Prologue
Loki lies, one leg bent, on the day bed that sits in the middle of his cell in the dungeons of Asgard. A book is propped up against his bent leg and he stares at the page, rereading the same sentence for the tenth time, unable to focus on the text. One hand rests behind his head, only leaving its place to flip the pages. Little prickles begin to run their way down from his elbow so he sits up, puts his book down and wiggles his fingers. Something is going to happen today; he knows it. He just doesn't know what or when. So, instead of pacing, or taking part in some other form of useless fidgeting, he had decided to read.
Loki looks around at the others with whom he shares the dungeon and continues to massage the pins and needles out of his arm. Some of them pace; some speak quietly to one another through the golden bars confining them to their cells; others call out to the guards that walk up and down the corridor. But the God of Mischief sits quietly, keeping the fact that he knows something is about to occur a secret.
One guard who had been pacing between the cells stops in front of Loki's and watches him.
"Well?" Loki asks lowly, not looking up from his tingling wrist.
"I do not need anything," the guard says.
Loki meets the guard's eyes. "Then why have you planted yourself in front of me if you do not need anything?"
The guard shrugs then continues to pace down the aisle.
There is a crash as one of the big metal doors at the end of the hall slams open. Another guard walks in and makes his way to the one who had just spoken. The two speak quietly and Loki watches out of the corner of his eye. As he catches some of the conversation, he smirks. Heimdall has sensed a disturbance; someone is coming, but they are invisible.
A prisoner across from him chuckles and Loki looks up to see a Dark Elf staring at him, a grin pulling up the corners of his lips.
"What are you laughing at, elf?" asks one of the guards. In response, the elf laughs again. The two guards mutter a few more words to each other, then both hurry down the corridor and out the door.
Loki stands and walks slowly to the edge of his cage, hands clasped behind his back. "I believe," he starts, "that we have something in common."
"I have nothing in common with you, banished Prince," the Elf sneers.
"For your sake, I shall ignore that remark." Loki purses his lips. "Now tell me, what is going on above?"
"You already know."
Loki nods and smiles. "Yes, of course I do, but I would much appreciate a clarification."
"He has found it," the Dark Elf says.
"It what?"
"It. The Amethyst."
"Amethyst? As in the gem?" Loki asks. "What would the Dark Elves need a gem for?" The Elf opens his mouth to say something but is cut off as feet pound across the floor above them. Loki looks up. "I suppose we shall see then," he mutters.