{SET BEFORE THE EVENTS OF 'THOR'}
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"Did you know," she said, sitting on the ground and turning to the prince, "that Midgard has an entire language dedicated to flowers? Each of them mean something else. It's a very sweet way they can express emotio...
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"What... what are you doing here?" Maeve whispered, breathless. Of all the people she was hoping or expecting to see, it wasn't him.
Bjarke raised his eyebrows, the hint of a smirk on his handsome face. "Paying a friendly visit, You Highness. Your home isn't quite what I expected."
He looked different. The last time she saw him, it was mainly in the presence of the court. Now, his black curls had grown longer, messy around his sharply angular face. There was a certain excitement in him that was lacking the first time they'd met. It made her wonder how much she truly knew about Bjarke Laufeyson.
"I'm serious - what's going on?"
"I'll explain soon enough. For now, I don't think you need to be holed up in a dark, frigid, and rather damp closet, unless you'd prefer that."
He moved aside, allowing her to timidly step back into the main room. The sight that awaited her made her gasp all over again. Styrmir and Petrof's bodies were strewn across the floor, blood trickling from multiple wounds.
"Are they-?"
"Yes. They weren't complying with the orders of their prince, so they paid the price." Bjarke bent down, making sure daggers were clutched in his victims' hands. "We're leaving now. With luck, the owners will think that they killed each other in the night."
Maeve stared down at the corpses of her captors and found that she wasn't all that sorry for them. Not after weeks of mistreatment and neglect.
By the time she'd looked back up, Bjarke was already standing by the door, his expression questioning. "Is something the matter?" He asked innocently.
"Yes. I don't trust you," she said, folding her arms. Deep down, she knew that even though she was trying her hardest to be strong, a short, shivering, pregnant princess didn't look all that intimidating.
The prince actually laughed. "I'd think you foolish if you did."
"Then why do you expect me to go with you?"
"Because I killed both of your captors?" He smirked and casually leaned on the doorframe, using a scrap of fabric from Styrmir's cloak to clean the blood off of his sword. "The way I see it, you have two options. One, stay here with two dead Jotuns and see what becomes of you once a curious soul comes snooping. Or two, take the risk and come with me. Your choice, of course. I'd never force you into it."
