Chapter 4

Suspicious Behaviours

A week has gone by since that first moment when I opened my eyes and and met the beautiful face of death and slavery. It goes much the same rhythm as those first couple of days, where I wake up before the crack of dawn, do some housework, either read a little or spend my spare time polishing apples (which is most of my time), and then nearly burn the kitchen down on occasion. Loki has finally realised that he can't trust me with the meat, and so has finally taken to joining me in the kitchen (or else, he'd be stuck with bread and salad forever...)

This morning is no different to any of the others. I wake up early, not even needing prompting any more. I honestly think that Loki has seriously messed with my sleeping pattern. Automatically, I walk into the kitchen and prepare the food, chopping the salad while I wait. As I wait, I look about the cabin, not finding a trace of Loki anywhere.

That's odd... I wonder if he's gone outside...

As if summoned, he walks in through the door, looking a little drenched. However, he dries himself down with a wave of his hand, and walks towards the kitchen. He looks at the food I have already taken out of the cupboard, and frowns a little.

"Not quite what I would have chosen, but it will do," he says, reaching for the ham to prepare it.

This man has seriously turned my definition of what breakfast should be made up of completely on its head. He likes sweetened meats and fruit for breakfast. While this isn't overly wrong, it's still a little odd when in comparison I'm used to cereal. But then again, a full English breakfast is composed of bacon, black budding, fried eggs and sausages, along with the mushrooms, tomatoes, hashbrowns, toast and beans, so who am I to judge?

As we prepare the food, I glance at him out of the corner of my eye, and I can't help but wonder where he goes when he goes outside everyday.

There are several reasons that it could be; each one is not that brilliant. He could be plotting another attempt on planet Earth, for example. Or maybe he's trying to return to Asgard. Perhaps he's planning some horrific torture session with me, or planning to kidnap my Mom to use her against me so that I finally start behaving just the way he wants me to... I just don't know.

The more I think of it, the more uneasy I feel. I try to remind myself that I could just be jumping to conclusions, but I honestly can't think of any good things he could realistically be doing out there.

After some internal debating, I finally decide to ask him myself. If he kills me, hopefully it will be fast, but he'll most probably just keep silent, which is in my opinion just as suspicious.

"So..." I say slowly, only to have my confidence crumble completely.

He could just be doing some gardening, or shopping at Sainsbury's or Tescoes or something...

"Yes?" he asks while keeping a close eye on the meat, which looks very nearly ready to me, though he usually leaves it cooking for far longer than my eye says is necessary (by the way, it turns it that gods don't suffer from food poisoning after all...)

"Erm..." I think fast for something to say- anything! "Watcha readin'?" I ask, kind of sounding agitated yet chilled. Meanwhile, the sane part of my brain groans in embarrassment and turns its back to the rest of me. Loki doesn't look too impressed.

"Galeidryl mo Mireemveleiyn," he says smoothly.

"Erm... right... I think I might have recognized one of those from Lord of the Rings, but..." I trail off. From this angle, I can't see his face as he's not only staring fixedly at the ham, but also has his face covered by his hair (as it's still too early for him to get it slicked back, or whatever the fuck he does with it), but I'm sure he's most probably smirking at me.

"It means 'Power of Mind' in ancient native Elvish," he says, turning the meat over carefully.

"Huh. Long word just to say 'mind,'" I say thoughtfully. He turns around to give me a look that clearly states that I am stupid. "Gosh, no need to look at me like that! You were the one who decided to keep a mere mortal such as myself running around as your pet!" I say defensively.

"I won't argue with you," he says tiredly, turning back to the fireplace. "Otherwise, I might change my mind about keeping you as my servant," he says softly, putting extra emphasis on the word 'servant'.

"Yeah, right," I snap. "You call me your servant, but I haven't got a single thing here that I can call my own! I haven't got my phone, computer, childhood knicknacks, I haven't got my pictures of my friends and family. I haven't even got my fucking clothes! And, by the time you let me go -if you ever let me go- I won't even have the course that I paid over £6,000 for. Money that I worked hard to get!" By the time I've finished shouting, I am breathing hard and fast. My eyes start to water.

Shit, don't cry, just don't cry! It's tears of frustration, fucking damn it!

Loki's eyes are fixed on the floor. Finally, he speaks.

"If you behave and do as I tell you, I might consider taking you to your home to gather your possessions," he says softly. "But only if you behave. I was taught from a young age to reward good servants, after all."

"Yeah, well, what a prime example you set for us all," I say under my breath, but he hears it anyway.

"And evidently you won't be getting those apparently very much loved prized possessions any time soon," he states disapprovingly. He then continues on in a softer, though no less mocking tone, "in fact, one might say that you will be courting with a bucket of apples very soon." I groan at the thought.

Fortunately, he doesn't force me to polish any apples. In fact, after we had both eaten, he gives me a very simple task (just to dust the place) and promptly vanishes. While he's gone, after I have finished with the dusting, I read a bit more of the religions book. After a few hours of aimless reading, I decide to check on one particular culture's beliefs. Finding it, I skip through a few pages, before finding the right one.

Loki: God of Mischief and Lies

Checking the door, I lean forward on the couch (he can't tell me off for something he's not there to witness; besides, I happen to sleep here!) The section on Loki is quite large, spanning several pages and mainly talking about the myths he is linked with along with some little facts about himself. Some of the stories I read are quite far fetched and unusual. I mean, he was raped by a horse whilst disguised as a female horse and subsequently gave birth to an eight legged equine monstrosity? But I still read the stories, as I'm sure there must be at least some truth to these tales. Soon after reading the last story, and moving onto Thor's side of the legends, Loki returns.

"Hi," I greet absently, looking up from the book as there really isn't much use in trying to read now. Loki looks down at the book on my lap, sneering at the large brutish picture of Thor depicted on the page in disgust. "Yeah, is it true that you got raped by a horse and gave birth to an eight legged foal?" I ask, blunt as ever. Actually, now that I think about it, I hope it isn't true. Last thing I need is a traumatised psycho-god to deal with! Luckily, Loki just blinks in shock and confusion.

"Wherever did you hear that from?" He asks in bemusement, but he doesn't look sad or traumatised, which is good...

"The book, it includes all your stories," I say, holding the book up gently, only to have it almost half itself backwards. Loki snatches the book off me (rude!), finds the pages about himself and quickly reads through them. He gives a dignified, amused snort, closing the book with a disrespectful thump.

"They had got about ten percent of the facts right, at the very most," he says, looking thoroughly amused. "Even when the legends were strong, few mortals knew the truth. While many of the facts remain unchanged, many more have been corroded with time." He hands me back the book. "While the Allfather has, indeed, got an eight legged steed, he is not Sleipnir. Sleipnir is my son, but I assure you, I didn't birth him; neither is he a horse, of all things," Loki walks off, chuckling slightly in astonishment while I sit back on the couch trying to process what he just told me.

"Oh, and one final thing," Loki suddenly whispers from behind me, right next to my ear. I yelp, leaping forwards off of the couch, and landing sprawled on the floor.

"Don't sit on the couch."

-BREAK-

The next day, I find myself sitting on the chair, in the kitchen polishing apples. Only this time, I'm polishing two days worth, as there wasn't enough time the day before for me to do it.

Where does he put them all? I wonder miserably while I work. Then again, I see him eat plenty of apples throughout the day, but he never offers me any...

Due to the large amount of apples I need to polish- 7 buckets, as I actually sort of behaved today- he didn't give me any jobs to do, aside from making breakfast. I sigh as I feel hours slowly draining from my life and daydream about what I could be doing instead of this.

I could be in the Caribbean, enjoying the heat, and the waves, and the sand...

Actually, forget the Caribbean, as the sand would just get annoying and the heat might get too much.

Okay, I could be... going to America, with the hopes of seeing a real superhero vs. supervillain fight in person!

But then again, contrary to popular belief, they don't happen that often, and besides, they don't all happen in America. Just most of it, is all... And besides, who needs superheroes and villains when I'm living with Loki?

But... then again, this isn't exactly in the same league of a superhero vs. supervillain fight, is it? All this is, is just a scared human being forced to work with a maniac as his slave. For a god, he doesn't even do much! When he's indoors, he's usually either bossing me around or just reading. Otherwise, he's outside.

I look up at the man, who's currently searching for a specific book. Not finding it, he gently runs his right hand on the books, making them... making them disappear! He then waves his hands (with some unnecessary theatrics) and summons forth book after book, placing them on the bookshelf. He does the same with the shelf below it, leaving only two shelves filled with their original books, and finally choosing a rather skinny, ancient looking book.

What is he reading this time? I wonder.

"What's that?" I ask him, as I really have nothing better to do.

"A book," he replies flatly.

"What's it about?"

"The fate of mortals who asked too many questions a thousand years ago," he says calmly. I gulp.

"Right," I say shakily. "You're just fucking with me, aren't ya?" Loki glances up at me in displeasure.

"Yes. I am," he says shortly. "And I can see that my speech lessons were entirely useless on you."

"Yup!" I say cheerfully. He has bothered to give me three of these lessons in total, but as they say, you can't teach an old dog new tricks. "But who knows, maybe with constant perseverance, you'll get there!" He sighs as he returns to his book.

"Seriously, though. What's it about?" I ask, trying to peer at the pages of the book from here, or to see if it has any titles of any sort. He seemed to know what book he was going for from sight alone, after all...

"A book on Jotunnheim" he says in a clipped voice.

"Oh..." I nod in false wisdom. "Er, why?"

"Do you not have something which you ought to be spending this time on instead of this incessant questioning?" he finally asks, though he doesn't sound angry, more exasperated than anything else, which is definitively a good thing.

I return my gaze to the apples, polishing the one I am still holding as thoroughly and quickly as I can. When I lift my head to look back at Loki again, however, he is gone. The book he was reading is nowhere to be seen.

I don't see Loki again until much later. He walks in through the door, looking quite grim for some reason.

"Hey, why so blue?" I ask him. Shockingly, he has quite a violent reaction to this. As he was taking his boots off at the time, it looks like his fingers spasm just as his back jerks, causing him to lose his footing and, from what I can see, get some pretty bad bruising on the arse.

"Oooh, are you okay?" I ask.

'Are you okay?' says the girl to her crazy homicidal slaver...

"Fine," he snarls viciously. "How do you- why did you-" he breaks off entirely. I frown at him, as this behaviour is very unlike him. His lips tighten into a very ridged straight line.

"Forget this happened," he says at last, before heading towards the wardrobe, gathering his silken sleepwear and entering the bathroom. I wish I could do that, get ready for bed in the bathroom... I kind of miss having baths and showers, now...

But as I settle on the couch, preparing for sleep, there's just something about the way that he acted that seems just a little bit... suspicious. After all, all I did was comment on how down in the dumps he was looking! Did someone die? Was he dealing in some weird and messed up dark sorcery that made him depressed? Or is he just feeling a little home sick? Actually, that must be it. That's why he reacted the way he did, because he's missing home and I was an idiot to bring it up.

But, wait... there's one other thing...

The bathroom door opens. "Loki," I call. "We haven't eaten, yet!"

"I have already eaten," he replies, and I hear him settle into his big, comfortable, warm and cosy bed.

He already ate? When? Where? "But I haven't," I respond. He breathes an exaggerated sigh.

"You may eat some of the fruits," he says at last. I wait for more, but that's all I get.

After eating some grapes, an unpolished apple that I found and a couple of nectarines, I finally settle down to sleep. Just before I fall into my sleep, however, the uneasy feeling returns. There's something that Loki is hiding, obviously. Something tells me that it's something that I'll need to know...

-BREAK-

I don't know what time it is when I awaken, but I can definitely tell that it's nowhere near morning.

"What?" I ask, seeing Loki standing next to me, looking a little annoyed.

"You were snoring," he says in disapproval, "and rather loudly, in fact."

"Oh," I say, my brain trying to process what he's saying, and mostly failing. "Sorry."

He returns to his bed once more; I settle down, fully intent on sleeping, when a thought comes rushing into my sleep-addled mind.

"Hey," I say softly into the darkness. "Where do you go when you go out?" Silence meets my question. At first, I think that he's not going to answer my question at all, as there's no sound from his direction.

Most probably gone to sleep.

But then I hear a soft inhalation of air, which then halts like as though it were forcibly cut off, before being released as a long sigh.

"Just sleep, Shana," I just barely hear him whisper. Well, that is something I can do.