Heir to Jotunheim | ✔

Chapter Eight

~Cleopatra's POV~

The dial tone rang, and I fidgeted as I contemplated that maybe this wasn't a good idea. It was past midnight, and Tyr's Mum was surely not wanting to be disturbed. Plus, somebody had leaked a photo a few months ago where she looked pregnant, and if that was true then I didn't want to interrupt the little bit of sleep she could possibly be having.

I was about to hang up, when somebody answered the phone. "Tyr? Is everything okay?"

The voice was deep, a rough sound compared to the feminine one I was expecting. I felt my mouth dry as I realised I was speaking to his Dad. Loki. The God.

"Tyr? What's happened? You said you would send us a text when you were on your way home."

"I... excuse me, Mr Loki, but I'm Cleopatra, Tyr's friend." I chastised myself for stumbling a little over my words.

There was a slight pause, and some noises suggesting he was moving around. "Yes, yes he mentioned you. Why are you ringing on his phone?"

I didn't dare look back in the guest room, and settled for pacing around mine. "Tyr... there was an incident and he's had a lot to drink, so he's sleeping in my spare room for the night. I just thought you ought to know." I babbled, hoping he understood my quick rambling.

Loki seemed to sense there was something more wrong than there was, as his voice got harder. "He's drunk?"

"I..." I peered around my door, to see Tyr fumbling with the drawstring around the pyjama bottoms my Dad had leant him. "Someone upset him and he had a bit more than he probably should." I explained in a weak voice. "It's my fault, he didn't really want to come and then Nathan wound him up... he was really out of line but now Tyr-"

"Stop. Cleopatra, was it?"

"Yes, sir." I mumbled, pulling at my hair in frustration.

He sighed, "it's not your fault. Is he still awake, I should talk some sense into him."

"Please don't be mad at him." I cut in quickly. I regretted my decision as soon as I said it, feeling like he would shout at me.

"I'm not mad." Loki paused, and I could hear his voice quieten. "Dahlia go back to bed. No, it's... Thor." Another pause. "I did not hesitate. Yes, I'll go and check on Brooke. I love you too."

I stepped across the hall to the spare room, and was almost instantly enveloped in Tyr's arms. "Tyr, it's your Dad." I whispered.

"You called my Dad on me?" He croaked, as if I'd betrayed him.

"Please just talk to him," I pleaded, moving my head around to catch his eyes as he huffed childishly.

"Fine." He pulled the phone from my hand, and let me go. I stepped back into my room, but left the door open, as I used a few wipes to remove the fake blood and dust from my face. I wiggled out of my trousers to clean the paint from my leg, and decided I would just have a shower in the morning, and pushed my door shut as I quickly changed into pyjamas.

I knotted my hair at the nape of my neck, and pulled my door open to check Tyr was okay. I filled a glass with water as I walked past the bathroom, then poked my head around his door. "Tyr?"

He was slumped on the bed, head pushed low in the palms of his hands as he groaned softly. I stepped further into the room, and put the glass on the bedside table. "Hey, you okay?"

"My Dad's just... so nice." He wrapped his arms around me when I stepped closer, and I stumbled as he pressed his head against my stomach. "Can I have a hug?" He mumbled.