A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR! I'm gonna start off the new year by posting this chapter – a chapter I think you'll all love and hate. At least hate me anyway, for I have done the impossible…I've created a DOUBLE cliffhanger! I'm oddly proud about that.
Sadly, there might be a few mistakes here and there or awkward moments that I didn't catch. It's mainly due to the fact that my beta reader hasn't contacted me about it. I apologize beforehand if anything seems odd or out of character. In this chapter the Warrior's Three and Lady Sif are introduced and I only had to go on what the movie (the first Thor movie) depicted them as and a few fanfics. CONSTRUCTIVE CRISITISM is welcome on how I did with them, as well as everyone else made by Marvel.
Anyway, time for thanks. Since the last chapter there have been a few followers: smileyheather24, C.A. Crest, p0ny85, Blue Wolf29, centaur-stars, and roseangel21 (this one of the story and myself). With those followers, a handful of people favored PoA, as well: centaur-stars, roseangel21, and Stalona. Lastly, there have been two voters: fangirl-friend2 and BleachLover11.
***VOTE COUNT:***
Loki- 14
Steve- 10
Please let me know how I did with this chapter (it was a real bitch to write in the beginning) and what you thought about the ending. Read and review.
Ch. 11: There are Illusions in the Dark
I can't follow the sense of time in this state of semi-consciousness. I merely know that people come and go and the guards are changing with them. The fireplace has been put out for what feels like a long time now; torches take its place. I try to keep the time by the sounds I hear either sounds of day or night – happy singing birds or hooting owls. It all becomes white noise – background noise – at some point and I lose concentration. The conversations I hear in the distance are far more interesting. Every day (or night) the guards leave and…handmaidens come into this room to…to…wash me. They never say a word; they simply wash diligently and silently. I think Frigga watches them to make sure they don't harm me. Freaky and weird, but sweet in a way.
Thor and Frigga are the only ones to visit me; although, Frigga states Odin wishes he could, he is simply busy. My dad was always working when I was a kid and HE found time for me. I even helped him out in the field when I was old enough – I didn't know I was working at the time, but I loved every second of it. Odin simply being "busy" isn't a good enough excuse.
Today (or tonight) is different. I know Thor is coming – I can hear his heavy, confident footsteps marching down the hall – but there's a group of people following him. They all talk hurriedly and quietly. I can make out a single woman's voice in the small group of men.
I welcome the sound of the door creaking open and close.
Unlike many times before, Thor doesn't order the guards to leave.
"That is her?" an accented woman voices, sounding very astonished.
"Aye, Lady Sif." Thor says.
The distinct sound of flat-heeled shoes rushing towards me is short lived and a thin, calloused hand grasps mine. If it wasn't for hearing Lady Sif's voice, her hand would've given her femininity away – thin and lady-like. And hardworking by the feel of it.
Her whisper is nearly lost in the still air. I hear her whisper that name again. That name, that isn't mine, but belongs to the Princess.
"By the AllFather," sounds a male, slightly more romantic voice. He has to be a lady's man by the sounds of it.
More footsteps walk to my bedside and I can feel numerous pairs of eyes gazing down on me. If I could move, I'd be squirming under their gazes. I've only ever done one-on-one interviews for movies or a released CD.
"She hasn't aged a day."
"Aye, she truly hasn't, Fandral. Nothing has changed about her." I can picture Thor smiling as he speaks. Why? Given the circumstances, I don't exactly know. He still thinks I'm his sister and Frigga still thinks I'm her daughter.
"How did this happen?" asks a new man, his voice growling. This one sounds fatherly and like it's normally jovial than those I've heard previously.
"I do not know the exact details, Volstagg." Thor starts to explain. "My father will not fully explain what has happened. I merely know that it happened twenty-five years and three months ago,"
I turned twenty-five three months ago.
Thor continues, "All I know is that there was an attack on the palace by an unknown race. I remember hearing my and Loki's name being screamed by a woman. At the time, I didn't know by whom. Now, I know it was her."
Lady Sif's hand tightens around mine.
"I heard her screaming for help and shouting spells."
"I remember that night. Those…things attacked without warning," Fandral says with concern, placing his hand on Thor's shoulder by the sounds of it. "I KNOW you fought to get to her."
"I wasn't quick enough though. I remember I taught her how to fight, but her lessons were short when I trained her. What could she have done with a sword and shield? Assuming she even had one from the start of the attack." the Prince snarls.
More now probably.
"And just as she began screaming for Father, I saw, through the flames, those monsters taking her away through a portal that appeared out of nowhere. Through all of my rage and hate, I felt her fear and pain. You all know the rest."
There's a silence that falls onto the five of them. Lady Sif gently moves her thumb back and forth over the back of my hand. I can feel their eyes on me again.
"She fought," sounds a different accented voice – Asian? I can feel everyone's gaze shift to the male voice. "For someone such as her it is remarkable."
"Hogun is right." Fandral says. "We all remember her as this delicate doll with an underlying ferocity that yearned to fight alongside her brothers." I can hear his hand clamping down on someone's back – Thor's probably as he's the one that needs the encouragement and positive words. "I may not know exactly when or how often you trained her, but I know she trusted you above everyone else."
"You both had a strong bond – a bond I've only seen in twins." Sif says. "You said you felt her fear and pain that night. We have gone on journeys in the past where we were faced with taxing situations. Yet you remained at peace at times. She felt what you felt and wished for you to remain peaceful, so that you may fight with a clear mind."
"I always found it amazing how close you two were – feeling the other's emotions when they are strong enough. Truly amazing," Volstagg voices.
It sounds amazing. I tell myself with an inward smile; if only I could physically now. No matter how many times I hear Madi and Tom complain about their siblings, I've always wanted one. Someone to protect and love, and them to do the same to me in return. Sadly, with how busy the ranch is and how taxing it can be, my parents couldn't even adopt again. There are Madi and Tom and my cousins, though. I love them all. I wouldn't give them up for anything.
"And now she has returned." Thor says gently. Calloused fingers brush against my forehead and push back a few strands of my hair.
"Do you have an idea when she will wake-up?" Sif asks.
"Mother says when her blood is as it was. I do not know how long that will be. No one does."
"Then we will wait," Volstagg boats proudly. "We will do what we can for her and you and the AllFather and AllMother."
"We will not lose her again nor will we forget her ever again." Fandral swears his oath with an overwhelming sense of pride.
"We shall fight to protect as we always have," Hogun calmly states.
"As a friend to both of you, we will fight and protect as we have sworn to do," states Sif. "Even if we did not swear an oath, we will protect her with our lives." Her hand is a heavy presence around my limp one. I feel Volstagg, Fandral, Hogun, Sif, and Thor's presence around me – staring at me with an air of calming and protectiveness I have only felt with my family and close friends.
Although I don't know these people – with the exception of an illustration of Loki and a brief look of Thor, I don't even know what they look like – and I won't forgive them kidnapping me, yet I feel…safe. Thor, this big time superhero who saved the world a few months back, took me away from my home even though people shouted at him to stop. Didn't he hear them or was he too preoccupied telling Frigga he has me?
Probably not.
He was too preoccupied with taking me away – to see "my family and friends" again, to see that my blood is "safely changing." However, since then, he treats me gently and speaks to me in kind, soothing words. His accented voice was a low thrum in the silent night and his caress a gentle touch against my cheek.
Since my first night here, no one has spoken much of Loki or the potion again. Thor and Frigga only spoke of Loki in passing – about the times she, the Princess, and Loki were together and the moments they've seen.
Now these warriors swear to protect me no matter the cause.
If only there was some way I can communicate with them. I'd tell 'em I'm not a princess or a sister. I've only ever played the part.
"She can hear us even now," Thor softly says, playing with my hair again. "I don't know when she exactly started hearing us, but she can. Maybe, when she wakes up, she'll remember us and there won't be a need for her to drink the potion."
"The one that Her Majesty put in our drinks?" Fandral asks.
"Yes. Lodur had created it ages ago, should the situation ever present itself, under Mother's command. Neither Lodur nor Eir know exactly what my sister was forced to drink – not even with Heimdall's last few seeings. He has seen the vial, but he does not know if that plays anything important."
There's a stretch of silence that falls upon them. The only sounds I hear are that of their and the guards' breathing. Those are the only sounds; the birds must've sensed that this is a serious matter and decided not to utter a peep. If I hadn't heard their breathing, I would've thought I was alone. And a deafening silence in the dark is the worst of the worst.
Thor sits beside me; the soft bed gives under his heavy weight. His hand, ever large and coarse, cradles the side of my face with a gentle touch. His rough thumb brushes itself under my closed and still eye. In that dawning realization of when I first met him I remembered how large and grizzly and positively manly he looked. In the shops I've passed after the attack, I've seen what the really brave (or really stupid) reporters caught on camera; him killing those aliens with a hammer and summoning lightening with it as well. For someone such as that to have such gentleness about him is truly surprising. Whether it be in this touch or in his voice.
"Have you told her the time you were shrunken down to the size of pea so that you may swim in your goblet of ale?"Volstagg suddenly asks, laughing whole-heartily.
I'll admit, it does sound funny.
"Of course I haven't!" Thor snaps, although I can hear the smile in his voice. "In these last few days I've been trying to make her remember the less embarrassing moments between us."
Everyone laughs at him, which is surprising with him being a prince. I guess they're all close enough to feel so comfortable.
"You see, lass," Volstagg whispers happily in my ear, "your brother was so happy with the latest battle that he drank himself silly."
"He was boasting and sauntering; making a complete fool of himself." Fandral laughs. "Had it not been for Queen Frigga, I fear he would've done far worse than kiss a few girls."
"Nearly stripped himself naked, he did." I can feel the smirk on Sif's lips as she non-discretely whispers in my ear.
Okay, now things are getting good.
"Must you tell this story?" Thor leaves my bed, groaning in embarrassment.
"Of course! This story never grows old."
Volstagg continues with the story, "Then after his mother and father left, only for a moment mind you, lass, Thor saunters up to Loki asking him to flood the halls with mead and ale. Loki could not—would not do this, claiming that it simply flood out of the hall and into the ground outside the palace. So, the Trickster did the next best thing to keep your brother happy. Placing an impatient Thor near his drink, Loki shrunk the Thunderer down to the size of a grain of rice!"
Everyone, minus Thor, bursts out laughing. I can only think of laughing.
"It is not that funny," Thor grumbles.
"Oh but it was, my friend," Fandral chortles. "And you swam and drank in your goblet for the rest of the night like some fish."
"In the coming morning, we found him mindlessly floating in his cup with a blissful, drunken expression on his face. He was okay of course, just spent the few days after that night in his chambers." Volstagg finishes with a smile in his voice.
"I did not drink that much."
"Of course you didn't, Thor. It's not like we didn't measure how much was in that goblet to begin with and afterwards." There's a smug, playful tone in Sif's voice.
"Now what story shall we tell the Princess next?" Fandral asks. "Hum…perhaps one of the times she tricked you with an illusion maiden?"
One of?
"Or perhaps a more heroic act from you? When her mare was spooked and ran off, only to have you rescue her?"
"I'd rather that than an embarrassing tale."
Oh, come on! Where's the fun in that?
Volstagg, Fandral, and Sif take turns telling the story of how Thor rescued the Princess from her frightened mare. They (plus the silent Hogun from time to time) tell it from their points of view with Thor throwing in his personal thoughts and heroic actions. I'll admit it does sound amazing, like it's out of a romantic movie, but I'm not going to let their sweet stories poison my brain though. How could I simply let their actions (Thor's mostly) go away without a second thought? He took me away from my home at my weakest point to a…God knows where.
…
For the next few hours they continue to tell small funny and embarrassing stories about this Princess. No matter how hard I try to ignore those smiling words and happy tales, I wish I could interact with them. Smiling and laughing with them; it's contagious to hear them.
Yet they dance around the statement – a statement I've been hearing for a while now – that I'm her. I KNOW I'm not. I can't be. There have been multiple times where I played a princess or a queen in movies, but I haven't confused myself with their royal titles. The news said that Thor's an alien – even though he looks like a handsome human – maybe…maybe they confused me for the roles I played? I've seen a race of aliens do that, albeit they were TV shows.
No, they sound too intelligent to fall for something like that.
A smooth hand slides out from mine and Lady Sif stands up. "Time grows short I'm afraid," she says mournfully.
"Aye, but do not fret we will return in the morn." A romantic voice jokingly purrs.
"Take care how you speak, Fandral," Volstagg chuckles joyfully. "Remember what happened the last time you attempted to win her hand?"
"I do." I can hear the warning tone in Thor's voice.
"I merely jest with her! It was all said in jest!" Fandral exclaims, I can picture him raising his hands in surrender. "Do not worry so, Thor."
"Based on previous experiences I'd say I have every right to worry, my friend."
Oh gawd, he flirted with his sister, didn't he? Gross.
"Do not worry, lass, the guards will return very soon." Volstagg humbly says, gently patting my still hand.
When did they leave? THEY'RE actually leaving?! Frigga said someone would always be here with me!
A cold, sick feeling enters my stomach at the knowing thought of being alone in my world of darkness. I can't see anything beyond my closed eyelids, don't they know that? The fire has died ages ago and the torches remain unlit and the lands outside remain eerily quiet. I had always known that there was life in this room just by the soft sound the guards made and by the sounds outside, and now the guards aren't not here? I'll be here, all alone in my own little world surrounded in darkness, in a place I have no idea about!
PLEASE tell me that someone is outside my door!
"Fear not, sister," I hear Thor whisper, "there are guards stationed outside your door."
He musta read my mind.
Or maybe it was that "twin telepathy" they spoke of earlier.
"We'll be back in the afternoon tomorrow."
They quietly leave the room, their departure noted by the creaking door and the fading footsteps. Despite the comfort of knowing that there are guards outside the door, fear slowly creeps up along the bedsides. Their fingers are long, bony, and dark; eager to take me away into the never ending shadows. I can feel a cool smoothness wrapping around my legs sending goosebumps rising up the length of my body. I can feel my heart pounding violently against my breast. I can hear the heated blood rushing speedily throughout my veins – from my head to my toes. I desperately attempt to move; a finger, my nose, or a twitch of my brow. SOMETHING!
Please…, I inwardly whimper, please, somebody come here!
"Sister," a small boy harshly whispers. A door slowly opens sliding against the smooth, hard floor. His tiny bare feet rapidly pat against the floor. He climbs up on top of the bed; it doesn't even give under his weight.
"Sister," he softly says again, as his tiny hands are as light as a feather on my shoulder, "what are you doing here? Never you mind, wake-up! There is something I wish to show you! Come on now, wake-up! I wish to show you what Mother has taught me! Then, I'll show you something else. Come on, wake-up!"
Remarkably, with a twitch of my fingers, a feeling of awareness enters my body. My eyes immediately begin to rapidly move under my eyes. Just to make sure I CAN move, I press my fingers deeper into the clean sheets and curl and stretch out my toes under the covers. I can feel my chest rise and fall in an uneven rhythm. The corners of my lips practically twitch with the need to rise and give a toothy smile. I can hear the crackling of numerous torches.
It's short lived; however, I feel someone hovering above me. It doesn't feel like Frigga nor does it smell like her. It smells…manly; like sweat, heavy musk, and earth.
My eyes flutter open. Each time I blink the image of the male person becomes clearer and clearer; he's tanned skin, fair haired with scruff on his jaw, and is dressed in gold armor. Seeing him more and more, my eyes slowly widen and my mouth opens wide and I take a deep breath only to release a loud, ear-splitting: "WAAAAAAHHHHHH!"
My right hand flies out from underneath the covers and harshly connects with his unsuspecting nose. He lets out a sharp yelp and staggers back as I literally roll out of the bed. More guards swarm around their injured comrade. Glancing around me I search for some type of weapon; I quickly swipe out a heated red fire poker and point it at them all. I panically look at the all. Their faces are both stunned and enraged as the look back at me.
I let out a startled gasp when more guards burst through the doors; jerking my trembling arms towards them. They all point their swords at me, glaring at me.
"What is going on in here?" I hear Odin roars, barreling through the golden mass. When I see him I swallow a large lump in my throat and my stomach tightens in fear. His snow white hair is a stark difference against his black and silver armor and deep red cape. His one visible eye widens; the eye patch hiding the other. Unlike the other men, whose smooth faces are lit by the torches by them, Odin's face is marred with age lines along his forehead and under his eye. If he did not have his beard I'd imagine that there would be more deep lines under that.
Despite his astonished look melting into adoration, I point my "weapon" at him.
"Make way, please, make way!" I hear Frigga breathily say.
"Your Grace, I don't think that…"
She doesn't listen to the guards around her; she pushes her way through until she's standing beside Odin. She lets out a soft cry and quickly covers her mouth. Her hazel brown eyes fill with unshed tears. Her golden brown hair is in an elegant half-up, half-down do and falls gracefully over her shoulders. The long, light purple gown brushes against the floor. Unlike Odin, her age isn't as obvious.
Frigga goes to step forward and I swipe the poker at her. Odin's hand fluidly goes in front of her; stopping her from advancing towards me.
Smart man.
Through the thick, tense air and the rushing blood in my head, I hear thundering footfalls storming down the hall towards the people filled door.
"What, in the name of Odin, is going on here?!" Thor roars anger in his words.
He steps through the flood of guards to stand near Odin, glancing at him before his eyes widen when he spots me. Thor hasn't changed since I last saw him; blonde shoulder length hair with a matching beard, unnaturally cobalt blue eyes, and a handsome young face. I'm rather stunned with myself that I'm not more frightened to see him nor am I relieved to see him.
He has my color eyes.
Even though he was the one that took me away, I leave my weapon pointed at Frigga. She was the only one brave enough—eager enough to come up to me.
"You're awake." All of this rage and anger leaves his face and body as he looks at me. Much like Frigga, he goes to take a step forward and Odin stops him like he stopped Frigga.
I wave the poker between the three of them; torn between who I should leave it at.
"Lower your swords." Odin orders, staring at me with an unwavering gaze.
Without any questions the guards lower their weapons – swords or spears or axes, all elegantly deadly in their own right. I've never seen anything like them before. More fear wraps around me in a thick blanket.
"Leave us." He sends out his second command in a low, threatening voice. I slowly turn my weapon towards him; seeing him as the greater threat now. All sorts of scenarios run throughout my head until I'm nauseated – and I swallow back a tickle in the back of my throat – and I try to see if I can work them out.
Thor could be my greatest fight. Odin and Frigga are old – I can take 'em. My grip tightens around the poker. Stab 'em in the neck.
"Are you sure, Your Grace?" asks the guard that I punched, a glimmer of hate shining in his eyes and blood staining his upper lip and nose. It's his fault! How else was I supposed to react with a strange man hovering over me?
"Leave." Odin simply says.
The guards reluctantly leave the room with their eyes boring into me. Holding my weapon of choice close to my chest I try to ignore their burning stares and wish I had one of their weapons. They look like they'd do more damage.
The double doors slide shut with a small click. Their footsteps don't sound down the hall like they normally do. They're waiting outside the door. …Damn.
Frigga softly says the Princess' name again with a smile on her face. I instantly point the poker at her with a fierce glare.
"I don't know who that is, but that is NOT my name!" I growl at her.
"Of course you are," she tries to reason, voice gentle and full of love, yet she doesn't step forward. "That is your name and you are my daughter."
"I already HAVE a mother, thank you very much, and her name is Rosabella." My gaze burns when I look at Odin. "And I already HAVE a father; too, his name is Abraham." When I look at Thor my glare intensifies. "I'm an only child. NONE of you are related to me."
"Sweetheart," Frigga starts but stops when Odin cuts her off.
He whispers in her ear – his voice is so soft it's lost to me. Defeat crosses her soft, aging face and her shoulders lower in depression.
Glancing at Thor during their exchange it seems like he's torn between saying something or not; almost unsure of what he wants to say. His azure eyes flicker left and right and glance at me quickly, before searching for words in the air again. I notice that his lips slowly move; too slow to know what he's saying to himself.
When Odin turns back towards me I can't completely read his expression – it's cold and commanding. "You WILL remain here for the night," he tells me, "and you WILL join us to break our fast in the morning. You will, also, remain here until it's safe for you to return to Midgard."
"What?" I ask in astonishment, eyes wide in shock.
"Father?" Thor asks, sounding just as dumbfounded as me.
Odin continues as if Thor and I aren't confused by this exchange, "There will be guards posted outside this room – the door and others will be patrolling outside the window you see there." He gestures to the tall window behind me. I don't turn around to look at it, in fear that they'll jump me.
I struggle to find the right words throughout all my jumbled thoughts. "Wh…You can't do that!" I shout in bewilderment. "This is KIDNAPPING! And if you don't return me back home you're in for a world of hell!"
"You are MY daughter!" All patience is now lost with Odin and I stagger back from the sheer ferocity in his voice. "You were taken from US and now you are home, and you will stay here."
These people are crazy. I think to myself.
Look at them though, says another voice deep in my subconscious, can you not see that they love you? That Thor does look a lot like you in some ways, and he does take after Odin in some respects by the looks of it. Don't banish the thought.
Weakly shaking my head, I tell him in a terrified tone of voice, "No…." He can't be serious, can he? "I…I am NOT your daughter! I don't even know her!" I desperately look at Frigga and Thor, seeking help from them – any help will do really.
"You are our daughter and sister to Thor. You will remember all of that you are and what you represent to this family and this realm. You must trust us."
"Trust you?! How can I trust you when you have ASLAN" – I angrily wave the poker over to Thor – "over there take me away, forcefully by the way, and now you're treating me like a prisoner?" All the fear I felt melts away to rage.
"Aslan?" I hear Thor mutter to himself. From the corner of my eye, I see him look at me. "I do not under—"
"You are not a prisoner," Frigga reassures me with a kind and loving tone of voice, "it is merely for your protection should those who have taken you away from us return."
"Then let me go home." I beg her, eyes pleading. "They've already found your daughter, they didn't find me."
"This is your home. And we now know what they look like and what powers they possess," Odin says. He turns around with his cape swirling about him and walks to the closed doors. "Tomorrow afternoon you will be returned to your own chambers in the High Tower."
My grip on the poker loosens, but I quickly grasp it with white knuckles. I watch as Frigga and Thor reluctantly follow him.
"ODIN!" I roar, marching up to him, he doesn't turn around. "ODIN, portami a casa! O giuro che ti ammazzo, figlio di un CAGNA!" With the final word of the threat and insult, I reel my right arm back and viciously stab the wooden door with the cooper fire poker. Gasping, I jump back when it is actually deep within the door. I'm stunned by the strength I've possessed to do that – anger or no anger, adrenaline or not – its half way stab through massive door.
"Her strength is returning." I hear Frigga mutter with a soft and grateful tone.
I frantically try to pull and wiggle my only means of defense out of the door. Hand combat fighting be damned! Those guys have weapons that can hack me in two!
I let out a yelp when I'm suddenly on my ass and the copper clangs loudly on the floor besides me. Ignoring that dull throb, the hole in the door, and the chunk of wooden from the door, I scramble to the farthest corner in the room and sit there. I focus solely on the light coming from the guards outside it, for they took the only light available with them.
There isn't a moon out tonight and I foolishly can't light a fire.
Desperately, I try not to think of the creeping hands in the dark reaching towards me again. Weakly kicking them away and lamely swinging at them, I keep them at bay.
It'll be morning soon, I tell myself. Just focus on the light outside the door and you'll be safe. You'll be safe…. You'll be safe…. You'll be safe….
All the adrenaline is slowly wearing off; thus, my eyes grow heavy and my body slowly goes limp. The shadowy hands slither up my legs in a cold grasp. I can't fight them off anymore no matter how hard I try to focus on the light.
"Don't worry, sister," sounds a boy, "I'll protect you."
I fall into a dreamless sleep.
…
Waking up, as all mornings are for me, is difficult despite what happened last night. I'm wrapped up in warm, soft blankets on a warm and soft bed that smells so comforting. Through my perfume, from Stark's party, it simply smells…good. Familiar even; it brings a weak smile to my face. My hair isn't even in my face. Yet, even though I'm warm and content, my hand is curled tightly around something cold and hard.
My eyes flutter open and the haziness of sleep slowly goes away. They widen when I see that I'm back in bed. Breathing heavily I stumble and scramble away from it; ignoring the goosebumps that rise on my skin. I still hold onto the poker throughout it all, clutching it to my chest. My back is pressed flush against the stone fireplace as I stare at the bed.
Someone came in here last night…and they…carried me to bed. I attempt to register the thought; not understanding why someone would do that.
The happily singing birds break my attention to them. I quietly and nervously walk up to the tall glass doors. Unlike the wooden ones, these don't make a sound as I open them. A new breath of life enters my lungs as the cool breeze brushes over my skin; wrapping around me and delicately playing with strands of my hair. I walk out onto the balcony smiling one of my grand smiles and rest my hands on the railing, letting the morning rays seep into me.
The gentle wind continues to play with my long hair as I look out to the golden skyline. There are towers of all sorts made of a dazzling gold. Their odd and peculiar shapes are of something from a fairytale book or of a sci-fi movie. Gazing up at the blue sky I see, through the white clouds, what appear to be the outlines of large and breathtakingly beautiful planets and their small pretty moons. In all of the wonder and magic I forget my loathing and my captors.
"Wow…."
This sight puts New York and Paris to shame.
Tiny flying birds cross my line of vision. Their flying dance lowers and lowers happily to the smaller buildings below. Tendrils of smoke rise from cozy cottages. Little boys and little girls laugh and giggle below and grown men and women watch them. The paths they take are all different and I'm left wondering where they're going atop their horses. There are large stretches of green or brown fields behind the homes as they grow their crops with oxen pulling plows with their masters helping them.
They don't seem like monsters.
"Caw!"
"Yipe!" I jump and twirl away at the sudden sound – pointing my poker at it. I lower it when I see it's only a crow. "What?" My brows scrunch together and I tilt my head to the side.
It hops towards me and gently caws again.
"No!" I step back and point at it with my finger.
It stops and tilts its head.
I pull my hand away slightly at its obvious confused expression and intellect. Glancing at the doors I note the curved horn of a guard's helmet. Looking at the large black bird, I hesitantly take a small step towards it with an outstretch hand.
It doesn't move as it waits for me. Its black eyes looking back up into mine.
I gently pat it on the head, muttering, "Good, crow. Smart, crow."
"Caw!"
And, just as it came, it left.
Seconds later, when I enter the bedroom again, glaring at the bed, the door creaks open. A pale-skinned young woman with her long, honey brown hair braided down her back and her body hides under a long, pale rosy pink, two-shouldered Grecian dress enters the room. I spot the small golden embroidery clamped on her right shoulder and right hip. Her large chestnut brown eyes, surrounded by black lashes, widen when she raises her head to see me.
"You're awake!" she shouts, cheeks flaming red, and falls to the ground with her nose touching it. "Forgive me, Your Grace, I did not know you were yet awake!"
"I'm sorry?" I raise a brow at her behavior, holding the dark poker to my chest.
"You mustn't apologize, My Liege, for it is I who must be blamed. I came in unannounced when I should not have done so. PLEASE forgive me!"
I lower my arms to my sides at her strained voice. "Get up and I just might."
She looks up at me with tears shining in her eyes. "I beg your pardon?" she sniffles.
"Get up," I walk up to her and hold out my left hand, "and I'll forgive you. If there is anything to forgive."
Her tiny and smooth hands tremble as they're placed in my own. Slowly she rises to her feet, refusing to meet my eyes. I do not let go of her hands.
"What is your name?" I carefully ask in a nonthreatening tone, trying to get her to look at me. She seems like very young and very nice women.
"Gersemi, Your Grace," she timidly says.
That name, though foreign, rings a tiny and distant bell in my mind. I've never heard that name before and I've never seen her either; yet, I know that name.
"Gersemi," I easily say; the odd sounding name flows off of my tongue easily.
"Yes," her eyes, now empty of tears, flicker up to mine, "it means—"
"Jewel…, treasure…, gem."
How do I know this?
"Yes," she says giddily, smiling widely and looking up at me.
My smile, small and loving, quickly melts away as dark thoughts enter my mind. She comes in here unannounced, begging for forgiveness, and she gives me the title of royalty? I'm soon embodying a grand ruler as I glare down at this pretty and meek girl – who appears to be the same age as me. My hand tightly clutches onto hers. All the joy breaks away and pain etches across her face.
"What are you doing here, really?" I snarl at her, jerking my arm back towards me and her in the process. "Tell me the truth or I SWEAR I'll slit that pretty neck of yours. If you even THINK about screaming, I'll stab this" – I jerk up the copper fire poker, so that its point is hovering above her wide eye – "so deep in your eye you'll die where you stand." I don't mean any of this of course; I'm acting. I've threatened people far worse in movies than I'm currently doing to this girl. The people here seem to react well to this deep, dark, threatening tone of voice if someone wants them to obey them.
"Please, Your Grace," she whimpers, lowering her watery gaze to the floor.
"Look at me!" I rattle her as I harshly growl, glancing at the closed door briefly. When she looks up at me I ignore the guilt gnawing inside me. There's no time for that! I tell myself, She needs to tell me what she's doing here and who sent her.
"Now tell me what you're REALLY doing here."
Gersemi's shaking like a leaf now. She looks left and right, her eyes searching for an answer but ends up empty. Tears fall from her eyes one by one as she looks up me. If I look carefully in them I can see my reflection. Me and me alone. As threatening as I am now to her, it's me in a way. Craving for all the answers I'm being deprived of and seeing one way to get them. She isn't telling me something and she's afraid of me.
No…. She's torn. Torn between telling the Princess the truth and keeping the secret. I see that now. She doesn't see me. She sees her.
"I…I was told by the AllFather to fetch you, so that you may break your fast." She weakly mutters, lowering her eyes when she finishes. "I only thought you'd still be sleeping, which is why I did not announce myself to you."
"Odin sent you?" My nails press deeper into her soft flesh.
She flinches, but nods timidly.
I throw her hands down in disgust. Walking away from her, my glare is never ending. "Get out," I force out between clenched teeth.
"Pardon?" Gersemi looks up at me, confusion swirling in her eyes.
"Get out!" I pick up a random object on the mantle and throw it at her. She yelps as it shatters beside her. She scrambles to get up, tripping over her long skirt. "GET OUT!" I roar, feeling real anger and real rage, and reel my arm back and throw the fire poker at the door. Just as Gersemi closes the other door it pierces it. I can hear her sobbing down the hall.
Breathing heavily, I rip the poker from the other door and throw it to the ground. Grunting and groaning, I shove a massive wooden armoire to rest in front of the door followed by a matching wooden dresser. I move everything expect the bed in front of the door and lock the glass balcony's doors.
They are NOT getting in!
I pace up and down the room trying, and failing, to calm myself. I swing my weapon left and right in front of me vaguely proud that I can appear threatening with it and am strong enough to stab a thick wooden door. With all that pride and rage, guilt washes in with it. It's sating inside me until I'm forced to squash it down. Looking around I spot other sorts of artillery – projectiles mostly.
Walking between the bed and fireplace again, something crackles under my foot. The sharp, jagged edges don't cut my foot, to which I'm very grateful. I slowly pull my foot back and wiggle it to rid of the small shards that are pressed into my foot. I carefully lower to my knees to examine what it is I exactly thrown at Gersemi. I begin to piece the pieces together; lining up the grooves and odd lines.
"It's a…jar." I whisper, my breath coming out softly as to not disturb the petite bowl. It's small, barely fitting in the palm of my hand, and made of porcelain. On the light pink stone are the gold lines and shapes. Ever so slowly, I raise it up to eye level barely breathing.
"It seems…familiar…somehow." I carefully rotate my arm to look at the sides. With my arm in its right position, I (somehow) make out a single word: light.
A booming knock has me gasping and bolt up, spinning around to face the blockaded door. The small jar shatters into finer pieces behind me at my feet.
"OPEN THIS DOOR!" Odin's voice scares me to the core.
I don't let him know it though. "NO!"
"If you do not open this door at this moment I'll—"
"Odin," Frigga's sweet and gentle voice stops him. I hear her whisper, "I know this pains you, my King, but you must keep in mind that she does not remember us. You cannot treat her as a prisoner and threaten her. Despite what you have seen, she's scared I know. Our son knows this, as well. We must tread carefully with her. Remember?"
Listen to the lady, Odin.
"What would you have me say to this…difficult and scared girl?"
I quirk a brow at that. Scared, yes. Difficult, hardly given the circumstances.
"Speak to her as if she's a little girl – gently."
I hear him take a deep breath and he forces out, "It would give us all great…pleasure…if you'd open the door and join us to break our fast."
"I'm not hungry!" I shout angrily. I blink owlishly out the door with a dawning realization. This dialogue reminds me of the Disney classic Beauty and the Beast. In spite of the seriousness of this conversation, I give a one-sided grin.
There's a break between Odin and I. Frigga is a queen and with how she speaks with "Odin AllFather" I've gathered that he's a king. As a king no one has given this much of a hard time before. Maybe his sons though?
"Please," Odin forces out.
"Why are you so bent on me having breakfast with you? For all I know you plan to kill me as soon as I walk out that door. After all, I did punch a guard, threaten you,"
"She threatened you?" Thor softly says.
"And stabbed a door, and scared a servant girl and stabbed the other door." I gesture to the other hole in the door, even though he can't see my action.
My arms instantly rise when I see Odin's only visible eye. "You are who we say you are," he calmly tells me. I can sense the mix of anger and longing in his voice; he's desperate for me to believe them.
"I am NOT your daughter. I am NOT your son's sister. I am NOT your Princess of Asgard!" I yell patience all gone with this man and his family, the dark tip of my weapon pointing directly at his good eye.
"If you'd simply join us, you'll see who you truly are."
"I know who I am!" The tiny hairs on my arms and neck begin to stand on end.
The room begins to darken as desperation takes its hold on me. I'm desperate for them to hear me, see me for me. I have only ever heard of this girl since I've arrived; saying that I'm her and that Tessa doesn't exist. Not truly. Yet, no one seems bent on giving me actual answers.
"I am Tessa Rosalin Maberry of New Jersey and New York! Daughter of Abraham and Rosabella Maberry! I am an actress and singer and dancer – a triple threat in today's society – and former model! I bring joy, kindness, bravery, honor, and hope to those I meet! Though others claim I am a princess for such things, I am NOT actually that. So don't you DARE tell me you know who I am, Odin AllFather, when you are so stuck on your lost daughter!"
A roar of life of blazing colors around the room causes me to scream and whirl around to face the burning fireplace. Rain showers down onto the earth outside and lightning flashes in the darkness, when just moments before it was bright and clear. Panting from the rush of adrenaline, I see my breath in small white puffs.
"You may think you know who you are, but we know the truth."
I look back to Odin with my arms at my sides, hand clenched tightly around the poker.
"We cannot merely explain it in words to you." Frigga sounds close beside him. "Please, if you come with us we can show you. We can tell you how THAT has happened."
"I'm not hungry." I tell them both standing strong, through my shaking exterior, in my position not to leave this room until I'm released back to…Midgard. To my home.
"If you do not eat with us now, we'll see to it that you'll starve each and every day you refuse. Until you wish to dine with us."
"Then, let's play a game, AllFather." I coolly start, "Let us see how long I can go without food. I must warn you, though, as someone who takes her acting career very seriously, I've gone to extreme lengths with my roles. I have not purposely starved myself for Hollywood – I would never do that. I've merely eaten smaller amounts of food to know what a starving young mother would feel; sacrificing her well-being for her children. And I've went a long while going without much. This, your threat, is nothing."
"You ate smaller rations then. Now you'll get nothing – no food or drink. You are not playing a "role" for the amusement of others. This is happening in the here and now with no way out. You will submit and you will see who you really are."
"We'll see."
The hairs on my arms and neck slowly fall, and the roaring fire seems to lessen in its intensity with it, as the Royal Family leaves. The sky doesn't brighten though.
Through the small opening in the door I see Thor glance my way; I glare at him. Hating him more and more for the situation I'm in. If I could, I'd stab the door again or at least try to get to him. Only I know the guards will kill me if I do – and I have too much to live for.
…
The days stretch on and on. Too long for my liking. In those long days, I've been kept and locked up in this room. Each day I refused all pleas and commands to join anyone for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
This day, much like the rest, slowly drags on and the sky is blue by midday. The sky grows differing shades of pink, purple, and orange with the planets and moons becoming more noticeable in the sky with a splatter of stars. Unfortunately, I'm unable to enjoy the bright sky; I'm still in my room and my stomach is eating itself out. I bite back the low groans of pain and discomfort all day, gently rubbing it to ease the pain somehow.
I will not give in, I tell myself. Show them that you are who you are – Tessa Rosalin Maberry!
When I'm not hiding my groans, I'm panting. Trying to catch my breath and ignore the delicious smells of food wafting through the air. I listen to the guards outside; noting when the leave and when they return to the door. They change their post every three hours. The ones at the door don't wait for the others to come and relieve them. Dumbasses.
Quickly and quietly I move the furniture away from the door when I hear the guards leave and their footsteps are lost in the halls.
There will always be someone to protect me. I roll my eyes at the words Frigga said. The only ones that can protect me aren't here right now; I'm completely on my own.
By the time the furniture is moved away and a new set of guards are at the door.
I sit at the edge of the bed, staring at the door, with the cool dark metal in my lap. The purpose of getting food causes my stomach to growl even more. I move back and cross my legs on the bed when I feel the shadows crawling in from the corners of the room. Thankfully, they stay away from the light of the fire; yet, they creep along the perimeter.
My mind wanders in my waiting. I think of all of the roles I've played, the people I've met, and of my family and friends. I think of anything but the gnawing hunger eating me alive. The burning wood is starting to smell very good. I dully look at the bright, dancing flames. Quickly, I shake my head muttering to myself how ridiculous my thoughts of eating cooking wood are.
I'm broken out of my trance when I hear thumping, rhythmic footfalls. Leaving the safety of the bed, I quickly and silently walk up to one of the holes in the door. Pressing myself flush against the door I attempt to look for the high, golden horns.
Seeing that it's clear, I slowly open the door; cringing when it creaks. I only open it far enough to squeeze through it. Even though I'm holding my qualified weapon, I have to press my hands against my breasts in the small space. The smaller the space to squeeze through, the less creaking it'll make. I urge the door to be quiet; shushing it like a child sneaking out.
Crap….
I realize that I don't know which way to go. Looking left and right, I choose a random direction.
"This way," I hear a small, child-like voice whisper in my ear.
Biting back a squeal of surprise, I jump away from the small boy's voice, rubbing my ear to ease the shivers. I shake away the terrified feeling. Looking to the right, I see a tiny hand urging me to come around the corner.
"Quick, this way!" he whispers again.
Despite all the scary movies I've seen, despite the voice screaming in my head, I slowly follow the small hand. It seems my legs move of their own accord as something tugs at my chest to follow him. My feet don't make a sound on the hard ground. I loosely hold onto my metal weapon.
Rounding the corning, I see a small ghostly boy running down the hall. He isn't transparent or going through walls and pillars or sounding like clanging chains or shimmering like some fairy reject. He's a noticeable bright figure in the long, dark hallway. He spins around, hands cupped around his mouth.
"Quickly, this way! I want to show you a new trick Mother taught me," he says softly yet his voice reaches my ears.
I can't stop myself as I let a smile cross my face and I jog after him. We run down the halls, avoiding guards, and stifling our giggles. There are torches along the walls, but they do not deter the ethereal feel of the little boy.
"Where are you taking me?" I whisper to him, looking down at his black hair.
Before my very eyes, the small boy grows taller. Only a few inches, but he still grows nonetheless. His smooth, small fingers find mine and he gently holds my hand. "We have to be quick," he says, "I want to show you before someone finds us."
"You're taking me to see the monsters, aren't you?" What causes me to ask this and with such fear no less?
He grins up at me. "Don't worry, I'll protect you!"
"I'm older, I should protect you!"
"You're correct, but I'm a man!" his tiny chest swells with pride.
"You're a boy. Just like Thor's a boy!" My hand tightens around him.
Don't go, my smarter half tells me. You're following someone who's dead – a ghost! Don't be the stupid blonde with big boobs from all those horror movies you watch and make fun of! This is BAD news.
But he's so cute…. And…I'm talking to him like I know him.
"I am NOT!" He angrily pouts and stomps his foot. A hot blush dusts across his pale face when he realizes his action and he glares ahead of himself. "And Thor's an idiot."
"Don't talk ill don't about our brother." Our brother? "And we don't need to go – we SHOULDN'T go! Mother and Father told us we can't go down there."
"It won't take long, I promise."
I don't know why – I really don't – but my legs continue to walk with the boy. I can't even pull my hand away from his despite his light hold around my fingers. Though I'm very aware of the situation I'm in, and very afraid of what may happen to me, I'm not…highly terrified. It's weird; I shouldn't follow this ghost boy, yet I can't stop myself from following him. The age old saying: "Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfactory brought it back," comes to mind. And this little boy, with his pale skin and black hair and ethereal glow, doesn't seem like an evil spirit. Surely, he'd be monstrous looking if he were. His eyes would be a demonic red too, wouldn't they? Not a dazzling emerald green.
"So long as we return to our rooms before someone realizes where we're going, I'm fine. Are you sure everyone's asleep?" I ask in a small voice that doesn't even sound like my own.
"I'm positive they're all asleep; it's late. You need not worry, sister," he says, smiling up at me, "I'll protect you."
We're standing before a single wooden door with black metal bars going a crossed all over it, forming small squares. I watch the door slowly and soundlessly opens with fearful eyes. There aren't any torches or windows in the room; just an ongoing darkness that seems to stretch on for forever. I tighten my grip around his hand as I ignore my racing heart. He'll protect you….
The little boy says a word – it's a single, foreign word that rings a bell to me – and a small orb of light blooms from my chest. Looking down I'm nearly blinded by the white light. There is a small bulb of light from my key necklace. It wraps around us; the boy is nearly lost in the bright glow.
We walk in the room together and my right hand suddenly feels lighter.
Even though it doesn't stretch far, this light around us chases away the monsters in the dark eager to rip us apart. We're a single dot in the darkness.
I look left and right as we walk down the long corridor, vaguely aware of the constant drip of water and the groans of pain. I only see the outlines curled, shivering, and/or still figures on cots. The air in here is stale and reeks of mold, urine, feces, and decaying flesh. If we were to stop and watch and listen, maybe I could imagine what these people are put through.
"I wish we could see them," whispers the little boy.
"I don't." Looking to my right I see what appears to be a man in the corner of his cage. He's shaking uncontrollably and he's muttering something incoherently under his breath so fast I can't understand him. I stand still and hold the boy's hand when the man raises his head. My breath hitches in my throat and my eyes widen when I see his face. It's mangled with fresh, deep, bleeding cuts that drip into his red fearful eyes and abused mouth, which appears to be bleeding just as much. In all of the gore and devastation his face has been through, I see the hope and fear etched across it. He opens his mouth wide as if to scream only no sound comes out. Squinting my eyes, I quickly look away from him and swallow back the bile crawling up my throat.
His tongue has been cut off.
"This way, sister." The little boy tugs my hand to follow him. "There is one monster I wish to desperately see!"
I see a large amount of light ahead of us; illuminating the farthest corner and the neighboring cells. I lean forward to see who is in the bright cell. As we grow closer and closer to the cell – ignoring all sense of danger and terror – my left hand grows lighter and lighter. I don't even look down at my very empty hands, for they mean nothing to me now. I want—NEED to see this monster. He, or she, can't be like that one with the marred face.
The light that has been wrapped around me either fades or is simply lost as I step into the cell's light. There is a man in there – a long stretch of a man with unruly black hair and sickly pale skin. He's leaning back on a chair with a bored expression on his face as he stares up at the ceiling. He looks towards me and his dark green eyes gain a glimmer of recognition, which is quickly squashed and turns to nothingness. He slowly sits up, his eyes never leaving mine. His movements are slow and calculating as he walks; much like the large cats I've seen at the zoo. There are steps leading up to this glass cage, but even without the elevation I'd still have to look up at him when he stops. I try to cease my trembling or at the very least make it seem it's the cold affect me and not him.
For a long expanse of time neither of us says anything. As he is studying me, I'm suddenly aware of my used and rumpled pajamas.
His sudden, mocking, evil smile and half laugh cause me to stand more alert – tense with the tremors. I try to tighten my grip on the hard weapon I once had realizing with a dawning fear that I've lost it and the little boy isn't with me anymore.
My chest rises and falls with ragged breaths when I see the sick amusement in his eyes.
"And so the Lost Princess of Asgard has come to visit the Traitor." His voice smooth and accented much like the others, but holds a form of evil mockery to it.
I try to speak through the forming lump in my throat. I can't. My lips simply move with what I want to say. In all of the fear I'm facing and with what crawls towards me – even in the light of his cage – I do not show it to me. At least I can say I tried if he sees the fear in my eyes.
"What is the matter, Princess?" he asks in fake concern. "You seem frightened."
Finally, after swallowing the large and uncomfortably tight lump in my throat, I breathlessly say, "I'm not a princess."
A twisted smile stretches across his thin lips. "Oh, but you are wrong, Princess, oh so, wrong." He tells me in a soft, mocking tone as he shakes his head. "For you see, you are the daughter of Odin and sister of Thor. I can see it in you, as soon will others if they have not already." His smile broadens. "How does it feel to know that your entire life has been taken away from you and your existence on Midgard has been all a lie?"
~ Midgard ~
Rosa wakes up with a jolt, her brown eyes wide and searching for something in the dark. She lays awake in her bed, waiting for something. As her eyes adjust to the surrounding darkness, she grows aware of how cold her back and feet are. Hesitantly she rises, muttering her husband's name as she looks around their bedroom.
She slips out of the large bed and slides her feet into her slippers and shrugs on her fluffy robe. Quietly, she walks down the hall. A smile makes its way across her tanned and finely-aged face upon seeing the outline of Abe's large and lean frame by their daughter's old room.
"Abe," she whispers, sliding her hand up his shoulders, "what are you doing here?"
"Buddy's in her room again," he softly rumbles. He brings his large arm back to wrap it around wife's waist and bring her to stand besides him, and stares with tired hazel eyes at the old Golden and two German dogs. "And so are Rozzy and Wolf."
Rosa stares at their three dogs, noting how Buddy is laying on the bed and how he's curled up at the foot of the bed and snoring loudly. Rozzy and Wolf remained on the floor, but are on either side of the bed.
"Odd," she whispers, leaning her weary head on him, "I wonder why."
"There's something wrong with Tessa." Hate and rage begins to seep into his words.
"I know," she says calming, but does remain deathly concerned for their daughter.
"Yet those…agents," he spat the word out like it was poison, "tell us to do NOTHING! They don't tell us anything as to WHY we can't do anything and attempted to hide what the papers said. We both tried to call her and NOTHING."
"Shhh, remember what the doctor said."
"I don't CARE what the doctor said!" Abe rips away from her and his shouting finally startled the dogs awake. "NOTHING like this has ever happened before, Rosa! Our little girl was taken from her home, coughing up blood, from SOMEONE! Madison wouldn't do it, those two are like sisters. I don't know if it could be someone from that party she went to or some crazy fan that went too far. I don't know what to think! I just know I want our little girl back." His voice catches as tears make way down his aged face.
"Shh, shh." Rosa walks up to him and cradles his face, gently kissing him and holding him in a close embrace.
Abraham, for all that he is, is a very open, stubborn, and passionate man. He has always been such; even after his accident and as he grows older. It was the fiery passion that she fell in love with – his stubbornness, too. Not all men are like this, for that she feels lucky to have him. There are times where she swore he is more Italian than her; talking loudly and waving his arms around like a mad man. And always so open and honest like a book no matter how hard he tried to hide what he was feeling.
"I'm scared for her, too, il mio amore. But those…agents refused to tell us anything other than not to worry or to interfere. They haven't thought of the tabloids though." Rosa remembers seeing the scared photo of her daughter's face on People magazine after she flipped the car over. There was another as she left the party in the arms of the known Captain America. Her lips were an unnatural shade of red and her bright blue eyes were cloudy and dazed. Rosa closes her misty eyes to rid the images.
Abe tightly holds his wife to him, blinking back the tears that clouded his vision. "She's never leaving this house again when she comes back."
"You said that when she was three years old." Rosa doesn't smile; much like now, when he said it, it wasn't favorable.
"I mean it now." Abe can still hear her tiny fearful screams and Wolfheart's protective snarls and viscous barking even now. If he listens very carefully on quiet nights, he can make out the sounds of flesh being torn apart. He can still feel the unyielding door under his arms and against his shoulder as he fought against it. His heart still twists and turns at the memory. "She isn't leaving. I won't let her."
A/N: How's THAT for an ending! Huh?! What did I tell you? A double cliffhanger; Tessa finally met Loki only it was the beginning of their conversation and something has happened to her when she was a child to Rosa and Abe. What though? Hmmmm….
With this chapter comes some bad-ish news. I haven't completed Chapter Twelve yet; I wanted to post this New Year's Day to kick start the new year. I normally write a chapter ahead of the time so that I may give you all a sneak-peak of what is to come. I have to finish Chapter Twelve AND Thirteen, so it may be awhile until I post the next chapter.
I apologize for that and for any mistakes you may have seen in this chapter.
Answers to reviews:
fangirl-friend2- *takes vote* I'll be taking votes for a short while, but I SHOULD stop soon. I know I want Tessa to have at least one special moment with each Steve and Loki. … What do you mean by, "this is supposed to be a Loki story" and "Rogers is just an easy way out?" The pairing is still undecided. Loki could have a feeling of hate towards Tessa and Steve's feelings of admiration/fanboy-ness could actually turn into love. I'm genuinely curious.
BleachLover11- Thank you! The beginning of Chapter Ten was a bitch to write with Odin, Frigga, Heimdall, and Thor FINALLY showing up. I hope I got their personalities right. *grins evilly at my double cliffhanger ending* Yup, he finds out. Oh, okay. *marks down the tally* She woke up alright! xD Everything she felt thus far for them is loathing (kidnapping), confusion and resentment (for saying things she doesn't believe), and…overall frustration. All of which are pretty reasonable if you ask me.
Please, do not take offense to my answers to your reviews. I answer them the best I can with a tone of voice, something that the computer lacks. Do not be afraid to review, if you'd like me to answer them via private messaging I will. Just tell me and I will.
***VOTE COUNT:***
Loki- 14
Steve- 10
Next time onPrincess of Asgard:
An image comes to my mind at his name: a tall hunched man with sneer on his pointed face, dressed in black, green, and gold. On top of his heard rests a large golden helmet with equally large curved horns. His dark green, beady eyes hold a glimmering gleam of knowing and mischievous-ness. Below his name is…
"You're the God of Lies and Mischief." I whisper in disbelief, not hearing him completely as I look him up and down.
…
His smirk does nothing to bring the playful gleam back in his eyes. I tighten my arms around me in an attempt to keep out the chill from crawling up my spine at his broken expression.
…
"You are a GODDESS! …."
…
"What are you doing here?" Thor's voice suddenly booms off the silent walls.
Next chapter's title:
Worse than Mere Monsters