I did calm down. He hadn’t meant it that way. Or had he? Did Asgardians keep slaves?

Did they keep mortals as pets, and was that how he saw our relationship? Kanesha was not a pet. She was my girlfriend. She might never be my wife, but she was still more than, I don’t know, a cat to sit on my lap.

If she wasn’t, then…

But I did calm down. I knew what he meant. I knew he hadn’t meant to be offensive. And he was also Loki, being offensive was kind of part of who he was.

Implying he wouldn’t try Tyz’vel. That thought cheered me up. I did wonder if he’d turn into a woman to do so or if he was fine with man on man.

I wondered if he actually cared. I was pretty sure I knew where I got my own tendencies, at this point.

Still. I had to come up with a different word. I didn’t care if everyone else in Asgard saw Kanesha as a servant. I didn’t and wouldn’t. Maybe it was even something to talk to Odin about.

She was not my, what was the word, thrall. Maybe thane? That was a warrior or something. Ironically, Kanesha would know, but I knew I couldn’t tell her if I ever wanted this one to be forgiven or forgotten.

Or maybe I could. Maybe she saw herself that way at some levels. She said she wouldn’t trust anyone else with her soul.

If things were different I knew what she would be to me, and that thought scared me. It reminded me of who I was, what I might become.

Then there came a knock at the door.

“Come in.”

It was Loki, and he was slinking. “I came to apologize.”

“For the ownership comment?”

“I don’t always think about things like, oh, American history.”

I managed a laugh. “Even if it wasn’t that, I’m not…you know. I can’t think of myself as that far above her.”

“You are, though. She accepts it better than you do.”

I wondered if they had had a conversation. “And I don’t want to be. And part of it is the race thing. I know part of it is.”

“Part of it is that you still don’t remember.”

“Part of it is that I wish…” I tailed off. “It’s not possible, right.”

Loki fell silent. “You know, I’ve taken many mortal lovers.”

“But you don’t love anyone but my mother.”

He looked at me. “Don’t you dare tell that to anyone. And you have power over her. You can decide how much to exercise it.”
“She’s not my thrall.”

“No. She’s your shieldmaiden.”
And that fit in an odd way. It didn’t mean I didn’t want to change it. It didn’t mean part of me wouldn’t give up everything I was to be her equal.

But it would, for now, do. Somebody who owed me allegiance as well as love. I could live with that.

Mostly.