Carmen woke up groggily, her body screaming at her the moment she started to shift in the bed. She didn't even have to look to know that there were bruises blossoming on her skin, everywhere from her cheeks and neck down to her calves. The king had been even less pleasant than usual last night; she was surprised that she didn't have any broken bones.

Said king was currently in the process of putting on his tunic, well made and accented in bronze like all of his clothing. She watched him with half-lidded eyes, noting how strong and put-together he looked in comparison to how she felt. That was nothing new; she took all of the pain, and he received all of the pleasure. With a muffled yawn, she hoisted her upper body off the bed so she was sitting up. "I think I'll stay in my room today," she mumbled. Had she ever been this tired before?

"You speak as though you have a choice," he said with an almost-snort. "Fetch me my scepter."

Oh how she hated him. The scepter was only a few feet away from him, but she'd have to walk across the room to get it. It took all of her barely awake mind's determination not to growl at him to F off and let her sleep. She tried not to let her pain show, but it was hard not to wince as she gingerly slung her legs over the bed and rose unsteadily, placing her weight on battered limbs. Her skin already looked like someone had spilled a paint store on it, and she knew she'd be even more colorful (and sore) tomorrow.

As she steadied herself against the bedpost with one arm, the other hand went to her midsection, reassuring herself that her baby was still okay. She exhaled with relief; the bump was still there, thankfully unaffected by last night. Despite everything, Carmen loved that little being inside of her with all of her heart.

Gritting her teeth and holding her head high, she slowly, cautiously made her way across the room. Every step was agony, her legs shuddering and groaning their protest, but she absolutely refused to collapse to the ground like she so wanted to. He'd made her grovel enough last night. "Here," she said shortly, handing him the heavy scepter. "Can I go back to my room now?" If she had to stay standing any longer she just might fall over.

"You can go there, and you can stay there until I send for you. I need not tell you that any variation from these orders will displease me." He left the threat of what displeasing him would mean hanging unspoken in the air. Nothing needed to be said, though; she knew very well what he could, and would, do to her, and was too tired to put up any resistance other than keeping her feelings walled off inside of her.

"I won't leave," Carmen said as she walked out of the room with as much poise as was possible. Normally being cooped up all alone in one small room would've been infuriating, but now? It was sweet relief. All she wanted to do was sleep, so that was what she did, crawling under the covers and curling up into a ball.

When she woke up for the second time that day, hours later, she felt marginally better, but her body still ached and she felt a weariness that was bone-deep. Sighing, she forced herself out of bed and into the shower; she felt disgusting, and maybe the hot water would help wake her up. Feeling a little more refreshed than before, she wrapped herself in a towel, not bothering to take any other measures towards her appearance. The odds that Loki would come for her again were low.

By the time she was finished showering, a tray of food had been brought to her room; she ate it all with relish, since it was the first meal she'd had all day. Carmen grabbed the first book she saw on the shelf and cozied up on the bed to read it. She grumbled when she saw that it was yet another ballad about a brave warrior bashing in the skulls of thousands; how she missed Midgardian literature. But it would have to do, as her body would likely go on strike if she tried to get up again.

xXx

Loki Laufeyson was about to strangle someone. As much as he loved the cold hard facts of numbers and math, he loved them a lot less when they were not working in his favor. No equation or multiplication could change the fact that both the Asgardian and Midgardian treasuries were horrendously lacking in the funds he needed to make his rule more secure. While having people be terrified of him personally was without a doubt to be desired, no peasant would fear the king himself coming to punish them; he needed soldiers for that, and while his Chitauri did their jobs excellently, they had to be fed and housed and armored like any other army, and there simply weren't enough of them for two entire realms. Even doing the obvious and raising taxes in both realms it would take far too long to raise the necessary funds, which left him in a delicate juggling game with all the other areas of expenditure of the royal government. All in all, the king was stressed, and needed to let it out on someone.

"Fetch Carmen," he ordered one of the guards, who bowed and did as told, as he entered his quarters. The whore would undoubtedly be fatigued from last night, and perhaps not as lively, but she had always been more skilled than the others, and, more importantly, she would be deliciously weak and breakable. Nothing relieved stress like twisting another being to his will.

The guard returned moments later and said with a bow, "She said to give her a few minutes so that she might get ready for you, your grace. Would you like me to bring her to you regardless?"

"No. I will see to her. You are dismissed." As if an infuriating day poring over account books wasn't enough, now his toy had to be just as maddening. Her only duty was to please him; she should be ready at every second of the day. It seemed his lessons of the night previous hadn't fully settled in.

Loki walked coldly into her room, his eyes narrowing when he saw her doubled over by her bed, one arm leaning against the post and the other wrapped around her abdomen. The girl turned around when she heard him enter, her face pale and shining with sweat. "I don't think you're banging me tonight," she said through gritted teeth, her defiance making his fury grow.

"And what makes you think that?" he asked as he strode over to her, his smooth voice poisonous. Oh, she would pay for this moment of thinking she could command him, but a small part of him was curious as to what had given her this confidence.

"Because I think I'm about to –" without warning, she covered her mouth with her hand and dashed to the bathroom with a surprising amount of speed for someone in her condition. Now she thought to flee from his presence as well? Unacceptable.

Venom growing inside of him, he followed her sharply into the bathroom, standing by the toilet where she knelt to give her a verbal beating – but he paused when she began to retch, for once in his life caught off guard. While she certainly deserved to be disciplined for her impudence, he decided that could wait until later, when she was not spewing food and digestive fluid; he had never been fond of illness, which made his stomach churn in ways no battle wound ever could. "I cannot lie with someone as disease-ridden as you," he scoffed as he backed out of the bathroom. More darkly, he said, "You will face your punishment though, do not doubt that." He turned on his heel to leave.

"Loki Laufeyson, get back in here!"

Her angry yell surprised both of them, not only because the concubine was openly yelling at her king, but because she was shouting his full name when she had never even said his first name out loud before. He turned back to face her slowly, giving her a measured look. The last time anyone had yelled at him was when he was fighting those pathetic Avengers on Midgard.

There was a brief pause as she leaned over the toilet to heave once more, but as soon as she was finished for that moment, Carmen looked at him with absolute fire in her eyes. Her still-damp hair clung to the sides of her face and was flecked in spots with vomit, her faced was washed out and sweaty, and her entire body was covered in the bruises he had made – but she had never before seemed like so close to his equal. "You put this damn baby in me, the least you can do is help me when it makes me sick," she growled.

That she dared yell at him and make demands was impressive but nonetheless infuriating. "You have no right –"

"I have every right, now get your ass down here and heal me!" Her face contorted from a look of righteous anger and annoyance to one of disgust and despair as she threw up again. "My stomach feels like crap, I'm tired, and I don't have time or patience for your BS. Wait. Can you not fix this with your magic?"

"No," he said shortly, almost embarrassed. As skilled as he was in so many disciplines of magic, healing more than the simplest of cuts had always eluded him, something he was loathe to admit. He should leave now and return later, when she would not get sick all over him, to punish her – but leaving now, after acknowledging that no, he could not heal her, would be admitting defeat. A king who couldn't handle a barfing pregnant girl was no king at all.

"Then get me a washcloth or get a healer or something," she said crabbily, interrupting his thoughts. "Don't fret your cold dead heart, tell yourself I need you, just get down here and do something."

She was so desperate; of course she couldn't survive without him, of course she needed him to get by. It was pathetic. Loki stood behind her and placed his hand on her burning hot forehead, murmuring a spell for cooling.

"Thank you," she sighed, closing her eyes in bliss. "I don't know why it took you so long to do that."

"'Thank you'?" he scoffed. "That is what you say? You should be kissing my feet for this."

"If you want puke all over your feet, then fine, I'd be glad – no, don't stop, please; make it cold again."

His lips curved into a satisfied smirk; it was amusing how quickly she could return to submission when she wanted something. That was one thing that could be said for Carmen: she almost always knew when to stop. But this time, she had overreached. "You want it cold?" he asked her in a low voice. "I'll give you cold."

With a small bit of concentration on his part, he lifted the veil of his pale Asgardian skin, allowing the icy blue exterior of a Jotun to creep up his fingertips to his wrists. "Does it frighten you?" he growled, wrapping his frigid hands around her neck. "Does it fill you with fear to see your king as he truly is?" She would crumble at the reminder of what he was.

"No." Her voice was small, but strong. "I was hot, now I'm not; I don't care how it happened." Biting her lip, she added in a softer voice, "You're always the same man no matter what you look like."

Odd. She didn't say what kind of man he was (though he doubted she considered him to be a very good one), but the fact that she had not shied away from his touch, had not quailed at the sight of his ridged blue skin was...unexpected. No one had seen his Jotun form before and reacted the way she did: not at all.