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It was yet another day for December, a mindless day filled with gruelling tasks. Sort of. The only positive thing was that finally, even with the scar going done her face as Ember, she had been permitted to work in the upper area of the palace. It was considered a privilege, a sought-after position. 

Sometime, a noble lady or respected warrior would spot a servant and take them in as their own. The servant would live in separate quarters, near their master. They would serve their master to the best of their abilities, whether that be by taking care of the quarters or letting their master find 'pleasure.'

December was not interested in doing that, so she made sure to stay out of the way. To not be noticed.

But apparently, things had not gone as planned.

Warriors from Alfheim had arrived with the Asgardians who had been sent to fight back a group of rebellious dwarf lords on Svartlafheim. According to the whispers that she had overheard from passing servants, they had arrived to pay homage and respect to the king of Odin, as thanks for sending his son and the Warrior Three to help them out.

But you see, that wasn't what hadn't gone as planned.

What hadn't gone as planned, was the fact that one of the Warriors had noticed her and had eagerly claimed her as his own, for the short time they would be on Asgard.

Now their may have not even been a problem with that, ignoring the fact she was in a romantic relationship with the jailed Prince Loki, was that he wanted those 'pleasures', that apparently the servants' were expected to deliver if requested. (no one had told her that when she was signing up to the job!) She had mentally cursed Queen Frigga when she had found this out.

And, okay, sure, maybe December could have stomached it without murdering the light elf warrior.

The biggest problem, was this elf, was her father.

Big plot twist there, eh?

Not really.

Even in her persona as Ember, her 'surname' of sorts was Aegandottir. Literally screaming that she was the daughter of Aegan, and sure there were many Aegan's, but it was a pretty big coincidence that a girl who looked like Aegan with the elfish features, white-hair and magic affinity, with the 'surname' of Aegandottir, to not be his daughter.

But oh well, she never really took the Asgardian's as smart.

Every species had a lot of idiots, nothing to be ashamed of if your Asgardian.

Take a look at Helheim for example, that place is filled with a bunch of dead, idiots and criminals! Not in any specific order of course.

She sat patiently on his bed, wearing a thin modest gown of white that fell to her ankles in an airy effect. Her hair and makeup had been done.

December hadn't bothered protesting, there was no point for the servants to find out who her father was. He had instructed for her to be brought to his room, provided temporarily for him in the Asgardian palace, while he showed his thanks to the royal family and gloated his fame around, already well known as the best warrior in all of Alfheim.

She was hoping to be able to contest that comment one day, if not now.

Suddenly the door creaked open and he strode in with an air of confidence and power. December observed him carefully in his traditional light elf warrior robes, a mix of silver metal and light-coloured cloth. She had gotten the white-blonde hair from him, along with the pointy ears and the unearthly beauty.

Sure, her mother was a Greek Goddess, but she was still a Midgardian goddess, thus qualifying her with earthly beauty. During World War One and Two, men called her exotic. Never knowing her true nationality as she seemed so out of this world, so unearthly. Not like they were lying.

Platinum Blonde // L. LaufeysonWhere stories live. Discover now