It's been a month since Loki was placed in the cell next to yours. You could hardly believe it when the Prince of Asgard was led through to the dungeon in handcuffs, accompanied by a ridiculous army of guards. You'd heard rumors, whispers of his wrongdoings, but were shocked when they'd turned out to be true.

Regardless of his story however, you were now neighbors in prison, and the irony of it almost made you smile. Almost.

Nothing really changed having Loki in the cell next to you, except that the security nearby increased significantly. And as an added bonus, he certainly wasn't hard on the eyes. Most of the other inmates were filthy, disgusting criminals. At least having Loki nearby made you feel Asgardian again. And his mother, the queen, provided him with items the rest of you could not have: books. In a way, you were living through Loki. When he wasn't looking, you would watch him read and imagine the wonderful stories that must've been filling his head.

Today is a day much like any other. You're sitting against the back wall of your cell, arms hugging your knees, lost in thought as usual. However an unexpected voice brings you shuddering back to reality.

"What is your name?"

You shiver at the sound, unable to hide your surprise. But you recognize the smooth voice and sardonic tone immediately: Loki. He'd never spoken to you before. In fact, you can't remember the last time anyone had spoken to you, and now here you were being addressed by the er- once prince of Asgard. Hesitantly, you turn your head toward Loki, who is standing and facing you with his arms behind his back, waiting for an answer. You clear your throat, unsure you'll be able to find your voice, and tell him your name.

Loki repeats it under his breath, as if digesting the information.

"And what are you in for, (your name)?"

A few seconds was all it took for the conversation to turn to the last thing you wanted to discuss. Sighing lightly, your gaze falls to the ground as the word "murder" leaves your mouth matter-of-factly.

Loki's lips curve upward in an amused smirk. "You?" he scoffs disbelievingly, laughing to himself. "You who sit so contentedly, passing the time deep in thought? You who fear your fellow inmates, but empathize enough to flinch whenever you hear their desperate cries echo throughout the corridor? No. No, I don't believe you're capable of such a thing."

"You would know", you think to yourself amusedly, though dare not say out loud.

"Look," you sigh "you asked what I was convicted of- you didn't ask if I was guilty."

"Indeed. So now it's a question of whether you were you framed, wrongly accused, or if you willingly took the blame for someone else. Clearly the latter, as you lack the anger of someone who found themselves here by accident."

You look up at Loki with a furrowed brow, undeniably impressed by his powers of observation.

The God of Mischief smiles wickedly, relishing in the accuracy of his assumption.

"Why are you talking to me?" you ask. "You've been here for weeks now, and out of the blue you decide to get chummy? Is there something I can help you with my prince, because as you may have noticed, I'm slightly lacking in resources."

Loki holds up his hands in a mock defense.

"Not at all," he assures you. "I merely thought you might be lonely in that pretty little head of yours."

"Well don't feel obligated to acknowledge me out of pity," you instruct pseudo-confidently.

"Heh," he breathes amusedly. "You underestimate my intent. Consider yourself honored my dear. I don't waste my breath on just anyone." And with a sly grin, Loki watches you out of the corner of his eye as he turns away.