I've just begun working on this story again, and plan to continue on with it from now on; that being said, a few things have changed from what I originally planned, namely: Leah's chapters are no longer vital to the understanding of the story. If you enjoy them, awesome! They'll enrich your experience. If for any reason you decide not to read them, you'll miss some backstory/character development, but your overall understanding of the plot will not change. Happy reading, and don't hesitate to PM me with feedback, questions, or concerns :) As always, I greatly appreciate reviews and will respond to each and every one of them.

"Carmen. His majesty the king sends for you."

Had she expected anything else? She knew that he wouldn't let her get off with the mild reprimand she'd received yesterday, not when she'd disobeyed him and run away, and when she'd been more bold with her cheek than usual; but it didn't matter. That strength, that determination that had driven her to climb out of the window in the first place was still there. Whatever he planned on doing to her, he would get no enjoyment out of it.

With a sigh more bored than sad, Carmen nodded and followed the guard down the hall. What punishment would he think up for her this time? She still had fading bruises and sore legs, and was fiendishly hungry due to the fact that no food had been brought to her that day. Was he trying to weaken her before some ultimate blow? The only thing predictable about him was that he always got his retribution; how it happened or when was always a mystery to her. His methods and schemes were not something she wanted to understand, for her comprehension of them would require her to enter his mindset and become the very monster she so despised.

She froze, completely taken aback, at what she saw before her when she entered his chambers.

A table. Two chairs, two golden cups of wine, two empty plates. A servant, platter of covered delicacies in hand, standing against the wall.

The king. Hands clasped behind back, head held high, standing next to the table. Not a trace of malice in his eyes.

Carmen was too astonished to speak. Of all the things she had thought to see here, this was one situation that had never crossed her mind. For a moment, she let herself believe; for just a breath, she allowed herself the hope that maybe, just maybe, this was all real. But it couldn't be. She hardened. She would not fall prey to this trick, this ploy, this plot to…to do what? This was a game he hadn't played before. He'd always held onto his superiority with an iron fist, never daring to let her think that she was worth anything more than the dirt under his boots or floor he walked upon.

But that was changing too. He'd helped her with her sickness, after all, and shown concern when she'd run from her room. He wasn't admitting it, and maybe he couldn't even see it himself, but she could: he was thawing. It was infinitesimally and by minute degrees, but Loki Laufeyson, King of Asgard and Midgard, was softening.

So what did that mean for her? Perhaps it meant she could persuade him now or that his blows would lighten but Carmen, well, Carmen had seen too much of him to hope for any meaningful improvement. His moods and fancies fluctuated, but he, at his core, always remained the same icy monster. So she would remain the same, too. She would push as far as she dared (which was further now than it had ever been), she would undercut him at every opportunity and, most of all, she wouldn't believe a single word that passed through his lying lips.

In all of her thoughts and inner contemplations, she had remained silent, still too unsure of the situation at hand to say anything lest she regret it moments later. So Loki spoke first. "Carmen. Sit." He gestured towards one of the chairs with his hand.

His words were commanding, yes, but neither rough nor hard. Now she was intrigued. What was he playing at? New direction: uncover this plot, whatever it is; I don't like this one bit. Not that he has to know that. Eyebrows raised, she slid into her seat without a word. Once he sat as well she said, almost slyly, "What's the occasion?"

"I tire of my courtiers." The king motioned to the servant at the wall, who brought forth plates of delicacies that made Carmen's stomach growl.

She gave the man a murmured thank you before digging in; she was too hungry to worry about manners. "Wait. You tire of your courtiers…so you come to me? To eat?" she asked quizzically through a mouthful of vegetables.

Loki, for his part, was eating much less ravenously; he gave a slight shrug in response to her question. "You speak more freely around me than anyone else on this realm; it is conversation I desire tonight, nothing more."

Carmen frowned. "Conversation? What kind of conversation?"

"An intelligent one, I hoped."

She leaned back in her chair, disconcerted not only by what he was saying but how he was saying it. He seemed honest, open. Still in control, of course, still confident and firm, but not angry. Satisfied, maybe? Ugh. She could sit here all night trying to figure out what emotions lurked behind his emerald eyes. With a smile that was more of a grimace, she picked up her cup of wine and took a gulp; it was sweet, rich, and a little bit salty, but best of all, it was alcoholic. She'd probably need more than this one cup to get through this already unsettling evening. "Conversation, then. You start."

"Tell me about yourself."

A short laugh was her response. She shook her head and rolled her eyes, taking another sip of wine. "Now that, that's rich; you really don't know anything about me, do you. That's the kind of question you ask on a first date, not after months of holding a girl captive. Oh. But you're serious." Carmen shrugged, feeling self-conscious by both his sudden interest in her (especially when he'd never before asked questions about her life) and the fact that she'd never really been one to talk about herself. More wine; I feel like Cersei right now. So much for the strength she'd thought she'd had earlier, but this was so different from what she'd expected that said strength was honestly almost irrelevant.

"Well. I like books, but not the ones you Asgardians have here; they're too pretentious for my tastes. I watch a billion TV shows, but I'm definitely behind on all of them now. Oh, and animals, I love animals; I was in vet school on Earth. Riding Sleipnir was probably the happiest I've been here."

"Wait, Sleipnir?" Loki frowned, looking both confused and concerned. "When did you encounter him?"

"After I climbed out of my window. Why is he your horse? It's obvious why you like him, he's a gorgeous animal, but I can't believe he would consent to you riding him; he's too sweet, and noble, too." A look of horror arose on her face. "You're not forcing him, are you?"

"Of course not," he scoffed, seeming offended by the very suggestion. "He is my son."

Talk about a bombshell. It took Carmen a moment (and a drink) to fully process what he said, and even then she couldn't help but laugh disbelievingly. "He's a horse. An eight-legged horse."

"Yes?"

"Is that not weird here? No? Okay, then explain how it happened."

Loki shrugged. "I am a shapeshifter; I was a mare at the time, I had dealings with the great stallion Svaðilfari, and Sleipnir was born to me. So he allowed you to ride him?"

"Yes, of course he did, like I said he was very sweet, let me get this straight: you're his mother? Not even his father, his mother?"

"Indeed I am." Was that amusement dancing on his face? Of course he would enjoy her confusion; the king, however, was clearly less focused on how his son came to be than how his concubine came to ride him. "Sleipnir does not permit many to mount him."

"Well he let me," she said, a smile creeping onto her face. Damn, the wine was good, and damn, the cup was big; she'd have thought it would be empty by now, but nope, still some left thank goodness. "I guess that makes me special. I do believe he would enjoy seeing me again."

"Are you asking permission?"

"No, merely saying that your son seemed to like me," Carmen said with perfect innocence. "And you yourself said that he doesn't like many people."

"Perhaps if I see fit, and provided that you behave."

"Oh, but I always behave." She gave her lashes a flutter.

"We both know full well that that is a lie; climbing out of tiny windows does not qualify as behaving." Was he being playful? Well it wasn't malice in his voice or on his face, that was for sure.

"Depends on the definition," she replied pertly, throwing back the final swallow of wine and setting her cup back down on the table. A yawn split her lips, and through it she continued, "No one ever told me not to climb out of windows."

"It was fairly implied, especially in your condition."

"My condition? I'm pregnant, not crippled." Another yawn; she could feel her eyelids beginning to droop. This tiredness had come out of nowhere, but she supposed it was just the baby. "Anyway, implication is a weak excuse. You can do better."

Loki gave a snort at that. He was no doubt about to give some dry remark when he noticed the signs of oncoming slumber. "Tired so soon?"

She waved her hand airily. "Tiny person inside of me, takes a lot of energy — oh — " Without meaning to, she collapsed into slumber.

xXx

With a wave of his hand and a small expense of magical energy, Loki lifted the sleeping Carmen from her chair and transferred her to the bed. She was so blissfully unaware; a smile curved his lips at the thought of that changing. It was a shame that he would have to wait to reveal his victory and reap the reward for an evening of vexatious pleasantries…but the wait would make it that much more delicious. Layers of confusion and deception always made the truth a harder blow.

He took a slow drink of his own wine, smile still on his face. He'd gotten so caught up in brute power that he'd almost forgotten the joy of subtlety. Subtlety that would, needless to say, be blown out of the water tomorrow, but that was no matter: that would be enjoyable in its own right. Here he sat, poised to have everything work out perfectly in his favor, yet one small, festering doubt still niggled at the back of his mind.

He was growing fond of her. Too fond, if you asked his rational side; there was no room in his mind for the distraction of a Midgardian whore. Yet her audacity to speak freely, her continued strength, and the fact that Sleipnir himself approved of her said differently. Carmen was a singular woman.

But he did not have time for her; caring could jeopardize everything he had worked to achieve. Not that he cared about her, of course; no matter how rare she might be, she in no way merited his affection…and he would hold to that. Tomorrow, things would be made simpler, easier. Tears and pain tended to work that way.