"Claim loyalty to me... and I will give you what you need."

Or more simply put: ask and you shall receive.

Cliff hangers are evil. Here's the next one. A day early. Because I'm so nice...

*** TRIGGER WARNING ***

This chapter mentions rape/non-con. If you would like to continue reading please skip ahead to chapter 7, but know it will be mentioned after the fact.

Naomi didn't move until she heard the door lock behind them. She didn't move until she was sure they had gone. Until the room was bathed in absolute silence, she left her face buried in the sheet of the mattress. She waited until her breath settled slightly, but as soon as she sat up, her chest swelled and she sobbed uncontrollably. After a few moments, she took the reigns again, wiping her eyes that were already red and raw and puffy. She smothered the last of the sniffles as she hung her legs over the edge of the cot.

This was a new level of pain for her. Her face throbbed. Her head ached. Her wrists burned. And everywhere else just felt violated. Horribly, horribly violated. She fingered the tear in her shorts – they had barely survived. She had barely survived. She glanced to the door in a sudden panic, as if they might return again. But the room was still quiet. She swallowed another sob, trying to ignore and forget the enormous ache between her legs, the sticky wetness that was hardly her own. Bile crept up her throat as she failed to push the images from her mind – fragments of the most horrific moments of her entire life. The guard's hulking form pressing her down, his weight crushing her everywhere. The taste of saliva and sweat and dirty skin. The other guard holding her down by the shoulders as he half-consciously touched himself. Everything after that was only a sensation as she clenched her eyes shut, trying to block out the horrors ensuing around her.

The feel of a tongue, teeth, suction. Hands clutching with bruising force. Her hair was forcefully yanked, her neck exposed and bit. The taste of blood as she bit her own lip. The sound of a scream – her scream – as she lost the very last scrap of dignity she withheld in this place – as he took her – claimed her – marked her in a way that she might never heal. The pain of him violently thrusting against her – into her – was still radiating through her entire person. And then, when he was done, when he'd taken his fill, he beat her until bones broke and flesh bled. And then they were gone, though one assured with a kiss on her very bruised cheek that they would return again.

Naomi prayed that by morning they wouldn't even remember she existed. If only she could be so fortunate.

She tried to stand, instead finding a place on the floor. She could feel where her ribs had cracked, where bones had bruised, and where muscles had been torn with the strain. Her hand came to her face. Her nose bled, a dry trail marking her lips and chin. She moved her hand to her cheek, but she nearly screamed, stilling all over until the pain stopped. Her eye radiated heat and pain. She'd smeared blood on her fingertips for the brief moment they'd rested upon her cheek. It was swollen to the point that blinking was not worth considering.

Her bloodshot eyes refocused, taking in the room that was remarkably unscathed from their encounter. She pushed it away from her mind again almost to a point of success until she took note of the temperature drop and a frosted pane of glass. She frowned, quickly erasing all emotion since one of her eyebrows played host to another ugly wound. Dragging her feet, she crossed the room, still hopeful this was a dream to be woken up from.

She nearly burned her hand with the lightest touch – that's how cold it was. Her breath fogged and condensed on the glass. Magic, she remembered. Loki knew magic. She touched the glass again, this time just rapping her knuckles against it. There may have been a shadow, but still not a sound. She waited another minute before knocking again and this time the frost began to fade. Slowly it melted, cracking and sliding to the floor in sheets. Loki finally appeared, just standing on the other side, watching the water pool at his feet. The water ran off to nowhere as if it evaporated, until the cell was left as it was.

When he finally lifted his gaze, his eyes were wide, traveling her up and down with a look she could only describe as concern, though it would never be fitting of him. He remained rooted to the floor, but he finally spoke. "Are you all right?" She instantly dropped her eyes, staring at her feet. She continued to tug on the tear in her shorts, her hand the only thing holding them closed. Noted with a sickly turn of her stomach, her thighs underneath were bruised in shapes not unlike hands – mindlessly groping hands. "Are you all right?" he asked again, his tone a bit stronger.

She looked at him again, as incredulously as possible. "Do I look all right?" Her voice cracked uncomfortably as she watched him in disbelief. She'd yet to see the mess that had become of her face, but it felt like she'd been hit with a bowling ball. Even if it looked half as bad as she felt, it would be worthy of a sympathy cringe. And yet, he seemed somehow relieved.

Loki very lightly shook his head, continuing to take note of her injuries. She noticed when his wide-eyed stare settled on her disheveled shorts. "Did they," he swallowed hard, his throat clearly dry. "Were you- "

Tears brimmed and she aggressively held them at bay as the anger boiled over full-force. "What do you care?" Her hoarse voice was little more than a growl. "What do you care what happened to me? I mean, clearly you didn't want to know," she added, gesturing toward the pane of glass that was now devoid of ice and snow. "If you couldn't stand to watch, you probably can't handle hearing about it!"

Loki's eyes flared bright green, but she could hear the strain in his voice to keep from yelling back. "Did you want me to see? Would that have pleased you?" His voice was soft, almost genuine. "If I had stood and watched – taken some sort of thrill from it? Reveled in your humility and anguish as they did?" He sounded disgusted at the very idea.

"I would have expected that! It wouldn't have surprised me! But you didn't do anything – you just stood there!"

"And what would you have me do?"

"Anything! You're some sort of magician! Don't tell me there was nothing you could do! Don't pretend to care when I know you, of all people, do not. You just stood there!"

"There is nothing I could do!" His hands fisted and his table along with its contents leapt across the room, the glass top shattering when it impacted the barrier of the cell while the food upon it lay to waste around the room. With a dagger suddenly conjured into his hand, he stabbed the glass and a dance of black and green haze ensued. They fought one another, snaking this way and that as the glass tried to reseal, until the black finally smothered the bright green glow and the barrier was restored. "This cell contains my sei∂r – my magic! Not even the almighty All-father's powers could penetrate it! I am trapped here same as you are! There is nothing I could've done for you! Nothing! But next time, just for your sake, I'll be sure to take a damn seat and watch the show!"

She disappeared into the bathroom without hearing the end of his explosive retort. When the swell of emotion was too much to withhold, she ran. She stripped off her clothes and ran into the shower, slamming the knob until the water finally turned on. She slid down the wall, the stone scratching the only part of her that wasn't already damaged, as the sobs shook her chest again. But this time, she couldn't stop them. Her entire body shook and the water stung the many open wounds. But it was cool on the many swells. The water ran red to the drain intermingled with the smells and funk. But no amount of cold water would erase what happened. Nor would it allow her to forget about the man – god – king – monster – whatever who was still shouting to himself in the adjoining cell.

Over the sound of the running water, she couldn't decipher what he was saying. Or maybe it was because she chose not to hear him anymore. How could she have been so stupid? To even think he would help? It was nothing more than a game to him. Some sick perverted game. A joke at her expense. She felt more hurt by his rejection than what she had endured at the hands of the guards and she was nauseated from feeling that way. She had taken some level of comfort from their forced companionship. Unfortunately she had imagined it and she saw infinitely more than he could ever give. Perhaps he was the monster he'd made himself out to be. How could she have been so stupid?

Those guards were right. There would never be care or compassion or even sympathy! She was little more than a whore, only alive and left alone because a pane of glass kept them apart. And surely, had he been able, he would have done the same as the drunken guards had, if not worse. And she was an idiot to think otherwise.

She let the water run cold. Colder. She hadn't even bothered to scrub herself down. In spite of really wanting to feel even a little less disgusting, she couldn't bring herself to endure the pain it would've caused. Bones were broken and skin was obviously lacerated. Naomi took the time only to clean the wounds she could reach – the ones that weren't jarringly painful. As for those, she just hoped they wouldn't get infected.

When the water finally shut off of its own accord, she hung forward over her knees and just shivered for another thirty minutes more before finally getting up again and reluctantly redressing in her tarnished clothes. The cells were dark, the lights dimmed almost into total darkness. She strained through her un-swollen eye to find Loki and ensure he wasn't waiting for her – waiting to bludgeon her with more insults and ridicule. Thankfully he'd given up, his very loud internal monologue having ended some time ago. He was wrapped very haphazardly in the sheets of his bed. Naomi stared at her own with a look of absolute disgust. I wish I could burn it. The sheet – the only sheet – was permanently stained and the stench would never leave it.

She tore it off with a vengeance, shoving it as far out of sight as possible, before she flipped the tiny mattress with some sense of relief. Better. Definitely better. With some sense of clarity restored, she picked up her tiny bottle of glue and went back to the bathroom, already dreading the task ahead.

One look in the mirror and she almost didn't recognize the mess that was her rearranged face. She touched her cheek, this time managing to only wince, though the pain hadn't changed. The bone beneath her eye had cracked, she felt as she slid her fingers along the line. There'd be no fixing that. She blotted the cut and then sealed it with a tiny spot of glue. The others were easier. She even managed to mend the tear in her shorts, though rather unconventionally. And in the end, all that was left was a feeling of bitter revulsion and a lot of pain. And hunger. Hunger only marred by her recent loss of appetite.

Naomi shuffled back out to the cot and threw herself down before she could reconsider the things that had occurred there. She buried her face in the mattress, her nose almost meeting the wood frame underneath. She tried desperately to find a new plan – a new course of action – a new goal to keep her mind from slipping into that hopeless pit of despair that she'd been on the brink of for so long. But there was nothing. If Loki couldn't get out than neither could she. If they hadn't fed her by now, odds were they wouldn't. If Loki didn't help her, then she was alone. Alone in a cell underground on another world where no one would find her. Alone in a cell, in a dungeon, where she would inevitably starve to death. Not even a crumb in sympathy would find its way into this cell – and things would only get worse from here. Her fingers curled around her wrist – the sensitive, over stimulated flesh – and her fingertips met on the other side. Skinny little thing.

She gulped almost nervously and she felt her entire directive violently shift. Boredom became almost instantly irrelevant. She had no need to stay busy. Their petty game was suddenly insignificant. She didn't need to keep herself occupied. No need to appease a man who would much rather see her dead and gone. No need to keep moving. No need to attempt an escape or win the favor of those that had enslaved her. No need to do anything anymore. She needed nothing more than to hunker down and stay alive. And nothing else mattered as the days dragged on.

There you are! Less cliff hangery. Alas, it will continue to be sad and terrible for a little while... but at the same time not so terrible...

Thanks sooo much for reading and reviewing! xoxoxoxo