Running across the snow-covered tundra, Loki wore a faint smile of successful mischief. She could hardly wait to see her mother's expression.
Thor was such a grown man, yet he had fallen into an ice hole while fishing. Wasn't that useless?
If Mother asked why she had not gone into the water to save her brother, Loki had an excuse ready. She could say she was on her period and could not touch cold water.
Ah, the feminist rhetoric she had learned from human society really was useful.
However, she did not receive the positive feedback she wanted, because a beam of blue light intercepted her halfway. In the next second, the thousand-mile frozen northern landscape before her became pitch-black void.
A black-and-yellow Mercenary carrying Kitty, a massive red robot, and a huge black dog with a mouth growing on its tongue all stood atop an incomparably enormous Cloak Flying Carpet.
Her smile vanished. Or rather, it had transferred elsewhere.
"Hi, Loki. Miss me?"
Deathstroke waved with a broad grin. He did not know what expressions Loki had wanted to see from Frigga and Sif, but the agonized look on Loki's face, as though she had been stopped right at the edge, told him his prank had succeeded.
Brushing back her long black wavy hair, the Second Princess slowly closed her eyes. Her plan had been good, but Deathstroke was the one who had gotten the pleasure in the end. He was still so skilled at tormenting others and taking delight in their pain.
Vile and dark—that was Deathstroke.
Still, Loki was good at regulating herself. She generally did not go mad or lose emotional control. After a brief spell of disappointment, she opened her eyes and smiled, giving a slight bow.
"The Sorcerer Supreme was right. I did miss