The Queen of Mischief - Loki x Reader

The King

Asgard, Throne Room / 7:57

Loki walks over to the throne in the midst of the palace. He sits down on his regal way, his scepter in his hand. You walk over to him, not sure where to go. You decide to stand near him. Loki looks at you.
"Sit" he says. You look at the ground, not obeying him. It might seem childish, but you don't want to sit on the floor.
"Sit" he says again. You still refuse to look at him.
"No" you whisper.
"What?" Loki says, he starts to become angry.
"No," you repeat yourself "I am not sitting on the floor"
The king looks at you, his eyes almost piercing through you.
"You will do what your king says. You will obey my orders" His voice sounds formal, like he said it a thousand times before (which is probably true), but there's something else. Like he doesn't want to get mad at you. Like he doesn't want to tell you what you have to do.
"Why" You look at him now, a tear falling on your cheek. "Why would I?"
His blue eyes become like stone. He stands up, and with one step he stands in front of you.
"Look at me" He says. You look up at him, scared of what he will do. He slaps you in the face. His cold hand burns on your cheek.
"Sit on the floor" He emphasizes every word. You still refuse. You can see his hand come up, but you aren't fast enough to shield yourself. He pushes you on your chest, and you fall backwards. A pain comes up through your spine, and tears stream down your face.
"You will obey my orders, pet" He spits the last word out. You look down at your folded hands. Your spine feels numb, and so does your cheek. You nod softly, still not looking at Loki. He walks back to the throne, and he sits down. You want to scream. It just hurts so much. Not only your physical wounds, but also the wounds he made within you. All this time you still thought he might have mercy, he might have pity on you. All your hopes of having your old life with him back are crushed by the same man that you love. You wonder why. Why do you still love him, even after all he's done? You got no answer. You don't want to answer, scared it might hurt you too much.

You hear shackles jingling from far. Someone must be coming. Probably a prisoner. Besides the shackles you hear footsteps, probably from the guards bringing the prisoner. Judging by the sound there are at least ten people coming toward you. What prisoner needs so many guards? You look up, your eyes still watery from crying. A man with blond hair walks toward you, bound in leathery ropes. His upper-arms are bound to his chest. His legs are also bound together, but just loose enough so he can walk. You know him. Of course you know him. It's the God of Thunder.