The concept of kidnapping someone in order to have them as your companion is derived from the book 'Stolen' by Lucy Christopher. This story will also be influenced (to a small extent) by the movie 'Snow White and the Huntsman' in that Thor becomes a huntsman/ man of nature. I own nothing involving Thor, Stolen or Snow White and the Huntsman - Enjoy!
Chapter One:
She pounded harder against the door, the sides of her hands bruised and sore from the repeated hitting motion against the wood.
'Please, let me out!' she cried harder, pulling at the handle before throwing herself one last time at the wood and then collapsing on the floor in a sobbing heap.
Despite the coolness of the tiled room around her, Grace felt very hot. Her hair sticking to her forehead, her body covered in sweat, her throat aching from screaming as she struggled to hold her head up while she panted, recovering from the onslaught that she'd given the locked door for the last two hours.
She only stopped her sobbing when she heard the door click open, and a pair of long legs laced in hikers boots stepped before her. Too exhausted to lift her head, her arms shook as she tried to steady herself, and all too quickly, felt herself become incredibly light as her head spun and she slumped against the strong legs before her.
The sight of her made him laugh heartily, and bending at the waist he pulled her up from beneath her arms, and carried her to the bathtub.
Checking the temperature of the running water, he carefully stripped the limp form before him of her clothing, careful not to catch her hair when he pulled off her shirt, and to hold her upright so that she would not plummet to the hard floor. Occasional sobs broke from her lips as she would wake momentarily and offer some resistance, before falling back into a slumber where she would twitch occasionally, he breathing jagged and uneven.
Careful to keep her head above the waterline, he bathed her sleeping form, careful to rub her skin gently with the cloth as her pale skin was prone to easy scrapes and bruises. He lastly washed her hair, but holding her up and pouring on the soap proved to be much more difficult than he initially thought. She would occasionally slip and her face would duck beneath the water before he'd pull her up, coughing and gasping for air as he washed the suds from her locks. Shaking in fear, exhaustion would overtake and once again, she would slip into an uneasy slumber, her arms crossed over her chest to conceal her small mounds.
After drying, dressing and laying her in bed, he made his way outside to the porch of his home, and sat on the hard wooden chair that he had spend several days constructing and carving himself. The air was cool against his skin, and as if on alert, he kept his eyes scanning the forest before him, tracing the lines of each bush, branch and trunk that he'd become so accustomed to since he'd settled at the cabin five years before.
After several hours, he became restless with the woodlands that was blanketed in darkness, and so rose from his seat and made his way back inside where he sat for some time, staring at the sleeping beauty before him.
Her small wrist was bound in a cushioned cuff above her head, and with his fingers he traced the line of the small silver key in his pocket. He'd tried to make her as comfortable as possible at all times, but her attempt to bolt the previous night had resulted in the compulsory use of the cuff, but her tied arm restricted her ability to move freely, and several times during the night she would awaken groggily, pulling at the metal as she tried to reposition herself. Uncuffing her wrist and instead cuff her leg to the footboard, it allowed her a different range of motion, and made her more comfortable, if only slightly. Perhaps one day they would get to the stage where no cuff was required, but that time was still a long way off, he brooded.
Even in sleep her brow was marred with a frown, and this made the knot of guilt twist even tighter in his stomach. She did not want to be here with him, she'd said as much many times, and this would dampened his mood greatly. Taking her small hand into his big ones, he traced her bruised and bloodied knuckles with the pad of his thumb, wounds she had obtained trying to get away from him; attempts that had been fruitless as he had easily overpowered her, subduing her physically – just as he had done so on the day two days prior, when he had taken her.
He did not relish that memory. Her screams, her anger, her terror as he'd pulled her from the street and into the van were as fresh and raw as if they had just happened. He could still feel the tears dripping onto his forearm as he had eventually caught her neck within the crook of his arm, and clenched his bicep until her knees weakened and she went limp in his arms.
Binding her wrists together and her ankles as well, he began the long drive back to the cabin where he'd planned to keep her. A sharp punch of remorse hit him in the chest as he remembered how cruel he had been that day, how he had heard her pleas for release but had ignored them. If only she knew how he'd felt, how hearing her waking noises and then, muffled cries in the back of his van left tears in his eyes as he drove her further away from civilisation and further into the mountains. Several times he called out to her, soothing her, telling her she was safe, that he'd untie her soon – it had the opposite effect, his voice just made her scream louder, made her thump harder until eventually her weeping that was muffled by the gag became a series of short, sharp sniffles that echoed in the empty van.
Despite the open fire in the room, her hand was cold, and enveloping it with his ones, he rubbed them together to create a heated friction; his beautiful Grace, who had not spoken a word to him but to beg for release. Her distress did not make her the most talkative of companions, but her presence pleased him greatly, and even though her brown eyes would look to him in fear and uncertainty when he would enter her room, he would smother a smile that threatened to rise as her just being here relaxed him and gave him hope.
His plan had changed quite drastically from what he'd imagined it would be. The many weeks that he'd spent rebuilding and repainting the cabin, building new furniture, buying female products that he thought she might need had gone unnoticed by her. Standing in the female aisle of the supermarket with two different brands of feminine hygiene products had not been the easiest task he'd undertaken, but she would need them, he'd thought, and so he had to work out which ones to buy. In truth, he was not blind to the situation.
Snatched from her world and comforts had made her terrified, housed in the middle of the woods with a stranger had severed her nerves. And whilst his fantasy had consisted of her consenting to come to the cabin, being pleased to be in his company, and stroking the new furniture and the newly painted walls, none of that happened. It was just that: a fantasy. The reality had been hearing the deafening silence as they sat together, with only his voice echoing from the walls.
He did not intend to keep her locked up, she would eventually have full access to the house without his supervision. He would at first be mindful of her movements within the house, but eventually she would settle, he consoled himself, and she would be happy to be here. Away from the towns, the people, the stress, she would be comforted by nature and the woodlands and the long walks that they could take together.
As of yet, at every turn she had distance herself from him both physically and mentally, shifting away from his hands, not responding to his conversation, she had only been here a few days, and he was a patient man. She would talk when she was ready, he thought.
A tight knot of anger and humiliation rose in his belly, and struggling to push it away, the memories of that day resurfaced, wounding his pride deeply. But guilt overshadowed everything about that day, enveloping him in an unseemly manner, draining him of any positivity that could be derived from the choice that he had made to take her.
Grace was here with him and he was no longer alone, he reasoned. But the cuts and bruises on her hands spoke volumes about how she felt about that situation. She did not want to be here, she did not want him, and she went to great lengths to ignore his presence – this wounded him deeply as he wanted nothing more than her to be happy with him, than for her to find happiness in the life that they could share together in this tiny piece of land undisturbed by urban communities.
He'd felt alone for long enough, five long years had passed since he'd first set up at the cabin, and since then he'd hardly been in the presence of others. He would sit by the open fire at night, carving something from a stick of wood with a knife, night after night as he pondered the life that he had left behind and the future of solitary that was before him. He had up until a few weeks ago enjoyed his own company, and although he did sometimes feel a desire for the warmth and companionship that only another person could bring, and it was only on his trip into the 'local' village that he's finally discovered what was sorely lacking from his life.
His desire to marry and procreate had pushed him over the edge one February morning as he stood in the supermarket, picking up sacks of rice when his eyes fell on a small figure that stood with her side to him, reading the contents of a box in her hand. Feeling a lurch in his chest, his feet frozen to the spot, he stared unashamedly at the girl before him.
Her long, curly chestnut hair pulled at something within him, as she moved her hair, the fluorescent lights revealed its natural shine and what he imagined would be soft hair to the touch. Skin so pale, and a tiny face so beautiful, he felt a primal desire overtake him, a want to touch her and take her back with him to keep just for his pleasure, to worship and adore and kiss every inch of that petite form, where he could stake his claim to her. He wanted no one else to be gifted with her beauty; he wanted it all for himself.
Something within him had snapped there and abandoning his rice, he followed her throughout the supermarket, his eyes following her every move up until she removed her key from her pocket and entered her home a few streets from the market.
She hadn't noticed him, too busy reading the label of a food product that she'd turned and walked completely past the stranger who had been completely transfixed with her for several minutes now. Walking by him, she did note a tall male, over six feet with shoulder length blond hair that had been standing a few feet away from her, but too preoccupied with the box in her hand, she did not look at his face and instead continued with her shopping and made her way home, struggling to hold all the bags as the plastic cut into her hand.
He gazed upon his sleeping beauty and guilt gnawed at him; though she did not want to be here with him, his wants and needs had been far too powerful to take her protests into consideration. He had behaved like a primitive savage to her, forcing her into the mountains and subjecting her to a life of isolation. But a voice within convinced him that eventually, she would grow to love him, that she would be happy and eventually, they would have the family that he had imagined.
He imagined her, smiling lovingly at him as their child suckled at her breast, small trusting eyes staring up at both of them as the infant took his fill of milk before falling into a deep slumber, completely content with the warmth generated by both mother and father who huddled around him with a protective embrace. He imagined a home filled with many tiny little ones that would result from their love making – and it was this image, walking into the kitchen as food was being served, several pairs of small and identical eyes staring up at him with bright smiles as he settled at the table, the smallest of their children clamouring to get into his lap.
Placing his lips to the cut on her knuckles, he gentle kissed the torn flesh before leaving the room, and clicking the door shut behind him.