Chapter 2

Loki awoke and could hardly move from the pain; his head was throbbing, and his body felt like it was on fire. His vision was blurry, so it took him a while to be able to make out his surroundings. The room was fairly dark, no doors and only one window with bars, it must be a cell. He was delirious and confused. Then suddenly, he remembered the battle, a bright red light, being surrounded by dark elves.

This must be Svartalfheim; they've taken me prisoner.

He quickly realized his clothes were missing, and his wounds were already wrapped up with bandages. How long have I been here?

He was rather delirious but knew this was one of the worst situations he had ever been in, and he had no clue how it had happened; everything had been so quick. He couldn't even remember the last time he had been struck by a spell powerful enough to cause him so much agony. They must have a very powerful sorcerer... or weapon...

He looked around; even though it was a cell, the room was still very spacious and comfortable. Perks of being a prince, he guessed. He knew they would want him alive and well, considering he would be great leverage to use against his father in this war. But King Ivaldis had a reputation for being very unstable, so Loki also knew there was always a possibility his mood may change at any given moment. Despite his value, his days on Svartalfheim were numbered, leverage or not.

His thoughts were interrupted as the wall across from his bed suddenly began to dissipate into the shape of a doorway. Slowly and painfully, he tried to sit up and greet whoever was his company, clutching the large, bandaged wound on the side of his body. His eyes felt a slight twinge as the light from the doorway blurred his focus when it opened, and a dark shadowy figure of a woman stepped into his midst. When his vision recovered, he thought for a moment he may be dreaming, or dead. He had never seen any woman like the one before him in his life.

She was tall and voluptuous, wearing an all-black fine leather and silk dress with silver jewels, which meant she was clearly high born, perhaps royalty. Her hair was long and white, and hung softly around her pale skin and pointy ears. She had high cheekbones, with full lips and soft skin, but it was her eyes that intrigued him the most. Her irises were a glowing sky blue, and they mesmerized him in a strange way, as though power was coursing through them and onto whomever she gazed upon. She was captivating.

"Prince Loki, welcome to Svartalfheim. Glad to see you've finally awoken." She said, sounding like she was trying to be sincere but didn't mean a single word. Her voice was deeper and smokier than he would have assumed.

"How long have I been here?" he asked, his voice still hoarse and weak. She grabbed a chair in the corner of the room, pulled along the floor until it was across from him, and sat down.

"Two days. You were in rather bad shape when the soldiers brought you here. Yet you still managed to do this." she said sternly, holding up her wrist so he could see the black thin cast around it. It was made of a thin shiny dark metal, and had he not known it was for an injury could've mistaken it for gaudy jewelry. He was confused, had they met already? He couldn't remember any of it, just turning to be struck by some sort of red bright light, then nothing, until now. He was mostly shocked he wouldn't remember meeting her; she didn't seem like the type you forget.

"I-I don't remember-" he said, still finding it difficult to speak in his weakened state. She studied him skeptically.

"Hm. Strange for an Asgardian." she said, still staring him up and down inquisitively. She then leaned him a little more closely and put her hand to his head to feel for a fever. He flinched, which made her laugh a bit. "The great and powerful sorcerer, afraid of a healer."

"You don't scare me, witch." he said, more aggressively than he intended to. But he hated to be belittled, especially by the likes of a dark elf, beautiful or not. Her demeanor didn't change, which just confirmed his suspicions that she was playing nice only because she had to, but probably hated him just as much as any other dark elf.

"You know, for someone who also casts spells, your disdain for my kind seems a little misplaced." she said rather calmly, "Hmm, you still have quite a fever. You need to rest."

"How very observant of you, Madame Healer. Excellent healing advice." he said sarcastically. This time her demeanor instantly became more hostile. She stood so she was staring down at him, clearly trying to relay her power over him.

"Spoiled little child," she spat at him. Despite her clear anger towards him she remained rather calm, her tone steady. "Rest assured, if it were up to me your head would be displayed on a spike for every Asgardian to heed as a warning. But it's not up to me, so here I am, saving your life instead. Now, we can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way." She leaned down towards him a little. "And honestly, Loki, I would love it if you were stupid enough to choose the hard way." They continued to glare at each other, neither wanting to back down. Loki stayed silent for a moment, admittedly somewhat lost in the glow of her blue eyes, then held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. She stood straight again, still not breaking eye contact.

"Wise choice." she said, then turned to leave. "The guards will be back in the morning to prep you for the healing room. Oh, and do try to get some rest." The last sentence was dripping with sarcasm. Two could play at that game.

As she waited for the doorway to appear, Loki mustered the strength to ask her a question.

"Are you not going to at least tell me your name?" he asked, this time sounding more commanding. She turned to look back at him, seeming a little surprised he asked.

"Its Astrid." she replied, then swiftly left before he had a chance to respond. He was somewhat taken aback; it was none other than the king's beloved daughter.

This just got much more interesting.