"What was she like?" I asked. "I mean, if that's all right. I know it's a bit of a touchy subject and all."
I lay in the cold dungeon cell, staring up at the ceiling. It was a bright white. Same as the walls. Same as the floor. I was starting to appreciate having my father as a roommate rather than being utterly alone. God, it was still a bit weird thinking of Loki being my father. Awesome, I guess, but weird too.
It was incredible knowing that Asgardian blood ran through my veins. I wasn't going to get sick of the idea of living forever for now, but being connected to Loki meant that a lot of people were going to hate me for all the wrong reasons. That was if they didn't already hate me for killing their Queen, which for the umpteenth time, Odin, I did not do.
The last couple of weeks had been spent scouring every corner of the small cell for escape routes. None were found. That ended up leading me to find quite a few awkward, but comfortable spots for reading. We only had a few books, since Frigga was the only one who had supplied Loki with them in the first place, and at this point, I had read each of them about five times.
Each passing hour seemed to get more and more boring, and I thought I was about to lose it. That was, until I decided to ask more about my mom. I just had to hope that Loki was willing to open up a bit and spill. Something he was most likely uncomfortable doing. I was still going to pester him about it, though. No way I was standing down that easily.
Loki lay on the singular bed we had. They hadn't bothered to furnish the room with another, even after I had joined him down here. So, I got to sleep on it, but he got to enjoy its comforts during the day. If it, in fact, was day. It was hard to keep track of the time, but every now and then the Einherjar would bring us meals. Though, from what I understood, they were much worse than before the Queen passed.
I was surprised by the thoughtful, almost touching way Loki made sure that I could still have some pleasantries while being locked up in a dungeon. It was his fatherly side, something no one in Asgard had probably seen before. The care he showed was frightening at first. The God of Mischief surely wouldn't be kind unless he planned on tricking you. But, by now, it had become comforting.
My faux parents back on Earth, Midgard, I still don't care what you call it, had tried to do the same things, but it had never felt right. Knowing that they weren't mine, had sort of killed the moment. I was prepared to be alone, and fend for myself. Now, I didn't have to.
He finally spoke up. "No, it's fine. She was beautiful. Your mom was from one of the outer villages, but she could have passed for royalty if she'd wanted." I heard him sigh, reminiscing about the time they'd spent together. "We met at a ball. Odin had wanted us, or really Thor, to find a girl. I don't think he expected Eira to come up to me. But, why am I telling you all this, when I can just show you?"
"You can?" I sat up, excited. "How—"
Loki's fingers met my temple, as he rolled off the bed. Almost immediately I was transported into a ballroom. It wasn't familiar to me, meaning that the palace still had plenty of rooms for me to explore. If I hadn't been locked up, of course. The lights were dim, candles their only source, but the place was filled with people. Men and women danced across the floor, dressed in beautiful suits and gowns. Most of the ladies' hair were decorated elaborately, their gowns an equal display of talent. Some were embroidered to the point that there was no space left of the dress, others had so many layers, I couldn't keep track.
It wasn't difficult to find Thor. He was a bit younger, but he still had a parade of women trailing behind him and surrounding him whenever he stopped walking. Every one of them wanted the chance to dance with a prince. They didn't seem to realize that another one stood sulking mere feet away from them.
Loki had the same differences in appearance, but his dark green and black attire made it clear who he was. That and the fact that anyone passing made sure to leave a sizable gap between the two. I felt bad for him. Walking up to him, I realized that no one seemed to notice my presence. Stuck in the same ensemble I'd chosen to wear before being sent to the dungeons, it was probably for the best. Question was, could I talk to this Loki?
"Don't stray too far. There's plenty of things to keep you busy around here."
It appeared as though he could talk to me.
"Alright. Is she here yet?"
"Not yet. She enters. . . now."
I had to wonder how many times he'd relived this moment to be able to pin down her entrance so perfectly.
In came a woman with curly brown hair that fell down to her shoulder blades. Her eyes matched, her gaze sweeping the room until it landed on us. She sauntered over, allowing me to notice the slit in her onyx gown, something that was definitely more Midgardian in fashion. Loki hadn't been lying. She was gorgeous, and suddenly I felt ashamed that I hadn't gotten to share any of her features. Except, maybe her nose. I could see a bit of resemblance there, but apart from that. . . I never would have been able to guess who she was.
I met her halfway across the room, trying to introduce myself.
"Hi. I'm Winter, your daughter. You probably didn't know you were going to have a kid yet, but, I mean, it's always good to know these sorts of things ahead of time, right?"
She kept walking. Not even a hint of recognition. I guess I couldn't talk to the other members of the ball. A shame, considering I'd hoped to actually be able to speak with my mother. Loki seemed to strike up a conversation with her, but he was most likely only repeating what had been said that night.
Sighing wistfully, I sat near the doors, waiting for them to dance. Once I'd seen them step out onto the dance floor, I exited the ballroom. I didn't really like parties to begin with, and so it only seemed right. Though, I had expected to now be in one of the golden hallways of the palace, not a garden.
Following the path, I noticed what I assumed was a couple sitting on a bench. They seemed so calm and peaceful, certainly pleased in their ability to find such a nice spot. Had this garden always been here? I could have sworn. . . no, this was another memory. I was physically walking through Loki's mind. How much time had passed between the ball and this, I had to wonder?
They kissed, gently, and I continued making my way through the garden. At the end I found a gate which I opened hungrily, greedily awaiting the next scene. It was sort of like a movie. A sort of cringey rom-com, but still, a decent film. I wasn't entirely sure my father wanted me to be seeing all this, but no one had come to stop me, so I just kept going.
Scene after scene passed before my eyes. I watched them get engaged. I saw my mother reveal her pregnancy to Loki. So many good things were happening. What had happened to the cheerful young man who wittingly came up with jokes to keep his fiancé smiling?
Then I began to understand. My mother's friends all shunned her. She stayed in her room for days, the only one bothering to comfort her being Loki. They tried to make the best out of the next couple of months, but things only seemed to be getting worse and worse. No one cared for them anymore.
The night I was born. I could hear the wailing tears of a child as a door made of walnut, perhaps, appeared before me without warning. What lay behind that door? Could I just peek in real quick? A nervous Loki ran up beside me, speaking hurriedly to Eira. I placed my hand on the golden doorknob and turned it, a slight squeak echoing in my ears as it opened. Glancing up, I saw—
Colors raced before my eyes, the image of the bedroom fading, but not from my memory. No, that would forever be ingrained in my mind. My surroundings melted back into the dungeon cell where Loki glared at me.
"I thought I told you not to stray away from me." His tone had a certain edge that warned me of the frustrated remarks soon to come. "You were supposed to stay in the ballroom. I did not give you permission to run amok in my head."
"And yet the doors weren't locked. So, I'm gonna say your security could use some work."
I tried to sound confident, but my voice came out shaky. What had I just seen?
"I was supposed to be able to trust you. I didn't want you to see. . ." His voice broke. "I didn't want you to see that."
Sniffling, I attempted to formulate a question. "Why would she kill herself? Didn't she want to see her kid? I found myself growing more angry than sad. "She might have had to wait a bit, but she could have at least stayed for me."
"Odin didn't like her from the start. The pressure was already starting to get to her and your removal to Midgard pushed her over the edge." Loki gazed down at the floor. "I'd hoped to get to her in time. I failed."
"So just another thing Odin couldn't get right, huh?" I marched over to the golden barrier, getting the attention of one of the guards. "Hey! You!" He walked over. "You can tell your stupid King that he's right about keeping me down here. Because the second I'm free, I swear to God, I will make it my duty to make sure he falls! He's dead! I swear! He's—"
My father pulled me away from the barrier, apologizing to the guard. Once the guard had left, shaking his head, Loki sat me down on the bed.
"Are you insane? You'll have yourself executed with that mouth."
I muttered under my breath. "He deserves to die for what he's done."
"I agree, but you can't go about saying that. Even still, Asgard needs him, or else they'll be stuck with the useless oaf Thor as a king." He placed himself beside me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "A lot of bad things have happened to us, and I promise that someday we'll get our revenge, but you realize that means getting out of her first. Plus, revenge doesn't have to be murder, Winter."
"Says the guy who tried to take over Earth."
"I never said I was a role model when it came to things like this. But, I don't want you to suffer the same way I have. I've made a lot of mistakes, and I'm certain to make many more in the future, but could you try not to lead yourself down the same road?"
"Fine."
But even still, I'd begun plotting. There was no way I was going to let this go. Odin had basically murdered my mother, alienated my father, and accused me of killing the only person who had made Asgard feel like home. When Odin fell, it would be my doing. He'd better hope I didn't escape any time soon.