"Good morning, my lady," Ilva says cheerily as she steps into what used to be Loki's chambers and are now less-than-fondly known as Anna's prison.

The maid smiles, balancing a large tray of food with one hand whilst using the other to shut the door behind her. Anna can smell the food from a distance - especially the Asgardian equivalent of bacon - and her mouth waters at the tantalizing aroma.

The food is one of the benefits of being trapped in the Asgardian palace. If it weren't for the fact that she spends every night wandering aimlessly in the void, she would've definitely gained twenty pounds by now. But no, fortunately - by some mysterious magic - the activity in her dreams managed to keep her relatively fit. So much so that she felt like she could out-eat Volstagg at a banquet.

Unfortunately, the food is one of the only benefits of being trapped in an Asgardian palace.

Sometimes she was glad to be stuck in Loki's old chambers, giving her a constant glimpse into the man she loved and lost, but other times - like today - it just makes her heart ache. It's like having a wound that cannot heal, no matter how much time or distance or effort poured into finding relief, it continues to seep blood. Surrounded by his belongings, Anna learns something new about him almost every single day. A favorite passage marked in one of his books. Some scrap of paper covered with a hastily scribbled note. A portrait of him as a child, with Frigga smiling down upon him.

That last one nearly broke her heart anew.

Pushing herself out of bed, she tries to smile at Ilva but stifles a yawn instead. Her limbs are stiff and sore from another night in the void, but - luckily - Eir gave her a mixture of oils and salts to use in the bath each morning that helped. One of Loki's forest green shirts hangs down to mid-thigh, his scent long since absent from the impossibly soft fabric, as she tugs her knotted brown hair into a ponytail. Plopping down at the small breakfast table, she slathers a piece of bread with a generous portion of butter.

"Any news?" Anna asks Ilva robotically, fully aware of the answer.

The maid shakes her head, "No, my lady."

Of course not. No news. Never any news. Three months of being trapped in Asgard, trapped in Loki's chambers, and still no progress. No one is willing to divert any resources in getting her out of this room, especially since no one truly knows how or why she got here, so she's resigned to while away eternity here.

Reading.

"Lady Sigyn wishes to visit you today, my lady," Ilva says, nearly causing Anna to choke on the bite of bread she just inhaled.

"Sigyn?" Anna coughs, clearing her throat with a swig of juice. "Did she say why?"

Ilva shook her head. Sigyn is notoriously private, keeping many of her motives to herself, as evidenced by the fact that it took Anna days of begging before she even admitted her name. How or why she came to Anna's room in the midst of that first nightmare, pulling her out before she tumbled over the edge, she isn't sure. She still didn't know why Sigyn posed as a maid to begin with. All that she knows is that she's incredibly grateful.

Sigyn visited sporadically, never more than once every few weeks, and the conversations tend to be short and awkward. Ever since Anna learned about her history with Loki - about their deceased sons, Narvi and Váli - she couldn't help but feel a teensy bit uncomfortable knowing that she owed her life to Loki's ex.

Still, Sigyn remained loyal. Aptly known as the Goddess of Fidelity, even after her separation from Loki she remained true to him. Not in the biblical sense of the word, at least, Anna hoped she'd been able to move on in that way, but - even if they were no longer together - Sigyn still acknowledged Loki as one of her life's true loves. It was a sign of how much she deserved her title that Sigyn still considered herself bound to him, in some way or another, and continued to support him - as a friend - through her support of Anna.

"What time will she arrive?" Anna asks Ilva before shoveling in another bite of her breakfast.

"Around midday, my lady," Ilva replies, fluffing the pillows on the bed before she finishes returning it to immaculate condition.

No matter how many times Anna corrects her, the maid insists upon addressing her formally - claiming that it was more of a habit than a necessity - but Anna suspects that Ilva is secretly afraid of insulting Loki's memory. She refuses to stop her daily cleaning chores, always dusting and re-dusting surfaces that are already immaculate, and waiting upon Anna even though she repeatedly asks her to do nothing of the sort.

Part of Anna just wants to pretend to be normal, in the midst of this disaster. Trapped in Asgard, trapped in the chambers of her presumed-dead lover, trapped in her dreams. She can't do anything except go through the motions of living a shell of a life without him, pretending that every single breath she takes isn't a struggle, that each second away from him doesn't drive a knife through her heart.

Their last encounter had been difficult - and she wanted to be angry with him - but she couldn't. Not when she missed him this much. She missed the curve of his smile, the impish glint in his emerald eyes, the cool of his skin brushing against hers. She could feel the ghost of his kiss on her lips, reminding her of his presence and - even worse - of his absence.

For the last three months, everyone kept insisting that Loki is dead, that he died on Svartalfheim, when Anna knows that he is alive.

Now...missing him like this. Living without him for three long, painful months. Trying to move on despite being surrounded by constant reminders of him. She wants to believe he's alive. That he's out there. That all of this will be over soon. That they'll be together again.

Now, she isn't quite certain.

Now Playing: "Ophelia" by The Lumineers.

Hi frens!

Sorry for the delay in this update, I've been very busy since Tuesday. Because, drumroll please, Conlan and I adopted a puppy! We now have two dogs (we already have a solid white husky named Leila), and now we have a 6 week old German Shepherd puppy.

Meet Porter!

(This was him helping me write this chapter today.)

I wanted to name him Loki (because Leila + Loki would be perfect! She's solid white, he's solid black!) but Conlan picked his name. He is very ornery, however, so he will forever be known as the God of Mischief in my heart. For all of the disappointed fangirls (and boys), Conlan would like me to inform you that his full name is Porter Sebastian. He said he'd give you that much. 😉

Also, I'm sick. No sleep from puppy + possible laryngitis? Not fun!

More Porter spam below!

x

(And my personal favorite, sleeping Porter featuring a Snapchat-worthy double chin.)