Dragonscales

Chapter 61|Asgardian Fashion

LOKI'S POV

Thor, the Einherjar, and I marched down to the dungeon. My chest felt like there was an invisible bilgesnipe sitting on it, ready to flay my vital organs. We finally reached my betrothed's cell, the smell of burnt bone hitting my nostrils before I could see her laying on the ground, seemingly unconscious. "Thistle!" I yelled, barely waiting for a guard to remove the golden barrier of magic. I scooped the half-elf's body in my arms, checking for a pulse. A breath of relief escaped my lungs as I felt her heart beating steadily under my fingers. 

I sniffed, locating the stench to her horns, the tips singed. She must've rammed into the barrier with her horns in a moment of panic. The damage was superficial, the outer layer of bone that covered her horns would heal. The impact from ramming into the wall was what must've caused her to fall unconscious. Thistle's eyes cracked open, a small groan leaving her lips. Thistle cursed in Elvish, a hand pressing against her forehead. "Maybe you shouldn't ram into things, darling." I teased, a grateful smile spreading across my face. "Maybe Odin shouldn't have locked me up." She responded, still speaking in Elvish. 

THISTLE'S POV

My hands gingerly traced the bandages on my wrists. I winced at the memory of the iron chains. Why does every place I get locked up have to have iron? I shook the thoughts out of my head, focusing on Loki sitting in front of me. A cold hand played with a few of my frosty tresses, the other one flipping a page in his book. Loki's voice was honeyed, smooth, and sweet. He was reading aloud a story that Frigga used to tell him as a child. "The dwarf hammered away at his metal contraption, sure that this one would trick Hilda into giving back his prized golden rings." My eyes fluttered closed, lulled to sleep by Loki's story. 

Hurried footsteps shuffled around my room, along with the sound of hushed voices. "Do you think we should wake her up?" A feminine voice asked softly. "No! The Prince will have our heads if we disturb his betrothed, not to mention the dragon!" Another voice answered, this one decidedly lower. I cracked an eye open, to see two maids staring at me. Their eyes were filled with worry, either for me or because I might've overheard them. "Princess Thistle, Queen Frigga has been awaiting the news of your waking so that she might invite you to breakfast." The quiet one bowed, hands clasped in front of her. "We shall help you get ready for the day." The other maid pulled open the wardrobe. Her eyes scanned the options, while the other hurried off to inform Frigga. 

"What are your names?" I asked, peeling the blankets off of my body. The handmaiden turned to face me, while I swung my legs over the edge. "You look surprised," I commented. "The people we serve don't usually ask for our names. Mine is Svanhild, and Thola just left." Svanhild picked a deep blue dress from the wardrobe, sapphires adorning the fabric. Small pieces of armor were stitched into the fabric, like a metal shoulder pad shaped into a rose. 

Svanhild stepped forward, holding the dress somewhat menacingly. "I'm not a child, I don't need help getting dressed," I said, backing away. "Of course you don't, but I was appointed to be your handmaiden for your stay and that is part of my duties," Svanhild explained while taking a step closer. My hands flew to my wrists, feeling the cool metal of my bracelets. "I'm sure you have more important duties to attend to than dressing me like a doll," I hissed, my feet sliding back against the tile. Svanhild rolled her eyes, before throwing her hands up in defeat. "Odin's beard, you're stubborn!" She huffed, throwing the dress at me. 

I grinned, going into the bathroom to dress myself. A pair of footsteps padded into my suite, which I assumed belonged to my other handmaiden, Thola. I exited the bathroom, dropping the elven silk garments I wore to bed onto the floor. "If it's okay, we would like to do your hair and makeup." Thola pressed her hands together in an almost begging motion, her golden bangles clicking together. "Yes, but the braids stay in." I sank into the cushioned stool in front of the vanity, waiting for the handmaidens to start. Thola nodded in understanding and started brushing out my frosted locks. 

My thoughts shifted to Tourmaline while they worked. Loki had said she had flown off after my capture. I tried contacting her with our bond but she was out of range for the magic to work. Worry started to eat at me, was she safe?

A/N: 

Dear lovely readers, it has come to my attention that I've been writing Dragonscales for two years now! It seems so crazy to me, especially since I started writing this my freshman year. Thank you all so much for reading! I appreciate it a lot since I tend to not be consistent at all. 

~L'auteur (the author in French, according to google translate)