Beauty and the Monster ⚤

Chapter Eight; Bewitched

The heavy rapping on the door of one of the palace's many state rooms temporarily distracted Loki from the documents he'd been pouring over for some hours now.

"Who is it?"
He called out, using the Alfather's voice.

"It is Hoenir, your Highness."
The recognisable dulcet tones of Odin's most trusted emissary and counsellor, rang out from behind the thick oak panelled door.

Hastily changing his form to that of Odin's, he commanded him to enter.

"Your highness, I apologise for having to disturb you whilst you are otherwise engaged with important matters of state."
He apologised as he bowed benevolently.

"It is of no importance Hoenir.."
Loki replied, waving his hand dismissively,
"What news do you bring from Avonlea? I trust you have some information for me?"

Much to his immense disappointment, the emissary shook his head as he admitted reluctantly,
"Nothing sire, I'm afraid I've had no success in finding any further information on the source of this rumoured prophecy you speak of-"

"Damn it, man!"
Loki suddenly yelled in anguish, bringing his fist down hard on the desk, making Hoenir start in surprise.
"That's not good enough, I expect you to deliver results. That is what you're paid to do."

As if to make a point he grasped a document from the desk, and waved it wildly under the man's nose,
"I am as we speak, reviewing the expenses incurred on the Royal treasury, so I suggest you get your worthless carcass back to Avonlea this instant, and if you don't find a valid lead then do not bother to return, as you won't have a position to return to. Do I make myself clear?"

"Y-yes your highness, perfectly.."
Hoenir stammered nervously.

Loki sank back heavily into the chair, burying his head in his large hands.

"It is no easy task though sire, Avonlea is an unknown land-"

"I'm not interested in your excuses."
He barked, without looking up.

"..forgive me your highness, but at present all the inhabitants are more concerned with the disappearance of their princess than discussing folklore, legends and myths."

"I couldn't give a damn Hoenir, I don't care who you have to bribe, torture or kidnap...just bring me answers!"

"It is not that simple my lord, the Royal guards are already on high alert, they already suspect that their princess Belle has been taken hostage, so strangers are treated with the upmost suspicion."

At his words, Loki's head snapped up, and it took every ounce of effort for him to keep his illusion of the Allfather in place.

"What did you say? The name you just spoke?"
He demanded.

Hurriedly fumbling in the beaten leather satchel which he carried over one shoulder, Hoenir pulled out a crumpled piece of parchment and handed it to the King.

"Belle your majesty, she is their king's only daughter. These missing notices were being handed out everywhere I went."

Eyes widening in disbelief, Loki immediately recognised the artist's sketch. Confirming that the beautiful, bewitching Belle, was in fact a princess no less.

Regaining his composure, he slowly rose to his feet and eyed Hoenir steadily.
"Hoenir, there is to the west on the outskirts of the forest, a small stone cottage which stands alone. You must go there at once and bring the inhabitant to me immediately!"

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

Several days had passed now since Sigurd's altercation with Loki, and whilst Belle found the trickster still played on her mind, she'd not been in want of company thanks to the former.