Porridge

Under her bare feet, Sarthi felt the cold tiles that covered the floor of a dark corridor. The humidity chilled her bones and the hissing air that filtered through the cracks in the rock walls gave her goosebumps. Paralyzed, she stared into the darkness: an overwhelming fear made her keep her eyes glued to the apparent nothingness in front of her. The anguish that this decrepit place gave her forced the groundskeeper to warily move a foot forward, taking a cautious step ahead. She didn't know if the dirty, shattered tiles would scratch her feet, but one step after another, she slowly let the darkness envelope her, white noise invading her ears as she trembled uncontrollably.

As she felt her limbs shake, her arms shoot forward to blindly feel around her. Her hands twitched and stretched as if trying to reach for something, anything around her that could give a hint of where she was or how did she end up in this hideous place. Alas, the darkness -thick like the smoke of an arson- was the only thing slipping through her fingers. Bodiless tentacles swept along her shape, luring her in and wrapping around her frame.

As the volume of those incoherent sounds increased, her breath hitched up. The ringing in her ears travelled up and inside her head, turning into wordless whispers, scratches, groans and wails that she couldn't shut down even if she closed her eyes forcefully and shook her head. As her steps turned hastier, she felt something cold and wet graze her feet, and with a gag she looked down, just to see her toes covered in thick, dark blood that was slowly slipping through the cracks in the tiles. With a scream of distress, she took in her surroundings once more, only to see the same blood pouring out of the cracks in the rock and painting the walls a disturbing shade of crimson.

Sarthi gasped, horrified. Her breath hitched up and she raised her feet in a futile attempt to wipe out the blood with her hands. It was no use. Now it stained her hands, and the more she tried to wipe it the more it seemed to coat her body. It stained her skin and her clothes, and the more she moved and tried to keep it away; the more it covered her, as if it also poured from her insides out.

Once the ringing in her ears became unbearable, her lids forcibly lifted.

A very annoying buzz in the back of her head made the girl scrunch her eyes and massage her temples. Letting out a tiny whine, she noticed it was still pitch-black outside her window and that her forehead was damp with sweat. With a sigh, she swung her legs out of bed and groggily waddled to the opposite wall of her bedroom, resting her arms on the windowsill. The night's chilly air swiped over her face as she took deep breaths to calm her nerves. She closed her eyes as the scent of the Ladies of the Night she'd had under her window filled her nose.

While she tried to erase the nightmare from her memory, she started to wonder what could have possibly triggered it.

And as if one thought was chained with the other, inevitably, the girl started to recall last night's events, looking for a clue.

***

Sarthi's pulse quickened uncontrollably, her heart pushing to jump out of her chest when she clumsily turned the doorknob to her front door. It had been long since the last time she'd doubted herself. She'd waited for Johann to walk away for a reason. If the boy were to witness what she was about to do, she wouldn't hear the end of it until Ragnarök.

First, she crouched to set the shrunken Kelpies on the wooden floor, sightly turning her head at the sound of the prince's boots walking through her front door with sure steps. She could sense the burn of his scowl on her nape when she slowly came up again and walked towards the kitchen. The girl struggled to bring her heart rate to a normal speed again with silent, deep breaths, aware of his scrutiny. With a tight grip, she grabbed a brass basin sitting on the counter and tried to stop her hands from shaking too much. Then she forced herself to speak first.

"You were of help today". The flat, emotionless comment left her mouth as she fumbled with the water pump. She did what she could to distract herself with the sound of the pipes running and the Kelpies, that still neighed and whined on the floor. She made an effort to focus on the image of the basin being filled with water, but nothing could stop her mind from conjuring all the possible outcomes this situation could bring. The little joy she'd felt at the lake from watching the Kelpies transform into such sweet little creatures had well faded by now. All she was left with was uncertainty and fear for the consequences of the decision she'd taken.

"I promised you would no longer be sleeping in the stables". She said as casually as she could, purposely avoiding the God's eyes as she spoke. She busied herself with taking the small creatures one by one and carefully accommodating them inside the big basin. She peeked over the edge of the tub to watch for a moment how their skin melted back into glimmering and vibrant colours, but that was not enough to put her at ease.

Sarthi turned around, the chilly night breeze seeped inside her house through the still open door, reminding her once again of the state of her clothes. She folded her arms over her chest in an attempt to keep her body warm as she took one last deep breath to calm her nerves before she kept speaking.

"Because I'm a woman of my word, you can stay here." She swallowed the lump in her throat as she pointed with her head to the furthest door. "There's a spare room".

Loki had yet to utter a sound. Instead of doing so, he raised an eyebrow suspiciously. The God still stood at the entrance, arms equally folded over his chest, observing her every move with a questioning look in those unfriendly eyes she was now almost familiar with.

"So, your solution to make me do your bidding is none other than…" He spoke with a smug grin, taking in his surroundings once again "…Have me share your space". His eyes lingered for a moment on the scrolls and notebooks sitting on top of the plush armchair next to the unkept fireplace. He let out a short laugh as he paced inside the narrow living room, though the house itself was hardly a room of its own.

"You won't buy my compliance with this sorry excuse of a deal, child". He knew the belittling term would make her pull that scowl on her face that he was so amused by. "I'm impressed, honestly". He carried that smooth and cold tone throughout his sauntering, gingerly swiping a long finger along the surface of the wall as he felt the groundskeeper's eyes follow his movements in return. "After I've threatened your life multiple times and proved that your poor exertion of power won't work on me…" He nonchalantly inspected the speckles of dust he'd caught, rubbing them between his thumb and forefinger before turning his head to look at her dead in the eyes "You won't cease your efforts to bend me to your will".

Sarthi could not ignore the growl that settled in his deep voice as he finished the sentence. "You're either extremely foolish or just unconsciously reckless". She tried to respond, stiffening her neck with anxiety as a tiny whimper got stuck in her throat in response to his threats. Little did she knew Loki was also almost familiar with that well-rehearsed façade of bravado she pulled off so frequently around him. "This is all I can offer and more. You should be thankful that I'm going out of my way…" She clawed at the seams of her damp shirt, a light shiver taking hold of her shoulders "That I'm going out of my way to make your banishment more comfortable".

Loki's eyes twitched in disgust at the word. Banishment. He hadn't been banished. If that was the case, he would've escaped through one of his hidden portals to some other realm. He would've waited there for her mother to call him. He could picture the worried woman begging the Allfather to go in search of him. That would've happened if he was banished. But he wasn't. He was still in Asgard, in a hut, bargaining for a bed.

He already had a bed. There was a warm and cozy bed waiting for him in his chambers. He could get to it in less than an instant if it wasn't for the guards and the spells locking his rooms. The faint chattering of Sarthi's teeth pulled him out of his thoughts as he focused back on the girl. "This is hardly a truce. You thought you'd persuade me to work in exchange of basic needs?" He scoffed with disdain, noticing how the little groundskeeper was now positively fuming. He knew she hated it when he ridiculed her thoughts and that only entertained him more. "I thought I'd made myself clear before, but I'll repeat myself one last time" He pinned her with a glare she felt forced to hold onto. "I will never reduce myself to a serving position. Ever." He snarled, baring his teeth with repulsion.

"This is my only and last offer." She stated bluntly. Loki stood proud as he observed the helplessness swirling behind her colored irises "You can either take it or go back to that pile of hay I caught you sleeping on the other day." With that last sentence, she stormed off through a tiny door next to the counter. A moment later he heard the pipes running once again, behind the kitchen wall.

Had she left to bathe? He could not care less.

In any case, she'd ran off.

Loki rolled his eyes at the display. He expected something more. A raise of her voice, maybe one or two more threats on her side, something more exciting to keep him quarreling and snapping back at that sharp tongue of hers. But she'd simply left, cutting short his amusement.

The dull turn of events left the prince standing alone in the middle of the main room. The faint sound of water splashing in the basin and the calmed, night breeze coming from the entrance was all he could hear now that she was gone. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of the hole he'd punched on her doorframe a couple of days ago. His fist curled up almost on impulse at the memory and he pursed his lips, his feet shifting awkwardly as his eyes roamed the place once again.

Giving in to her offer would put an end to a deal he wasn't ready to conclude. He wanted out of this nightmare. He should force her to talk to Odin and finish this nonsense. He pictured himself turning into thin fog, slipping inside her ear, and getting rid of her free will. He'd be compassionate, maybe for just a few hours, enough to persuade Thor and mother to let him go and return inside to his previous life. Then, he'd find a way to blackmail her into silence.

But the idea of playing mind games with the little forest ranger quickly turned distasteful and boring in his head. Her mind was strong, he could feel it. Stronger than any of the other people he'd seen around her. Today, he'd managed to break her patience, and it frustrated him. Truly, it vexed him to see her so irritated after such a short altercation. He knew she could handle more than this. A grin faintly pulled his lips as he recalled other occasions where she had no problem with talking back with that angry wit she possessed. The best part was her defiance. That, he liked the most. Her short temper towards him revealed a well-hidden anger that he intended to keep pushing back on. If he couldn't win over her favors, he'd find a way to break her instead. Mind control was too easy, too predictable. Mind games, however, were fun when he found the right player.

For the time being, he made the choice to never set a foot on the stables ever again. At least not to sleep in them. A regular bed was unquestionably better than some bundled up hay and the smelly, hard and cold floor.

He rubbed his face with an exasperated groan as he gave one last look to the solitary room. The faint sound of splashing water and rustling behind the closed door and the smell of the summer flowers blooming with the twilight failed to make him anything like at home. Realizing the mental crossroad he was trapped in at the moment, he too, stomped towards the furthest door and disappeared behind it, not even bothering to close the entrance to the tiny house.

***

Loki woke up to a foreign clattering in the distance. He groaned and stretched as the sound became clearer in his ears: light footsteps, dragging of dishware, a stove being lit. He hated to admit it was the best sleep he'd had in weeks. The comforter was hardly a luxury, but it had helped for his sore spine to heal after so many nights resting on the ground. The blankets were nothing like the thick furs that laid decadently on his bed in the palace, but they still succeeded at keeping him warm, or rather, preserve his body heat even when he felt suffocated by it. He haphazardly pushed them away from his body after hearing a particularly loud clank behind the door. He huffed in annoyance, rubbing his eyes with a whiny grunt before turning his back to the window and folding half of the pillow over his ears. It was too early to be awake. The sun was barely up.

His stomach made an obnoxiously loud growl then. The smell of breakfast being cooked in the adjacent room quickly took control of his senses: his nostrils flared, and his throat swallowed around nothing, humming in delight. He hadn't eaten in days. He was hungry; the hole in his stomach had gone past the stage of bothering him, now it just roared for sustenance.

Loki forced his eyes to slowly open as he lifted the pillow from his head, turning his neck to look around the austere room with a heavy breath. There was a reasonably sized trunk in the corner (he hadn't even bothered to open it and pry inside, much to his own surprise). In front of him was a wooden desk, paired with a matching chair. They looked brand new and untouched, in contrast with the well-lived furniture in the living room. Lastly, to his right, sitting next to the bed, was a bedside table with a small ceramic basin and a pitcher, probably empty of any liquid.

Rustic was not a word he was used to, that he knew. Even the off-white paint of the walls irritated him a little. Everything was simple. Simple and ordinary and dull. He missed the gold carvings of his bookshelves and headboards; the opulence of precious metals and the unnecessarily bejeweled objects he kept laying around in his chambers. His hunting trophies; his fine, coloured glass cups, his expensive silks and leathers... and his daggers. He missed his daggers more than anything. He'd managed to accumulate quite a collection throughout the ages. Thor mocked him from time to time for being so attached to such ordinary weapons, but then again, his brother was in no position of making fun of him for such a thing. After all, that blonde chunk of muscle was in a solid and exclusive relationship with a mass of magical, forged iron that he smashed and swinged around like his life depended on it.

Daggers were elegant, refined and deadly when wielded in the right hands. They forced him to keep a close distance when fighting. Unlike throwing hammers or spears, they ensured close contact with your opponent. It was more honorable in Loki's mind, erotic even. To him, few things compared to the feeling of your adversary's breath escape their lungs as one dug the blade deep inside their body. It was a privilege to witness how a soul left a man's body, how his eyes lost all sparkle given by life as he exhaled his last breath into your mouth. A hammer could never do that. Hammers were tasteless and brusque.

In the midst of his morning slumber, his mind drifted once again to the moment that had brought him here. His abusive encounter with the groundskeeper. He smirked at the memory, remembering the way she clutched the knife's handle in her tiny hands. He couldn't keep his mind from going back to that clearing in the forest: to that blade threatening to gut his throat and those terrified large eyes. He mindlessly brought a hand down, the smirk growing wider as he palmed that same small knife hidden under his clothes with a satisfied hum. The knife had been handy since that day, he was still pondering whether he'd give it back or not.

After some hesitation, he left the bed and walked barefoot out of the room, his lazy strides following the warm, sweet smell, sleep still clinging to his eyes.

Sarthi had been so entranced with stirring the pot to prevent its contents from sticking, that she failed to notice the furthest door opening or the slow lazy steps entering the kitchen. In fact, she managed to remain oblivious to the new presence in the kitchen until she turned and walked up to the small dining table, fingers holding with caution a steaming bowl of oats.

"I'll have some of that too". The voice abruptly speaking above her made her jump, quickly taking in the tall figure leaning over the opposite side of the table. She almost dropped the bowl. Almost. Loki stood in front of her, arms relaxed at his sides, neutral expression on his face, if not for his sleepy eyes pinned to her breakfast. His hair stuck out in odd places, slightly matted and flat at the top, but with oddly shaped curls sticking out behind. His clothes were also wrinkly and pressed from sleeping in them.

"Help yourself". She simply answered, wasting no time in sitting down and digging in. Sarthi's ears picked on the slow breaths coming from the man moving past her to the counter. As she chewed away, she absentmindedly focused on the sounds he made as he picked up a bowl from a shelf nearby and scooped the contents of the pot into it. It was weird, and slightly annoying Breakfast had always been quiet aside from the sounds of her own mouth chewing or her own utensils clinking on the dish wear.

She didn't count on him actually following through with last night's proposition. Sarthi expected His Majesty to swallow his pride and never step a foot on her house again. After all, he'd openly expressed his disgust for it multiple times.

"Fix my wall". She uttered, hearing his steps coming closer and rounding the table. The chair opposite from her made a sound as it dragged back against the worn-out tiles, and he slumped on top of it with a throaty sigh. Her eyes averted from the bowl to look up at her new guest, who had wasted no time either to stuff his mouth with a spoonful of food. He sat with his elbows propped on top of the table, neck craned down and face almost buried inside the overfilled bowl. The hand that wasn't clutching the wooden spoon with a vice lazily combed back the rebel strands of hair that threatened to fall down into his eyes.

Maybe it was the usual grogginess that she felt in the mornings, maybe it was the lack of sleep she'd been collecting for days now, but she could swear she'd heard the faintest moan die in her guest's throat when he swallowed the first bite he'd given to the porridge.

"And sort out my scrolls". She commented once again, her spoon never ceasing to move around the bowl even though she wasn't eating anymore. "Organize them by theme, I don't want my notes to get lost around the place". All the response she got was a lifted finger, signaling her to stop talking. Sarthi rolled her eyes and huffed "If you can do that, I might take you on another walk tomorrow".

Loki lifted his eyes from his plate to pin her with a look as he swallowed loudly. Her eyes dragged down unintentionally for a fleeting second to look at the way his throat moved. "You broke it, you fix it." His eyes followed her as she stood up and turned to leave the dish at the washing basin and pick up her tool belt from a hook nailed to the door.

"I'm not a librarian, nor a carpenter." She heard the prince growl behind her.

"That's right, you're neither of them." She casually answered as she wrapped her tight braids in a bun. Loki remained quiet as he observed her pull out a wooden hairpin from a pocket in her belt and secured the hair. "So, you better do your best to equate their work to yours".

Before she could step a foot outside, the prince's high-handed tone made the girl stop in her tracks.

"I want my horse".

Loki patiently waited for an answer as she scanned his face, going over his petition.

"I will go riding with Sleipnir after I'm done". He kept going, as he witnessed her frown worsening on her brow. "And you…" He stood up, walking around the table and approaching the door leading to the washroom. "Will saddle him for me. As usual, I presume." He finished with a playful grin, awaiting her response.

The girl scoffed at his blatant smugness. "You jest, right? You will be the one saddling horses for the next thousand eons to come" she hissed as the prince giggled at her outcome. "Fix my doorframe and sort my scrolls, then I'll de-".

"I will ride my horse today, Sarthi. Have no doubt of it." He interrupted before disappearing inside the washroom, leaving the girl hearing the knobs of the basin being turned by the hands of the new intruder occupying her place and the water running as if he, too, now lived inside her place.

In all honestly, she left for the day not thinking about his idle occurrence, or his defiant tone, but about how it had been the first time she'd heard the banished prince call her by her actual name.

***

Loki rummaged through every cupboard and drawer at his reach, looking for something that resembled a saw, a chisel, or even nails: anything similar to what a wood worker would use to fix a doorframe. The princeling scratched his freshly washed scalp as he mused where to start. He looked back and forth from the messy chimney area to the splintered doorframe, dreading both of his tasks for the day.

He was unsure of whether he could actually make a decent job at filling back the hole on her doorframe; or find a way to sort the many parchments scattered around the living room.

Squatting eye-to-eye with the cavity his fist had left on the wall, he pursed his lips deep in thought. He would've outright denied it if questioned, but he did feel quite invested in the idea of giving a new appearance to the battered doorframe. Would a block of wood nailed to the missing piece fix the problem? He'd probably have to file it down to fit the space missing, or maybe he could replace the missing parts with some plaster and paint over it. Then again, he didn't have any plaster, or paint even to begin with.

A dash of sunlight seeped through the slightly ajar door and hit his eyes without warning, halting his train of thought. He winced at the brightness as he pushed the door open with a prodding finger, peering inside with curiosity as he abandoned all thoughts of doing what was expected of him. He wasn't planning on following her command in the first place anyways.

Her chambers, unlike the borrowed ones he'd slept in, looked used and lived-in enough to give that homely appearance his room lacked. The bed, though made, had cream-coloured sheets that where wrinkly from having sat on top. Her vanity, though small, was full of jars and flasks, and had dried herbs and flowers hanging from its corners in a decorative, unplanned arrangement.

Loki hummed, taking in the view with surprise. The girl had never stroke him as the type to own a vanity. Let alone to use ointments or beauty products, seeing as she was usually covered in dust and dirt from head to toe. His curiosity only spiked up with a newfound goal, keen to find out what other things the groundskeeper stored away in the privacy of her chambers.

He wasted no time in delving into the tiny drawers under the mirror, eyes not stopping at the leather hair ties or bundled ribbons but lingering a little longer on the small collection of carved hairpins, some darker ones made from wood; others lighter in colour, which might've come from what he assumed was bone, all adorned with designs varying in complexity and style.

"So, she's boastful, after all". He spoke to himself as he moved on to the next drawer. He chuckled at his own attempt of imagining the unrefined woman covered in expensive fabrics and sporting jewelry and dainty shoes like a court lady would. The thought itself was obnoxious, ridiculous to say the least. The only things he'd seen the girl handle with care were all alive and kicking and threatening his integrity.

His hand reached inside the last cupboard before his eyes registered what was inside. He felt the leatherbound cover and the stitching before pulling out the tiny notebook from its confines. The corners of the cover were paler and peeled at the edges, signifying its used-up state. Opening it without remorse, he fanned over the pages with his thumb until he found he last piece of writing on it, his eyes twinkling with mirth and excitement.

Sarthi must not be very lucid after all, thinking that leaving the trickster God alone in her household with all the time he desired to explore would bring her any good. This finding was better than anything he could've expected. One could deduce many things about someone's character by inspecting their rooms and going through their belongings. But a diary, a hidden diary at that, was a straight insight into someone's mind. A keyhole he could peek through and look into his captive's unfiltered thoughts. He even bared his teeth with a triumphant smile as he prepared himself to read the first line.

I didn't feel lost or panicked when I tried to chart the stars in the sky. I felt soundness. Permanence. Even I'd dare to describe it as comfort. Comfort for a place that I don't even know where it belongs to.

Red. Blood. Anguish. It felt uncomfortable, yet I was resigned to let these feelings of guilt and fear devour me. A splotch of red that won't leave my thoughts.

Loki's eyes widened as he hastened to read more closely. What he had thought would be a talk to herself about follies and nonsense, had turned into a valuable about the fears and tribulations of the seemingly controlled and calm servant. Captivated by the events the girl was recounting in the little notebook, he could only swell with pride to see that he, was also mentioned in her ruminations.

My supposed wrongdoings are haunting my dreams in ways I'd never imagine. Maybe the prince has found a way to get to my psyche with his magic.

He could be the one putting those nightmares my dreams for all I know. I have yet to find another reason why he could hate me so much more than the mere fact that it has fallen to me to be the executioner of his punishment.

I cannot find the power in me to be imposing and taxing and cruel and heartless towards him. Indifference, apathy, that I feel. I'd rather have him apologize and leaving me alone. I want my life back.

There'll be no use in trying to convince him that I'm not the only one responsible for his fate. More than once I've tried to appear understanding to him, but if reject and rudeness is all I will get in return I'd rather force myself to become the headstrong, impassive, prude he believes I am.

"Try to convince me you're not any of that, I'd love to see that happen". He spoke out loud with a chortle, airily voicing his thoughts.

"Is it any interesting?"

A relaxed, melodic voice spoke behind him, startling him to the point where he outright dropped the notebook and turned abruptly.

"¡Mother!"

Loki drew a hand to his speeding heart. He swallowed the lump in his throat as he took in the presence of Queen Frigga, an expected look of disappointment in her features.

"How many times have I told you that it is not right to go through other people's belongings?"

Loki's eyebrows turned down with a minimal expression of regret as he withdrew his gaze from his mother's judging glare and looked to his bare feet.

"I still remember that time in Nornheim when the councilor caught you trying to steal knickknacks from his collection of antiquities… He never expected a formal apology, yet your father and I made you publicly express your regret."

"He had enough relics to share with me if I wanted a trinket or two". He was quick to huff out in hopes to justify himself. "Besides, I was a child."

"You were almost of age, it was humiliating." Frigga retorted with a full-on frown and downturned lips.

It has then when his eyes noticed a glint of yellow sparks on her shoulder slightly glitch and blur out. The wall behind her was visible for a fraction of a second, and Loki realized what he already expected.

She wasn't really there. She had not even deigned to visit him in person. What a waste of time to argue with a projection. His eyes unfocused for a second before speaking up again.

"Have you come to supervise my good behavior, mother?" A bitter smile rose to his lips "Must you note down how many appendixes of my punishment I've ignored so far?" He pushed his shoulder back proudly, growing defiant once again.

However, Frigga was not about to follow her son in a rhetorical debate this time, she could leave that to another time. Instead, her eyes wandered to the attire he sported, an amused grin replacing her features.

"She gave you clothes". She smiled at the outfit he sported, simple and modest. "Cream and linen suits you, dear. It brings out the lovely blue in your eyes."

"It was expected of her, don't you reckon?" He snarled slitting his eyes, as if his mother was stating the obvious. "A loyal subject would never allow a member of the royal family walk around muddy and stinking". He continued with his head held high. "She even has agreed to let me ride at sunset".

"I don't think she did it out of loyalty." A knowing look nailed Loki in place, making the prince think over his mother's sibylline response. In occasions, his egotistic manners would make him forget who he resembled to the most.

"What could you possibly be insinuating, mother dear?" His tone dropped down to a smug, melodic cadence as he started circling his mother's projection with slow, quiet steps, head tilted in question.

"You know very well what I'm trying to say". Frigga remained unyielding, determined to make her message come through whether the prince wanted to hear it or not.

"I've come to warn you. With your father away, it is only Heimdall and me sensing the use of your powers".

Loki's smug expression dropped altogether.

"I can pass a spell or two, but you must keep in mind your father made The Overseer and I swear that we would report on your use of your magic under any circumstances."

The prince blinked in anger as he felt bile raise to is throat. "Well, you out of everyone in this realm should know that restraining my powers will only worsen my disposition". He growled through his teeth as he fisted his hands at his sides.

"That's because you never cared to restrain yourself in any aspect and we both know that." If there was anything Loki hated of his mother, was when she called out on his flaws just for the sake of it. At least in his mind there was no apparent reason to do this.

"Asking me to refrain my powers is like asking a bird to not fly, like asking the King Aster to not rise and shine every morning, do you hear yourself mother? How else will I thrive and gain back my position in court if it's not with the only help I can guarantee for myself?"

Loki expected pity from his mother after such a heartfelt, despaired answer. Though in return, Frigga simply laughed, as If she knew every answer to all the problems he could be having at the moment.

"Look around you, dear." The queen raised her arms and slowly twirled in the middle of the room, taking in the girl's chambers. "You've got so much more than what you started with."

Her son frowned confused, unable to see how sleeping in a borrowed home was an upgrade at all.

"If you're able to see past the bridge of that snotty nose of yours, you'll see how lucky you are to have her mercy in your favor".

"Her mercy?" He spitted, genuinely offended now. "How am I being grazed with her mercy now, care to illustrate me. I don't see how giving me clean clothes and a roof to be under is closer to mercy as it is to common decency".

The Allmother's expression turned sour once again, letting the prince know the seriousness of this matter. "You're lucky to receive anything besides hatred and despise from her after what you did, Loki." She rasped.

The words about her feelings that were scribbled down on that diary crossed his mind for a brief moment. Indifference, disregard…

I'd rather have him apologize and leave me alone. I want my life back.

"Well I can't change what I did, can I?" he opened his arms in defeat, resigning himself to his mother's cornering. "I tormented the poor soul, now she'll live in eternal pain, what is there for me to do now?"

Frigga smiled. Another of her all-knowing smiles as she fearlessly approached her son "You know exactly what to do." She raised her eyebrows then, her round eyes glimmering wisely. "Fix that wall."

"And keep looking around you." She continued. "The answer is all over the place, my dear. You're not as blind as you would like to be".

With that last enigmatic statement, Mother Frigga's projection blurred out in thin air, leaving a sparkling trail of gold shimmer behind her.

Loki was left once again alone in the groundskeeper's room. He rubbed his eyes with an exasperated sigh, crouching down to pick up the diary he'd let fall from his hands. He skimmed through the pages once again; he'd overlooked how neat and stylized her calligraphy was.

With another loud, exaggerated sight he dropped the little notebook back inside its respective drawer and closed it with a loud push.

The banished prince sauntered back to the destroyed wall and ran a hand over the hole he'd left. Green flames of magic coated his hand as he felt the texture grow back into the cavity, the negative space being filled with matter. The missing pieces of wood on the girl's doorframe grew back from the splinters, which doubled in size and made up for new wood to fill the blank pace he'd left from his fist.

In a matter of seconds, Sarthi's wall looked as if no one had ever laid a finger to it.

Hands on his hips, he narrowed his eyes as he moved a few steps away, admiring his handywork. He'd limit his use of magic when Odin came back. Or at least, that was what he tried to convince himself of.

That left him with the most interesting he'd had at hand in days. Sorting scrolls had never sounded more amusing.

***

It turned out the groundskeeper's field notes were ridiculously detailed.

Loki could not stop himself from reading every scroll he picked up before deciding what to do with it, which one to pair it with, or were to store it. Minutes after he got to the task, he found himself distractedly sitting on the floor, surrounded by her notes.

Her distinctive calligraphy was paired with diagrams and sketches of not only different creatures, but also, what he assumed she found out in the fields and woods. A weirdly shaped leave; a rare type of flower; the webbed palms of a naiad… His eyes halted on a drawing depicting the anatomy of a fawn, thoroughly detailed from horns to hooves. A smile creeped to his lips to see the specimen laid out and posing in different ways. It looked more like a study for a painting than for healing and studying purposes.

The prince appreciated the playful expression she'd managed to convey with just a few simple traces of graphite. The fawn's round, wise eyes and big smiling mouth, along with his laid-back hand gestures, gave him the feeling him and the girl could be both well-acquainted. To which extent, he did not dare to think that far.

The prince had been so immersed in the contents of the little groundskeeper notes that he didn't even notice the main entrance opening behind him.

"I said sort them out not going through them like a scholar?" a partially annoyed voice made him jolt in surprise at the sudden interruption. The girl stood a few metres away from him, her outfit thoroughly stained a deep blue.

"And what is a Prince, if not a scholar of his Kingdom?"

"You're not a prince." Sarthi was quick to retort behind his back as she fixed her collar and pushed some sweaty stands behind her ears.

A judging look was placed on her, for what she assumed was the state of her clothes. Loki's eyes travelled up and down her frame and a grimace settled on his features. "Is this what I should expect from you every day?" He made a flourish with his hand to point at her shirt.

Sarthi looked down at the stained linen as if it was the first time she noticed the grime covering her. "Oh, this…" she picked a handful of the material, grimacing too at the dried fluids clinging to the fabric. "Baby basilisks just hatched this morning. One got sick on me when I held it to inspect it."

She absentmindedly started to pull out the shirt tucked inside her pants, stopping only when she spotted the prince's expectant gaze still nailed to her.

"I fixed your wall".