║Mischief Managed ♚ King & Hermione ║
It had all begun when Hermione caught a reference in an old tome, amidst a passage on mythical plants and beings, when searching for the purpose of the Polytrichum commune in healing potions for Professor Snape. She had heard of the God of Mischief before, in the stories her parents had read to her when she was young, thirsting for knowledge and eager for life.
Harry and Ron were used to her spending her days in the library, so saw little difference in her behavior when her interest was sparked. Her professors saw little change in her marks and her half kneazle, Crookshanks, found no difference in his mistress’ distraction and disinterest in things outside of books and theories and research. However, despite the lack of outside change, Hermione’s mind had taken a turn. Her every thought turned to the green eyed god as her hands flipped through book after book, searching for fact among the piles of empty ideas from wizards with little to do but put their puny minds to concepts far beyond their comprehension.
She found enough fact, eventually, to tempt her to adventure. After the end of the war against Voldemort, a small part of Hermione had missed the rush of mishap and danger, though she adamantly denied it. Upon finding references to a palace in England, outside of London, with stories of mythical creatures and men, odd magic and occurrences and the sighting of a figure adorned in leather and gold, she took the very next Hogsmeade weekend to dress in warm robes and apparate from the safety of the castle in Scotland, with its safety and books, to a patch of land outside of London, from where she could see the magnificent structure rising from the earth as if the whole world was it’s garden.
Not every day began this way, but today was a day to play. With the winter sun high over the Earth, beaming down to greet his shining, sweat-slick body, tensed with the exercise of his morning run, Loki loosed breath after panted breath. He loved to feel the fresh breeze against his pale limbs, greeting the eye in the sky above with his own green orbs of cut emerald that blazed just as bright. It was rare such a day came to pass that he was reminded of worlds far away, realms of sweeter things and soft as dreams. But here, on the very soil beneath his boot-clad feet, was his home now, filled with the mundane and petty ways of human beings.
How he detested the common rabble.
Day in and day out the King was forced to watch, listen and speak to those who he would rather send to the stocks than treat with any benevolence. Yet, as a ruler, self-appointed at that, he would not shirk his responsibility, nor fail to prove his worthiness to the high throne of Midgard itself. That was why he now sped through the forests of his vast palace grounds, keeping fit and strong as ever, every muscle bulging with the energy to destroy worlds and rebuild them.
It was only when the mighty god neared the end of his drive that ran up to the castle-like fortress of pure beauty that had become his abode that he showed any signs of slowing. The monarch’s brows pulled together, gaze narrowing into the distance as a figure, unknown to him previously, resolved itself into plain view.
Intruder… His mind instantly thought, before such violent thoughts that had begun to turn themselves over in his twisted mind straightened out at the sight before him. A young woman. A small, slight young woman with a awestruck look to her expression. Visitor…wonderful…
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