Kidnapped|Book 4|A novel in the Blue Moon series| An Avengers fan fiction series|

29- Why Isn't Your Daughter Dead?

Hope you enjoy! Won't be able to update tomorrow, but I'll try for Friday :D

~Nobody's POV~

The altercation between Thea and her father inspires more than one conversation.

Fjodr's mansion is built much more traditionally than Neidra's. It is a towering, lodge-like structure made of wood panels, luxuriously created designs etched in the doorway and along the columns. Flames stutter from torches in the chilly weather, and a flag with the crest of the Mortepay family (a dragon holding a spear tightly in his jaws) flaps in the wind. The house stands on the crest of a hill, or, more accurately, a small mountain. The back of the house overlooks a large valley, a basin of grassy plains surrounded by rocks like a bowl. Small streams run from around and under the house, falling over the mountain to join into a larger waterfall that hits the ground about a hundred feet below. Several blocks of the mansion sprawl over the water, with arched, wooden bridges bracing over the little rivers.

As the sun beams into the house, a woman pulls shut the curtains opening up the sitting room to the view of the valley, so that the room is only lit by candlelight and torches. Besides the woman, there are three other people in there. A powerfully built man with thick dark hair, tied in a short ponytail at his neck, and large black eyes stands near the fireplace, his hands tightly on the back of a red velvet chair.

In the chair that Fjodr is leaning against,, sitting ramrod straight, her pale hands folded in her lap in a dignified way is Saissa. She is wearing a black dress that trails at her feet and pools around the chair. A gold circlet sits atop her black hair, which hangs in straight sheets around her elliptical black eyes.

Finally, Caomh leans lazily against the fireplace, the flames throwing his chiseled face into a game of shadows. His arms are crossed, but his countenance is casual. He also looks very bored.

Neidra walks back over to the three of them. The red adder is coiled around her wrist, and hisses softly. She holds herself regally, her raised chin and sharp silver eyes authenticating her to the person in charge of the room.

Regardless, Fjodr, still leaning against the chair, says, "What you ask of me is treason."

"Treason?" asks Neidra smoothly. Her approach with Fjodr is vastly different than her approach with Loki. "How could it possibly be treason when you are defying the power that has so subjugated you to heart break, the power that you have no desire to obey. How is that treason to go against those who wrong you? It is not- it is liberation."

"And besides," says Caomh in his lilting voice, his eyes seeming to crackle even more than the flames, like a fire demon, "You get the throne in return, and vengeance on Loki's family."

Fjodr raises an eyebrow, but says nothing. He looks suitably impressed.

"Do not deny to me that you have desire for Thor's crown," says Neidra, "I know that this is true."

"It is not something of great shock to many."

"Then you should not be afraid of the consequences. If you work with me, the benefits far outweigh the costs."

"What are the costs?" asks Fjodr.

Neidra smiles. But Fjodr, for all his intellect, does not have the sharp mind of Loki and so cannot see that Neidra's smile is not one of eagerness, but one as devious as Lilith, "I need only your influence. I can do the rest."

"And the benefits?"

"Shall I list them alphabetically?" queries Caomh, "Or numerically?"

"Well the most ornamental of the benefits that you will reap is a silver platter."