Everything was falling into place. Loki looked over at the last human he’d picked up. Not needed for his grander plans, more for his personal ones.
Every other room in his tunnels had a purpose in the conquest ahead. The woman lying in his private rooms had purpose only to him. “Soon, Belle,” he whispered, looking at her sleeping form. “Soon, I’ll rise, and you’ll be returned to me.”
Years spent trying to find her after the curse, and the price of obtaining her had been another curse, this seemingly endless sleep.
He wondered if this was like the Odinsleep. If she could hear him when he spoke to her. Whether or not she ever felt it when he touched her face, or brushed his lips against her hairline.
In the end, it didn’t matter. He’d still have her back soon enough.
What was the point of being a king without a queen?