Daddy's Little Princess

•Where Do Broken Hearts Go?•

Amara was typically a perfect little princess, who always had her father wrapped around her little finger. Loki loved her with every fibre of his being, and knew that no matter what she did, he could never be angry with her. Or so he thought.

One day she was playing in her room with the new finger painting set that you had bought her on your last trip to the store together. It was a reward for her having cleaned up her room, and you thought it would be a fun way for her to express herself; being a bit of an artist yourself. You had setup a large sheet of paper on her play table for her, placing the paint in the center of the table to reduce the chance of her spilling it onto the floor. Well, at least that's what your main goal was, apart from her making any mess with the paint at all. That plan of yours went downhill very quickly, when her more mischievous side came out, and she decided to "decorate" the walls; slathering paint all over one wall, getting some in her hair and onto her dress. A little on her face as well. She certainly looked like a sight for sore eyes, but when Loki came in to check on her, per your request, the sight of her room was a perfect recipe for cardiac arrest.

His eyes widened when he saw the wall, now newly decorated with red, blue and purple paint, some even on the floor and closed his eyes for a moment, praying to the Norns that it was all just a bad dream. He felt so disappointed when he fluttered them open again, to find that this was very real, and sighed softly, before walking further into the room to talk with his daughter.

"Amara, what did you do," he questioned, looking down at the young girl, who had stopped what she was doing, acting as if she was an innocent little angel, "it's such a mess in here, what do you think your mother would say if she saw this, clean this up right now young lady," he sternly said, a serious expression in his eyes.

"No daddy!" Amara exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest and shaking her head in refusal, staying in her current spot by the wall.

Loki ran his hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. The last thing he wanted to do was yell at his little princess, but was prepared to do so, should it become necessary.

"Amara, I'm not going to ask you again," he said, a little firmer and sharper this time, his gaze on her a bit colder as well.

Amara sighed a little, then looked down in defeat, beginning to clean up the paint from the wall and floor, finishing up within a few minutes. Loki smirked to himself, feeling pleased that he was able to solve the issue himself and without you knowing that there was even a mess in the room, making things much better for himself as well. Though he wasn't quite safe yet, there was still one more mess to be cleaned up—a certain little princess was still covered in patches of paint from head to toe, along with her dress.

So much for thinking that you wouldn't be upset with him, at least for now anyway. He knew he had to act fast, and get Amara to have a bath, which he was sure would be as easy as pie. Norns, was he wrong about that. After motioning for her to wait where she was, so he could fill the bath up for her, he asked her to come get into the tub and that's when all of the fun; or lack there of, began.

Sure, he could've easily used to magic to clean her up, but you had insisted that he only used magic when it was absolutely necessary. Your main reasoning for that was to show Amara that you can't always take shortcuts in life and sometimes to have to work through things. Or something to that effect anyway, from what Loki recalled as he wasn't fully listening to you, thinking that the request was a little absurd. Even if you were the love of his life and mother of his child.

"No bath daddy," Amara refused, crossing her arms over her chest, while making a pouty face.

"Amara, you're having a bath now or I swear to Valhalla, I'll get your mother and you'll have both of us to deal with," Loki sternly said, slowly becoming angry; but trying not to let it get too bad.