Electrostatic

Håp

Håp

"A light he was to no one but himself

Where now he sat, concerned with he knew what,
A quiet light, and then not even that.
He consigned to the moon, such as she was,
So late-arising, to the broken moon" - Robert Frost

Our lessons progressed evenly, Loki was enduringly patient with me, he possessed this reserved, docile side that consistently surprised me. Deep inside that twisted soul of his he had a heart, of what calibre I did not know but the thrill of learning kept me captive.

We played with knives hovering them to his throat, throwing them at small targets across the room. It took some harsh persuasion on his part for me to agree to writing my name in his skin.

I began with light faint paper cuts, he certainly took pleasure in the pretty torture. Observing the elegant loops write my name across his broad chest, felt like a sweet sort of revenge. My script became heavy the sharp dagger carving its way slightly deeper. I was branding him back. Alison Iver in blood red cursive. He smiled the whole time.

He taught me finesse and showmanship with blades, I knew how to injure and kill but not taunt and tease. He religiously practiced the rule of surprise and illusion, hiding blades in plain sight, ending your enemy before they could notice you've moved anything at all.

We picked locks and rearranged books for hours, all while sat opposite each other not lifting a finger. He was all around me, in my head, his green magic flowed and carefully caressed my power. The more I used the bracelet in such delicate ways the easier it obeyed my wishes. I was less erratic and doubtful.

Loki acted as my training wheels, he fixed what I broke and held what I dropped.

Once focused on particular tasks the tension between us eased, but as soon as business was done the silence is what plagued our thoughts. It's wasn't awkward it was something quiet and comfortable, far too easy to indulge in. We were opposites charged with electricity and sexual tension. We two apex predators were waiting on the other to pounce.

"It's getting late and we haven't eaten all day." I could hear my stomach growling.

"Are you asking me out to Dinner Iver?" Snapping his story book closed those long fingers wrapped around the leather bound so tightly I felt a flush of jealousy.

"I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to suggest I've rarely been outside the Palace walls, certainly not to enjoy myself. Being a slave was a rather reclusive lifestyle." His smile faltered he didn't like that joke.

"Well that just simply won't do." He dramatically threw his book down on the cushion next to him.

"Queen Alison Iver, would you..."

"I'm not a Queen I don't even have a crown." I giggled out, he had risen in front of me flamboyantly bowing with his address.

"It is impolite to interrupt a Princes proposal. You desire a crown? I'll make you a crown!" His smile was insatiable. He grasped my hand getting down on one knee.

"My Queen. It would be my honour to escort you to Dinner, the finest establishment Asgard can offer can only dream of hosting your glorious presence. To bask in your..." he couldn't finish his theatrics for laughing I playfully bashed his head with a small cushion, sending his long dark hair into disarray.

"You're a fool." I couldn't keep the smile from my face.

"There she is." His voice became so soft and his eyes danced across my face, slowly placing his hand upon my cheek, his palms were so large his fingers threaded into my hair, Loki's thumb stroked back and forth over my cheek bone.