EIGHT MONTHS AGO
"You're probably wondering where you are."
I ease into the plush fabric couch, an involuntary sigh of relief escaping my lips from doing so. Glancing up at my father, Loki Laufeyson, I smile wryly. "Actually I have a fair guess at where I am."
After waking up on the icy stone floor within the enclosed room and Loki revealing his true identity, he decided that the dramatizing was over and guided me through a few hallways, my wrists still raw but free from their cruel binds.
There aren't any windows within the room, but the entire building so far has been extravagant ever since we exited the holding cell, and from my observations of the area thus far, I do in fact have a general idea of my current destination.
His eyebrow quirks in amusement and curiosity. "Do tell then, oh daughter of mine."
Extending my arms and splaying them across either side of me on the vast and exquisite couch, I smile without warmth towards him. "Well, we did pass a few guards on the way here with Asgardian runes and markings carved on their striking gold armour so, not too hard to make a deduction. You could have at least made it a bit more challenging than that. Are you losing your edge, oh father of mine?"
He scoffs. "Just seeing if you still played the game as well as you used to, that's all. After being surrounded by those Midgardians and my irksome brother, I thought they may have dampened your abilities."
"If anything they made them sharper," I retaliate, growing defensive of my newfound family of super heroes.
He grins in an entertained manner, clearly noting my defensiveness. "No offense to the group of heroes who prevented my rule over Midgard, of course. So...." He half-awkwardly pauses, evidently somewhat uncomfortable with what he's about to ask "Must I give the patriotic American the.... what's the term the Midgardians use? The 'I-will-kill-you-slowly-and-painfully-if-you-harm-my-daughter' talk?"
I almost smile. "No one calls it that."
He shrugs. "Worth a try—"
"Why Amos?"
Not perturbed by my abrupt question, he answers as if we've been discussing the topic for the past ten minutes. "It's in Israeli, one of the only languages you fail to understand."
"Then enlighten me," I reciprocate stiffly, waving off the drink provided to me by an Asgardian servant.
With her head bowed, the servant girl shuffles as fast as she can from the room, and a pang of empathy courses through my chest. What would any of these servants committed to deserve the malice undoubtedly bestowed upon them by my father?
His velvety voice crunches my train of thought to smithereens. "Trouble. Amos means trouble in Israeli."
I find it in me to silently chuckle. "Oh you must think you're funny. And clever."
"I am funny and clever."
My amusement escalates. "That brings me back to the good old days. 'Don't be smart Skadi, I'm the smart one.'"
"I am the smart one," he pauses from his growing frustration "but it's good to hear that you haven't forgotten your name. Your real name."
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Played by the Enemy || Captain America || Book 2
Fanfiction"My hands are stained with dirt. And they always will be." ~ Lillian Nightshade; assassin, Captain America's girlfriend, and number one magnet for bullsh*t and bad luck. For her entire life, she's been told what to, who to kill, who she is, and what...
