I sit on my bed, leaned against the wall, looking down at the book in my hands yet can't bring myself to even read the words on the page. Even these fine Asgardian silks upon the bed do nothing for me. Surrounded by decadence, yet I'm miserable, I haven't even bothered grooming my hair for days. I'm the God of Mischief, jailed in the Asgardian Dungeon like a common criminal, not even allowed a visit from Frigga because of Odin's rules. I sigh, lifting my eyes up as I lean my head back, looking out through my wild locks of hair that had fallen forward over my face. That's when I see them. The guards are bringing in a new prisoner, but this is someone I've never seen before in Asgard. Just who is that? My eyes narrow as I watch the stranger drag their feet. They obviously don't want to be jailed. I laugh darkly. "I know that feeling!" I call out sarcastically, as I watch to see where the guards are taking them. Then it hits me.

"Wait!" I call out to the guards, indignation bubbling up within me. "What are you doing!?" It's obvious what they are doing, but I demand answers. "Who told you that you could do this!?" I demand angrily, as I see them opening the forcefield to my cell, and dragging the stranger in. The guards remove the shackles and shove the stranger, knocking them to the floor, before leaving and reactivating the forcefield without comment, or even giving me a glance. I fling the book furiously into the forcefield as I watch them walk away, before glancing over with a withering glare to the stranger on the floor, my personal cell invaded. "Well, just who the Hel are you?" I demand, my scorn and irritation evident in my tone. I eye you suspiciously, trying to figure out what the point or angle is. I don't trust Odin one bit, and I just know he had a hand in this. "Don't just sit there, explain yourself!"