The Verdant Prince

Chapter 20: The Striking of Deals

Left in a cramped space for nearly twenty minutes now, left us with nothing to do. Shouts and occasional words were heard outside of the hut, a few even in the hut itself. All we could do was wait and hope Hynola would not sell us out or the warriors to find us. That being said, we all found little ways to entertain ourselves. Asmund had brought out a bundle small string and was braiding intricate designs into it silently, bumping Sif's arm gently each time. Sif had her eyes closed, she clamped down on her lip to keep from yelling at him. Heskell was flicking his blade around silently, still waiting for someone to kill. I, however, being pressed against Prince Loki's back, kept myself entertained with my own wild mind.

He smells musky, as any man really smelled in Asgard, but different. With a tinge of... I couldn't quite place the smell, but it was familiar to me.

White sage and peppermint. Now stop smelling me, it is disturbing. Loki hissed in my mind, and I nearly jumped. Loki had shifted slightly, straightening himself where he stood, barely missing my foot, which I was sure he was well aware of. I hadn't meant to send him such an odd... feeling, but how was I supposed to know? I hadn't sent him anything, I knew that as much. I paused. I was right, I hadn't sent him anything.

Stop reading my mind and I will. I said back snarkily. I knew I couldn't see his face since it was facing the other way, but if I could, he probably would have been smirking. The light from the wide floorboards shone in slightly, casting dusty dull beams of light into the crowded area.

How did you know I was doing that? He asked curiously.

I sure as Hel didn't send you that. I scoffed. And you don't even smell that good, so stop being so prideful. I added bitterly. I refused to give him the satisfaction of that compliment.

You are not any better. You are as filthy as they come. Loki said slyly, exhaling slowly into the darkness.

Footsteps approached the hut and we all pointed our weapons up at the hole entrance. The footsteps were light and careful. Orgnar snaked his arm through the crowd, pressing the small of my back. I nodded, knowing what to do as I was closest to the ladder. I slipped out from behind Loki and around Volstagg, silently climbing the ladder. I hooked my legs around the ladder, aiming both daggers to the trap door, using only my upper body strength to keep myself up. If anyone would uncover the trap door and open it, it only took one small thrust and they would be rid of their head.

The light beams flickered below, and the floorboards creaked. The footsteps above were slow and slightly uneven, one footstep louder than the other. A limp, perhaps? The rug was kicked up with a slight grunt and I leaned forward, ready. The trap door opened slowly and I thrust my blade forward.

"Grafil!" The familiar silky voice of Hynola hissed. Though I did not know her language, I could guess what she had said was a curse. She gasped and shook her head, opening the trap door further. "Asgardians," Hynola mumbled, sighing as she backed away. I exhaled and sheathed my weapons.

"Only Hynola." I turned and reported to Orgnar. He nodded and I climbed the rest of the way up and out of the small basement area. The cool air once again felt refreshing. Hynola stood slightly slumped, resting her weight on a slim stick, a new deep navy blue bruise across her face.

"Was there an attack?" I asked, moving out of the way so the others could climb out as well.

"No. They were a neighboring tribe, looking for you. They spotted your horses and we tried to convince them that we had found them and brought them in. They did not believe us and insisted on searching the village." She explained, a pained expression on her face.