When we come to a stop in front of Loki's cell, he remains seated, face turned towards the back wall of the room.
"Brother," Thor says, smiling. "I bring you good news. You are to live!"
"What kind of a life is it when I am trapped here alone, like a dangerous animal? Tell me brother, what is the good news?"
"Hope, brother," Thor says, less jubilant. "Where there is life, there is hope. Someday you may be free of the bars, free to walk among our people once more."
"They are your people, not mine. Whether or not I may someday walk among them, they will not walk where I go. These are the same people who want me dead, brother, and you among them. Not a one of you spoke for me from the beginning." His tone is cold, though I think I can sense that beneath the front he is maybe more hurt than angry.
"Trust me brother, I am very sorry for that, but it took someone who thinks very differently than myself to find a solution, and for that I humbly ask your forgiveness." Thor hangs his head as Loki brings his up, green eyes snapping.
"I forgive nothing!" He shouts, voice getting louder with each word. "Did you ever think maybe the reason only one person in that whole room could think past killing me was the only one who doesn't know me? The stupidest person in the room thought of your bloody solution, an inferior, small-minded human. The weakest form of life."
Thor meets his brother's gaze, bringing his head back up sharply. "Watch your words, brother. By very choice of the King of Asgard, this 'weak' human has been chosen to join into our family."
"Yes, and I can already see why he did so," Loki retorts, nodding at our hands, still joined from our journey down. "Everyone knows you have a weakness for human women, and this way even father can approve."
"I believe I've already told you just how wrong you are about that particular subject," I say, quietly but firmly before Thor can begin yelling.
"You spoke only for yourself, you revolting quim," he retorts, curling his lip into a snarl.
"A pity you find me so revolting," I say with some amusement, "since we will be seeing quite a lot of each other for the next while."
"What?" Loki asks incredulously. Thor takes one look at his brother's face and breaks into hearty laughter.
"Trust me, I am no more thrilled than you are," I respond drily. I slip my hand out of Thor's and turn in anticipation of leaving.
"Oh, but I am very thrilled, little human," he says snidely, breaking into a small, sly grin.
I purposely avoid his gaze, turning instead to Thor before I leave. "See you tomorrow, then," I say and slip out of the room before any more can be said.
.*
It's late enough now that I find I'm the only person wandering the halls, and I'm grateful for the silence that follows me up the staircase, something I haven't had much of in the past few days. Considering all there solitude there was out in the mountains, returning to Asgard has really put into perspective just how alone I was used to being.
I close the door to my rooms and let out a tired sigh, planning to run a bath and relax. It's been a long day and I think some bubble therapy is in order. Until I turn around and take in the room, namely, the man standing in the middle of the room.
"I haven't had a chance to ask, since your coronation the other night," Naslund says, unclasping his hands from behind his back. "Do you go by Princess now, or should I still refer to you as Lady?"
"Lady," I answer, shrugging off my sweater. "And if you don't mind, Naslund, it's been a long day and tomorrow looks to be even longer, so I'd like to get some rest."
"King Odin suggested that you might like to learn to create boundaries, to throw up barriers strong enough to keep a certain prisoner behind them. Since you will have to advance greatly in this talent in order to keep such a skilled magician from breaking through, I thought tonight was the best time to start."
My spirits sink, mentally kissing the hope of a nice long soak goodbye. "Where do we start?" I ask, slipping out of my shoes before crossing the room.
"Casting a barrier isn't hard," Naslund begins, pacing by the window like an old professor, reciting the same lesson for the umpteenth class. "It is maintaining and strengthening the force that gets to magicians. It takes extraordinary concentration to maintain a barrier. Before we work on strengthening yours, we are going to work on concentration."
He moves to one side of the room and pulls a cover off of a painting sitting on an easel.
"This is Origin, a painting done by a very distant ancestor of the All-father. I will give you a few moments to study it, and then I will ask you to reproduce the image on paper. The day you can concentrate efficiently enough to perfectly reproduce an image is the day we will move on to actually casting barrier spells."
"You can't be serious," I say, staring in horror at the painting. I feel like I could stare at it for a thousand years and still miss details.
"You're on the clock," he says, noticing I am already studying the drawing. "You have ten minutes."
My eyes fly furiously across the paper, trying to remember all the details of the artwork. I scan from top to bottom, left to right and before I am ready, Naslund covers the painting and hands me a piece of paper and a handful of coloured pencils.
I start with the top left quadrant and fill in all I remember before sketching the top right square. When I'm satisfied that I've done a reasonable good job, I hand the paper to Naslund, who scans it quickly before crumpling it up and throwing it out the window.
"If that was the equivalent of the concentration you could put into a barrier, a first-year student of magic could break through that. A word of advice," he says, "sketch loosely the big picture before focussing on details. I'll be back about this time tomorrow, with a new picture. And make sure you know your colours. None of your shades are right and that's something you should be concentrating on as well."
I groan. "Can't we continue with that picture?"
"Then we aren't working on concentration; this all becomes a matter of memorization, which will get you nowhere. Sleep well, my Lady." Before I can protest further, Naslund gracefully exits the room and I sink into a chair in defeat.
I stare for a moment at the pencils, which Naslund left behind. I note the shades I have and what colours could mix to make them lighter, darker, or more intense. Finally convinced I've studied the palette before me as much as I can, I drag myself to my feet and start a bath.
Moments later, I sigh in content as I sink into almost scalding hot water, laced with perfume. I wash quickly and then take my time relaxing. I can almost feel the kinks of tension loosening in my neck and shoulders. For the first time since Thor and I began my training sessions, I don't feel my muscles burning, though there is a nice tingle in my submerged skin. I've always liked incredibly warm baths, and I close my eyes contentedly, feeling peaceful for the first time since I left my cabin on Earth.
When I open my eyes, I realize by the drastic drop in temperature that I'd fallen asleep. I sit up, about to get out of the bath and into bed when I hear muffled footsteps out in the sitting room. Very slowly I stand and reach for the towel, so the dripping doesn't give me away. I slowly cross the room to the door, walking on tiptoe. I can't hear movement anymore, but I quietly turn the knob anyway, opening the door soundlessly.
There are two very large men rooting through the drawers in a stand by the window. I am alarmed by more than their height, my attention immediately going to their more unusual feature: their skin. I've never seen a god with such skin colour. Usually, they possess the same range of skin tones that the humans do, unless they're like the god of leaves or something and turn themselves green.
These two, however, aren't green; both possess skin that glows an eerie blue in the moonlight. Call me crazy, but the only creatures I've heard of that match their description are the frost giants in Jotunheim. I can't think of a reason for them to be sneaking around Asgard, though, let alone why they'd be in my rooms.
And since I just awoke, I do something I would never do in full control of my senses; I shout at them, causing one to slam a drawer on the other's hand. "You do not have permission to be here!" I yell, trying to look fierce while wrapped in only a towel. My dripping, tangled hair probably doesn't do me any favours.
Whatever they came for, it must not have been to kill me, because as soon as I called, they moved for the door. Again, because I am not thinking straight, I chase after them, trying futilely to reach them before they reach the door. I am still a good few feet away when the door slams shut. I stop and glance around the room, which looks undisturbed, other than one of the drawers being open a few inches.
Whatever they were looking for, I don't think they found it. Though it wouldn't stop someone who really wanted in, I lock the door from the inside and return to the bathroom to detangle my hair. Once that is done, I drop the towel and shrug into a warm, fluffy robe and crawl into bed, though it's a long time before I relax enough to drift back into sleep.