Dragonscales

Chapter 52|Dishonor

Fuzziness surrounded me. It was around my body, my senses, and in my brain. It seemed like my eyelids were too heavy to open. A dripping noise registered despite the fuzziness.  Hiccuping breaths rang in my ears, as a cold hand held mine. I fought through the heaviness of my eyelids to see Loki leaning over my bed. His eyes were puffy and red as tears dropped onto the starch white blankets. Red swirled in his usually green irises, while blue branched and splintered over his pale skin. 

A relieved smile broke out across his cheeks. "Your awake, my flower." I rubbed my eyes, noticing a tube taped to my arm. "How long have I been sleeping?" I croaked. My throat burned. "Three days. We've all been worried sick." The dragon tattoo on my left shoulder twinged. "Where's Tourmaline?" Loki brushed his thumb over my knuckles. "She's currently in a press meeting with the team. They thought it best that one of you should be there." 

I leaned back into my pillows as the events three days ago crossed my mind. "I killed my mother, Loki." The image of my blades slicing her throat flashed behind my eyes. "You did what you had to do to save the people of New York. I'm sure the people will remember you as a hero." Loki said softly. He was trying to console me, to justify my actions. Maybe I'm just a monster, like everyone in my village thinks the fae are. "I suppose it's a good thing Marigold never saw our mother for the last time. The stars know that Jessamine would try to manipulate her like she did to me." It was a small comfort to know that I protected my little sister from our horrid mother. Still, she was our own flesh and blood, our kin, and I killed her. My actions are truly dishonorable. 

"Would you feel better recovering in your room?" Loki asked. I nodded, for once letting him carry me somewhere. The tube in my arm followed me, since it was connected to a bag hanging from a pole with wheels. I didn't know the exact purpose, but I knew it helped in my healing. The side of my body was stiff with bandages from the cactus. Loki set me down into the soft sheets of my bed. His hands quickly pulled the blankets over me and tucked them against my body. Loki then brushed the pearly strands of hair away from my face, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. 

"Your skin was blue earlier. If you don't mind me asking, why?" Loki sat at the foot of my bed. "I'm not actually Asgardian. My father, Odin, stole me away from my true home when I was a baby. I'm a frost giant, or a Jotun. My entire life I was raised to hate what I truly was, while my true form was kept hidden from me." Pain flared in my abdomen as I leaned over to place my hand in his. "I completely understand. My entire life I was taught to hide part of who I am, and raised to hate everything about that part. That hate got me banished from my formed home and birthright. Life dealt us a pretty shitty hand of cards, huh?" Loki chuckled bitterly. "Indeed it has." 

***Two Days Later***

The tiles of my bathroom felt cold underneath my bare feet. I ignored it, gripping my sword as it shifted from it's bracelet. I had a job to do. The frosted tresses flowed down to my waist, shiny and healthy. It had  completely grown back from my banishment. I steeled myself as I gathered my hair into a ponytail. My blade flashed in the warm light of my bathroom. Waves of hair fell to the cold tile. I left the small braid intertwined with thistles, as even with my dishonor I mourn the loss of my father, uncle, and aunt. Soon a new flower will join the trio to signify my mother. With a few more swipes of my sword, my hair was short enough. It hadn't been this short since my banishment. The job had been completed. 

******A/N: 

In this chapter I really delved into Thistle's feelings about what she was forced to do for the greater good, and how complicated people's feelings are towards their abusers. This chapter was also enjoyable to write because I got to show some of the traditions of my version of elves. 

Thanks for reading! <3

~Author-chan