Babysitter to the God of Mischief | Loki ✔

Chapter Eight

~Loki's POV~

I'd spent the afternoon training some of the new guards, and by the time I finished I was dirty, sweat sticking my clothing to my skin, my hair plastered across my forehead. Dahlia was scrubbing the floors of my chambers when I returned, and I'd decided to wait for her to finish before asking to prepare my bath.

"Is it nearly ready?" I asked Dahlia, leaning around the door to watch as she continued to add oils to the water.

"In a moment, your highness." Her voice rung out, her head looking down to make sure it wouldn't be too full.

I was used to having maids. I'd been surrounded by them since I was a young boy, and I saw some of the older ones who'd helped raised me as extended family. Dahlia was different to the others, but I couldn't quite place how or why.

She was interesting, her Midgardian blood making her stick out compared to all other company at the palace. I found her stories captured my attention, though she rarely went into detail. After my brief time on Midgard I vowed I didn't want any connection to the realm, hoping to cut off ties to anything that associated with the terrors that plagued my nights. But instead of relieving those dark days when I was with Dahlia, I felt happier, my life a bit fuller.

A short, quick knock made me look up, and casting a look back to Dahlia who was perched on the edge of the bath, I walked over and opened the door. Fandral stood on the other side, and I watched as his hopeful smile faded into a line.

"Oh, Loki."

"Am I not who you were looking for?" I leant against the wall, arms crossed. Fandral blinked, then shook his head, although I did manage to catch his brief look over my shoulder.

"Actually, no. I was hoping I could see Dahlia." I straightened up, my jaw twitching involuntarily as I stared down at Fandral.

"Why?"

"I told you the other day, I was hoping to-"

"She's my maid." I spat. I could hear a faint noise coming from behind me, but I flicked my wrist, locking Dahlia in the room with a silencing spell on both sides of the door. I would rather she not hear this particular conversation.

"Loki, just let me see her." Fandral argued, kicking his heel against the floor in a tantrum as I stood my ground.

"She is tending to my needs, Fandral. Bed your own maid for all I care."

Fandral shook his head, trying to push against my shoulder. I don't know why he bothered, he must have known he wouldn't be able to get past me. "You know for a fact I don't want to just bed her Loki. I plan to-"

I shook my head. "I do not want to hear about what your wants, Fandral."

He stopped, sighing in resignation. As he stepped back he raised his hands, head bowed. "Loki, why are you so attached to her?"

I cocked an eyebrow, tilting my head. "Who said I was attached?"

Fandral eyed me, standing straighter as if to challenge me. "You are so... possessive. She's a maid, Loki, you said it yourself."

His words hit a nerve, a pain tightening in my chest as I looked down at him. Biting back what I knew would be guilt at what I was about to say, I opened my mouth. "She's my maid, therefore my possession. And what is it you see in her that makes you want to marry her? She's Midgardian, you do realise?"

His look of shock gave me enough time to turn around and slam the door in his face.

Pausing outside the door to Dahlia, I let my mind wander over Fandral's words. She was my maid, of course I was possessive of her. But it wasn't an attachment. I wasn't attached.