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Hunting was how an orphan survived. The ones that didn't beg and were old enough to wield a weapon. Stealing, unnecessary by the passage of time.
Clint lowered his bow, taking his attention off the plump bird on a branch above Bird Lake to the blue green water itself. Movement, catching his eye as something disturbed the water. A form rising out of it.
“Prince Loki?” Clint said, baffled, barely believing his eyes.
Prince Loki was tall, slender and had creamy pale skin that glowed with his black hair. The darkest hair in all of Asgard. Everyone else had a rich blond like his own or some that was a warm brown.
“Hello little bird,” Prince Loki said, glancing around for him.
Clint’s jaw dropped, stepping out from behind the bush to see Prince Loki in all his naked glory. Soaking wet. Pond water up to his knees. It was a sight completely unworthy of his less than a commoner's eyes. Greedily, he soaked it all in.
“Oh, the hunter with no last name,” Prince Loki commented, his own eyes raking over his form in return. “Bird Pond. You hunt here often. Little Bird is fitting for you, no?”
Yes. Clint had questions, like how the Prince knew he hunted here regularly. Prince Loki was a snake amongst the Golden City. So, it was less surprising that he knew he was one of the few without parents.
“Care to join me?” Prince Loki asked him, dark eyebrows lifting and green eyes twinkling with mischief in a way that almost had Clint thinking he was being flirted with.
“Of course, my Prince,” Clint answered without a second thought, knowing he sounded eager as he laid his bow in the grass and pulled his tunic over his head quickly. “Whatever you wish.”