Concubine
Concubine.
That’s what they call you.
His concubine.
Gazing out over the starlit sky, your hair bellowing around your shoulders, thick and curly as it flutters around your face, you stare off into the endless abyss, wondering what it would feel like to fall.
Just fall…and keep falling.
Into absolute nothing.
Knock, knock.
Sighing, your stomach churns the bile within as you soften your voice to call out.
“Come on in, My Prince.”
Hearing your door slink open and shut quietly, the calm is quickly followed by raucous, heavy footsteps striding towards you
You feel a hand twist itself into your hair, your body is whirling around as you gaze for a second into those crystal green eyes.
Biting down on your lip to stop the whimper wanting to explode from your lips, you feel his cold, calculating lips press into your mouth, his tongue jamming its way through your mute isolation as it prods its way heavily through the murky depths of your mouth.
Crinkling your nose in disgust, your commander wraps his arms around you, pulling you from your beautiful, mind-washing view and back in to the room, throwing you down on the bed as he hovers above you, his eyes dilated with lust as you watch him silently debate between anger and kindness, gentleness and rough.
It made you want to puke.
“I’ve been thinking about these hips all day long,” he enunciates, a bit of spittle hitting you on your cheek as you try with all of your might to settle the vomit rising in to your throat.
“Say my name,” he seethes in your ear, his hand pawing at you through your nightgown as his hand lands heavily on your breast, playing with your nipple as it stands to attention.
Defector.
Staying silent, his anger takes over.
“I said, ‘Say. My. Name.’“
Your lips tremble as your body screams for the tears to be kept at bay…but you make the mistake of blinking, releasing one small, lonely, glistening tear to trickle its way down your cheek.
Hearing him sigh, he dips his head in to the crook of your neck before scrambling off of you and standing at the foot of the bed with his brow furrowed in confusion.
“I have tried everything to make you comfortable. I have given you your own room. I have given you your own handmaiden. I have had someone take your beautiful measurements to have an incredible wardrobe made exactly to your specifications. I have tried bondage, gentle touches, preparing you bubble baths, rough play, emotionless sex, and even oral stimulation in an effect to find what you enjoy in bed, so that we can both build a trust and enjoy our encounters…and still, I get nothing.”
Lobbing your head off to the side, tears continuing to trickle down on to the soft, shining sheets of your comfortable bed, you open your mouth before you can judge the words coming forth.
“I am sorry, My Prince, that I have been a waste.”
Hearing nothing in response but the door opening and closing to your room, you shut your eyes as you take in a deep breath, remembering the memories of your childhood before everything went so very, very wrong.
The laughter of your mother swinging you in the backyard. The sound of your brother giggling as you chase him around with the water hose. The smell of the baked good that your family would make together during the Christmas months.
Your father always exclaiming how proud he was of you…
The silence in the room was deafening as you clamored off of the bed, wrapping yourself in your silk green robe and striding back out on to your balcony, your eyes looking once again out into the blackened abyss that covers the floating continent out here in a completely different realm.
And as the wind rips against your face, bellowing your sheer white curtains into your empty room, you cast your eyes down upon the entrance to the Bifrost, Mr. Heimdall standing at attention, seemingly moving his body toward you as he gazes up at your nightgown’d form, his eyes locking onto your presence until you take a deep breath and step back into your room, closing the double doors to the balcony behind you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You awaken the next morning, dressing yourself for breakfast and waiting beside the right entrance door.
After all, Loki always came through the left, and you knew he would want you standing right where you need to be, neither wanting to anger him further nor bleed all over your beautifully-made dress.
You have to admit, being a concubine on Asgard wasn’t the worst job you could have. Yes, you have to sleep occasionally with your enslaver, but in return, you were fed, clothed, given an incredibly opulent room, freedom to roam the castle, and protection.
Protection from your life on Earth.
Midgard is what they called it here.
Your days started to blur together ever since the battle had raged. A battle you had fought endlessly to win, only to succumb after merely 3 days.
Closing your eyes, you could remember the sound of the Asgardian army cresting the hill, Thor’s hammer drawn in a King-like fashion with his brother riding by his side.
You could remember how you felt seeing the hoard coming your direction.
The panic that ebbed within your body.
The look of terror in your brother’s eyes.
You remember how heavy that gun felt in your hands. The way it sounded when you pulled the trigger…the way your friends around you cried as they were pierced with Asgardian spears, the poison seeping their way into their systems, turning their eyes yellow as it shut down every single organ, one by one, until there was nothing left.
You remember how you felt, sobbing onto your dead brother’s stomach as a shackle came down around your neck…
Coming to, your hand massaging your neck involuntarily, you look up at the clock, furrowing your brow as you realize that Loki has not yet made his appearance.
Opening the door and peering out into the hallway, you hesitantly step out, hearing laughter and commotion coming from down the hall in the breakfast room.
Slowly walking down the hallway, you get to the room, hearing Thor’s barreling laughter followed by Loki’s criticism of something he apparently had said.
Peering ever so carefully around the corner, you see Loki, seated at the table beside everyone else, with another woman at his side.
Furrowing your brow, you get out of sight before someone sees you intruding, scurrying back to your room as Loki’s handmaiden calls you from the end of the hallway.
“Miss Y/N!” she says, waving her hand and running to you. “Miss Y/N, I have a message for you from Prince Loki.”
Turning towards her, your face blank as you take the letter from her hands, she curtsies in your presence before trotting off.
Opening the note slowly, your fingers trembling, it simply read this:
You are free to go home.
Looking up from the note, tears in your eyes, you take in the view of your commander, standing just outside of the doorway, leaning against the frame, his gaze stern, but lacking in its original strength
He almost looks…defeated.
It was either this, or Earth, you thought
And…reluctantly…you choose this.