The Life and Times of Chibi

You picked up the jewelry box and turned it upside down. A couple more pearl strands, another pair of earrings, and a handful of loose gems dumped out onto the vanity.

But no paper. Nothing to indicate the rest of that letter.

Curiosity may have killed the cat, but you were no cat.

You opened drawers in the vanity and nightstand, even picking the locks of a few with a glitzy hairpin.

All empty.

Hours passed. You had checked underneath the mattress, looked for loose floorboards, and even peeked behind a painting.

Nothing.

Was it deliberately hidden? Whoever hid it did an incredible job.

But who would have hidden the letter? And why?

The obvious answer would be that Loki hid it.

You had no idea why he would hide a letter, though.

Perhaps just as great of a question was why the letter was torn. Had Loki ripped the letter? It was, after all, addressed to him.

Maybe he hid it for the same reason he tore it.

Still, you didn’t know what that reason was.

The tears looked rather… angry. If Loki tore the letter, he must have been pretty pissed off.

You reached up to scratch your clavicle, where the neckline of your dress sat. The fabric was getting itchy. Or maybe it was the embroidery.

Either way, you were ready to be rid of the dress.

Forget the letter. The clothes you had been wearing at the party (and when you were brought to the palace) weren’t where you had left them.

Odd.

Maybe you hung them up in the armoire and just… forgot.

Yeah, that was it.

So, why weren’t they in the armoire?

You closed the armoire and opened it back up a few times, as if expecting your clothes to materialize.

They never did.

Weird.

And suspicious.

A woman who appeared to be about your age came to the suite, likely to inform you of when you could expect dinner.

You didn’t want to hear it.

“Hi. Listen. Do you know what happened to my clothes?”

She looked at you as if she didn’t understand.

Maybe she spoke a different language? You fumbled around in your brain, trying to think of how to say it in any other language.

Too bad your foreign language skills consisted of “I would like some wine,” and “Where is the bathroom?” in maybe two other languages.

“Um…” You pointed to yourself, then gestured down to the dress. “My… clothes?” You made a shrugging motion. “Where?”

“His majesty has ordered that you wear a new dress each day,” she said with a nod. “There should be more in the armoire.”

Great, but that didn’t answer your question.

“No,” you said after a pause. “The clothes I had on earlier. Do you know where they are?”

She curtseyed, then turned to leave.

“Wait—!”

You bit your lip. That didn’t go as planned.

Sometime later, she returned with a box in hand.

Green, of course.

Maybe your own clothes were in the box?

You looked up to ask the woman, but she had already left.

This place was just getting weirder and weirder.

Whatever. At least now you would have something comfortable to wear.

You opened the box.

At a first glance, it appeared to contain the clothes you wore at Stark’s party.

But then you pulled them out of the box.

Rather, you attempted to pull them out of the box.

Your heart sank.

The garments had been slashed to ribbons.

They couldn’t have just been… accidentally torn.

No, this was deliberate. Loki did this on purpose.

It seemed you would be wearing the itchy green dress a little longer.

~*~*~*~

Loki paced his own chambers for what felt like a century. In truth, it may have been about fifteen minutes.

According to the lady-in-waiting he had provided for you, you were still refusing to eat. You even insisted that she drink some of the water before you even had a sip.

The sips of water finally became drinking it all yourself.

He was willing to accept that as a small victory. At least you wouldn’t perish from dehydration.

Still, at this rate, you would become severely malnourished soon.

You had stated your terms. You refused to eat a bite until you and your husband were released.

Would he agree to it?

Of course not.

It would be worth it in the end. You would come to your senses, and Loki would… “get the girl,” as they say.

Not that it would be easy.

But that’s precisely what would make the victory so much sweeter.

He couldn’t wait to taste that victory.

And he would make sure to rub it in, too!

~*~*~*~

The lady-in-waiting, whose name you still weren’t sure how to pronounce, looked increasingly worried with each passing (refused) meal.

You weren’t sure if she was worried about your health, or if she was worried of what Loki would say.

Or perhaps of what Loki would do.

At least you had a new dress on, and this one was a bit more comfortable. The fabric was softer, lighter in weight, and there wasn’t as much embroidery.

The lady-in-waiting must have passed along the message to Loki that you hated that first dress and preferred something less itchy and suffocating.

After all, Loki had to have been the one to pick some of the dresses out; several of them were a bit lower-cut than you were comfortable with.

Someone knocked on your door. Whether it was Loki or the lady-in-waiting, you didn’t care; you just wanted them to leave.

You ignored them. Whoever they were.

Another knock.

Still nothing.

“Lady (Name)? Are you hungry? I have your—.”

“No, thank you.” You didn’t give the poor girl a chance to finish her sentence.

It didn’t matter, though.

You still weren’t home. You still wouldn’t eat.

Silence.

You could just barely hear her whisper to a second person, “She is still refusing to eat, your Majesty.”

Loki must have been with her.

He sighed, a ragged, frustrated sound. “I’ll take this. Thank you.”

A third round of knocks, this time clearly by a larger, stronger hand.

“(Name), dear. It’s me.”

Yeah, you knew exactly who it was.

“May I come in?”

Why did he bother asking? He was already opening the door.

You darted into the ensuite powder room and slammed the door, locking it behind you. Sure, it may have come across a bit rude, but etiquette was hardly your top priority right now.

“I understand you are still on your… hunger strike.”

Bleh. You weren’t exactly doing it for fun. You pressed your back to the door, just in case Loki got some cute idea about unlocking the door and coming in.

You heard him sigh again. This time, it sounded like he was trying to compose himself.

“If you don’t eat soon, you will become ill. A mortal’s body wasn’t intended to go without sustenance for long, you know.”

Mortal? Geez, he was sure full of himself.

Maybe he would leave soon.

In the meantime, you found yourself fascinated by a certain tile in the wall, by the bathtub. You couldn’t quite put your finger on why; it just sort of… caught your attention.

“Darling… I know this is a difficult situation, but you mustn’t starve yourself. That’s not the proper way to handle this.”

No answer. You were in no mood to entertain him.

Instead, you just scooted over and picked at the tile, still unsure why. You saw nothing noteworthy about it. It was just a tile.

Still, you played with the tile. Pushed at it. Pulled against the edge.

Why was the tile so loose? Did the palace not have… maintenance or something?

You heard Loki wander around the suite a bit longer, rummaging around. He set what you guessed something (maybe your dinner on that obscenely expensive-looking platter or a glass of water) down, presumably on the nightstand. It sounded like he was looking under the bed.

For what? For you?

What did he think you were, five?

The moron.

“I am sure you will be hungry soon. Until then, I am sure you are already thirsty. Drink the water. Please. For me.”

Pfft.

You may very well drink the water, but it would by no means be for Loki’s sake.

Loki stayed in the room a bit longer, probably in case you decided to reappear.

As if that was going to happen.

“Darling, you can’t hide forever.”

It didn’t sound like a threat, thankfully. But it did sound a bit…

… Like a plea.