Nightmare

He Needs Better Threats

He turns to me, blue eyes burning. "Disrespect me again and I'll make you wish you were dead."

(+)

"That's funny," I smile. "Bold of you to assume I don't already have a death wish."

So I plunged this bitch's dagger into my throat and he still thinks I want to live. How dumb can you be?

"I don't understand why anyone would want to die." Loki says, giving me confirmation I've confused him.

"Yet you literally fell off fucking a bridge on purpose last year."

"I thought mortals had better families than immortals did," he mutters.

"News flash: your family is way better than the one I grew up with. So suck it up. You want a throne, you act like you need it. But there are people here with no homes, food, or love. You don't need a throne, you just choose to think that. No one needs to rule a country or a kingdom or whatever it is. You do what it takes to survive and try to help others, not just yourself. That's not what makes a king--"

"Stop," he says. "Just stop. Answer at least one question."

"One? Maybe," I say, knowing he never said to answer it truthfully.

"How did you get that limp?"

Welp, time to lie and hope this works. "Well, about three years ago, I saw a spider in my bathtub and slipped. My ankle broke and then it never healed properly. We don't talk about my fear of spiders."

I'm also not scared of spiders, but he doesn't have the scepter and doesn't know this. Surprisingly, he thinks I'm telling the truth, as his face wears a look of disappointment as he has little to nothing he can use against me.

Okay, maybe I am scared of those huge-ass Australian ones, but who isn't?

At least he didn't ask about something else, like how I got the scars on my arm and face. He's never seen them, which is good. I don't know what excuse I'd use if he'd asked that question.

"I can't tell if you're lying or not," Loki squints at me suspiciously.

I meet his eyes with an unwavering gaze, and hold his stare until he has to drag his eyes away.

Have I scared him with my signature stare? Yes? Cool and good.

"I might be lying. But I also might be telling the truth. Maybe my words are neither." I can confuse anyone with this shit I just made up.

He turns around, icy blue eyes sparking, and walks off angrily muttering to himself.

I stick up a finger his way and keep on drawing that picture of a fire I started the other day.

(+)

I'm still stuck here in this cell. I got my iPod back, so I don't need to act like a Neanderthal and draw in the dust for entertainment anymore.

I can leave the cell now for food and stuff, and I can go to the kitchen to make the food the same as others when it's my turn. Unfortunately, there are still four more days for me to wait.