3

I loosened my grip over the faded paper. It was crumpled beyond repair, but my skin burned where the vicious ink rubbed against it. I was blinking rapidly, abating the tears. Stupid, stupid, stupid!

"Honesty," Loki said behind me, "is not my favourite policy."
I turned to him over my shoulder.
"I was not cast out of Asgard," he said. "I might have been, eventually. But knowing this, I decided it would do to make a nobler exit."
"What do you mean?"
"The Bifrost had splintered and I was holding on to the hope that my father would see me for who I was, for the greatness I thought I embodied. But he didn't, so I let go."
"Let go?"
"I was falling to my death, and then the next thing I knew – well, you know the rest."
"Why are you telling me all this?"
"I'm sure you understand The God of Lies does not have a very firm rapport with trust, but-" he pursed his lips together, "Forgive me if I sound impudent, but you are a modest enough mortal and I feel I can trust you."
"I'll take that as a compliment, I guess."
"I am lost, Paton." Loki said with an expression to match. "I would like to believe I have been given a second chance and I am yet to fulfil some purpose, but I have waited days for it to dawn on me and with no known success. Success, it seems, is bent on evading me."
I shrugged, "Crazily, I'm not a stranger to that feeling."
"As if treading the line between life and death was not hard enough," he said, "I'm splintered in more ways than one."
I glanced at him for an explanation, instead, Loki stood with his eyes closed for a moment. His skin looked strange and blue in the light. I wondered if he had forgotten to breath. Marks began to appear on the ridge of his forehead, his chin and along his jaw. In awe I watched as the man before me slowly turned to ice. When he opened his eyes, they were blood red. He looked more menacing than ever, but his eyes were full of remorse. For his himself and his situation.

"I was not bred of Asgardian blood. I was stolen from the Frost Giants of Jotunheim. My father knew he had reared a demon in the rough and cast me aside when he could no longer suffer the shame of a failure for a son. The God of Lies, born from lies."

"Wow," I said after a painfully long pause. "That's intense."
Loki picked at his fingers.
"I'm sorry if this is blasphemy or whatever, but your dad sounds like a dick."
Loki raised his eyebrows, but whether or not he agreed with the evaluation, he remained silent. His skin was fading back to the alabaster I had known.

He rubbed his face with his hands and turned around, "That was more than I had wanted to reveal."
That was enough for me. The stuck up, self-gratulatory Prince had a past and he had let me in. There was a reason he was so anal all the time, and the insights made it easier to understand how he worked.

I wiped my eyes quickly and pushed the box away.
"Fair trade?" I asked.
Loki glanced at me and nodded.

All that was missing were two pairs of naked light bulbs swinging eerily over us. Loki sat across me on the couch and I sat on the edge of the coffee table.
"How much did you see?" I asked.
"There are photographs of your family. Why do you keep them yet?"
I shrugged. "I haven't given that serious thought. They're all from when I was really young, I guess I was just holding on to a piece of my life that looked easier than it is now."
"You have a sister?" He said, picking up a very old photograph. There were two girls, dressed in matching outfits, seated together on the top of a slide.
"Had," I corrected.
He waited for an explanation. I wasn't sure I wanted to go there, but in light of our unspoken full-disclosure agreement –
"She died when I was fifteen. Car accident."
"I'm sorry."
"Our mom fell really ill after that," I continued quickly, "and I had to survive my dad. Well, we had to survive each other. Obviously I didn't last long."
"Your mother still writes to you?" He indicated the stack of letters.
"I never gave them my telephone number, but I gave her my address – I knew they'd never come up here. My dad didn't want anything to do with me once he lost his precious little Olivia."
Loki looked down at the photograph again. "What was she like?"
"She was-" I searched for the words in the lines of my hands. "She was the best part of growing up. She was going to be a doctor, and not because there was money in it. She just really wanted to help people. Olivia was really smart too and I just fell short of hundred miles standing next to her."
"Have you read these recently?"
I shook my head, picking up the last letter I'd received from my mother. "This came in about four months ago. I never write back. It was just better if they thought I was – you know."
"Do you really think so?"
"I just needed to get out. Go underground. Sometimes you just can't take it. I know I don't have it all, but I have what I need and it's good enough for me."
There was a long pause. I swung my legs to the other side of the table and stood up. It was past dinner time.
"This is getting way to serious for me now. That is not how I like spending my Sundays."
Loki crossed his leg over the other and turned to me, "You're still making dinner aren't you?"
Normally, I might have been offended by a question like that after I had spilled my guts about myself. But I would do anything to get my mind off of those things.
"You know, I'm going to be away to work next week and if you plan on loafing about the house that's fine with me, but you really should learn how to work the equipment here."
"Fair enough. I'll watch." He stood up and walked over to the kitchen. "Begin."
"Oh, no," I smirked at him, "You're helping me."
"Outrageous," He snorted.

But Loki, to my great surprise, complied.