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Chapter Six: The Letter

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"As soon as you've finished it, you can give it to me and I'll be sure it reaches your father," Loki said, his brow creased as he handed me a leaf of letter paper and a quill.

He'd managed to catch me that afternoon as I was wondering the palace aimlessly, looking for a familiar face; Sigrid, Bodil, Thor, Bersi.

I was getting unimaginably bored in spite of filling the pages of my new sketchbook and practicing swordsmanship with Thor. A week and a half away from my phone, television, and all the other luxuries of my life in New York were a handful of the things I missed, but I still counted myself lucky. Asgard is better than dead.

I took the paper from Loki, seating myself at the desk that occupied the centre of the study. Odin wasn't there at the moment, so Loki was the only other person occupying the room besides me.

"Would you like some privacy?" he asked.

"Why so polite? It's unlike you, and I'll be honest, it's starting to freak me out," I joked, cracking a smile, "But no, I'd really rather the company," I answered him, nodding to the armchair that adjoined the small desk.

Loki seated himself, propping an elbow up on the armrest to support his chin as he watched me carefully.

I inhaled deeply, looking down at the empty page beneath me.

"So, how do I start this, exactly? 'Hey dad, sorry I never reached out all those years, but now that I've been taken to the realm of Asgard after a near death experience, I'm trying to learn about the past you've hidden from me all this time. Do share.'?"

"Something like that," Loki grinned, but his smile slipped away at seeing my shaking hands.

Suddenly, a warm hand was laying on top of mine and I looked up to meet his pale blue eyes, my own eyes confused at the surface, but deeply torn beneath that.

At the skin to skin contact, my hands grew heated with sparks of anticipation. Loki noticed, his mouth twinging into a smirk.

"You don't have to do this if it pains you to this extent," he said softly, squeezing my hand, "It isn't essential to our research."

"No," I shook my head, "No, I've got to know."

"Very well."

I took in a deep breath, putting pen to paper as words began to spill out. I tried to keep it short and to the point, explaining where I was and demanding what he knew about it. About my past, and my powers. About my mother. When I was finished, I sealed up the letter, pushing it across the surface of the wood to Loki, whose eyes had never left me, it seemed.

I balled my fist, feeling pretty tense after having completed the letter. I'd gone so long not contacting him, pushed myself not to ask him for help, and now it felt like I was doing just that. Asking him for help, making myself vulnerable. Relying on him. I didn't like the feeling of it.

"Remember," Loki said as he collected the letter, "No matter what he says to you, you are Asgardian. You belong here. You're worthy."

"Loki..." I sighed deeply, "Asgardian blood doesn't beat out everything else. It doesn't beat out whatever powers are in my system. And, I'm sorry, but it doesn't beat out my Midgardian bloodline either," I said, exasperated, "I'm from earth. I was born there, my friends are there, I belong there. No matter what he says—no matter what any of you say—I'm Midgardian."

"Alivia... You..." Loki shook his head, taken aback, "You actually want to claim your Midgardian heritage?"

"How can I just ignore it? I mean it has to count for something," I argued, "And why should it even matter? Midgardian or Asgardian, neither title makes me any better of a person."