Loki's Daughter, Mortem and Mischief

Chapter Fifty

I truly don't think I had ever been more fearful than I was in that moment. My father loomed over me, his face stern and more than disapproving. I swore I didn't even breath, nor did I dare to move. I was petrified before him, simply terrified to hear what he may say or see what he may do.

His eyes scanned me, looking at me up and down. "Did you spill this blood?" he asked sharply. I could hear the rage in his voice, hear how hard it was for him to stop himself from throwing me out of the way. I didn't say a word but that was enough of an answer.

"Who did it then?" he questioned as he looked pst me into the dungeons. I didn't have to follow his gaze to knwo that the guards stiffened in fear at the sight of my father. I could hear their armor creak and their breathing hitch in fear. "Idiots," he scowled as he pushed past me.

"He needs a medic-"I attempted as I followed after my father. He gave me a warning glance over my shoulder. "Hold your tongue. I'll deal with you later," he said firmly, not quite as angry as before but I knew better than to push,

Without hesitation, he grabbed the first guard-he was the young one from before. His brown eyes were lit fear as my father held him tightly by the fabric around his neck. "What happened? Explain yourself," my father asked angrily.

"We were bored, sir," the young guard croaked out. My father scoffed as he pressed him against the cold cinderblock wall of the dungeon. "And you decide to beat up a prisoner?" my father asked before throwing the guard to the floor with ease. A shiver ran down my spine. I had almost forgotten that my father was far stronger than he let on.

"I thought I had ordered that he receives no guests," my father said as he walked towards Grimnir's cell. The guards cowered out of his way. One had somehow found themselves brave enough to reply to my father's statement. "The only visitor he's received is the Queen, a-and she outranks you, sir," the guard said.

My father whirled around. "Outranks me?" he echoed as he slowly stalked towards the guard who had dared to open his mouth. "Outranks me?"he repeated once more, practically yelling in the guard's face. I could see the man's face pale with terror just wishing he had never been born in the first place. "She's a child and she's my daughter. I don't care what crown she has on her head, until she's off and married-I will always outrank her," my father spat. With a puff of green smoke, the guard was reduced to nothing more than a black rat. My eyes widened as I watched the poor man scuttle around the sticky dungeon floors, squeaking as if he was begging for help.

"Now, does anyone else want to speak up? Show me what an idiot they are?" my father challenged as he turned towards the rest of the guards. They all stood straight as can be and avoided his gaze entirely. My father hummed slightly in approval before he pursued Grimnir's cell once again.

"Father," I said, quickly following after him. He didn't turn around to face me, only continued forward as we came upon the cell Grimnir now laid in. "They were going to kill him. You should've seen the way they-"

"Maybe they should have killed him," he interrupted me as he began to unlock the cell door. "But the trial," I attempted softly. My father growled, clenching his jaw tightly. "Maybe I should've killed him," my father corrected himself.

He pushed open the cell door before shutting it quickly behind him. Before I had time to even process what he had done, he locked the door. I went to grab the handle and unlock it for myself but my hands burned at the touch of the metal. Instantly, I pulled back as I realized not only had my father locked me out, he had enchanted the door so I couldn't even touch it.

"Don't even think about trying to break that spell right now," my father warned, looking at me through the large window as he crouched besides Grimnir. "This is cruel," I said through grit teeth.

"You're lucky I'm down here even attempting to help you. Remember that," he said. I pursed my lips, deciding it would be just be best for me to shut up.

My father took Grimnir's head, grasping him firmly by the chin as he examined his wounds. Grimnir shot awake and his eyes grew wide as he saw my father. He tried to get away but my father kept him from moving by stepping on Grim's right arm. "Move again and your arm won't be the only thing I break. Understand?" my father threatened. Grimnir gulped, too scared to even nod.

"You were right. Just a few more blows to the head and they probably would've killed him. It's a shame they didn't," my father said, glancing up at me. He looked over the rest of Grimnir's body, spotting the puncture wounds and broken ribs. My father was focused, examining Grimnir with the eyes of a physician. In that moment, he resembled my mother so much. Every movement was a mirror of her, my father was simply copying all that he had seen my mother do before.

"We can't bring him a healer," my father decided as he stood up, leaving Grimnir sprawled out on the floor. "No matter who it is, they'll tell your mother. And quite frankly, I don't want to extend him the kindness of a healer," my father added.

Grimnir's head lolled to the side and his gaze met mine. My stomach churned at the sight of him, he looked just like the spirits who plagued me at night. I prayed he wouldn't become one of the faces that haunted my dreams too.

Grimnir suffered a small smile, his lips slightly curving upwards at the sight of me. I'll be okay, he mouthed. I wanted to believe him.

"There's an emergency kit somewhere down here. There should be medical equipment in it," my father said as he scanned the dungeons beyond Grimnir's cell. "We're going to have to do this the old fashioned way."

I knew damn well my father had not an ounce of training regarding medicine. It had always been a scramble for him to figure out what potions to use or salves to put on whenever I had been sick or hurt back on Midgard. More often than not, I was the one playing nurse-equipped with the very little knowledge I had gained from my mother. I knew that when my father said that we were going to have to do this the old fashioned way, he meant I was.

Without a second to wait for my father's command, I hurriedly got the medical kit before running back to the cell. I stood expectantly at the door, waiting to be let in. My father looked more than unenthused as he lifted the enchantment, allowing me in.

Without a second to waste, I opened up the medical kit. I poured lay denim into Grimnir's mouth before I began my work. Needles, thread, bandages, and viles of potions were flying left and right as I hurriedly worked in Grimnir's wounds. I was doing my absolute best but my craftsmanship was no where near my mother's. I felt guilty giving him such a hack job, especially on his face where I was sure he'd be left with scars. But all the while, Grimnir didn't flinch a bit. The only reaction he showed was a clenched fist or jaw, knowing better than to reach for me in front of mt father. He simply kept his silver eyes focused on me with unwavering attention.

As I finished bandaging up the last wound, I finally noticed the way my father watched my every move. His eyes didn't falter one moment. As I cleaned up, stuffing supplies back into the kit, I found the courage to ask my father, "Why?"

He raised a brow. "Why are you even letting me help him?" I asked softly. My father grimaced, sighing through his nose as he stood. "I know what it's like to be the boy in the cell. I've seen this story unfold before," he replied, his tone sharp and unhappy.

"And?" I asked cautiously, gently cradling Grimnir's head in my lap.

"I don't like the ending," he replied.