Loki (book 1)

twenty-two.

OKAY, IF THERE'S ONE THING I've learned about my mother already is that she's a total jerk.

I mean, seriously. I followed her through, what it feels like, every hallway of the castle, while she's talking nonsense to rushing by maids, who give me wary looks before scurrying away, frightened that I might kill them. Might. And I'm not saying the same for my mother.

Finally, after I decided to quit looking forward to the passing bystanders (or should I say by-rushers) I started to almost trip over her dress.

I said almost.

But the reason is because she would always look in a room, and all of a sudden make sudden stops in the ongoing hallways, making me either stop dead in my tracks or step on the long beautiful train of her dress.

Every time she'd give me a glare, but I could tell that she really didn't hate me, because I saw something in the back of her eyes.

Love.

And that, somehow, makes me a bit happier every time she glares at me, because I get to see her eyes.

Almost like she wasn't the woman who gave me up, whoever knows how long ago. I could've stayed here for what was thousands of years back on Midgard but here could only be a couple of age-defying days. It probably feels horrible, aging slowly.

But at the same time it would probably be awesome.

I mean, from what I've seen on Natenheim, it'd be a beautiful place to live for thousands of years, aging slowly to the sounds of the meadows and rushing winds.

Before all this snow was placed here.

And I have a feeling it wasn't that long ago.

"Are you going to follow?" I heard her ask out loud, and I looked up to see she was all the way down the hall, and was holding an open door out for me.

I scurried towards her, avoiding her deathly gaze and walked in the abandoned room.

After my eyes got adjusted to the darkness, my mother opened the dusty but beautiful curtains, giving me the feeling that they've been here for hundreds of years. After all, that wouldn't be very long in a place like this.

"This was supposed to be your room." She said sadly, and gestured towards the crib made of wood and the dirty blankets that covered it, as if it was a casket at a funeral, a closed casket.

I widened my eyes and started to feel colder. Maybe it was from the sadness that this would've been my room when I was younger, or that I was creeper out by the fact that she would keep my room untouched for years.

Wait...why would she make me a room if she's the one who gave me up? Did she want me but had to give me away, because she was afraid that I would take the throne once I qualified for the age the crown desired? I have a crown of my own, a crown of embarrassment. Knowing I was standing next to my biological mother who gave me up whoever knows how many years ago, has kept my room untouched and closed for those years, and now I'm standing right next to her, and she's looking at me with such loving eyes.

"I'm not a very sentimental person." I grumbled, moving the blankets around.

Her smile dropped.

"I can see that you look exactly like your father." She said under her breath.

Only not quiet enough.

"Speaking of that, who is my father?" I asked, looking up at her.

My mother suddenly dropped the loving features that rested upon her face,and instead gave me a look that could kill. If looks could kill.