He had the most beautiful eyes, blue and grey like the sky before a storm

That was the first thing I noticed about him, as I stepped into his cell, and he looked up from a book he'd been reading.

Unbelievably beautiful eyes, surrounded by thick, black lashes - as black as his hair that fell free to his shoulders.

I heard as the door closed behind me - and a number of locks, both physical and made by magic, were closed.

This is it. I gulped, nervous and scared. Trapped in a cell with a predator - a beautiful but deadly, like a wild animal.

He took a while looking at me, and I felt like he saw right through me. His evaluative gaze glided from my flaming red curls all to way to my bare feet that were visible under the hem of my simple, white dress, and it made me shiver - as if he'd been touching me, not just watching.

There was a displeased look on his handsome face, as he closed the book and laid it on a nearby table. Nimbly as a cat, he stood up and walked a few steps closer to me.

"Why are you here?" he asked. His voice was like black velvet. Like sweet, dark wine. Like forest honey, that dripped on my skin.

It had been a long time since I'd talked to anyone. That's what being in prison does to you. Solitude and silence become the normal state of mind, and at some point the mere thought of opening one's mouth to exchange words with another person, begins to feel absurd.

I tried to speak, but the words didn't come easily.

"Answer my question." He stated, with a voice that told me he was used to commanding people.

"I was sent, My Lord." I breathed, my voice husky and raw on my ears.

"Why?"

I blushed. "For entertainment."

"Ah." he chuckled, but there was no warmth in his smile. "And what makes you think, that I'm in need of ... as you say, entertainment."

"I have not dared to think so, My Lord. The decision wasn't made by me."

"Is that so?" His voice was full of stabbing an irony.

He tilted his head, as if trying to decide what kind of a creature was I, and then decided to walk slowly closer. Determinately he raised his hand, and grabbed my chin, forcing me to raise my face and confront his gaze.

"Well, you're here." He said, after a few heartbeats, and let go of my chin. "Entertain me."

"My Lord, I do not-"

"Ah, useless." he muttered. "You are not proving to be much of an entertainment. You have barely spent a minute in my room, and I am already bored. Is there anything you can do? Can you even talk?"

"I can talk." I breathed.

"Good." he raised an eyebrow. "Then tell me who are you."

"I'm no one."

"No one. Sent to 'entertain' me. Is that supposed to be funny?" He shook his head, making me feel miserable.

I knew I was failing in my mission, but the task I had been given, simply was too hard. Loki was nothing like I had imagined, nothing like the sad, lonely prince I had thought he'd be, all those days I'd lay on the floor of my cell, admiring his beauty through the windows.

He was mean, and he was scary. And he was so beautiful, it made my heart skip a beat every time I managed to raise my eyes to glance at him.

"It's just… it's been very long since I've talked to anyone, My Lord."

"Oh." he said. "Another prisoner, then. The human girl from across the hallway, if I'm not mistaken."

I nodded, still unable to look him in the eye.

"Tell me, little human… what did you do to get here?"

"I'm not really a human, My Lord. My father was an Asgårdian, my mother a human."

"Interesting. But you're avoiding my question, wench." His voice was suddenly hard, as was the look on his face. "What did you do, to be imprisoned?"

I bit my lip, and looked at my toes.

"A murder." I breathed, my voice as faint as a feather.

"You are a murdered?" he asked, his voice clearly amused all of the sudden. "You, a nobody. And who did you kill, if I may ask?"

"My father."

And hearing my answer, he laughed out loud.

"Oh, delicious!" he chuckled. "You are interesting. A pretty little human girl, who killed his Asgårdian father. I can appreciate that."

But I didn't want him appreciating the most desperate thing I had ever done.

I remembered all too well that night, that had brought me here. The irony taste of fear on my tongue, the burning acid of guilt, the anger in my gut, and the regret in every cell of my body. Not a regret for taking a life, but for losing my innocence.

"Why did you do it?" he asked silently, still smiling. He had walked a bit further away from me, and now he turned to look at me again, and for the first time I saw interest in his eyes. "Did you do it for revenge, for desperation - or for just the fun of it?"

"Not all fathers are good fathers." I replied, and suddenly I felt a shadow of an old rage, long buried, heating my blood. "Not all fathers deserve to live."

"Is that so?" He laughed softly and pressed his fingers to his lips for a moment, examining my eyes. "Maybe there are things we agree on. Tell me, human, what did your father do, that you'd take his life?"

But I didn't want to answer.

There was a knot inside of my heart, keeping in all the secrets I had lived through my life, and that knot couldn't be opened this easily.

I took a deep breath to cool down, and suddenly my mouth felt very dry. Loki stared at me in silence, his eyes still revealing nothing, but I knew well enough, that he must see how my heart was pounding, my chest heaving with my shallow breaths.

"My Lord." I finally managed to whisper. "I've been a prisoner all my life. First, enslaved by my father, and after his death caged by Odin, sentenced for a life in prison. That is my life, that is all there is to know about me."

"Is that so, human?" He demanded. "You talk about patricide, like it was a deed to be done, an obligation. Something you did, because he deserved it for not being a good father. But I think there is more than you are telling me. Can you look me in the eye, and tell me you didn't enjoy taking a life? Do you dare to claim, that you do not rejoice by remembering how intoxicating it was to take away his right to live?"

"And even if it were so, my Lord, why would you care?" I breathed, trying to stay calm, but he must've seen as my fingers clenched to fists.

"Oh, angry, are you?" He grinned, and suddenly walked closer to me.

"Yes."

"That's my favorite feeling." he noted.

"Not mine."

"If you say so." He smirked. "But your eyes tell me otherwise."

He stopped right in front of me, and raised a hand to touch my face, let his cool, thin fingers glide on my burning cheek.

I shifted nervously. There was something in his touch, that made me uneasy. He must have noticed that, but it didn't seem to make any difference to him, for he didn't stop. My heart was beating like the wings of a humming bird, as he let his fingers move down, brushing my lips, and then following my neck to my collarbone.

I felt my nipples hardening, just before he pulled his hand away.

"You have beautiful eyes." he said. "Green - it is my favourite colour."

I made a small, surprised gasp. So, he was capable of speaking nicely.

"So do you." I breathed.

"Did you say that to my brother as well?" he asked out of the blue, and suddenly his voice was cold as steel.

"I'm sorry-?"

But I was interrupted mid sentence by Loki, who suddenly grabbed me with force, and pushed me against the wall so that it hurt.

"I asked 'Did you say that to my brother as well', wench!" he hissed at my face, and I felt his hot breathing on my lips. "It was him who sent you, wasn't it?"

"It was him, My Lord." I tried to keep my voice calm.

"Why?"

"I do not know." I lied. "To entertain you, he said. To ease your time in this dungeon."

He observed my face for a few heartbeats, until he finally seemed to be satisfied with my answer, and let me go.

"In other words, my noble brother Thor sent you here to prostitute yourself."

I blushed and bit my lip.

Yes, it had been one of the tasks Thor had given me, but hearing it from Loki's lips… was another thing entirely.

"That might have been his meaning, yes." I replied, unable to meet Loki's eyes.

"And did you have anything to say about the matter?"

"What can a human girl say to a God?" I answered with a question, for how could've I said the truth? The embarrassing truth, that I had longed for Loki since I had first laid my eyes on him. Since then had my body ached for him, my lips for his kiss, my ears to hear his voice, my skin to feel his touch.

But now that I was close to him, I felt too shy to even look at him.

"I am a God too." he whispered, pushing me close to the wall again. His breathing fell to my lips, and my mouth watered. He smelled of salt, musk and leather, and my spine shivered as he leaned closer to me.

"Do not mistake me for an ordinary man." He exhaled, clenching his teeth. "Do you think that your insignificant, short life means anything to me? I could send a sweet message to my brother by ripping your body to pieces. I have killed for a lot less, killed little human girls like you. Do I make myself clear?"

I could not breath properly. His slim, cool fingers grabbed my throat and speaking was almost impossible. I only managed to nod.

"Yes, My Lord." I squealed.

He loosened his grip, and I collapsed on the floor against the wall, like a rag doll - limp, my legs trembling. I pressed my hand to my bosom - my heart beat fiercely with fear - and excitement.

"You have ceased to be entertaining. Get out of my sight." He walked over to glass like wall, and leaned on it with both hands, breathing heavily.

"Guards!" He shouted, and his voice cracked.

Almost instantaneously, two guards - armed from head to toe - arrived to take me away. Loki only glanced at me once, the look in his eyes scornful - as if I was worth nothing.

"Take the whore to her cell." He said, and with that he sat down on his divan, and picked up the book he had placed down on my arrival.