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Unbeta'd. Notes isn't feeling well.

Saumason, The Royal Tailor

Loki is a big boy, he's five years old. And today is a big day; he is choosing his colors. Loki glances up beside him, his mother is there, as well as some of her maids. She nods encouragingly.

Saumason, the Royal Tailor stands before him. Behind Saumason are bolts of many different fabrics. The man is tall, and very, very, skinny. He is dressed all in black. Over his shirt and breeches he wears a very tight vest and it's filled with rather long frightening pins.

"Have you chosen the color for your cape, Your Highness?" the tailor says, bowing before Loki.

Straightening, Loki lifts his chin. "Indeed I have, Kind Sir. But I don't see the color I desire among your fabrics."

The tailor stands. "And what color is that, Your Highness?"

Loki smiles, he's thought a lot about this and he knows the perfect choice. "Pink," he says.

The tailor's mouth drops. Behind Loki a he hears a collective intake of breath.

He has this horrible feeling he's done something wrong. Is pink too mighty a color for a little boy? No, he is a big boy, that can't be the case. Could there have been some villainous despot in history whose color was pink? Loki's sure he doesn't know of one. Swallowing, Loki says, "Thor's color is red, pink is the brother of red, therefore, pink..."

He looks anxiously around the room. One of the maids titters. Frigga puts her hands on Loki's shoulders.

The tailor takes a deep breath. "Your majesty, pink is a color for girls."

Loki scowls. "That's not fair." How can girls claim ownership of an entire color?

"How about green?" says Frigga. "It is the complementary color of red and it will match your eyes Loki."

Even his mother is against him! Is it because she is a girl and doesn't want to share pink?

"But I like pink," Loki says softly. It is the color of the Asgardian sky at sunrise. And Sif's lips and cheeks after she's been in a tussle with Thor.

No one seems to have heard him. Turning the tailor says, "I have just the thing!"

He comes back to Loki with a swathe of dark green fabric. Winking at the boy, he says, "Now this is a color that is very manly, and will get you a fine wife someday."

"Wife?" says Loki. "I don't want a wife." Taking a wife would mean leaving the house of his parents, and he never wants to leave his parents.

"Someday you will crave the company of girls, believe me, and you'll want to get married," says the tailor as he sets down the cloth and takes out a measuring tape.

Loki feels his face flush. He hates it when adults seem to see through him. He already craves the company of girls. He has...imaginings at night. Ever since the survival instructor told Thor and Loki that to save someone who is very cold they must strip naked with them and curl up next them Loki has imagined Sif falling into icy water, or the pretty little daughter of Volstagg, Glut. In his imaginings Loki and Sif, or Loki and Glut, or Glut and Sif and Loki have to strip naked; and they have to lie next to one another. What happens after that is somewhat vague, but it fills Loki with a terrible, strange, feeling of want he can't explain. It's a little frightening. And embarrassing.

He thinks of the times he's gone skinny dipping with Thor and his friend Fandral, of lying back naked in the grass and looking at the clouds with them. He likes those times and the easy friendship. It's...it's...he thinks the word is uncomplicated.

"If I have to get married, I'm marrying a boy," he says folding his arms over his chest and scowling.

Saumason stops measuring the odd, dark haired boy that is the second prince. Prince Loki's face is as fine and delicate as a girl's. He's been told the child hasn't taken particularly to weapons training, and worse, without instruction the boy has already started performing magic - something no self respecting male would ever be caught doing.

Thankfully, this child is the spare, not the heir. He shakes his head. He always thought you could tell when they were young.


Something completely different from "Blue".

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