights altercation with Gaston had left him decidedly unnerved, and it took a lot to ruffle his feathers.

Searching the books frantically for any references on Avonlea, and its surrounding lands, he wasted hours of his precious time, and to his frustration found absolutely nothing.

Feeling discouraged, he sunk down to sit on one of the three wooden stairs that were built into the side of the room where the floor was raised.
And it was there where Belle found him, sat with his head in his hands when she entered the library.

Starting in surprise, she instantly recognised his somewhat deflated demeanour and melancholy expression,
"Oh. Sorry Sire, I didn't realise you were here....I've just finished buffing the floor of your chambers, and thought I'd read for a while."

Despite his low mood, he couldn't help letting out a quick guffaw due to the bitter irony of him having a princess of Avonlea polishing his floors.

Her small brow furrowed slightly, visibly confused by him,
"Are you alright my Lord? You seem.....troubled."

Heaving a deep sigh, he leaned his elbows on his knees and sat with his clever, handsome face cupped in his large hands,
"I have the weight of the nine worlds on my shoulders Belle, and a great deal more besides....so it is highly unlikely that I shall ever be alright....not that it is of any concern to you."

His voice though sharp, was at complete odds with his face and stature. He looked troubled and almost vulnerable. And she wanted nothing more than to comfort him but knew if she persisted his guard would come up and he'd push her away.

Attempting to change the subject, she gestured towards the pile of books he'd left discarded on the table,
"You've been busy. If you've finished with these  I can put them back for you."

"I don't need you to do everything for me, wench. I'm perfectly capable! I managed before you came here didn't I? So I don't need you to do anything for me, and I don't need you!"
He ranted, without even bringing his eyes up to look at her.

Her hands went to her hips,
"I would never for one moment presume that you do.."
She replied curtly. His mean spirited remarks irritated her, though she sensed he was lashing out at her for want of taking his anger out on someone. And she was first in the firing line,
"I was only offering my help, your shouting at me is uncalled for."

His eyes snapped to hers and his lips curled in a way that made his face look hard and cold.
She had seen this face of his before, and it always unsettled her. There was a visible cruelness in the lines around his mouth, the tightness of his jaw and the narrowing of those beautiful green eyes.

"You need to remember your place. Or perhaps  you don't really know where your place is, or where you belong.."
He spat, as he rose to his full height,
"...but you're no longer in Avonlea, I am your King and you should address me as such. Now kneel before me and apologise for your insolence!"

Pursing her lips, she glared back at him defiantly,
"No."

Incensed by her unwillingness to obey, a red mist descended before his eyes and he advanced upon her before she had time to gather her thoughts,
"I said kneel!"
He roared, as he gripped her her by the arms, pulling her towards him and then pushing her back. He did it with such force that when he let go she lost her balance and toppled over.

He saw her falling, and in that moment he hated himself for his own childish vanity. The truth was, Gaston having infiltrated his realm, knowing his secret and threatening him with war, was not the only issues weighing on his mind.

Belle's father wanted her back. And with Gaston out of the way, there would be no reason for her to remain in Asgard. The thought of her wanting to leave grieved him more than he ever thought possible. And yet here he was, treating her so unkindly.

She landed on her hands and knees, visibly shaken and upset as she stared up at him from the floor. He swallowed hard as he registered the hurt in her eyes.
Moving swiftly he placed his arm about her shoulders and gently hoisted her to stand.

"Belle....I am sorry.."
He declared weakly,
"...I shan't ask for your forgiveness, as such behaviour is unforgivable. It was not my intention to hurt you, or for you to bear the brunt of my anger."

She stood silent and unmoving, as if trying to recover from shock which pained him further,
"I truly am sorry."
He whispered, pulling her petite unresponsive body against his tall one, and enveloping her small frame with his strong arms.

She exhaled shakily, her heart and mind racing and battling each other until they finally came to an agreement. She forgave him. Because there was something seriously wrong, she could sense it. And whilst that did not excuse his loss of temper, she knew he did not wish to harm her.
And the fact that he was apologising, and now holding her so tenderly, was another reassuring sign that he was gradually beginning to change. The possibility of him becoming the man she knew he could be, the man he'd most likely always been before he became so cold hearted, made her own heart soar.

Fighting the temptation to return his embrace, she pulled back slightly in order to look up at him. His face was tinged with guilt, sadness and sincerity,
"I forgive you. But don't ever handle me in such a way again."

"You have my word."
He promised, with a delicate nod of the head.

Feeling inexplicably awkward, he let her go and watched her as she silently went to the table and picked up several of the books, in order to put them back on the shelves.
His eyes never left her as she climbed the sturdy red oak, rolling ladder, and he watched with keen interest as he returned to the stairs in order to sit back down.

"Do you not have any state affairs to attend to your highness?"
She asked suddenly, as she noticed him staring up at her

He turned, slightly embarrassed by having been caught gazing at her, and forced a strained laugh,
"Are you eager to be rid of me, Belle?"

"What? No."
She replied, and he could hear the smile in her voice and couldn't resist turning back to look at her. He adored her smile. It warmed him somehow and was infectious.

"I wouldn't scold you if you answered yes. I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to be around me and my 'capricious' moods."

She shook her head now, giggling. He really was the most confusing and exasperating man she had ever known.
"No, I enjoy your company..."
She admitted,
"...I just thought you'd have other things to do."

"But I would rather be here."
He couldn't stop the words tumbling from his mouth, and he saw he falter as she was sliding a book back in place.

Encouraged by his proclamation, she smiled at him softly, which caused an unfamiliar fluttering within his chest,
"Sire, if there's anything troubling you, remember I am always here for you. I just want you to know that. You're not alone. I'm here if you're in need of a friend."

Taken aback by her words, he stiffened slightly,
"One of my most favoured quotes is 'friendship is overrated. You know where you stand with an enemy. They won't betray you.'"

"Well one of my favourite quotes is 'friendship is love without his wings.'"
She retorted wryly.

"Then I suppose we can be companionable and wingless together."
He smiled.
"Being as we're like a pair of trapped birds."

But it was in that moment he was struck with a startling realisation, which shook him to the very core and almost paralysed him with fear.

If friendship was love without his wings, then perhaps their friendship was no longer wingless.