❀ Beauty and the Beast ↠

❀8❀

I wandered the garden with Ragna, I had not yet seen the flowers that Frigga had spent time planting in the main courtyard. Then again, I could never see flowers too many times, I could never tire of their sweet fragrance. Each one was a delicate bloom, no matter if it was a formal garden or a waste land. Their petals were delicate works of art and their hues were medicine for my soul. I guess it's not just me that feels that way though, we bring flowers into the injured friends and for our dead, we send them to express our love, we plant though they bear no edible fruits. Asgard spends thousands of hours replacing them along the streets and in the gardens and as soon as they brown more are brought in. There was something about their beauty I needed for my whole being, to be fully alive, I wondered if we were all a bit like that. Without the flowers it would only be stone. There were many people in the gardens, all soaking in the radiance of Frigga's work yet one person was not surrounded by others. We sat on one of the stone benches as I noticed a stray collection of small daisies growing up the leg of the bench. Daisies have never been welcome in the formal gardens. The stripes of grass between the perfectly lined beds are a uniform green, the only variations coming from which direction the wind blew. Yet that morning, shining like a perfect miracle, there was the daisies bejewelled by dew. Their newly opened petals, held outward like a dancers arms, reflecting the morning rays. I bent over to take the flower. From then on, I spent a considerable amount of time weaving them into a garland worthy of a gifted flower arrangement. I looked up at Ragna who smiled at me as I stood and she helped me shimmy the garland around me as I lifted my arms to the sun and laughed. The arrangement hung on my hips and complimented the pale green dress wonderfully! After we had been laughing for a considerable amount of time, something or someone to the left of her caught her attention and her face fell. "He's been watching us," She told me. I was confused at first to whom she was referring but when I turned to look in the direction that she had spotted the onlooker, I knew exactly to who she was referring to. Loki stood at one of the entrances to the gardens very obviously considering people avoided him like the plague. His face didn't show much emotion but it told a thousand stories. Yet I could not determine which one was fact and what was fiction. I sighed and took Ragna's hands. She knew what I was going to say. I told her that I would return before dinner. This time she didn't argue, just nodded as I smiled and reassured her. Once I let her hands drop, I turned to the prince and approached, addressing him appropriately yet still a little sour about his rudeness. "Lady Freya," He said my name as if he had tiny daggers stabbing him under his skin. I internally rolled my eyes. For a moment, I thought that he was going to apologise. "Come," He ordered as he turned and began to walk away. I was shocked to my core! What right did he have to order me around like that when he spoke to me in such a manor? When he realised that I wasn't obeying, he turned and held out his hand in protest. "You wanted to see the library did you not?" I did. I reluctantly began to follow him in silence through the palace. He knew the route by memory. Watching him walk from behind gave me some time to observe him. This man was the son of the most monstrous frost giant to ever exist? He could have fooled me - but then again, isn't that what he's good at? Fooling people? When we reached a large set of double doors, he took the handles and took a slight glance behind at me as if to confirm that I was still behind him. One he caught a glimpse of me, he opened the doors to reveal a wonderful library! For as grand as it was, it was not well kept. Dust collected everywhere as far as the eye could see, spider webs wove loosely around books, dirtied shelves, and stands, burned out candles hung from the chandelier, The ground, one chair and the table was the only thing that was actually clean, books, and discarded paper. Dust floated lazily in the air causing me a difficult time breathing, and every step put more of it in to the air. All that was heard were the faint chirps of birds outside and the rustling of papers catching the draft. It was then that I noticed more clean spots! The ladder was spotless, one of the windowsills, certain shelves. Loki was the only one who ever came in here and he had left his mark. Sorrow that such literary art and knowledge was appreciated by one single man in the entire palace. I asked him if he came here alone. "I do. No one else is ever interested in books and paper," He scoffed. I ran my hand along one of the dusty shelves and told him that I was which caused him to look up but only for a second. "I'm sorry it's so unclean," He apologised but I told him that I didn't mind. I wandered to the section of Midgardian literature, wheeling over the ladder and climbing, scanning for what I was looking for. Loki seemed a little shocked that I hadn't asked him to get the book for me but this time it was less in disappointment but more in pleasant shock. I found it! I jumped down from the ladder and brushed my dress off in front of him with a smile. "What's that?" he asked looking down at the book with genuine interest. I produced the book and a breath seemed to catch in his throat. "I have to start somewhere and you seemed to like this one," I told him he seemed way more taken by my choice of material that I would have thought but he actually smiled! That was probably the first time that I had seen him smile directly. He held out his arm and pulled out the clean chair for me to sit on. "Oh no," I gushed. "It's fine, I can clear another chair," He shook his head in protest, insisting that I sit. Eventually, I listened to him and took a seat. He tucked in the chair and lingered for a moment before realising that I was noticing so he moved over to a grander chair near a bookshelf. He dusted down the chair with his hand and took a seat himself. Whipping the smaller copy of the book and opening to where he last left off. I watched him read for a moment. He was so tranquil. After a moment, I opened the book myself and began."There was once a very rich merchant, who had six children, three sons, and three daughters..."