It wasn't the first time the redheaded servant tripped in front of me on purpose. Wasn't the first time I took her hand and offered her my company for the night. Certainly wasn't the first time I ordered her to strip bare and service me: first with her hands; then her supple, warm mouth and the parts of her body she swore had never been touched by a man.

But I knew they had been. I'd done it all before. She just couldn't recall, the poor thing; whenever we'd trysted in the past, I found a way to steal her memories and keep her begging at my door for attention. That didn't change her promiscuous past, yet I was the only man she tried to flatter with her lies. Virginity meant little; I only wanted her effortless submission, which was easier to obtain if she believed I saw her as anything other than an easy way to satisfy carnal release. In truth, she was worthless, like all women in the palace: a pawn with a pair of eyes and ears alone.

As I relaxed with my arms behind my head and looked toward the ceiling, she rolled into my side and trailed her fingers into my chest hair. "Will you be ready for another?"

I chuckled. "Oh, yes. But the night is getting on, and soon it will be time for you to go back where you came from."

She bristled a bit—something I was used to. The greatest benefit of my trickery was the freedom to speak however I'd like, and I tested the waters each time. Would I ever say something so callous and cruel to make her leave on her own without throwing her out? It made a delightful game.

"Surely you would rather I stay here and keep your bed warm, right, Sire?"

"Keep it warm?" I shifted to see her face and brought her chin up. "My bed is far from frigid, with or without you. And, my dear...oh...what was your name again?"

She furrowed her brow. "Rona."

"Yes, of course. As I was saying, my dear Rona—I might think you were out of warmth to give after spreading it to the sheets of every man in my army." I sat up and stretched my back with a groan, spreading my arms wide.

"Excuse me?" She finally reacted with something other than a passive acceptance and included an edge to her tone. Rising to her knees behind me, Rona touched my shoulder with intent to put me in my place. "Did you just—"

"Surely, you're aware it is a crime to lie to me." I patted her hand twice gently.

She froze. "Yes, Sire."

"And I trust you do not take me for a daft man." I softened my eyes when meeting her gaze again. "A woman who knows little about touch wouldn't be so willing to extend another invitation so soon. There is no need to be coy about your experience, Rona; I am well-versed in all your wiles. Relax."

The light in her eyes dimmed. Her hope for more than a single night's tryst disappeared—an appropriate assessment once she realized how little she had to offer me if she didn't have flattery, though that didn't stop her from trying. "Would it be worthwhile to admit how you rank amongst the conquests, then?" Rona chose seduction over innocence and spread her hands over both shoulders now, admiring my back tattoo. "Perhaps I can entice you with comparisons...secret desires...things to use as weapons against other men?"

"How clever."

"I can be of use to you. Maybe even enough to...earn some change of station?"

She certainly understood the importance of a bargain. I stood from the bed and made my way to the cabinet by the wall; as I spoke, I poured us both a small glass of liquor. "Go on, then. Spill those lips."

Her smug hum was accompanied by a vulgar spread of her legs. Any shyness she brought with her to the room ceased to exist. "Which ones?"

I chuckled and came back to her side with glasses in hand, though I didn't offer hers just yet and placed it on the nightstand. Instead, I rubbed my thumb over her lower lip. "Tell me what I want to hear, and I'll give you the pleasure of tasting me again."

She raised a brow and pulled my forefinger into her mouth, teasing me with a back and forth of her tongue before bringing it out again. "What a treat."

"Enough stalling. What secrets hold any value to me?"

Rona curled into herself slightly and looked at the mattress instead of my face. "Are names worth anything?"

"Whose names?"

"The men who doubt Asgardian power." She tucked her hair behind her ears in a tic that wasted even more time. "The ones who aren't loyal to Thor's house."

"Ah. Now that is prized, indeed." I sipped from my own glass and hummed from the bitterness before the heat coursing through me, then set it on the floor. "Traitors have no place in my army. If I give you parchment, will you expose them?"

"Can you guarantee the source won't find its way back to my chamber?"

"Of course. I'll be in debt to you." I caressed her check sweetly. "Your chamber from the palace basement will surely be elevated."

Rona was all too eager to agree, and we wasted no time in her written confession. It was only a handful of names, yet in Asgard's small army, every one made a difference. Any dissention to my rise in power could be disastrous, and I wouldn't risk a single one's influence tainting the ranks. None of them surprised me, and most were already marked in my mind for some other small slight that served as evidence of their disloyalty. As expected, she claimed Gunnar and Tyr openly praised me whenever they could. Their confirmation was worth just as much.

"Anything else you think I'd like to know?" I asked while tucking the list into my bedside drawer.

"Somehow I doubt you're interested in their preferred sexual appetites."

"Oh, on the contrary." I laughed and nibbled her ear. "I'm simply dying to know if you've let more than one claim you at a time."

"Why are you interested in that?"

"Because that would all but guarantee how insatiable you are." I shoved her down on the bed, greedily spreading her legs once more and taking control without hesitation. She didn't protest or move my hands in any way—her perfect obedience allowed me free reign of her body, granting me entrance wherever I asked. As predicted, Rona enthusiastically writhed and changed positions more than she had when we started, no longer pretending to be demure.

So unbecoming. Far from a lady. Only whores would so openly enjoy being used the way I violated her.

She wasn't keeping my bed warm, but she certainly was burning time in it. The least I could give her was a final thrill, which she confirmed in muffled screams and soiled sheets that would leave no mistake behind of what we'd done. If she was truly satisfied or not, I didn't care. I got more than what I wanted.

When I came for the last time, I stayed perched above her on my hands, letting the sweat drip off my forehead and onto hers. She moved my curls away from my face and grinned.

"I take it I've pleased you, Sire?"

"Yes, Rona. You've done well." I pecked her forehead slowly. "Though I do have a question for you."

"Anything."

"What do you know of Vali Lokison? Did you bed him?"

She deflated a bit and averted my gaze. "No. He's a mystery."

"You seem disappointed." I tipped my face. "Tell me why."

"It's nothing." That was all. A clipped answer.

Her avoidance was a lie. It annoyed me. Angered me. My ears ran hot. "No, that's not how this works." I brought her eyes back to me by directing her chin with my thumb and forefinger. "What do you know of Lokison?"

Rona swallowed hard. "Very little, Sire."

"I am sure even that amount is important, or you wouldn't be coy." I squeezed her chin firmly. "Speak, or I'll hurt you."

"Yes. Alright." She grimaced. "He...he denied me once."

"Just once?"

"The only time I tried." A single tear leaked from her eye—fear or sadness, it mattered little. "Caught him alone in the palace and offered to keep him for the night. He's a curiosity to the women in the servantry. Thought I could at least draw his attention. But he declined and said it was a pity that I couldn't see..."—her voice tapered, almost like she became aware of her words' gravity as she spoke them—"...see my worth."

My eyes narrowed. "Why a curiosity?"

"Many things." Her focus drifted again. A cast of blue seemed to fall over her. "His magic. His kindness. Knows all of our names even though he lives beyond the palace walls. The way he carries himself...not like other men at all. Even smells different."

"Mm-hmm." I rolled my eyes. "Sounds like he prefers the company of men."

"Oh, no," she said sharply, almost as if the thought offended her. "He's known to few, but all of them women. Loves privately. There's a rumor he preserves himself because he yearns for affection not returned."

"From whom?"

"Not sure. But I've seen him with the old seer's daughter now and then. Wouldn't be surprised if she meant more than it would seem."

"Very good." It wasn't much, but could prove useful if accurate in the slightest. To thank Rona, I released her chin and slowly kissed her. It was far from what I preferred, yet I needed to practice such things before repeating the performance with Hela in the coming days.

She sang with her breath as I released her lips. "I hope you haven't interpreted my words as admiration for anyone but you, Sire. You're by far the grandest prize I could achieve."

"Yes, I know." I sat up and encouraged her to do the same, reclaiming my glass on the floor and hers on the nightstand. "Now, shall we toast to your change of station?"

Downright glee popped from her face. She took her drink without question and held it up for me to meet. "To Prince Modi, future King."

"And God of Wrath," I finished for her.

"Is that right?" She blinked a few times. "I'm surprised I didn't know that."

"Father thought it was better to describe my gift as one of passion—yet I prefer the darker label, don't you?" After tinking our glasses together, I took a long sip.

She did the same and shook her head quickly. "Wow—quite sweet, isn't it?"

"Somewhat." I swirled the fluid in my hand. "You know, Rona, I have secrets as well."

"Oh?" Another light sip on her part. "Have I earned the privilege?"

My half-smile was playful on purpose. "I'd say so. Tell me, have you heard of the Dagheim mystics?"

"Not familiar."

"They're quite fascinating. Almost the opposite of the great seers who live there. Since New Asgard came into being, they've perfected their craft and sell tonics for a high price. One such elixir dumbs the mind." I snapped my fingers. "That quick. A small amount, and one completely forgets the previous day. Quite useful magic."

Her brow folded. "Sire?"

"Don't worry. That isn't what I've given you." I nodded toward her drink. "I don't want you to forget this time."

She stared at the liquid for a moment. It couldn't lie. "This time?"

"Of course. This is not our first night together. Did you think I read your mind to know exactly what would make you shiver?"

Her grip tightened on the glass. She inched away from me toward the end of the bed.

"Come, now. Don't act as if I've harmed you." I snatched her forearm to keep her still. "You fell at my feet and practically begged for it each time. No different from tonight. If anything, I have been used. The prize prince, as you said yourself."

"But Sire..."

"Our bargain still stands, if you wish." I threw back the remainder of my drink and put the glass down. "Finish yours, now."

Doubt flashed in her eyes. Not enough, though, to stop her. Rona did as she was told, then surrendered the vessel.

I chuckled against her ear. "There, see? Was that so hard?"

"N-no." She sucked in a breath, though it staggered on its way. "Was that your only secret?"

"Not quite." I pulled away once more to stand above her. "How deep do you think the palace basement is?"

She shook her head, then started coughing. First, into her hand. Then, against her forearm. "What...what is th-this?"

"I would wager that the servants' quarters are somewhere around twenty feet down, give or a take a few." I feigned worry with a hand over my mouth. "Gods...your lips are turning blue."

She gasped with each breath as her eyes went bloodshot. "S-Sire—"

"Can't be too surprised, though it is working faster than I thought it would. Those mystics are clever, but Midgardians still have reserves of things that kill without a trace. Father charged me with destroying their invisible weapons; as you can see, I kept some for myself. It seemed too useful to waste."

The girl folded into herself on the bed, clutching her knees to her chest and groaning. Her surface muscles popped audibly with strong twitches.

"Hmm. Looks like it hurts. I'm sure it will end soon." I sat beside her again and combed through her hair. "Such a shame. We could've avoided this fate."

She whimpered with a high pitch that I could only interpret as a scream, though she was out of strength to project it.

"Oh, but it's true," I said with false sincerity. "You committed treason against me and my house. You held the names of men who spoke poorly of me. Your knowledge of their thoughts tells me you engaged in the dissent."

Her movement slowed. Bubbles poured over her lower lip. A few quick coughs. Still breathing. Still alive enough to hear me.

"I'll admit, this pains me. I'll miss how easily you opened for me. Of course, you're little more than a hole. Or three." I laughed and knelt in front of her, making certain her eyes were locked with mine before her inner light went out. "Well, like I said, your chamber will rise after all. Six feet down is still higher than twenty. Pity, I've already forgotten your name."

With that, she deflated altogether. The tone of her skin was a sickly grey and her eyes now a crimson that blotted any spark of life. Cold in my bed, she'd returned to the nothing she was when I brought her in. I spat on her face and closed her lids to keep her death stare from burning through the wall.

I didn't bother wrapping her in the sheets before retreating to my private washroom to clean myself. With the scalding shower, I erased her fingerprints from my shoulders. The grand eagle tattoo across my back was unsullied. The water ran unnaturally hot, though I let it burn me and didn't try to move. It was a show of my power. Proof of my strength. My skin could callous and bubble and burst, much like my indifference to ending a life. It had gotten easier over the years. Only one ever haunted me.

While remaining under the false waterfall, I whistled a five-note tune and waited. It was still night, and my gifts were suited for secrecy.

A quick gust of wind. Sharp clacks from the bedroom. His claws scraped the floor and circled my bed. He'd know where to take her. Dispose of her properly. Leaving no trace, I'd be blameless come sunrise. When the draft slammed the window closed, I left the washroom to be sure it was done.

The sheets were still soiled, but no violence remained. Only a black plume from my grand accomplice even suggested another soul's presence. I dragged the long feather through my palm with a satisfied smile.

Hela, a list of names, and Lokison's pining. So much work to be done.