eswareinmal | (no subject)

Entry tags:

(no subject)

Characters: The King and his Worried Subjects. Oh yeah, and some heroes.
Open? Yep!
Where: The King's lazy throne room. You know, the one that looks like a rich person's den.
When: GHB6
What: Someone made a bonfire of the White Forest so the King is holding audiences to try and calm the crowd.

The cluster of townspeople in the audience chamber is at an all time high. There's never been a forest fire like this before... at least not one that anyone can remember, even if Old Man Signchanger did try and point out that one time way back when he was young (because every one knows that that man was never young!

Heroes who want to speak with the King, however, are assured an audience. If anything, they'll be all but pushed up the line. This may be the most worried anyone has seen the normally bubble headed townsfolk...

The Thorns are too far off for the average person to worry about, but this? This was in their own back yard. The pending destruction of the world as they know it is nothing compared to a giant forest fire you can see!

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

It had been as simple as intimidating the jailkeeper into unlocking the cell. Shocking, truly. How this realm survives is beyond Loki's comprehension.

"Then who does know?" he asks, somewhat testily.

The King laughed, tone warm and good natured. "My dear Prince, if I knew the answers to that, I'd have no need to send all of you to go find out!"

He rolls his eyes. Not a half-hour out of their prison, and he's already regretting the decision to stop by.

"Then I'm sure you can find someone else to secure the answers for you," returns Loki. "Unless you would consent to ... an upgrade in status, shall we say, for the heroes who dwell here."

"An upgrade? To what? Hero's about as high of a status as you can get in this place!"

"Unless you're you!" came a call from the crowd, prompting a few laughs and a grin from the King.

A tilt of Loki's head. He hears the petitioner, and then he lifts his eyes to the King. "What an interesting suggestion," he says, delicately.

The King merely grins. "As a Prince, that's good enough," he dismissed with amusement.

"Is it?"

Loki steps closer. His voice is silky smooth, but he puts volume to it, projects his voice around the throne room.

"The leadership of this kingdom has brought it disaster after disaster," he calls. "Yes, he called in the heroes. But a hero needs guidance. A hero needs to be taught your ways, and molded. Married to your people, bound to this place."

The words, and the sentiments, disgust him. But he presses on.

"He has succeeded in none of this," Loki tells them. "The fault lies not in you, villagers -- of course not. The fault lies not with the heroes, who wish nothing more than to take a guiding hand." His eyes flick sideways to the king. "Then, where does it lie?"

Loki was met by a sea of blank faces for a very long moment before the entire room erupted in laughter, the King included.

Sif seeks the King's audience reluctantly -- their history is hardly a pleasant one. The last time that she held audience in this court ended in a knife nearly to the man's throat. Her attempts to make amends for that situation resulted in the kingdom held hostage to its own nightmares.

In truth, she stares at the scene long before she acts, while Loki threads out what in Asgard would have been considered silver words. Wills composure that does not come easily.

But then the laughter starts. It would seem that fate has decided that Sif never meet the king in circumstances where his life is not in jeopardy. She walks upon the scene quickly, unannounced. Her back to the king.

"You are meant to be elsewhere," she says, firmly. It is the first thing she has said to him since the tower.

There is a flash of terrible anger, and, for a moment, Loki wants nothing more than to bathe this throne room in their blood. That would teach them respect. That would be all that could teach them respect.

He goes even more tense at Sif's approach.

"In the dungeons?" he spits, lowly. "Where you put me?"

"Elsewhere indeed! Talent such as your own is best out in the field, my dear Prince," the King interjects, still grinning. "Be on your way, I'm sure you'll do much better out there than in here!"

"The field, your highness?"

Her tone is more respectful than the King has heard before. She meets Loki’s eyes, but he will see nothing more than a soldier. Ready to lead him out of the room – ready to attack, should he act out.

He cast himself in a role, first.

"Yes, yes, out there where there are things that can be done and battles to be won! Best to get your prince-ing time out there now before someone makes you sit down and be settled!" the King grinned.

He steps past Sif, his body language vicious and tight, not even sparing a glance for the King behind him.

She stands, truly shocked. Which soon enough turns to anger. Again, Loki answers not for his crimes. Does as he pleases, and learns nothing. Again, the king proves his incompetence.

She turns, and shakes her head.

"Do you understand that people were hurt, when the Princess was kidnapped? Children, put in danger. Do you understand that one of our own was very nearly killed? Does that mean thing to you?"

"The Princess was rescued, was she not?" the King pointed out. "But if you feel Justice was not served... you are a Prince." There was a bit of a sparkle in the King's eyes that seemed almost out of place.

"As every bit a Prince as you are a King."

It is not a compliment.

"Quite so!" came the reply with another grin. "So it would seem that you have something that you can do about the situation, hmmm?"

Loki regards the both of them, archly, and then turns to Sif. "I all but held your hands," he tells her, quiet, low. "All but led you to Sansa with a true trail of breadcrumbs. How was I to know she would destroy an ice wall with such vehemence that it would prove near-fatal?"

A shake of his head. "That heroes were at risk is a mark of their incompetence," he declares, "not my evil."

"You couldn't know," she hisses, lowly. "For people are not lifeless game pieces, to be moved about as you best see fitting."

She takes a step in front of him, to the king.

"His defense alone shows that he does not understand his crimes, does not regret them. And yet they stand, unanswered for."

"And what are you planning to do about it?"

His eyes fix on Sif.

"She will act from heart, not from mind," says Loki, with a sneer, "and do yet more damage to a kingdom that cannot afford it." A flick of his eyes to the King -- "On second thought," he drawls, "go ahead. They may not afford it, but they do certainly deserve it."

---and yet more damage?

"What damage has been cause that you are not at the heart of," she yells, guttural, at Loki.

She breathes. Tries for composure, but it fails her. When she looks to the king, it is with rage.

"Are you so taken in by logic so ill?"

"My dear, you misunderstand!" the King smiled, seemingly oblivious to her rage. "I am deferring to your insight on this matter!"

Loki's eyes widen. A moment of shock, before anger has a chance to take hold.

"She will determine my fate?" he asks. "A dullard delegating to dullards." Ah, there is the fury. "Neither of you could know what it was I meant to do. A higher authority, alone, can do that."

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

SifBlocked

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject