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"Really Loki," Frigga said laughing lightly, as she glanced over her shoulder at her frowning son. "It won't kill you to get a little fresh air."

Loki stepped out into the garden, reluctantly following his smiling mother. "I have things..." he said, looking down at the book in his hand.

"Yes, your studies," Frigga agreed, eyeing the book and stack of papers in her son's hands. "Well, you can read out of doors as easily as you are able in that musty library, son of mine." Despite her sons being grown, Frigga couldn't help but fuss over them, especially Loki. As the younger and more reserved of the two he had always had a special place in her heart. "Who knows, perhaps you will find you are even more brilliant with fresh air and sunlight as your companions."

Loki wrinkled his nose in disgust and shook his head in clear disbelief. "How long?" he grumbled, looking around for a place for him to sit and work.

Frigga laughed at her favorite son's sour expression. "Only a few days my love, and the library will be yours once more," she said cupping her son's cheek in her hand. "You will live." She promised kissing him on the cheek, and she walked away leaving her moody son alone to his studies.

Loki dropped down onto the first bench he found and cracked open his book. Without use of the library he would have rather stayed in his chambers, but his mother had graciously offered the use of her private gardens and he wouldn't insult his mother's generosity and risk hurting her feelings.

He was reading for barely an hour before he was interrupted by the first of Frigga's servants wandering by casually. Checking in on him he was quite certain. He worked to ignore the several who continued to titter past him at a fairly regular interval. He preferred silence while he studied and their obnoxious shuffling movements set his teeth on edge. Their attempts at sneaking glimpses to report back to his mother were pathetically clumsy. His time to study was limited and he would not have it interrupted by servants.

Loki had dedicated himself from a young age to the study of magic and had since become a Master of Magic. The experience and title however did not come without work or sacrifice. It was a constant struggle to continue to educate himself in a practice well beyond the average Asgardian's comprehension. His father and brother both looked down on his preference for the use of his mind and magic over the much glorified brawn and sword arm of the average soldier. Loki however, had no intention of being average, and he was not afraid to work for it.

He heard a nearly silent whisper of movement along the path, quieter than the rest but no less irritating. He flopped the book back down on his lap and snapped his head up in annoyance. There were angry words on the tip of his tongue to send the servant who dare come so close scuttling back to his overbearing mother.

The words caught in his throat however when he realized it was not one of his mother's familiar servants. Instead, it was a woman he had never seen before. She walked almost silently down the path, a large basket under one arm. She moved differently than most Asgardians, she didn't swagger or strut, loudly commanding attention. Instead her movements were tightly controlled and careful, like a dancer. She wore a simple one shoulder dress that was more functional than elegant. She was also smaller than most Asgardian's, almost delicate looking.

He was amazed he had never seen her before and as she approached he was certain he never had. She was striking. He surely would have remembered her fair features. Her hair was true silver and hung in loose waves around her, blowing slightly in the breeze. When her hair lifted with a gust of wind the sun glinted off a copper collar encircling her neck.

Loki frowned. It was a slave collar.

Loki blinked as he realized he had been staring. At a slave. He shook his head in disgust, a prince had no business staring at a slave no matter how lovely. He turned his attention back to the book in his hand, but he couldn't for the life of him remember what he had been reading. He glanced over his notes, but they didn't make sense either.

He looked back up to see her crouch down along the side of the path. She pulled a small knife out from the folds of her dress and cut several blossoms before moving further down and doing the same to several other plants. She hadn't seemed to notice him. He normally strove to avoid the attention of others, but never before had it bothered him so than it did this day. He wanted her to look at him, he wanted to see if her face matched her graceful movement and lovely form. 

He cleared his throat and she squeaked in surprise and jumped, whirling around to face him. He immediately felt badly for startling the slave, all for his own amusement. Shame burned through him. He should have just left her to her work. He only received glimpse of her features for his trouble. Her face appeared to be as lovely as the rest of her. Though he couldn't see her eyes.

"Prince Loki," she said, having dropped her chin to her chest.

It wasn't exactly the correct show of respect for a prince, but he didn't correct it. Odd that a slave wouldn't know she was supposed to drop to her knees in the presence of royalty. Especially a slave frequenting the private gardens of the King and Queen of Asgard.

The basket that had been in her hands dropped to the ground at her feet. She let out a squeak of alarm and dropped to her knees, the prince completely forgotten. He watched in awe as she carefully inspected each cutting. She tutted in the back of her throat over each one and after several moments she stood, the basket over her arm once more.

She lifted her eyes to meet his gaze for the first time and he found himself staring once more. Her skin was a flawless golden brown like rich caramel. Her features were petite and soft with high cheekbones and surprisingly full lips. But it was her eyes that captured his attention. Her eyes were completely black, there was no white, no color at all. Her brows were dark and arched in a way that despite her submissive posture still made her look rather impish somehow, and as though she should be smirking.

"I apologize for bothering you Prince Loki." She said in a low voice. He was never heard a voice quite like hers. Something about it reminded him of music and made him want to listen.

She curtsied respectfully. "If you would excuse me Prince. I shall return to my duties."

He stood, approaching her, with his studies now completely abandoned he saw no reason not to sate his curiosity. There was something off about this strange slave. "What are you doing?" he asked frowning. 

She had to crane her neck to look up at him. When she met his gaze she quickly dropped her eyes to her feet. "Just gathering herbs for the healers Prince," she explained, her hands gripped the handle of her basket tightly.

He frowned and took another step towards the slave girl. "Are you a healer?" His tone was haughty and expectant as he waited for the forthcoming answer.

Her eyes widened at the sudden shift in the prince's tone of voice. She didn't think she had said anything to offend him, but there was no telling when it came to royalty. She had never met either of the princes before, but she had heard plenty of rumors about them. Prince Thor had a temper, could be impulsive and often got too deep into his cups. Prince Loki was a trickster, and the unsuspecting would often fall victim to his pranks, some of which could be quite cruel and often involved magic. She had steadfastly worked to avoid both princes in all her time at the palace. 

"No Prince. Of course not. It is forbidden to teach such practices to a slave."

"Are you being impertinent?" Loki asked, her voice had been tight when she spoke as though she somehow disagreed with Odin's law.

Her eyes lifted to meet his and he was struck once more by how dark they were in comparison to her other features. They were like staring into the void itself. He wanted to stare into them and see if he could find the line between pupil and iris in their midnight depths. Could she see properly? She seemed to, but he has never seen another Asgardian with eyes like hers.

"Of course not Prince, that too is forbidden," there was that impish glimmer in her eyes for only a second before she lower them once more as was proper. 

He snorted, she was being impertinent, she was just doing it very carefully. If he were not given to bouts of impertinence from time to time himself he would have missed the slightly sardonic twist of her lips. "Then how do you know which herbs to gather? Should the healers not be doing their own work?"

She swallowed, schooling her expression into a carefully controlled mask, and stared hard at her feet. "That is not my place to question prince, my rank is far below that of the noble healers. I simply work in the garden and am familiar with the plants. I shudder at the thought of the healers tromping over the plants in order to hurriedly gather what they desire in order to return to their duties."

He watched her face for some sign that she was joking, but from what he could see she was being absolutely serious now. He paced around her and tilted his head, the corner of his lips pulling up playfully. "So this is your garden?" He was surprised to find he was teasing her, trying to get a reaction. He wanted to see if that impish glimmer had really been there or if he had imagined it.

Instead, her eyes widened and she backed up half a step. He had intended it to be teasing, but she had responded with fear.

Of course there had been fear, she was slave being spoken to by a prince. It would take only a word from him to destroy her life. He swallowed back his smile, feeling ashamed once more for inadvertently tormenting the poor slave. He had often harassed the servants over the years, but only when the results would be met with annoyance or embarrassment, it was never his intention to be feared.

She was sputtering over her words, looking shaken. "Of-of course not P-prince, it is the r-royal garden. It is the garden of King Odin and Queen Frigga."

He found it strange the way she only used their titles. It was never her king, her queen or her prince. It was simply the title. King, Queen, Prince, as though she were stating fact instead of paying homage to them.

Her eyes cut nervously to the palace behind her and then she looked back at the prince. "If you would excuse me Prince Loki, Lady Eir will be cross with me for being tardy and neglecting my duties."

She moved to go around him, but stumbled a step on a loose stone in the path. He reached out and caught her arm before she went down.

Loki jolted as powerful magic surged up his arm. It raced through him like lightning, making his arm go instantly numb, and he looked down at the small slave in wonder. She gave no indication she felt anything other than fear. She had frozen beneath his touch like a songbird, waiting for the killing strike of a viper.

Loki steadied her, putting her firmly on her feet with gentle hands before stepping away from her. She scrambled back from him fearfully. He frowned down at her, she was so tiny, nearly a foot shorter than him. He had not meant to scare the slave, but everything he had done seemed to do just that.

She didn't seem to have any idea what had just transpired between them. Loki's hand still tingled with the phantom sensation of power from where he had touched her. He forced himself to remain impassive so he didn't scare her further. The magic itself hadn't felt so much that though it were defending her as attacking him. Perhaps responding to his own considerable power?He had encountered other magic users before, but even ones ignorant of their heritage and power didn't respond like this. This magic had felt old, well-established and calculating. It didn't match the frightened slave at all.

Loki cleared his throat. "You tell the Lady Eir you were detained by me," he commanded. Eir was the head healer and a notorious old bat who tormented servants below her station. He wouldn't have the nervous slave being punished over something that was his fault. "Do you understand...?"He drug off, inviting her to tell him her name.

Instead of acquiescing to his request she bobbed into a clumsy curtsy. "Yes, Prince Loki."

Then she hurried off with her basket of herbs.

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