Dragonscales

Chapter 59|A Feast Fit for Gods

THISTLE'S POV

Tourmaline sat patiently as I twirled ribbons around her horns. She was curled around the sofa in my sitting room, her head comfortably resting on my lap. "Do you want the ends tucked or loose?" I asked. The ribbons were twisted around her horns, tied to both the top and bottom of her horns. There was a bit of ribbon left over from tying it. Tucked. She rumbled, stretching out her tail. 

I hummed a song in Elvish as I finished her ribbons. Tourmaline lifted her head from my lap, her scales making a slight clinking noise as she shook out pins and needles. I hate when my wings fall asleep, she complained. I chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my pointed ear. "I suppose we don't want to be late to the party thrown in our honor," I twisted the bracelets around my wrists. The cool metal calming me. 

"I hope Loki's meeting with Odin went well." Asgardian silk draped from my body, sewn into an elegant dress. It was spotted with moonstones. Still, I could see past the facade of silk and crystals, what went on behind closed doors. I'm sure Loki is fine, little one. Tourmaline enveloped me in a wing, pushing me against her torso. "I'm 142 years older than you." I frowned. Tourmaline chuckled, a wisp of smoke curling from her nostrils in amusement. And yet you are smaller than me. Tourmaline released me from her wing and shouldered past me. I grumbled something in elvish under my breath, then followed her out the door. 

Fandral was waiting for us outside my chambers. "I thought I should accompany you to the Feast Hall should you get lost." Tourmaline puffed up her wings to make herself look bigger than she actually was. "Frigga was going to send a maid for me, Fandral. I appreciate the thought, though." I said cordially. "But Lady Thistle, I see no maid and you are leaving your quarters. It would be terrible if something bad were to happen if you were not accompanied." Fandral insisted. Tourmaline and I shared a look. I raised an eyebrow. "First of all, I am a princess. Second of all, I am perfectly capable of defending myself." In one swift, fluid motion, I flicked my wrist and pointed the blade at the warrior's throat. 

A small cough tore my attention away from the Asgardian. A maid stood a yard away from us, nervously wiping their hands on their apron. "I was sent by Queen Frigga to bring you to the Feast Hall." She squeaked. I smirked at Fandral, Tourmaline and I following the maid to our destination. I believe the human term for him is that he can't keep it in his pants. Tourmaline observed. My dragon's joke caught me by surprise, making me choke out a giggle. And where did you learn the term in question?  I asked telepathically. I once overheard Peter use it to describe one of his classmates. Tourmaline shrugged her wings, whacking the walls of the hallway we were in. 

"We're here." The maid bowed and scurried off before I could thank her. My eyes flicked to the room in front of me. A knot formed in the pit of my stomach as I saw the large crowd. The room itself was nice, large and open air. It had gold accents and a balcony overlooking the Bifrost. Servers milled around, offering drinks to the guests. A couple long tables filled the hall, the center table being the focal point of the party. At the end lounging on a gilt chair was Odin, Frigga at his right hand. Thor was next to her and jovially telling his mother stories of his time on Midguard, occasionally Loki would nod along from his seat across the table. 

I gracefully plopped down on the chair next to my betrothed. Loki's green eyes met mine, and I placed a reassuring hand on his thigh under the table. How did the meeting with your father go? I reached out with my mind to Loki. He flinched before realizing it was me. He told me he was proud of me. Loki answered. His hand found mine under the table and held it, while tears welled up in his eyes. I leaned on his shoulder, You deserve it, my love. 

Just as our moment was over, servers began placing large trays of food on the table ahead of us. Odin piled some food on his plate, customarily being the first allowed to eat. After he took the first few bites, everyone else started piling food onto their own plates, including me. Aunt Astra had the same rule during her reign, which Snowdrop got rid of as she assumed the throne. Loki and Thor pointed out their favorite dishes, urging me to try each. "You'll have to try the honey roast, Thistle. It's been slathered with the finest honey and slow-cooked for ten hours. The meat just falls off the bone..." Thor described animatedly, trailing off to help himself to another serving. Soon my plate was piling ever higher with suggestions, until I decided to postpone the taste-test until after I got a drink. 

I plucked a goblet off a nearby server. I shrieked in pain and dropped it, the goblet clattering to the floor and spilling the mead inside. Everyone's attention snapped to me, and to the burn on my hand. I clutched it to my chest, tears desperately fighting to fall. My breath grew shallow as pain tore through my hand. 

A pair of cool arms wrapped around me in comfort, while a soothing burst of magic chased the pain away. I once again became aware of my senses, eyes flicking wildly around the room. I had fallen out of my chair, and was now laying against Loki in a cold embrace. Frigga knelt in front of us, delivering spells to heal me. Tourmaline was curled in a protective circle, daring anyone to face her wrath. Thor was standing on the outskirts of the circle, an expression of worry etched into his face. "All better, Thistle." Frigga cooed, her voice warm and motherly. 

"You dare bring a fey into Asgard? Of all your betrayals and villainy, this is by far the foolish!" Odin roared. A lump formed in my throat, as did fresh tears in my eyes.  "Everybody return to your homes, the feast is over. Guards, lock up the fae and her dragon in the dungeons, I'll deal with them later. As for my sons, I will deal with you immediately." Odin ordered. I inhaled sharply as the guards placed chains on me. Of course they're made of iron. They dragged me away from Loki as more guards chained him up. Multiple men were fighting Tourmaline, failing at capturing her. I screamed as they dragged me out of the room, cursing in elvish. Cursing myself for being weak, cursing the blood of the fae coursing through my veins, and cursing the Allfather himself. 

A/N~~~~

Hello my lovely readers! Since we're very close to the sixtieth chapter, I figured I would do a Q&A. So ask your questions in the comments and I'll answer them in the next chapter's Author's Note. These questions can be both about me or this story, just know that if I don't feel comfortable answering a question about myself I won't answer it. See you in the next chapter! Thanks for reading! <3

 ~Le Author