I wanted to scream but I couldn't.
He had taken my voice.
If I even wanted to escape from this life, I was already his.
My body, my mind, it all belonged to him.
Till one day he left, without a word. I didn't know how to survive without him.
The Av...
Who didn't want to be a princess when they grew up?
To be waited on, hand and foot.
The luxurious dress's, the royal treatment.
I never knew how shitty I could feel.
My father had always been a weak man growing up in Asgard, tempted by others who were richer than us. We may not have been rich with money, but we had love and each other.
One day, my mother fell ill, plagued by an illness that made her weak and vulnerable. I had to step up and take over all the chores in the household whilst my father worked. I was only 16 years old. Between juggling taking care of our small but humble home and being a nurse to my mother, the illness finally took her when I was 20 years old.
Something in my father changed. He went from being an overjoyed family merchant to becoming a dispirited bitter drunk. He drowned away all his sorrows in a bottle, so I now had to take care of him, morning and night. He began to resent me; I wasn't sure if it was because I had become the sole provider of our home or because I had a strong resemblance to my mother. Long, chocolate locks flowing down my back, hazel eyes, a small button nose. I was a lot thicker than my mother, because of her illness she lost over half her body weight. Most days, I would come home and attempt to speak to my father, but he would look at me in disgust. I began to fear this was my life, a resentful father, a tortured home. Till one day, I arrived back to our small cottage to find the royal guards standing outside of my home.
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Hesitantly, I walked through the door to see my father on his knees in front of Prince Loki, I couldn't get a good look at all of him, only his side profile. He looked like a giant in that seat compared to my father, his legs sprawled out in front of him and his large hand holding the side of the best chair we had. His coal black hair brushed back down the nape of his neck. He briefly turned to acknowledge my presence in the room, his piercing blue eyes burning into mine.
My father's desperate eyes darted in my direction for a brief second before returning to Loki. Loki returned his attention to my father, with an amused look on his face.
"Are you absolutely sure you want to go through with this?" his deep voice rumbled, echoing through the small room. Dread began to sink through my whole body, not liking how the question was phrased.
I would never forget the way my father looked at me, with pleading eyes. At the time, I did not know what he was pleading for.
"Yes, I am sure, your highness."
With those last two words, two of the armed guards from outside came into the room, and their presence was menacing and cold. I held my breath in as I waited to see what would unfold. What the hell had my father gotten himself into?
