Chapter Sixteen

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        "What was she like?" I asked. "I mean, if that's all right. I know it's a bit of a touchy subject and all."

        I lay in the cold dungeon cell, staring up at the ceiling. It was a bright white. Same as the walls. Same as the floor. I was starting to appreciate having my father as a roommate rather than being utterly alone. God, it was still a bit weird thinking of Loki being my father. Awesome, I guess, but weird too.

        It was incredible knowing that Asgardian blood ran through my veins. I wasn't going to get sick of the idea of living forever for now, but being connected to Loki meant that a lot of people were going to hate me for all the wrong reasons. That was if they didn't already hate me for killing their Queen, which for the umpteenth time, Odin, I did not do.

        The last couple of weeks had been spent scouring every corner of the small cell for escape routes. None were found. That ended up leading me to find quite a few awkward, but comfortable spots for reading. We only had a few books, since Frigga was the only one who had supplied Loki with them in the first place, and at this point, I had read each of them about five times.

        Each passing hour seemed to get more and more boring, and I thought I was about to lose it. That was, until I decided to ask more about my mom. I just had to hope that Loki was willing to open up a bit and spill. Something he was most likely uncomfortable doing. I was still going to pester him about it, though. No way I was standing down that easily.

        Loki lay on the singular bed we had. They hadn't bothered to furnish the room with another, even after I had joined him down here. So, I got to sleep on it, but he got to enjoy its comforts during the day. If it, in fact, was day. It was hard to keep track of the time, but every now and then the Einherjar would bring us meals. Though, from what I understood, they were much worse than before the Queen passed.

        I was surprised by the thoughtful, almost touching way Loki made sure that I could still have some pleasantries while being locked up in a dungeon. It was his fatherly side, something no one in Asgard had probably seen before. The care he showed was frightening at first. The God of Mischief surely wouldn't be kind unless he planned on tricking you. But, by now, it had become comforting.

        My faux parents back on Earth, Midgard, I still don't care what you call it, had tried to do the same things, but it had never felt right. Knowing that they weren't mine, had sort of killed the moment. I was prepared to be alone, and fend for myself. Now, I didn't have to.

        He finally spoke up. "No, it's fine. She was beautiful. Your mom was from one of the outer villages, but she could have passed for royalty if she'd wanted." I heard him sigh, reminiscing about the time they'd spent together. "We met at a ball. Odin had wanted us, or really Thor, to find a girl. I don't think he expected Eira to come up to me. But, why am I telling you all this, when I can just show you?"

        "You can?" I sat up, excited. "How—"

        Loki's fingers met my temple, as he rolled off the bed. Almost immediately I was transported into a ballroom. It wasn't familiar to me, meaning that the palace still had plenty of rooms for me to explore. If I hadn't been locked up, of course. The lights were dim, candles their only source, but the place was filled with people. Men and women danced across the floor, dressed in beautiful suits and gowns. Most of the ladies' hair were decorated elaborately, their gowns an equal display of talent. Some were embroidered to the point that there was no space left of the dress, others had so many layers, I couldn't keep track.

        It wasn't difficult to find Thor. He was a bit younger, but he still had a parade of women trailing behind him and surrounding him whenever he stopped walking. Every one of them wanted the chance to dance with a prince. They didn't seem to realize that another one stood sulking mere feet away from them.

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