Chosen // loki laufeyson

Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Lienna

Dawn began to show itself when we arrived at the palace. My stomach was churning. What did Ander mean, Don't fall in love? Why did everyone else seem to know what being Chosen meant?

One of the guards placed his hands around my waist to pull me off the horse, but i pushed him away.

"I can dismount a horse, I'm not helpless," I snapped at him. He shrugged and mumbled something but I was too shaken up to care.

I noticed three other groups of horses and men, probably surrounding more girls. So I wasn't the only one Chosen for this, whatever this was.

"Come, Moren's daughter. Your stylist awaits you," a man dressed in all black stated. Before I could say anything, he dragged me along with him into what seemed to be a servant's hall in the palace.

The passage was well lit and clean, unlike the one in Svendrel's home. Golden doors lined the right side of it, each one differing in embellishments. Were we Chosen to be slaves? Why would slaves need stylists?

The man stopped me abruptly in front of a lavishly carved door. "This is your room," the man said. He grasped my arm, yanked open the door, and shoved me through it. "Good luck," he taunted, then slammed the door.

He had thrown me on to my back, which now screamed with pain. As I tried to get up off of the cold marble floor, I noticed that like the door, the room was very well decorated in yellow colors that seemed to glow. Slavery now seemed out of the question.

"Don't worry about Hogun. He's a bit, for lack of a better word, grim," a soft voice informed me. "I'm Freyja, your stylist."

Freyja stepped around me and held out a hand. I reluctantly took it, pushing myself off the ground with her help. Freyja was a beautiful woman with a glowing complexion and long, golden hair. I was sensing a golden theme now.

"I'm Lienna. I was... Chosen."

Freyja beamed. "I know who you are. You're one of the most beautiful girls on Asgard. Every man has talked about you."

I blushed. I did know that people thought I was pretty, and I hated it. I thought I was plain. Straight black hair, gray eyes, normal smile.

"Come sit, and I'll get started on you." Freyja patted a chair in front of a large vanity. I cringed. She was going to completely remake me. I sat slowly in the chair, looking at myself one last time in the mirror. "Don't worry, I'm not going to reconstruct you like the other airhead stylists will do to their ladies. I'm going to highlight your features."

She had me stand up and strip of my night clothes. Then, she coated me in warm wax and viciously ripped off all of my body hair. My body stung horribly. Freyja rubbed a thick paste on my skin, swearing that it was natural. She had me pull on a silky robe and sit back down.

"I know I said I wouldn't reconstruct, and I didn't!" Freyja giggled happily.

"What else are you planning on doing?" I asked warily.

"Don't you worry, dear. Makeup, hair, and clothing are all that's left."

Freyja gently combed through my hair and braided it. Apparently her philosophy was simple hair.

"With your makeup, I'm feeling a natural vibe. Yes or no?" she asked.

"What?"

She giggled softly. "Do you want natural makeup or not?" Freyja restated.

I blushed once again. "Um, I'll have natural then."

The amount of powders she put on my face certainly did not feel natural, but it strangely did look natural.