Who? Laufey!ghost, background!Loki What?Erin randomly wrote 800-some words of Laufey!POV narrative? Laufey is a cranky jerk. Also a creeper. Where? Iceland When? Backdated to last night. Rating? Not terribly high!
Laufey did not consider himself a cruel man. He was a king, and he was a warrior - his people were warriors, no less fearsome than those accursed Aesir. He still believed that he - they - had been in the right - his attempt to concquor this world, to take Midgard, had been based on the need for more space, for a better place for their people. The love of battle came second, though it was, of course, a rather close second. Asgard had stepped in, then, turned a simple conquest into something far more bloody and dangerous for both sides, turned the entire ordeal into a hatred and a rivalry that Laufey was certain would never die. Asgard would forever have a certain level of fear and hate for his people, and the feeling was mutual.
He had once been a proud king, with a loyal kingdom who followed his leadership out of more than duty and fear. He was not a cruel king, then - it was not until the war was nearly lost, when Jotunheim became a ruin of what it had once been. It was not until his son was born half-sized, and people spoke of the poor luck of the House of Laufey, that he grew colder.
Those who spoke ill of he and his, he sent to the front lines - or threw them against Asgard itself, foolish attempts to breach the impassable guardian of the Bifrost that he knew would mean nothing but death for those sent. His son, he left to die - his woman, cast out for her failure to produce a worthy heir. And then Odin had come for him, taken the source of his power - and the child, for some foolish, bizarre reason. Perhaps he thought he could use the boy as a slave, a pet, a trophy to flaunt before Asgard - look here, one of the monsters of Jotunheim!
Instead the foolish Aesir had taken the boy as his son, concealed his true nature and adopted him as his own. Laufey had not even recognized him, at first - it had not been until the boy arrived on Jotunheim, darkness in his eyes and a twist to his lips, that Laufey had seen through the illusion over his skin, seen the heart of ice underneath the mask.
It was disgusting, but he'd had hope that perhaps through this mistake of a child, he would finally have what was rightfully his. He would have revenge, the power he deserved. His world would no longer be a wasteland. But then this creature - neither Jotun or Aesir, not truly - had turned on him, his nature more like mercury than ice or gold; Loki had killed him.
To say Laufey held something of a grudge would be putting things mildly. It was more than a grudge - it had cost his reputation, he was certain, for him to be slain by so small and weak a creature, one so deranged and convoluted, not even a proper warrior in either culture. Yet he'd managed to decieve and destroy one who had ruled for thousands of years. It was not right.
Loki's possession of the Casket of Ancient Winters was also not right, far more infuriating than even the rest. He was not worthy to hold it, and yet... this 'seal' had evidently gifted it to him. He had not even earned it, stolen it, killed for it - he had simply found it waiting for him. It was not fair, and Laufey wished Death would allow him to destroy this abomination, take back what belonged to him - give him a second opportunity at life and perhaps to reclaim Midgard as he had tried to do so long ago.
Unfortunately, Death had been extremely clear. He did not, however, imply that Loki had to enjoy this experience, and Laufey had been taking it upon himself to ensure that he did not.
For a trickster, for a monster wearing a mask, the boy was extremely transparent, if one knew where to look. His attachment to the mortals - to the one known as Darcy, especially - was the easiest to disrupt; few humans were capable of safely withstanding the extreme drop in temperatures that Laufey found himself much more fond of. It was also simple to make the abomination question himself - finding out that he had not yet done much of what Laufey remembered, yet, he had also found a chink in the armor presented to him - this boy had not yet embraced the monster within. He had not yet given up on whatever it was he considered normal - and he feared himself. That fear was easy to manipulate, especially when added to the isolation.
Loki slept, now. Fitfully, twisting and dancing just on the edge of wakefulness, as if at any moment he would spring awake, surge to his feet, tear something apart. The air practically crackled with power; had Laufey been alive, he might have been concerned. Instead, he was amused - the runt had not been this restless the previous night, nor any other night since Laufey had arrived here. He smiled.
Loki was breaking, and Laufey only wished he could be here to see it when the pieces finally came apart.