Emerald

Loki of Asgard

I stare at the man in front of me. A man who a) seems to have abducted me from the Logies and b) is now telling me he is or isn't the Norse God of Mischief/Marvel super villain. He looks a bit like the movie villain but not entirely. I've met the actor who plays him and while they look very similar you would still tell the difference. This guy is, if anything, is slightly taller and (dare I say it) even better looking (yeah I didn't think that was possible either).

What is most disturbing - well other than being plucked from my hotel room before the big awards presentation and transported, probably to another planet, by a menacing "god" - is that "Loki" knows my name.

"How the hell do you know my name?" I repeat eyeing him suspiciously - he still has an air of danger about him but I'm a dog with a bone now and yeah I'm scared and obviously in a strange place with a possible lunatic, however I'm not giving up until I get some answers.

His eyes are blazing but so, I know, are mine.

I rip my hand from his and step back so I can jab my index finger into his breastbone.

"And how the Hell did I get here and what do you mean you are the Norse God of Mischief and a Marvel Super Villain and yet you aren't?" I ask poking at his chest with each question.

His eyes soften slightly and he moves his own hand up to capture my finger before I can jab him again.

"I am Loki of Asgard, the real one," he answers looking me in the eye and sighing, his voice is still low and a little menacing but I'm starting to think a lot of the tough/creepy guy stuff was just for show. Still I'm not going to turn my back on him any time soon. I still have the indents of his fingers on my wrists and, well, I'm not back at the Crown Casino yet am I?

"And you ask a lot of questions!" he growls.

I laugh at this - not one of those full laughs - but that nervous half laugh you get in times of stress, it's a little too loud and a little too high.

His hand moves from my index finger to envelop my whole hand and he tugs, motioning to the grand stairs behind us.

"Come!" he commands.

I don't deal well with commands or demands - dad always use to call me his little warrior - up for a battle if I sensed injustice or i just plain didn't want to do something. I may have mellowed with age, but not that much.  

"We need to talk I think," he says, it a bit more of an invite this time - he thinks he's learning - but not quick enough. He still expects me to follow meekly and sit beside him to "talk" but I don't.

I'm actually getting bloody angry now - really bloody angry and that's not good for anyone.

"The hell we do!" I growl.

"What we need "LOKI"," I say, half spitting his name.

"Is for you to return me to the Logies and leave me the HELL alone - I'm missing the awards! People will be searching for me!"

He sighs again. "You've been gone less than a minute of your time and I can have you back before anyone realises you've been gone at all!" he growls.

I look him in the eye - still not really appeased.

"Oh you're a Timelord now are you, Loki-not-Loki?" I spit, my body now quivering with rage, not fear.

And then, for the first time, I see the hint of a smile on his face and he even rolls his eyes at me, looking skyward, possibly actually regretting stealing me away from earth.

He lets out a heavy breath and looks at me.

"No but there are spells and we need a little time to talk I think - it is obvious you've been told nothing of your heritage, your royal blood or your destiny Caitlin," he says shaking his head and sighing. "Bloody Thor!"