Tabula Rasa (Unlike Loki: Book Two)

Chapter 1

(Anna)

"No. I will not have it."

If one more lord came up to me, asking me to make laws and put stupid restrictions on people, I was going to blow.

The common people took me seriously, supported me. The wealthier group, well, they saw me as a joke. I was a mutt in their eyes, half Asgardian, half demon.

All of Asgard knew now what I was and what Loki had been. It had been 5 years since he died, so the whole universe probably knew by now.

I was Queen and I expected my subjects to follow me. Loki had given me this throne to carry on his legacy. I planned to do it justice.

I did not see myself as a cruel ruler, quite the opposite actually.

I just wasn't going to take anyone's shit.

I sent the lord away, rubbing my head.

They treated me extremely well here. They gave me anything and everything I could possibly need, and then some. They took care of me.

I turned to a servant girl standing nearby. I hated the word servant, because it had such a different meaning here on Asgard. It was considered an honor to work for the King, or Queen in my case. It gave you stories to tell your children and your children's children. They were treated like royalty here, given plenty of food and care. In turn, they made sure I was well taken care of.

"Will you go tell the guards not to let any more lords in the castle? they are driving me insane." The girl, Milah I believe her name was, smiled wide laughing. She nodded her head and walked towards the doors.

I heard pattering feet coming down the hall, towards the throne room.

"Mommy, Mommy!" I heard a small voice yell.

"In here!" I smiled as I saw a little boy, with a full head of black hair running towards me.

He ran into my arms and I scooped him up, kissing him on the nose, making him giggle. he wrapped his arms around my neck, burrowing his head in my hair.

"And how is Master Leolin today? I joked, poking his side. He looked just like his father. Bright, big blue eyes and pale skin. His hair was thick and black, but soft as silk. He had my red lips and I swear he had my smile.

It pains me and brings me joy, every time that I look at my own son.

Our son.

Four years old and the child will never know his father but for the stories I tell him.

"Ah, the young man has woken!" said a voice.

A man, tall and muscular with light hair and dark eyes walked towards us.

It was Torren.

My fiancé.