Green Collar (A Loki Fanfiction) [UNDER EDITING]

-5-

Experimentally twisting her wrist, Haldor winced with pain with every miniscule movement. She sighed in disappointment, disliking the constant discomfort and inconvenient state of weakness. Furthermore, she disliked people witnessing said weakness; especially since the person she seemed to be spending a consistent amount of time with was the rather aggravating, younger prince.

"Try again." Said prince ordered. She rolled her eyes, thankful to not be directly facing him. 

"While I do appreciate your help, my Prince, could we not just go to the healers, for a splint of some sort?" Hal suggested. Now it was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Any incompetent fool can create a splint. It takes but a solid surface and some cloth. No, you don't need a splint, you need quick and efficient healing. I said, try again."

Apparently no one ever told him no, which, Hal had discovered through her years, only created brats. 

She decided not to argue and try again, pushing herself this time. Her wrist did more than before, making hushed popping sounds. A pain shot up her thumb, but she simply grunted, continuing further. She stopped after she experimentally clenched her fist, resulting in more pain. 

"Well, Lady Haldor, I believe you have a broken wrist." 

She could just, smack him. 

"I believe that too, Prince Loki." She wanted to go to the healers, the people who trained in medicine and healing. That's what they were there for. She looked pitifully down at her wrist, noticing it was now swelling along her thumb. In addition to the bruising that was already there, her wrist looked pretty nasty. 

"Yea, that looks disgusting." Loki stated, as if reading her mind.  

It had been two days since she'd fallen, likely being the first person to break a wrist from opening a door. She wasn't quite sure what healing method the prince was messing around with, but whatever it was required her to stay away from the professionals and not ask questions. 

They hadn't talked much, the Prince making it very clear small talk was nothing he liked to waste his time with. But not talking made Hal nervous, and she talked when she was nervous. Even as a patient, her previous doctors had spoken to her, asking how she was in general, and of course they never wanted the real answer, they wanted her to lie and tell them she was "doing great." 

"Can I ask what you're waiting for, Prince Loki?"

"I beg your pardon?" He replied, disliking the foreign feeling of being questioned. 

"You have magic, do you not? You have said so yourself and I have heard so from the chambers of the maids that it is a practice that was passed down to you from your mother, the Queen Frigga." 

"Perhaps, Slave, you should stay out of business that does not concern you. My magic is working in its own way, one I do not expect you to understand. Be patient, good things come to those who wait." 

She resisted from rolling her eyes again. Her working for someone was one thing, but having them speak to her as though she was dumber than dirt would never cease to irk her endlessly. A knock sounded out from his bedroom doors. 

"Enter." He commanded. Hal watched Asta walk in, opening the door with ease-the sight of another door in function made Hal huff in annoyance, her wrist throbbing as if trying to remind her of her utter stupidity-holding a tray of delicate sandwiches and fruits. 

"Your lunch, Master." Asta said, almost hesitantly, as if she were afraid she was doing something wrong. 

"Thank you, Pet. Place the tray at the end of my bed please." Prince Loki ordered, sounding almost proud to be getting exactly what he was asking for. Hal guessed her slight stubbornness to his 'staying silent' rule was starting to put him on edge.