Lillian's POV
Do Norse gods bake? Because I'm craving some chocolate chip cookies right now. Ha, imagine Uncle Thor in a pink, floral apron with matching oven mitts.
Now that would be a sight. I would most likely snap a picture and post it on my Instagram page.
Wait.
My Instagram page.
Dammit, people are going to be pissed that I haven't posted a picture in so long. I think my last one was a selfie of Logan, Johnny and I while we were on the road to finding my lost 'All American Boy'.
That's a long time....
Not like Asgard has signal or Wi-Fi though, that's definitely an improvement they should consider. Then again, if they're all like Uncle Thor then they'd most likely end up throwing their phones against the wall or off the Bifrost after five minutes due to overwhelming frustration.
Slowly sliding off my bed, I do my best to neglect the pain devouring my body as I shuffle out of the room in thin Asgardian pyjamas, a simple yet elegant design of a loose golden silk tank top and pants to match.
Throwing my hair up in a messy bun, I slink past Sam's bed with the delicacy and grace of a cat, being sure not to awake him from his slumber. He's had it rough the past couple weeks or so, having grown up in his old body his entire life and suddenly that's ripped from his grasp. Every scar on his old body told a story, every strand of hair on his head was how he wanted it, every bone and molecule defined him on the inside and out.
And now it's all gone.
Whatever Elsa the drag queen – otherwise known as my biological father – did to make him what he is now.... it's an all-new low. He has no idea how to function in his new body, not properly anyway. Sure, he can breathe, he can blink, he can eat, sleep, drink, etcetera etcetera, but it's not him.
It's weird calling this unrecognisable man Sam.
I trudge through the hallways of the palace in silence, darkness creeping up the walls like deadly talons attempting to grasp every last fragment of light possible and exterminate it before it spreads. The grandeur of the palace never ceases to amaze me, and even though I've roamed the endless hallways on countless sleepless nights before, I've still yet to discover the entire castle.
Loki doesn't even bother to station guards at the doors to Sam and I's sleeping quarters, not like we can escape anyway. According to Asgard, after Thor left to reside on Earth with his beloved Jane – which I have yet to meet – and his newfound Midgardian friends the Avengers, Loki 'miraculously' came back from the dead and because he's now the only 'qualified' heir to the throne, Odin dubbed him the new King of Asgard.
His illusions are definitely refined, I'll garner him that. Refined enough to persuade an entire kingdom of Gods.
Upon arriving at the kitchen, I scour the room with blood-shot, sleep deprived eyes, my vision slightly ablur. Usually I frequent my raid of the kitchen later on in the night, but the nightmares are recurring earlier and earlier as well as becoming more redundant, so here I am.
Making my way to the left hand side of the kitchen – where all the good Asgardian food seems to be – I rub away the last of the sleep in my eyes, trying to decide on what I should eat. I don't even know what any of the food is called, but most of it looks like normal food you would find on Earth, the only difference is that it apparently comes from other creatures here. When Loki tries explaining it to me, all I hear is ab%fcblqx&$3pfbf@he^a#ksdfghjkl*qutb.
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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...
