Southern Norway, 1723
Loki Laufeyson allowed the overwhelming detest that seemed to flow through his veins like his blood. For a millennia, to this day, he had been exiled to this useless rock of a planet. His adoptive father had cast him out for grievous crimes against the court. Closing his eyes to prevent the crackling magic around him from lashing out, Loki revelled in his rage. It kept him from fully teetering off the edge of sanity.
He couldn't help but smile sardonically at the irony of his situation. Sentenced to a life of exile on Midgard for trying to take the throne and yet everywhere he went, the people worshipped him as a god. Doubtful was this part of Odin's master plan. Loki opened his eyes, looking around the great study of his manor. Bookshelves reached the ceiling, filled with all the knowledge of this pathetic world. Ladders connected the ceiling and floor so one may be able to reach even the highest shelve, unnecessary as he could will each and every book to appear in his hand.
How terribly bored did he feel. War was his delightful game, but unfortunately after this last one Loki doubted anyone would dare attack his land again. He had won within weeks, but many of his people had died. Half his servants had perished when the enemy attacked the manor in his absence. Loki would admit to be peeved at the inconvenience of being short staffed. A knock on the door brought the God of Mischief from his musing. Jane Foster was the head servant in his dwelling and currently in charge of replenishing the ranks.
An immigrant from Britain, Jane Foster was quite brilliant was the disgusting species she was part of. Always keeping a level head, Loki was happy to have her deal with the humans so he would not have to. He addressed her coldly, irritated that he had been interrupted. "Have the dead mortals been replaced yet?" Loki knew she hated the term mortal, and had greater disdain that he could care so little about the people who served him till their deaths.
"Suitable people are still being chosen. At a time like this, we do not to bring those with ill will into your home." Foster retaliated as usual, referring to the place he lived as his home. Loki didn't have a home; Asgard no longer welcomed him and Jötunnheim would never accept him.
"Our enemies know not of my power. Round up everyone capable of the jobs. I will test if their loyalties lie elsewhere. I tire of the chaos losing so many has caused." Jane's eyes twinkled. He knew without asking that she had done so already. Rising from his large leather chair, Loki scowled at the insolent mortal who irritated him so. He stalked out of the study, not daring to suddenly appear in front of the potential servants as they may not know of that particular skill.
They were gathered in the large kitchen, awaiting his judgement in both anxiety and barely concealed fear. Many of them were male, as they had all but been eradicated off the premise. However, as many females had suffered the wrath of the enemy, several needed to be replaced. One particularly boisterous mortal grated on his nerves as he observed from the hallway before making his presence known. The male was currently harassing one of the shorter women, putting his hands on her in a most inappropriate and clearly unwanted way. Pathetic as it was, Loki was more disgusted that everyone around them were pretending not to notice. With an irritated wave of his hand, the foul excuse for a man was frozen solid, little more than a block of ice.
Suddenly every eye was on him, a mixture of horror and in the case of the previously bothered woman, relief. Taking his favoured small dagger from his Asgardian robes, Loki gracefully flicked it towards the now dead frozen man. Several muffled screams escaped his audience as the figurine exploded at their feet. He looked towards them, a truly menacing smile gracing his features.
"I would politely request that you all line up for my examination." His silver tongue, with magic all its own, easily spurred the terrified mortals to scramble into a line. He slinked quietly over the first and so the process began. One hand with a firm hold on their neck, other on their temple, Loki shredded any scrap of privacy they once held. He was in their mind, carefully mapping out every intention they had in relation to their potential role in his residence. Nearing the end of the line, he was annoyed by many of the fickle minds that would soon be under his command. Some women believed themselves worthy of his bed and sought to gain power by it. Disgusting. Dismissing them one by one as he finished the degrading process one could easily consider rape of the mind, Loki stared into the large, terrified blue eyes of his last servant-to-be.
He recognized her as the woman being harassed earlier by that poorly evolved human male. Loki frowned, realizing he had done what could easily be misconstrued as an act of kindness on her behalf. He raised his hand to take hold of her throat like all the others, gripping harder than strictly necessary. Loki quickly plunged himself into her mind.
Her name is Darcy Lewis. Silly and immature, just like her. She poked fun at people who could rip her in half as some sort of default safety measure. Like himself, she used words as her weapon. Unlike him, she was sarcastic and blunt, rather than manipulative. Her parents were German and now deceased, taken not by war but by sickness that could not be treated. There was an incredible lack of knowledge, but that was outshined by her unbearable need to learn more. She found him very attractive - not surprisingly - but she was too afraid to even think about anything further than being his servant. Though he did spot a grateful spark in her mind for supposedly saving her from that male. Emotions ran deep through her, so much so that Loki felt like he was swimming through them. It was sickening that one person could be so weak.
As he found no thoughts about betrayal, Loki ripped himself from her mind more forcefully than needed. Her large blue eyes were moist with unshed tears and filled with pain from his digging. The God of Lies scowled down at her short form. She should have scurried away like the scared mouse she currently resembled.
"I'm sorry." Darcy's small voice was shaking, but he heard it nonetheless. As Loki deepened his scowl and raised a perfectly smooth eyebrow, she jumped to explain. "You look irritated with me. Whatever it was you saw to become that way, I'm sorry...sir." She lamely finished with the respectful title, obviously not knowing what to call him. "Oh! And thank you sir. For helping me out." At this point, Darcy was staring intently at her dirty and bare feet, shame filling her that she couldn't even afford shoes.
Loki quickly realized he liked watching this little slip of a woman squirm under his intense gaze. She was wringing her hands and shifting her weight from foot to foot. "I removed him from existence to set an example, not to 'help you out'." His tone weighed down like a physical blow and Darcy immediately nodded her head, hoping he would not inflict the same punishment on her. The God of Mischief scowled down at her once more before swiftly exiting the kitchen. Returning to wing of the manor, Loki stopped by Jane who currently assigning who would be doing what.
"I want Miss Lewis assigned to my wing." He had done it on a whim, but the look Jane's face quickly made him wish he hadn't. A sly grin not unlike a cat encompassed her face as she nodded.
Darcy breathed a sigh of relief as her new master disappeared through the doorway. He was the God that walked among mortals and his ruthlessness was known to everybody. She herself had seen his capabilities not one hour ago. Darcy vaguely realized that her fear should run deeper, but it was hard to care too much when the man he dispatched with had all but been molesting her...and damn was the God of Lies delicious looking. She slapped her forehead with a groan of frustration. So not the right thing to be thinking.
Looking around the room she was in, Darcy cringed at the sight of the now-thawing chunks of flesh on the floor. A sickening feeling settled in her stomach until a glittering light caught her eye. A small, deadly sharp dagger lay within the goop on the floor. Walking over, careful to avoid the mush, she gingerly picked up the metal object. Flicking off little bits of blood, she slipped it into her light jacket for a later return. Darcy walked out of the kitchen towards the grand hallway the head servant had previously directed them to for when Loki finished with them.
"Darcy!" She blinked as someone called her name out, the loud noise causing the deep headache she had to worsen slightly. Jane Foster, as she came to know as the head servant's name, was approaching her with the efficiency of a woman long accustomed to working with deadlines. "You're in luck! You will be working in Master Loki's wing, a great honour I'm sure you know."
Feeling nervous about being in close proximity of such a heartless man (or God she corrected herself), Darcy spoke with her usual amount of deflecting sarcasm. "Oh joy. Do I get to make his bed every morning?"
"Well...yes, among other things." Jane's words left a heavy lump in her throat.
"Among other things? Such as?" Darcy certainly hoped she was not expected to fluff his pillows before bed.
"Cleaning all over in general and the like." At Jane's nonchalant wave of her hand, the blue eyed girl relaxed considerably. Cleaning she could handle; being in the presence of one drop dead gorgeous God...not so much.
"Thank you for the honour." Darcy made a point to bow respectfully. "Where shall I be staying while I am here?"
Jane grinned, obviously pleased at the question. "That is why I said you're in luck. Those who directly serve Master Loki are given much better living conditions. Please come with me." Darcy did so immediately.
Jane had not been kidding. The room she now found herself in had to be larger than the whole town she grew up in. Beautiful beds were neatly scattered about, some already occupied with a servant as they prepared to take on the night shifts. Darcy followed the slightly older woman over to one that appeared unclaimed. "This one will be yours. I suggest you try to break it in now because you'll be working the nights." Jane's words sunk in slowly as Darcy looked around her settings, but when did, she looked sharply at the head servant.
She opened her mouth as if to argue, but realized by the look on Jane's face that her shift was not optional and not to try. Closing her mouth with a snap, Darcy nodded her head, resigned to her fate. Jane excused herself then, saying something about tending to the other newbies.
The blue eyed woman looked at herself before glancing back at the glorious bed. Her tattered, dirty clothes and muck caked feet had no business being anywhere near that piece of heaven. She looked around for the bathing areas, hoping she would have enough time to get clean and still get enough sleep for her upcoming night. She found an empty pool and hurried out of the offending clothes. Darcy jumped as she felt a sharp jab over her ribs. The little dagger, sharp as it was, had cut through her jacket and shirt and nicked her skin. The cut was small but she frowned at the inconvenience. Stripping herself entirely bare, Darcy blissfully sink herself into the pool. It had been so long since she had properly bathed and even longer since it had been in warm water. Quickly scrubbing herself clean, she sadly realized that if she stayed in much longer, there would be no time to rest up. Woefully getting out, she wrapped a soft, fluffy towel around her torso. To her chagrin, Darcy realized that she would have no choice but to put the shameful clothes she arrived in back on.
"I certainly hope you do not plan on soiling your bed with those rags," a voice rang out in the bathing room. Darcy turned, happy to once again see Jane standing before her, this time with what looked like clothes and shoes in her hands. Darcy accepted them gratefully and discreetly slipped the dagger out of her old clothes that would no doubt be burned for their disgusting state.
The young woman changed quickly, beyond happy to feel the clean clothes on her skin. She didn't bother with the shoes yet, knowing she would be taking them off for bed anyways. Jane had since hustled else where as Darcy delightfully laid down in her new bed. While she dreaded her future work (one slip up and her new master could squish her like a bug), the blue eyed woman felt like she was where she belonged for the first time in a long time.