The next day went on without much trouble. Though I do fear that I've turned Loki into some kind of alcoholic beast. I shouldn't have let him taste what it's like to hold such chaos and impairment inside.
A poor guard had unwittingly let an Asgardian out into Midguard, the Asgardian's face and voice changed to almost perfectly match their King's. The guard caught the fool shortly after, but not before my husband noticed his absence from his post. I fear for both of their lives, and anyone who crosses him in even the slightest bit. I will try to lighten their punishment, when such a time has been given.
This night at supper, the entirety of the palace sat around the table, as if nothing had happened just 3 years since. Everyone was drinking and eating their fill, laughing rambunctiously and throwing everything around, as is normal for them. I participate little in this custom, and sit next to Loki in quieter conversation with those around me.
Loki had had several more drinks then he was used to, and had been as loud as the rest. Only once did he stop his bantering and drinking to look at me intently, and took a sip of whatever concoction was in his cup. I turned facing him. "Is there anything my Lord needs of me?" I said with the most restraint voice I could muster, for anything less would have angered Loki in such a way that I fear would not end well for any one: Midgardian or god.
As he put down his drink momentarily, the same face I had seen last night in the elevator grew upon his lips, instilling fear in me that I would not have thought was possible. He then went on with his bickering, acting as though none of this had happened. I looked to my sister next to me, who started mumbling about insanity. I laughed, and continued to eat until no more could enter my mouth without my stomach bursting.
I retired to my chamber, changing out of my dress into my nightwear. I went over to the mirror, undoing the carefully put in braids and put the pins and elastics on my bureau. I looked down into a drawer, pulling out my golden hairbrush. I looked back up into my mirror, but before I could go to brush my hair, a strong hand gripped my own, and an ivory-handled bone-knife was at my throat.
A deep sense of calm fell over me, odd in a situation of such terror, but that is where manipulation works. I tried to turn to see who held the knife, only to have my loosely hanging hair grabbed and pulled up, exposing my neck to the blade. I looked back down into my mirror, and saw Loki behind me, eyes swirling with something I have not seen in his eyes before, nor could I fully identify. I opened my mouth to speak, but the knife got pulled closer to my throat.
"Tsk, tsk," Loki said from behind me. "I don't believe I gave you permission to speak, Asgardian," he hissed the last word, sending a shiver down my spine. Where was he going with this?
The knife got bitterly cold as it began to slowly trail down to the collar of my silk shirt. I became terrified, and put us much power behind my words as possible. "Loki, plea-" I stopped short, my terror intensified by a million. I had no power to put behind my words. Loki's laugh echoed behind me, and the knife trailed down to the first button.
"Whom do you belong to?" Loki hissed in my ear.
"You," I held my breath and the first button popped. Loki, what are you doing? I made a silent plea out to him, trying to think of a way beyond this insanity.
He chuckled softly and bit my ear. I inhaled sharply, and fought the urge to fight my way out of his grasp. Bone knives can cut through cement as if it was butter, and so I would rather not find out what it does to even a god's flesh. "Who is your king?" he whispered in my ear, and I felt the second button come off.
Anger surged through me as I replied "Odin," only to regret it as he grabbed my hair tighter and pulled my head back until I couldn't breath.
"Who… Is… Your… King?" with every forceful word, another button came undone. I barely choked out my answer.
"You are my king." And he released my neck back a little and I inhaled deeply. The scent of liquor and sweat coming off of him had permeated the air. He bit my neck, a scream escaping my lips, which only encouraged him to bite harder, until I could feel the blood running down my neck. "Loki, please. What are you doing?" I begged softly.
"Silence, you mewling quim." he breathed into my ear. "I am not done with you." The knife slowly started to trail along my stomach.
"Who made you who you are, my dear?" When I did not answer immediately, he restated his question. "Who made you a god?" I gulped audibly, and barely whispered my answer.
"You." With this he threw me onto the bed, my shirt now appearing to be a very low cut v-neck, my bra partially showing underneath. I watched Loki as he climbed on top of me, kneeling so each leg was on either side of me. I went to go push him off, and he barely budged. I stared at him in terror as I realized what he had done; he had stripped me of everything. I was as powerless and as weak as a Midgardian.
He laughed, his voice dripping with insanity, and something even more destructive than chaos. He grabbed my wrists and held them above my head, pinning them to the board. An intense cold burned at my wrists, and I realized he had frozen my hands to the bed. My eyes searched his once more for any glimpse beyond his madness, but I found nothing. He bent down and kissed me roughly, rougher than he ever had before, his hands entwining themselves in my hair. I tried to struggle out of his grasp, but he pulled my hair so I was staring him directly in the eyes.
"Don't you love me?" he asked infuriated. I looked him dead in the eye. I tried to look confident, but I could feel tears welling up.
"I love the man I could call my king. I can never love the monster who would strip his wife of her powers and try to take her unwillingly." He stared at me for several moments, then sat up suddenly, blinking. His eyes started to clear back to their brighter emerald color. He stared at the knife on the ground, and my hands still frozen to the bed-board. The ice started to melt, as he got up quickly. I laid as still as I could, taking my hands down and trying to rub some feeling back into my cold wrists.
He looked at me, tears streaming down his face. "I… I'm…" he grabbed his head and started pacing. I stared at him, and no matter how much I wanted to forgive him, I felt a sudden hatred growing in my stare. He looked back at me. "What have I done?" he whispered softly. "Atrin…"
"Loki, please leave." He looked at me distraughtly, then headed towards the door. As he opened it, he looked back at me, and I felt a familiar warmth form. My godliness returned, I once again looked back at him. "Leave." I said forcefully, and he listened without complaint. I fell back against my pillow, and stared up at the ceiling, listening to muffled sobs coming from the other room.