Disgrace [A Loki Fanfiction]

Chapter 5 - Loki of Asgard

The man in the hospital wing makes little or no recovery during the days that follow. I tend to him every morning: I salve his wounds and wipe the perspiration from his brow. If I had not known the Lythmian medical system like I do, I would have feared for his life. As it is, I am surprised that he is taking so long to recover. Any other man would have been healthy as a Searan by now. I wonder what the strange crystal is that is the cause of his suffering. I cannot take it out of my room without someone noticing it: it is too beautiful. And I have tried to break a shard off to inspect it inconspiciously, but it refused to give way.

   I have no chores, because Father knows that the kingdom will not think of it lightly if their princess has to do chores when she has just returned from being kidnapped.

   Mother teaches me English every day. She teaches me about the absurd grammar and the pronunciation of the words I had already learned. She tells me that she had only once before visited earth, but that the people were so closed to new discoveries that she had to leave soon for fear of her life. I can see how she would not fit into any other society very easily - she is too fair. Even in Lythmia, most people aspire to have her beauty. It is a rare thing.

   Almost two weeks later, I am all but fluent in the English language, even though my strange Donthion accent is evident on my tongue.

   One morning, I am tending to my star - well, staring at the hole the strange crystal had left in his stomach, wondering why it refuses to heal. As I lean closer, I notice that it actually has healed a little: the skin had regrown over the wound. Now it is just a matter of the tissue sewing itself back together. 

   I reach forward to move the cloth in order to see the wound better when the man suddenly twitches. I jump, and stagger back. His eyes are open: the most beautiful light, blue-green eyes I had ever seen. I did not even know there existed such a colour for eyes.

   "Where am I?" he demands, struggling against the golden holds on his wrists and ankles, but then wincing and becoming still.

   "I brought you back to the castle after you fell," I said slowly, trying my best to hide my strange accent.

   "The - the castle? What castle?" he asks. "You look human ... am I on earth?"

   My heart flutters, "I look human?"

   He stares at me. "Evidently, not earth. What realm is this?"

   "The Realm of Anlyth," I say, "I am sure you do not know of it. We are far from any other galaxy."

   "Why am I chained?"

   "My father fears you are more powerful than the guards, in which case it would bring trouble to his reputation. People think he is mighty," I say, snorting with laughter. I put my hand to my mouth: Mother always says that it is impolite to snort with laughter, and I do not want my star to dislike me. "Pardon me."

   "What have you been putting on my stomach?" he asks, his face distorting with discomfort.

   "Nectar from a Nifty blossom," I say brightly, "It is a powerful healing herb that we use."

   He snorts with laughter, and I blush: so I did not come across as impolite. "Nifty blossom?"

   I frown. He seems to ridicule the flower's name, so I say, "It is our most sacred blossom, and one of the most beautiful ones in all of Lythmia."

   "That is fascinating," he says, and even in the strange language I notice his sarcasm.

   "This is no manner for a star to behave," I scold, "You fell from the heavens, to me. You cannot be so impolite."