sebastian stan imagines [ completed ]

•Bucky - The Snow King•

A/n
This is a sort of strange one.
It's basically the Snow Queen (by Hans Christian Anderson) but written in Bucky's PoV.
I had to write this for English homework (but using the original characters) and I sort of liked it.
But as a twist on the story, this imagine will have Loki as the Snow King- I hope that it'll work as I hope it will.
I've nearly finished Stay Alive Part 2 but I thought it upload this for you to read until I'm done.
Enjoy.
-Hope

(September 2016)
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I was just a young boy when I was taken by the Snow King. His unexpected arrival in my hometown of Brooklyn concluded that year's queer events. I remember that day in a series of images: snow draping the city, smothering the rooftops and streets in a thick white blanket, and pregnant clouds pondering across the sky, obscuring the stars' view of Earth.

When I was taken, Christmas had come and gone, yet the season's decorations were still dotted around the city. Usually Y/n and I would run about the city, between shops and through alleyways, and look at each home's celebration. Our homes were never plastered in the holiday material, so we would allow ourselves to just pretend that the houses along the East River were ours and forget that the shanty slums were our homes.

My grandmother would sit us by the window when night fell upon the skyline and tell us stories about the Fae world, the gods of old and the Viking legends. But our favourite stories were about the Jötuns and their Snow King, Loki. It was during one of my grandmother's stories that I first saw him.

I had been staring out of the window, not paying much attention to the worn down voice of Grandma, when he appeared in the sky. His skin was as pale and unspoilt as fresh December snow and a crown of the most exquisite ice sat on a silky waterfall of ink. Lagoons of jade peered out from thick snowy eyelashes and stared into mine. Armour of emerald and onyx fitted gracefully over his tall and lean body and his icy cloak swished in the cold winter's breeze. He extended a hand and beckoned me over, through the glass. I remember feeling a sense of bewilderment yet serenity for as long as our eyes held each other's gaze.

"Bucky, are you listening? Your grandma just asked you a question." Y/n's impatient words broke me out of my haze. I spun around and looked at them. "Sorry, Nanna. Could you repeat the question?" As my grandmother asked me something that I cannot recall, my eyes trailed back to the frost glazed window. But the street was as empty as it had been just ten minutes before.

I didn't see the Snow King again until the following winter.

*

Things really got weird in Summer, however I didn't learn of their cause until I studied folklore from a book just after I turned sixteen years old.

I had been in the rooftop garden that Y/n and I had created when I felt a rush of ice plunge into my chest and a piece of grit land right in the cornea of my left eye. From that day onwards, all I was ugliness in my pleasant little world. Once the ache from my chest disappeared, I felt nothing but coldness.