The first thing I noticed upon waking up was that I wanted to die.

I spent the night with some kind of triumphant feeling I forced down my throat, but when the light shot through the windows and told me to go fuck myself, I was a little less sure. Usually, I'm able to swallow it.

But that was not the only difference the morning brought. Now that I don't have to play community coordinator with our beloved, rightful, honest-to-goodness King back, my schedule has been freed up. It seems Kahlil is well aware of that fact because he was at my door two hours early to drop off the sweetest, but not at all apologetic, 'just-in-case-you-decide-to-do-something-stupid-I'm-here-to-stop-you' smile.

I swung the door right back into his face. "Let me die here. Alone."

"I can't even if I wanted to," he sighed, following my back that has since turned to him as if I could forget his presence. Taking a grape into his own mouth from the breakfast Kari left a few minutes ago, he sinks into the chair at the foot of my bed, making himself at home. "If you die under my watch, they will skin me alive," he counters almost absentmindedly, "And I don't want to haunt this place with you. That's a damned eternity of tea and tequila that would drive me utterly mad."

He considers the silence for a moment, narrowing his eyes and stilling another grape just before his mouth. "Oh, wait."

When the hell did I start making people feel comfortable?

Deciding it's time to start hibernation and my complete isolation rather than entertain him, I crawl back into bed and pull the blanket up until it covers everything but my face. I suppose it would be nice to breathe, but it gives my eyes no choice but to stare at the ceiling above me in all it's elaborate, artful, decorative complexion.

Why does everything have to be so colorful? It exists for no other reason than to make things more difficult. And it hurts my fucking head.

Khalil didn't necessarily make an effort to hide the fact that he was watching me, but I really couldn't care. He was...actually concerned. I suppose I haven't done anything to exactly prove his feelings otherwise invalid, but I don't like that kind of attention. It's the kind that makes me want to run for the hills, and he knows that. Somehow with all that hidden wiseness that makes him so intriguing, he knows me a little better than I know myself, so fittingly he rarely ever lets me see that.

As if no time had passed at all, he stood abruptly and started to pour two cups of tea, brushing past the moment in my favor. I watched him make them out of the corner of my eye, though, just in case. Old habits die hard.

"The Allfather has called for a meeting this afternoon. There was an irregularity down at the bifrost last night. It's a possible security breach."

"Send my best wishes," I sigh straightly. "I hope someone invades and just takes us all out."

"Unfortunately, Miss military strategist, you have no choice but to attend." He hovers the cup over my comforter, waiting for me to take my hand out from underneath.

Of all things, I had to pick that. I could have said I was a painter, or a fisherman, or anyone who does something far outside the palace walls to where I would never have to think about seeing him again. Oh my god, I'm going to have to see him again.

"I'm sick."

He frowned. "That's physically impossible."

I knotted my eyebrows together and burrowed myself into my bed, giving myself only seconds of blissful denial before he ripped the covers off of me. "You're not like this. What do you want to do, go punch an infant or something?"

Although it did seem like just the thing that was depraved enough to make me forget about everything else, something in my conscience decided against it, perhaps because an idea came springing to the surface of my thoughts as if my mind hauled it there itself as a quick, desperate substitute to therefore mentioned child abuse.

"Those hot springs that you showed me a few days ago...are they crowded this time of day? I don't want to see any other living beings, but it's the closest thing I can think of to burning alive."

"You're exceptionally morbid today." I take the tea from his hand and sit myself up against the headboard. Propping himself up by his elbow, he lays across the foot of the bed, studying me for only a moment longer than he did before, but unsurprisingly, he keeps his findings to himself. "There's a smaller area off of the main inlet — blocked off, reserved, away from anything with a pulse," he sighs breathily. "If anyone asks, you have no idea it exists."

My eyebrow jerks up instinctively. "Your spilling secrets to me now?"

"To save an infant, yes."

"If you must," I breathe, hiding the curl of my lips behind the cup.

Abruptly once again as if to make it a point to keep from lulling, he pulls himself off the bed and reaches for my cup before I can take a sip. "Let's go - "

"Hey!"

" - and this isn't the middle of the night so you can't strip down bare again and take a swim."

Disappointed, I somehow manage to roll out of bed, and after a heated debate over appropriate swimwear that soon turned into a dissension about the rightful ownership of a woman's body, we settled at a compromise, one that looked oddly similar — almost identical — to my initial request. Swimming in my own underwear was no price at all if it meant I didn't have to slip on the Asgardian bathing suit which was a dress like garb that deprived everyone of a woman's femininity.

Averting tragedies, he led me out.

The hot springs were in a deep, dark, and damp cavern just on the border of the palace walls. Even though I've seen the little hidden cave once before, the rather magical beauty still strikes me with awe. The atmosphere encompasses you in a predominantly blue, crystal hue with purple undertones, accentuated by the dark, underwater areas of the springs that dipped deep enough for a bit of exploring. It's truly something out of a fantasy, as most things seem as I come explore more of this realm, but this may be the first place where I have to question whether or not it truly exists outside of some kind of figment of my imagination.

Barefooted and glistening with the tears of humidity, Kahlil slipped us through an alternative entrance...well, slipped sounds so effortless. We climbed over rocks and swam through shallow reefs until we reached a secluded and exceptionally hidden area. We walked up a narrow, paved path for another half minute before we reached a boulder that undoubtedly blocked the entrance to the secret spot.

Before he started to move the heavy slab — rather effortlessly may I add — the only sound that accompanied the view was the faint dripping of water from the cave forms above. The grinding of stone on stone added to the ambiance, but almost all was forgotten and completely silent when he presented the area behind the boulder.

The heavy fog seemed to part as soon as our eyes introduced themselves. It was a small area with one respectably sized pool outlined with weathered rock, but that wasn't what arrested our eyes so mesmerizingly. The water was the clearest, yet most definitive blue I've ever seen, sparkling darkly with an egyptian blue gleam. The ambiance of it seemed to drip off the walls that held the caves crystals like they had been gripping them for centuries, but there was a certain gloom that shined through that made the light deliciously...dark.

"This is..."

"Yeah. I know."

Khalil and I stood there for a long moment, staring at the area in awe before he forcefully shook himself out of it. "Well, I'll be outside," he exclaimed, clapping his hands as if the slightest rise in his voice didn't make enough of an echo. "Please, for all of our sakes, take your time."

I practically push him out, hoping somewhere in that split second he could interpret a thank you, but I couldn't have too much of an expectation for him.

It was a distant feeling only to be regarded for a split second, but I couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt in dipping my foot into water. I could almost see the black fluid drain from my body at the moment of contact, corrupting the pristine, divine clarity of the water. But I'm selfish today — egotistic and self centered — and will take the privilege of emotion by force even though we work so hard to keep it out of my hands. I want to feel...something...and that has always come at the expense of others.

Relief may be asking for too much, but I submerged myself into one end of the pool anyways until only my shoulders were above water, taking in what I could get. Unfortunately, it wasn't necessarily burning in hell, but I did feel like I was being caressed by a heaven that accepted delusional assassins. It was just so...nice. And for just one moment, I thought I did feel some kind of easing comfort.

That is until I heard the boulder shift again.

I probably should have known by now that all gifts are falsey addressed to me.

But instead of scolding myself for embracing things I shouldn't touch, I kept my eyes closed and my head thrown back.

You're being selfish today,
and ignorance is the first prerequisite.

Again, I probably should have known.

It seems whatever presence that has since walked in was waiting for me to acknowledge it — As if I already haven't.

I brought my head level and opened one eye as if to staff back the sight I already knew I would find somehow, but whether I like it or not, he who shall not be named forced both of my eyes open. Whether he realizes it or not, he doesn't necessarily allow anyone to give their attention if it isn't their full.

Two guards outlined his frame while Kahlil lingered in the back with a look that screamed both 'I'm so so sorry' and 'good luck' as if either declaration could possibly help me. He stood no more than a step away from the entrance, armed with eyes that wanted to kill me on the spot.

But that's just it.

A full minute passed where he only stood and I sat stiff as the guards awkwardly shifted in their footing. With every word of last night flooding the space in our silence, revelations echoing off the walls as they scream, forcing us to remember, it has somehow become the most clear idea in all of our grey that we are that there is only one reason why we dreaded seeing each other and hoped we never would again:

We would be forced to address it — make the reality real — and here we are.

Could his eyes only want me dead? Could he actually kill me?

The uncertainty of it ran my mouth dry. He was the last person I wanted to see even if it were his Odin illusion. It was him. The one that made me...feel...and I had no control over it.

"My King, would you like us to remove-"

"No."

It was quick, sure, but even with the way his eyes bored into mine as he spoke, I still wasn't too sure if he caught the wave of trepidation wash over my face.

No?! Say yes! Let them drag me out by the arms and I will pretend to fight it with the best performance you will ever see!

But he wanted to know. I wanted to know. And there only needed to be one of us strong enough to kill the other and end it all.

Perhaps I have never been so happy for the assurance of a god.

With a nod in their direction, attention still fixed on me, the guards took the silent command and left, pushing the boulder back into place, locking us both in the space that only one may walk out of.

Just a second later he dropped the illusion, which wasn't necessarily fair. He always proved my imagination to be boring, but this was just cruel. He pulled off his thin shirt in one sweep and threw it to the side as if it were nothing, leaving him in a pair of boxer brief type shorts that hung too low. He was as chiseled as the gods they carve and display in museums, but he is truly the finest piece of art I've ever seen. The lighting didn't help my sanity. The dark blue waves bounced and illuminated off his body in all the right places and it wasn't any better when he lowered himself into the pool on the other side of the cavern, to where only the sharp structures of his face were greeted by the luminescence of the crystals. He seemed to fit perfectly, as if this were a meeting of the very two forces and epitomes of dark beauty.

For a moment, however brief, I almost thought him something I shouldn't touch. Something pristine, with divine clarity. Just for a moment, he looked like something I don't deserve — something I would feel guilty about ruining.

He tensed his jaw and slowly closed his eyes before he threw his head back, resting his arms on the ledge on either side, stretching his muscles perfectly.

This was so mean.

It seems the universe has finally found a way to torture me properly. Or maybe it decided to grant me a nice view before I'm sent down to Hell. Perhaps a little bit of both.

"You're staring."

Torture, definitely.

I didn't have time to feel even the slightest bit embarrassed before some kind of combative shock pushed to the forefront of my mind. He decided that would be the first thing he was going to say since last night?

I closed my eyes and sank myself deeper into the water. "How would you know?"

"I know how your eyes feel."

"That doesn't make sense."

"Feelings rarely do."

"No?"

"They don't need to if I'm right."

"You're not."

"Mm, of course not," he hummed, and I could practically feel his shit eating smirk™. "Try to control yourself."

A dark laugh leaves my lips and keeps just under my breath. Okay. We're playing like that.

Pushing myself off the ledge, I dip underneath the water and fall — eight feet or so.

When I hit rock, I push off the bottom and beeline up, breaking the surface in one smooth, fluid motion, running my hands over the top of my hair and following it down.

I take my time in opening my eyes, but when I finally do, I found him staring right at me, and I couldn't help the grin.

"Oh, now you're playing temptress?"

I keep my eyes locked on his, face slowly falling straight, one cold as ice yet igniting like fire. "Is it working?"

A muscle in his jaw ticks before his eyes betray him and run along the skin that the water waves to expose, giving me my answer as they take their sweet time.

Swallowing the last of the moments I know I'll stay alive, I drift over to him, swimming the short distance with his stare straight on me until I could place my hands on his thighs. Every muscle of his tensed, and his jaw lifted to follow me as I pushed myself up to slowly straddle his lap, face just an inch above his.

My usually traitorous hands keep themselves at my side. They were being sensible, because maybe they knew — just as the heavy air around us anticipated — the drastic seriousness of the moment. We could try to forget that last night never happened, but every single word that left our mouths had a new weight. And this was anything but playful.

I looked down at him for a long moment before sinking myself into the water more to make myself almost level. His hands had fisted, but he kept his arms laid on either side of him, muscles twitching with restraint.

"They're right outside," he whispers, searching my eyes for any favor in turning back.

"Then shut up."

His eyes darkened before he gently caught my chin in the silken vise of his hands. It was the last moment, we both acknowledged unspoken, that our game could be just that. Without the game, we're left with reality. Realness. Revelation. Nothing either of us have ever wanted.

In the corner of my eye, I watched him conjure a blade. It laid in his free hand for a long moment. It was simple, but it could get the job done.

I'm scared, I'll admit, for all the wrong reasons. If he isn't able to do it...

With his eyes never straying from mine, he drags the metal down the side of my arm, inviting itself to the welcoming flesh. I subtly part my lips with my tongue which clearly triggered his need to rid of me faster. He drops his eyes heavily to follow the knife as he brings it to the base of my throat, trailing it down my front, between my breasts, and to the center or my stomach. His hand releases my chin and drips carelessly down my neck as he whispers sweet nothings that could only bring me.

"Energy manipulation...telekinesis...sorcery beyond your comprehension," he draws the blade back up my body, speaking almost absentmindedly as he watches the path. "I could kill you with the touch of my finger."

Too much talk.

The blade glazes over my collarbone, taking a particular liking. His eyes stay trained there as if it were speaking to him words of delicious, tempting darkness.

I take my eyes away from the knife I was following, raising my head with eyes possibly darker than his.

"Don't be kind to it," I whisper, hoping there is still a conscious part of him not lost to the lustful aroma of death.

I rest my hands on his shoulders, digging my nails in to find an exquisite enough grip. The ends of his hair trickle water droplets to my skin as if to counteract the act of him drawing blood from it. My mouth gapes slightly as he makes a tear over the bone. It was small, not nearly enough to do damage, and I would almost find it offensive if it weren't so...criminally..arousing. We both watch the blood run down my body and hit the the water in the space between our bodies, soon dissipating into nothing.

Heavy breathed, we keep our heads hung to the now clear water, my face just slightly above his.

Come on.

I slowly smooth my hands over his broad shoulders and down his bicep, speaking through a hushed, straight tone at his ear. "If you want to bathe in my blood, now's the time."

Lost to it all, he drags the blade to make a greater cut, the blood soon painting my body and the pristine water beneath us. My mouth falls open soundlessly as I watch, gripping my nails into his arms to keep myself still. His own lips part as he keeps his eyes on the space between us. There was no blue sparkle that could penetrate the coating anymore. It was red. Bold, dense, crimson red.

He carries his eyes heavily over my throat, his dagger slowly following. I gasp into a choke as he pushes a little harder, but not enough to draw blood.

And there he stays. Just close enough.

But he didn't go any further.

He couldn't.

He unconjures the dagger, waiting a long moment before he replaces the glide of the blade with his thumb, gripping the back of my neck with the rest of his hand.

His hand moves with his eyes — running across my jaw, resting on my chin, until it hesitates before my cheek, letting his eyes do a thorough study before his thumb swipes across the surface so fucking slowly.

"It's a neat little trick you do," he whispers, keeping his eyes away from mine. "You move your lips and true apostasy comes out."

I swallow hard, trying to keep my own composure, but the emotions and unexplainable lust hit me at full force. "Here I thought I found an unreligious god."

His thumb presses deeper on the skin, caressing it possessively. "One should only be religious to their own ideals," he murmurs almost to himself, watching the movements of his own hand, "But I'm being tempted to abandon them all."

I bit my lower lip indecisively, and he froze. His gaze fell helplessly to my lips and a long heartbeat later, he used his thumb to gently free it from my teeth.

He finally looked at me, his eyes stormy as ever. 

It was sincere, threatening, desperate.

"You need to stay away from me."

It was a vulnerability I didn't know how to take without ruining, but that fact shouldn't matter. It shouldn't. That's what I was supposed to do — ruin it. Ruin him.

If I couldn't...

... ... ... 

I like to think it's his own fault, the whole stay-away-from-me-but-you-also-need-to-be-at-this-meeting-a-few-hours-later situation. What else did he expect from me? To obey?

The mission was simple — provoke my own murder. Just until he can't stand it any longer and takes a knife across my throat. Worse comes to worst, if he takes too long, I would have no choice but to drag that knife myself across his, but I would rather face my death than run the risk of having to feel anything about his.

All we need is a swift, painless death because with each passing second, he looks more like a lifetime of beautiful tragedy.

Right on schedule, I get the beckoning knock at my door, but to my surprise, Kahlil wasn't the only one on the other side. Maybe I've seen him before, maybe not, but right now the guard next to Kahlil looked exceptionally memorable. Dark hair, dark green eyes, a dark, tanned complexion...I rested my head against the side of the door and ran my eyes up and down his body quickly. His seemed to follow suit.

Khalil sucked in a breath and stepped up between us. "Okay, no. Nope."

"Kahlil, who's your friend?" I kept my eyes on the guard despite him.

The darkness with a jawline steps up around Kahlil with a gentle grin, taking my hand up to his lips smoothly, keeping his eyes on mine under those heavy lashes. "Darian. It is a pleasure, Ms. Natalle."

"Is it?"

He lowers my hand, but doesn't take it out of his hold. "Certainly."

Before I could speak again, as if Kahlil didn't trust anything further that would escape my mind, he broke our hands apart. "After this morning, the Allfather thought it best that there be two of us at your side since I'm, and I quote, 'unlocking every door known in the history of man for the captive'. He personally chose Darian, despite my...very clear opposition."

My eyebrow rose on its own accord, but I didn't let this new guard out of my sight.

Kahlil was different. The choice made sense. He was light, caring whether he wanted to show it or not, and more prevalently, interested in men.

But..what's his name? Damien? It doesn't matter. He was a pawn, perhaps the very piece in our chess game that Loki thought could end this all. Dark, easy, tempting, familiar.

He was keeping me farther and farther away from the King.

Should I be offended that he thought I could possibly bite the bait? Probably. But the only thing I felt was some pang of emotion towards the fact that he was driving me away after relentless efforts to chain me to him. Maybe it's the fact that he could detach so easily, or maybe it's more the idea that I couldn't do the same, but this isn't what I wanted. I want him dead, not distant. I want his life, his death, his rage and everything beyond. I want to build him up and kick him down and tear him apart. I want what my fascination with his darkness has always wanted, and maybe I don't know exactly what that is, but I know it's something from him that no one else could give me, and even if they could I wouldn't take it from any other source.

I break my stare with the guard and turn to Kahlil, a smile plastered across my face that never means anything good.

"Should we get going?"

He groans under his breath. "After you change."

"I'm truly sick of you telling me what I can and cannot wear," I sigh, turning to guard number two, trailing a finger down the front of the short, black, silk robe. "Don't you think this is okay?"

He subtly follows the trail of my finger, rasping huskily after choosing not to clear his throat first. "I can't say you don't look good."

I smile — again, never a good sign — and I earn one back from him, which may be even worse. "Perfect."

Kahlil pinches the bridge of his nose before taking the guard by the arm. "You idiot."

"Let's go, then!" I snap, taking the one second window of Kahlil's diverted attention to start down the hall without them.

I could hear him curse under his breath before he yells after me, following the path of his words a second later. "Safiya, you don't know what you're doing."

Kahlil, I swear I will make everything up to you one day.

I grin to myself, throwing my voice over my shoulder as carelessly as the words themselves. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

...

AUTHOR'S NOTE

This is so messy. And it's unfortunately going to get messier. Yes, messier than their apparent love for knife play.

I apologize that this is a bit shorter of a chapter. At the last minute, I chose to move the last scene over to the next chapter because it just flows better that way. And now that one is going to definitely make up for the length of this one.

Also, who the hell let me get 5k? I love and value every one of you with all of my heart it's insane. I screamed.

Also, Also, if you didn't know, I decided not to to put any face claims or media in this book because I don't ruin the reading experience for anyone, but if you're into that, I have that and much more in 'THE DARK UNIVERSE' book so go check it out at your own risk.

Also, Also, Also, Happy late birthday King

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