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The Illusionist

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Loki studied the crowd before him, green eyes dark with rage as they flickered over that smug, bearded face, trying to look peasant in a bowler hat and glasses. But the Crown Prince was of no concern to him; he didn't give a damn as to Anthony's desires. No…not after what had been done. Not after that proud, loving soldier had fallen to his lord's rages…not after the Captain was gone. And now, Loki, known as Laufeyson to this crowd of adoring fans, held one hand up, out…

A shimmer, a heat-haze filled the air before him, and thin whisps of light began to swirl in the half-darkness. They lengthened and grew, brightened and dimmed as they took on the shape of a tall, well-built man, his blond hair a little wild, but unfashionably short, blue eyes bewildered and frightened by the stares and exclamations. Questions began to fly at the spectre, and the audience's voices fill the room.

"Who are you?"

"Are you the captain of the Prince's Guard?"

"Did the Crown Prince kill you?"

"Who took your life?"

"Why did you return?"

"Is there an afterlife?" At that last, Loki could hold him no more, and he vanished in the soft breeze floating in through the open windows. Immediately, policemen swarmed the stage as the magician sagged back in his chair, tears falling hot and harsh upon his shirt. His vision blurred, and the inspector appeared, his anger breaking his once calm mask and turning him into something more than human...

"Why? Why would you do such a thing?" And Loki looked up him, his grief shining through the embers of his anger.

"…To see him again…"