The rooms were darkened, a few of the torches still blazing in their steal placements upon the walls. His chest fell, the sigh louder then he thought it would be, in the quiet place.
"... come now, Loki, join me won't you?"
The voice made him whirl upon the seated form. He had not seen Frandral there, lounging like a wet puppy on his master's bedding. Obviously drunken, the wine flask at his feet told that.
"Frandral..."
"Now, now, son of Odin," shoving himself up as Loki crossed entering the slow burning light of the fire, "You look as if you've been spurred by every maiden in the Nine ... urgh, where did that blasted- ah, thank you," as Loki kicked the flask with the toe of his boot, "Like I was saying, you look like every wench has turned her nose up and kicked your shins..." He blew out a pungent breath as he sank back into the chair.
"Only one, Frandral."
Frandral blinked, then turned his lips into a shrugging grimous.
"Then it's your fault for having only one..."
"Tell me, eh, it's Sigyn, no? The little wench who's stolen the dark prince's soul and pretends it's nothing whilst leaving him with a cold bed and a colder day..."
"Frandral, she is not-"
"OH, shhh, we all know, Loki, so don't use that serpent's tongue on me. I know you want her as badly as the rest ou're just like me ... just as carnal, however you pretend to be so saintly with your books and magic and leaving the women to the weaker warriors, eh, so-"
"No." Loki flashed a look that rivaled the poison he spat. "Not, like you."
"How do you denige it-?"
"Because I will be ruled by my want. And I will not bring shame upon her."
"Oh, Loki, it was merely a jest-!"
"...then it was as foul as your mind, Frandral."
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