Your Majesty - Loki x OC

4: Two Bad Options

LOKI

I woke up tied to a chair with a pounding headache beating its way through my skull. Not exactly my typical wake up call.

I let out a muffled groan and straightened myself up with an enormous effort. My spine crackled at the motion.

Everything around me was dark. The limited light in the room came from the torches on the walls, casting flickering shadows on the craggy rock. I was alone, and elation filled my being as I realized I was no longer in Odin's palace.

But that begged the question: If I wasn't in the palace, where exactly was I?

At that moment, the door in front of me creaked opened. As soon as I saw who stepped inside, the memories from last time I was conscious flooded back.

She had cleaned off the abhorrent quantities of dried blood, but she was still unmistakably the girl who entered my cell an undetermined amount of time ago.

Her brown hair was braided down her right shoulder, and she had calculating gray eyes, but the most striking part about her was the way she held herself. I had only seen such a confident posture in generals and slightly too overconfident lords and dukes. It was the posture held by those tested in battle.

"Good morning." She said emotionlessly. So either she was sarcastic or I had slept through the remainder of the night. Lovely. "Did you sleep well?"

I gave her a hard glare, not appreciating the snide comments at the moment. "Yes actually. My bed was quite comfortable, and the room service was impeccable. Thanks for asking."

She didn't respond. Instead she strode behind me, and I heard the scrape of wood on stone as she dragged a small table in front of me and to the left. She took a seat on top of it, feet dangling off the edge.

"You realize if you want to sit on something, you could use a chair?" I remarked as she tilted her head, studying me with an intense gaze.

She smirked. "Oh my goodness, really?" She said sardonically. "How peculiar! I usually use them as footstools."

"I'm terribly sorry," I said with a forced smile, testing the strength of the ropes tying me down. "I don't believe we've been properly acquainted. My name is Loki, Son of Odin, god of mischief and prince of Asgard, although I think you already know that." I inclined my head in her direction. "To whom do I owe the pleasure?"

There was no pleasantness in my words, and The Girl picked up on that pretty quickly. "So, princes do have manners after all." She swung her legs slowly back and forth, like a child on a chair too large for someone so small. "I am Freyja, daughter of 'none of your business' and 'quit being nosy.' A pleasure to meet you, Loki." She gave me a bright smile with dark intent behind it.

"Now, Freyja. Why am I here?" I asked, patience wearing thin.

Her smile dropped and her cool demeanor returned. "You're going to help me."

"Hang on for just a moment." I made a face as if I was pondering something. "Let me get this straight: You break into my palace, my home, come into my cell, slaughter a battalion of soldiers in the process, hit me in the head with a sword, tie me to a chair then expect me to cooperate?"

"Basically, yes."

"You're either stark-raving mad, completely incompetent or an absolute genius and I can't decide which." I said dryly, leaning more towards the madness side.

She tilted her head. "Was that a compliment?"

I ignored her. "Why in the name of all nine realms would I help you with anything?" My temper began to rise, but I kept my composure, as did she.