Chapter 3

Rebel's Punishment

The next day, I wake up feeling... surprisingly fresh. I sit up slowly, noticing that it is, yet again, still dark outside. Loki must have woken me up.

"I've taken the liberty to clean your clothes, as well as yourself. You were starting to irritate me with your stench." Speak of the Devil...

Well, that explains the weird clean feeling I have, then...

Hey...

Wait a second...

"Did you just say you... bathed me?!" I ask in shock.

Loki smirks, leaning forward slightly as he says in a conspiratorial tone, "indeed, but fear not. It truly wasn't anything spectacular. Quite average, in fact," he says matter of factly.

Oh, you bastard!

"Alright, alright!" I snap. "Just because you're Woman's Weekly's Sexiest Psychopath, doesn't mean you have to rub in just how average I am," I say just a little bit self consciously, wrapping my arms around myself protectively. Loki just raises an eyebrow at my little outburst. I blush a little, but stay strong about my angry discomfort.

"What was that about this 'Woman's Weekly'?" Loki questions, a devilish smirk on his face.

"Pff, well, it's not important, is it?" I ask indignantly. "Just a group of old ladies who thought you looked pretty, princess." Loki glares at the nickname.

"Just prepare my breakfast," Loki commands.

"Okay," I say sulkily. "Do you have any cereals, by any chance?" He just stares at me with a blank look on his face. You know, that is actually almost creepy...

"I'll take that as a no, then?" I ask, just making sure that he's not giving me a blank stare, just for kicks.

"No, I do not," he says. "Just provide me with fruits. Tonight I'll show you how to cook meats fit for a god," he says, heading towards the bookcase and pulling out an incredibly thick book after a few moments consideration.

You know... I might be imagining things, but it looks almost like those books have changed since yesterday...

As I walk to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, an idea strikes me.

"Could you teach me some of those languages?" I ask abruptly. Loki looks at me, a single eyebrow raised. "It's just that, I couldn't help but notice that you have an awful lot of books, and only three of them I can actually read." Loki seems to think it over, before a patronising smile overcomes his features.

"Perhaps, if you behave yourself," he says. "Something which you have been performing rather poorly at, Shana. I will have to punish you later for that. Fortunately for you, though, I am rather busy," he says, returning to his reading.

Yeah, sure, busy reading some elvish porn or something!

Although, I do wonder if elves are real, and if there actually is such a thing as elvish porn...

-BREAK-

After an 'adequate' breakfast of fruit salad and a few chores (just scrubbing the floors and cleaning the surprisingly modest little bathroom, complete with a toilet, sink and bath tub), I find myself anxiously waiting for the fore mentioned punishment. Loki walks briskly into the kitchen, rummages around a couple of cupboards and under a counter. I hear something metallic hit the floor.

Oh, shit! He's gonna kill me! I think wildly. My heart starts pounding loudly against my rib cage as panic starts to set in. Looking around the room frantically, my eyes settle on the front door.

Maybe I can escape in time!

But it's too late.

Loki returns with a smirk on his face, after placing the chair in the middle of the kitchen. Next to the chair, I see a large metal bucket.

Immediately, horrible and gruesome images of mutilation and torture come to mind.

Shit! Shitshitshitfuck! He's Loki! I should have just kept my damn mouth shut, now that crazy son of a bitch is going to horribly torture and kill me!

He gestures to the chair. "Sit," he firmly says. I reluctantly comply and walk to the chair; I sit down, refusing to look into the bucket. Loki walks behind me.

This is it, I can't help but think. I'm gonna die. Goodbye Mom, Ricky, Lexie, Basil, and- I cut off from saying my farewells to my pathetically short list of loved ones when of all things, a cloth is given to me by Loki.

"Polish them until they reflect my image," he says, nodding to the bucket. Confused, I look down to see... apples. Lots of apples.

"Fucking apples," I sigh in relief.

"Of course. What did you think it was?" He asks with an annoyingly knowing smirk on his face.

"Nothing, nothing," I mumble. Loki continues staring for a while, before finally standing up straight.

"Polish me five buckets of apples," he demands. "The bucket will replenish itself as you go through the apples. Those that are finished, you place in-" he draws out another large bucket from beneath a counter "-here. While you work on your punishment, I'll enchant some containment for the new, polished apples."

"Right," I say a little weakly, watching as he walks out. Sighing, I look down at the apples. Not a bad punishment, compared to pretty much everything that was flying through my mind. Seriously, though, the second that he told me it was time for my punishment, whilst looking at me with those cold dark eyes, I thought I was a goner. God of Mischief, indeed!

Digging through that counter that he pulled the other bucket from, I pick out another bucket, and fill it with water. I never really bother with polishing apples, seeing as I tend to just eat them, but I'd imagine they'd sparkle better after just being washed.

I pick up the first apple, wash it and start 'polishing' it. They really are beautiful apples, a nice deep red instead of those ugly red/green cheap hybrids, and they're big, too. Before I know it, instead of examining a dull, deep red apple, I find myself examining a well defined blob on the surface of a beautifully reflective apple. Gently, I place the work of art in the empty bucket on the other side of the chair, and reach for the next apple.

On it goes, one apple after another. My mind starts to drift quickly over to home; to my Mom, who is probably starting to get a little worried over the lack of communication, but is likely thinking that it is nothing and that I'm most probably tired and over working myself. That I'll call home soon enough. How long will it be before she starts to worry? Before she calls the college to ask them if they've seen me, only to get a negative reply from them?

Then there's my brother, Alex (or Lexie, as I like to teasingly call him). He's only four years younger than me, and is most probably playing one of those games of his, rather than working on the homework I'm sure he has. I wonder if he's waiting for me to sign onto one of the games we like to play together...

As for Dad, he's not around. Left when I was seven, leaving me more of a father figure to my brother than Dad was. Mom never moved on, though she has got a male best friend, who's been sort of like a surrogate Dad for me and Alex. His name is Ben. Not short for Benjamin or anything like that, it literally is just Ben. He's most probably settling down after a very busy day at The Pizza Place, just enjoying the rest of the day to himself.

How will they react tomorrow? Or the day after? How will they react after a week, or a month, or however much longer I stay here, when the truth finally hits home for them?

Perhaps I should start putting some thought towards escaping, but I've never been that strong or fast or courageous. He'll kill me with no effort, just a simple snap of the fingers. Should I risk it? I could do it now...

But no. I keep forgetting that he's a god, but this time forgetting that fact would kill me, and I find that I'm really quite attached to living, thank you very much! Besides, servant, slave, or even a fucking consort, who else can say that they lodged with a god? Better yet: a magical, royal Viking god!

I look down at the bucket full of polished apples next to me, and smile apathetically as the apples start to vanish. Maybe it will get better. It's already not as bad as I would have pictured it if someone had mentioned this sort of scenario before. Loki's not too bad, just a little spoilt, and arrogant, and basically just an all round jerk. But he hasn't hurt me yet, so there's a plus!

Speaking of Loki, I peer up at him as he reads through another book of his (he's long since skimmed through the other book. I don't think he was actually aiming to read the whole thing that time...) He takes a bite out of the gleaming red apple that he's holding as he turns over to the next page.

Well, at least I know that my apples are actually getting eaten...

His eyes flick up in my direction, prompting me to fumble for another apple out of the eternally full bucket. I swear, though, that I can see him smirking at me out of the corner of my eye.

The apples seem to go on forever. When he had told me that the bucket replenishes with apples, I had thought that he meant that once it was empty, more would flow in, especially after he said to polish 5 buckets of apples. How will I know when enough's enough? Will the apples stop appearing? But I've been cleaning these things for ages, and the bucket still looks full!

After a while, I start to appreciate why he considered this a good punishment. While I am bored most of the time these days, this is a whole new level of torture. I might even call it psychological, because no matter how many apples I clean, that fucking bucket still looks full! By now, both of my arms are killing me from the constant circular rubbing on the apples, and I'm starting to grow tired of it all.

As I put another apple in the other bucket, I look down to the unpolished apple bucket, and I am so relieved to see that the amount of apples in the bucket is actually going down! I speed up my efforts, knowing that now there is an actual end in sight.

What feels like ages later, I see the bottom of the bucket. About bloody time! I happily finish off with polishing the final few apples, and grin at Loki in victory.

"I'm finished!" I cry out in happiness. "Done them all!"

Gently closing his book, he stands up from the couch and gracefully walks towards me.

"Are you?" He asks, looking into my bucket. "Really, though? Are you finished?" He asks seriously. I frown in confusion; can't he see that the bucket's empty?

"Yeah, I am sure, I mean look!" I point at the bucket, my eyes still fixed on Loki in confusion. "I polished all the apples, just like you said. I've done the punishment, can't you see that the bucket's emp...ty..." I trail off, finally looking at the bucket.

Holy fucking- the damn thing's full again! I look up at Loki with furious confusion. He smirks at me, his eyes twinkling slightly.

"It doesn't look empty to me, Shana," he says softly. "It appears that the magic was just a little... delayed."

Ooooh, you prick!

"Now, if you won't mind, call me once you have actually finished," he says, returning to the couch to read his book comfortably. I shift on the hard wooden seat, reminded of just how uncomfortable I'm feeling. I glare at the bucket- the traitorous full bucket- and vow that when I am free, I will never touch another fucking apple again.

Finally, after what feels like centuries since I had that rag handed to me by my jailer, I have finished with the apples. I stand up from the chair, rubbing my back and my arse in the hopes to ease out some of the aches and pains. Loki looks up from the book.

"I take it that you have finished?" He asks, lowering his book slightly to face me properly.

"Yep!" I say, annoyed, but still kind of proud.

"Are you sure?" He asks mischievously. My eyes widen in anger and fear as I whip around to face the bucket, but no. Still blissfully empty.

Yeah, and you better fucking well stay empty! I turn to fix a dark glare at Loki, who is giving me a pretty evil grin by now.

"Yes, it's fucking well empty," I snap.

"You really ought to watch your language," he chastises as he puts his book aside to stand up. He walks towards me slowly, "lest you want to be punished, again."

Okay... the way he said that, either that was a threat, or a pick-up line...

No, of course it was a threat, mind out of the gutter, Shana! Get your mind out of there now! Wow, I'm bad when I'm bored...

But shit, I hope the son of a bitch can't read minds...

But he doesn't seem to show any reactions to my thoughts, and instead says, "It is rather late, now. You truly did take far too long just to polish a few buckets of apples," I open my mouth to argue, but he raises his hand to stop me before I can. "However, there is still enough time for me to show you how to prepare dinner for tonight."

He doesn't really give me much choice. With a command, he has me bringing out some chicken ("the simplest of meats," he says), and some salad, apparently starting small.

"I will only show you this once, mortal," he warns me. Right, once, as if that'll work out well!

He shows me how to prepare it (a whole chicken, not just the drumsticks or the nuggets this time!) before putting it over the fire in the fireplace. Meanwhile, I work on the salad, causing him to cringe.

"How can you prepare the simplest of dishes incorrectly?" he asks in bewilderment. I shrug.

"I don't know. Guess I'm just one of a kind..." I say, earning a slight sneer from him. Yeah, I guess it wasn't exactly my best of works...

After a second chicken was added to the giant fireplace (and after a near panic attack from me when I caught sight of a few embers shooting out onto the wooden cabin floors), it was time to eat.

Loki manages to eat one whole chicken, and most of the other one along with half the salad before I was allowed anywhere near the table.

"How do you eat so much?" I ask abruptly. "Those chickens were huge!"

"Most Asgardians have large appetites," he says softly. "While I do not have quite as large of an appetite as many of them do, I still require a lot of food."

"No shit," I say, kind of impressed as I look at the far emptier looking plate. Slowly, I sit down and start on the leftovers.

Reluctantly, I've got to say that the chicken's alright, though in my opinion, it would taste even better if it were oven cooked.

Then, it's time for bed. As Loki had previously said, I took far too long to polish those apples (not my fault!) So, as Loki enters the bathroom to prepare for bed, I lie down on my couch-turned-bed and settle for the night, hoping that maybe, just maybe I'll be able to see my own wardrobe again someday soon...

-BREAK-

I open my eyes, to find myself in a beautiful field full of vibrant green grass.

That's weird... wasn't I... somewhere before?

I slowly sit up, taking note of the forest behind me. It seems pretty dark and ominous, but I feel an urge to go forward. I stand up, turn towards it and start walking.

The trees seem a little clingy, but nothing bad happens as I walk. After a short while, I start to hear a little chirping sound coming from beside me. I look down, and see... a mushroom. A giant, walking brown mushroom, standing next to me with fat little feet inside black leather boots. It chirps again, looking at me (or it seems to be looking at me)...

"Oh, alright," I say to the mushroom, jerking my head forward. "Come on, then." With a little squeal, it jumps in delight, and follows me as we follow the (suddenly there) path forwards.

Finally, we make it to the village. The mushroom skips ahead of me into the village.

"Wait! No! Mushroom!" I shout, reaching out to him. The villagers might eat it! But they seem happy and content, some even stroking the mushroom like as if he were a dog! I laugh, the cheerfulness really being quite contagious. Then it's as though a dark film is placed over the world. I frown and turn to one of the villagers next me, who suddenly seems quite serious.

"Do you know where I can find the Magic Governer?" I ask him, he points towards an old, rotting shack at the end of the village; the path towards it being wider than it was before. I walk forward, a bad feeling settling over me.

I'm standing in front of the door, I reach out, touch the handle to open the door, and-

"Mnyaaah!" I scream. Loki raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"If you are done with your attempt to cost me my hearing, I would very much like my breakfast now," he says softly, still hovering over me, an inch from my face. I nod my head shakily, and he leans back.

"Good," he says, walking off, but I can't help but catch that little devious smile on his face.