Burning Dahlia | A Loki Story

Chapter Nine ~ A Glimpse

The ride back to the palace was silent. Neither of the Asgardians said a word while the horses trotted on; Dahlia preferred the silence while Loki only simmered beneath it. The prince wrestled with a thought; he was curious. He wanted to ask her about the man who'd approached them. He even mulled over his name in his head. Luca. He obviously wasn't anyone very important, quite unlike Dahlia herself who'd been a thorn in his father's side for centuries. He supposed that's why he had such a fascination with her. This woman had only herself to depend on, and even prefered it that way. She had managed to evade even the most belligerent law forces in the current galaxy and even had the gall, and ability, to almost assassinate him.

Of course, it wasn't only that. There was something very off about Dahlia. She had the confidence of someone with the power to take what she wanted, and the attitude to accompany. Yet she exuded something far softer; she reminded him of Frigga in ways that made his heart ache. Perhaps that's why he found himself so easily set off by her. He didn't like to think of his mother, the pain that accompanied the shame and regret he felt for the way he treated her making the memories unbearable.

He knew she'd skimmed his diaries. He saw her do it. Through her eyes. He hadn't meant to. In truth nothing about that quarrel had been in his control. And when he'd grabbed her wrist.... He shook the thoughts from his head, turning to glance at the woman taking up his thoughts. She stared almost peacefully at the city that now lay beneath them on their approach to the palace. She looked almost happy. The setting sun highlighted the laugh lines and smiling creases that cornered her eyes and mouth; years of joy and expression told stories he knew she'd never tell him across her skin. The moment only lasted a second when she caught Loki'd gaze and her face dropped.

The prince trained his eyes ahead once more, setting his expression to one of indifference. She hated him, rightfully so. He knew what he was doing was cruel and even torturous. The woman was a nomad; forcing her to stay in one place was like putting a hawk in a sparrow's cage. He could feel how she itched to get away from him. He could feel her hate. But what choice did he have? That was the question that led to her imprisonment. Truly. It wasn't the assasination attempt, the disrespect, or even the continuous throwing of fists and claws. He kept her here, under his gaze and near his side simply because he didn't know how else to keep her here.

It wasn't a crush or anything like that ~as far as he could tell~, but instead a curiosity. It burned against the back of his neck and surfaced in his frustrated actions. He had an urge to hurt her, annoy her; he wanted to garner any reaction he could, if only to see her face twist into something new. He wanted to see her do what she'd done the day before; Loki wanted to feel what she'd made him feel when the touch of her skin brought back so many memories he had so carefully tucked away into locked and sealed vaults. He wanted to be burned, and deep down he knew he'd most likely end up burning Dahlia in the process.

~~~

The rest of the short ride back to the palace remained silent, the sun having set and disappeared under the horizon by the time they made it to the stables. The silence stretched beyond the ride back, hanging over the pair even while they stalled their horses. The wordlessness continued even when Dahlia slipped from the stables to have the night to herself.

Loki didn't follow her out but instead left Rasket to make his way to Átthagi's stall. He looked at the stallion with admiration. He was truly beautiful; his hide was dappled with bluish gray and Dahlia had carefully braided both his tail and his mane. Not an imperial stallion my ass, Loki chuckled inwardly. If anything Átthagi was the definition of imperial. The stallion was at least six foot at the withers, his head towering far above Loki's head. He weighed at least a ton, most likely more.

In truth he reminded him of Dahlia herself. He was temperamental, eccentric, and Loki had truly never seen anything like him. The prince smiled just a little, the idea of such a small woman riding such a huge animal amusing him. He spent another moment admiring the stallion before turning and making his way out of the large hall. As much as he enjoyed riding, the smell of old hay and horse hair was something he could do without.

After making his way out of the stable Loki found himself unsure as to what to do with himself. Pestering the girl was a tantalizing option, and Loki's first thought. But after the day he chose to refrain; Dahlia's life had changed completely in the span of 24 hours. She deserved a break. Instead, Loki made his way to the kitchens.

Thankfully he found that the kitchens were mostly empty. Dinner had been served to both the resident royals and the staff alike hours ago, the kitchen servants vacating the work space with the setting sun.

"My Prince?"

Loki flinched, dropping a bowl of grapes he'd pulled out of a cold cabinet. The ceramic bowl shattered at his feet and in an attempt to move away he only crunched the shards under his boots.

"Shit," he mumbled, using his magic to gather the sharp pieces and toss them in a bin. He looked back at the scowling woman who had an eyebrow raised in his direction.

"Lady Byron. You really should announce yourself."

The old woman only scoffed and adjusted the tray in her hands. "And you really should be more perceptive." Loki only scowled at her. While she was below him, this woman had been his nanny for many years and that authority she held then had stuck with him. He eyed the tray.

"Who is that for?"

"That poor girl you've taken possession of," she said rather coldly, pointedly glaring at the royal. "Yeah, rumors travel fast around here. Your father may not care, but the rest of us feel bad for the girl."

"Don't," he deadpanned. "That woman is a nightmare. She's no better than any other criminal."

"If I remember correctly they gave you luxury in your confinement," Lady Byron snapped back, eyes narrowing. She shook her head. "What would Frigga say?"

Loki's heart stung at that last part, his pride attempting to burn off the still healing wound of his mother. Where he'd looked like he'd been slapped moments before he now set his features in an almost emotionless glare. "You'd do well to know your place here," he growled without malice.

Lady Byron stayed silent for a moment, seeing right through the dark exterior. "I'll keep that in mind," she hummed. "And you'll find more fruit in the backstock." She stared at him, weighing her next words. She knew they'd sting. "Try not to break anything else. You're good at breaking things."

Loki watched her walk out of the kitchen even after she disappeared from view. She knew where to jab, that was for sure. But Loki's heart knew how to harden itself before the weakness could surface. Emotions hurt, and he would not be hurt again. He was good at being destructive. It was all he'd ever be; a walking disaster and disappointment.

Might as well act like it.

~~~

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