Loki watched the wispy tendrils of gold flit around his hand as he weaved his fingers through the air. He lay alone in his room, the bedroom he’d been given upon his latest return to Asgard. He was thinking. A practice he’d always been fond of and active in, but was about the only thing he had to do as of late. The general inactivity and long, lonesome hours of his new captive life were excellent for giving Loki the time to think about all he wished to. But it also left time to ponder over things he’d rather not.

Loki let out a sigh.

Not one of self-sympathy, letting himself wallow in ill feelings which were generally self-inflicted. He was mostly past that point in his depression now. Now he simply felt confused. It wasn’t something that he would speak of to anyone, not ever. He didn’t trust anyone anymore. The wish for close companions remained in him, but crossed paths and arguments were withering the last of his bonds.

Holding his hand still, the magic wisps began shortening, shrinking back to his being—their energy source. Just like any connections I once possessed. Loki mused. All leaving. In the end there is only myself. And yet he noticed that one tendril sprouted upon the others leaving. Interesting. Though not entirely uncommon. Magic was rather unpredictable compared to other things, and you couldn’t expect it to act exactly the same way every time. A loose bit here and there was to be expected. And, of course, such things were likely to happen to Loki in the state he was in.

Yet again, he found himself tracing the lines of his restriction necklace. The cold, binding stone sealing his punishment. It wouldn’t allow him to cross the barriers set (through great trials by those much less magically gifted than he) to keep him locked away. Hiding him away in a small portion of the palace, a place he’d once considered home. The device was supposed to also quench any magic he could, and most obviously would, try to conjure.

The most important word in that statement was “supposed”.

Bringing his hand that he’d let rest on the bed up to the one engulfed in thin light, Loki spread the flamey mist to both hands. A small smile almost surfaced, but for the throes of deep thought Loki was currently in. He’d been able to do some simple things lately. Cause a feather to hover, spark a candle. The like. Having taken notice, Loki had been spending a lot of time fiddling around with his abilities, fine tuning and relearning. He’d sit and think, while absentmindedly playing around with what magic he could manage.

And that was the funny thing about magic. No matter how hard Loki concentrated, he really couldn’t do much of anything. He had to gain the feel of moving around the barriers of the restriction necklace by not thinking about it while figuring it out. It was maddening and slow, but that is how magic works. It’s something thought to be complicated due to one reason: it is.

So, keeping his mind busy, whether with good thoughts or bad, it didn’t matter, Loki found himself spending days and weeks on end solely practicing magic.

Or almost soley.

There was also ___, with her frequent visits to Asgard. A smirk tweaked the tips of the prince’s lips. Oh how he wished he could’ve seen ___’s face at her own ball. It must have been a marvelous sight. By how Thor ranted at Loki, face red and all after he’d learned of the scenario from ___, Loki’s prank must have gone over quite smoothly. He had to admit, if only to himself as well as in a fake air to Thor, that he did feel a twinge of guilt for teaching ___ incorrectly. It was her own celebration; of course that would be a cruel trick. But perhaps he was assuming it would hurt her so much because he longed for attention, and would be just as infuriated as he was assuming she had been in that situation. He, perhaps, would deserve such a joke more though. She seemed rather kind-hearted, despite having a tenacious mind.

Thinking back on his encounters with ___, Loki noticed he’d been ruder than he’d thought. Besides the occasional tattling to a friend on Loki’s harsh jesting, she’d pretty much just let things slide. Loki mused, wondering how long she’d put up with him. Part of him wanted to find out, but the other part reprimanded him and reminded him that that would not win him favors from anyone. Especially her. And she was his only visitor, apart from Thor.

And he liked her. There. It was thought out. Loki finally slumped his shoulders and admitted to himself that he found her fascinating. And pretty. But she was from Asgard, so of course she was attractive, he reasoned with himself.

He knew he was letting himself feel relaxed around her too much, lowering his defenses. He was beginning to smile, an action he couldn’t remember the last time he’d performed before ___. He knew it would be foolish to allow her any closer, or disclose any more information on himself to her. But he knew that he could at times be foolish, and wasn’t planning on changing anything just yet.

It might be best to continue to watch how things unfold.