My King

You stand before the throne, head bowed as you gaze at your feet. You had been summoned to the new king, for what, you don't know.

He has not spoken a word to you, and you have not raised your gaze to him. He had sent all of the guards and maids away the moment you entered the doors, and now you wait.

"Come here," he finally says, the command in his silken tone sending a shiver down your spine.

You approach him slow, taking each step cautiously, not wanting to anger him. You stand a mere few feet away from him, his feet at the tip of your vision.

"Look at me."

You raise your head, your eyes slowly following suit as your gaze meets his.

"It seems you have been hiding from me," the ghost of a wicked smirk plays in his lips.

"I'm sorry?" you try to keep your voice even.

"Such a simple beauty, yet you kept away from me," he tilts his head to the side a bit, "why is that Darling?"

You heart pounds in your chest.

You know what happens when the maids are called to the King, even when he was still just one of the princes. Rumors are fleet on tongues of curious and prideful maids.

"I do not know, my King," you lower your gaze again, "I do not believe I was doing so purposely."

"You lie."

You raise you gaze quickly, finding his  wicked smirk on full display.

"I do not, my King."

"You cannot lie to the God of such."

"My King–"

"You have kept your beauty from me," he interrupts, "every maid and guard in the palace has told me so. I would like to know why."

"If the tongues of my fellow maids are as loose as you say, my King, then they will already have told you of my reason."

"Indeed," his grin disappears, "but I wish to hear it come from your lips."

You clutch your hands in front of you as you once again lower your gaze as you recite what you have been told since you arrived on Asgard as an offering.

"I am a pathetic midgardian whore, whom the King need not waste his time with."

"And you believe this?" He stands from the throne.

"Yes, my King," your voice quavers as you bite back your tears.

"Who fed you these lies?"

"Every maid in the palace, my King, and you should know better than any that these are not lies."

Your head is raised harshly as his hand comes below your jaw.

"These are lies," his voice is soft yet stern, "you may have tried to evade me, my dear, but I have been watching. You allow others to take credit for your work, you take the punishments of others who blame you, you let them torment you while you sit in silence."

His eyes soften.

"You tend to the gardens as my mother did, with care and grace. You hide away in the library, sitting upon the window sill as the moonlight dances over your beautiful skin. You steal a horse in the small hours of the morning and venture through the woods before returning."

You had peaked Loki's interest long before he became king. He only found you by chance in the beginning be t soon found himself seeking you out, if only to observe.