Lower Your Eyes (A Loki Romance Fanfic)

Chapter Fourteen: Can't Watch Him Touch You

Impossible...

I repeated the word in my head again and again as I regarded the other slaves. That one single word brought a strange sort of comfort, knowing that disappointment could only live in the same space as hope.

Slaves—that's all we were in Asgard. All we'd ever be. All around me, I watched my people in various stages of their day, some changing into their palace attire, others getting back into the torn up, bloodied rags we always wore in the catacombs.

None of them would ever know how Prince Loki stood for us at the council last night, how he spoke against the Alfather and the king from Nilfheim—King Veris, was it? They would never know the glimmer of hope I felt the moment I realized why Loki had stood from his chair, why he'd asked me to accompany him in the first place—he wanted me to know how he felt, how he saw me.

How he saw us.

I held my breath a moment and then loosened it, shaking my head as I rose from the bed. This was mindless hope—there was nothing for me at the end of this train of thought, I knew that. But between the time I'd spent waiting for Loki to return to the rest of the night spent sleeplessly in my bed, I struggled to come to terms with all that had happened that day.

Right up to what happened in Loki's chambers...

Changing into my palace attire, I joined the others on my way up the palace. A heavy weight sank in my chest, color rising to my cheeks in contrast as I padded through the empty hallways. Loki probably wouldn't remember the night before, all the...things...he'd said in his intoxicated state.

After weeks of giving me the cold shoulder, at that. Keeping a distance, barely minding me the way he used to, and I hardly wanted to remind him of any of it. It was all so confusing—heart wrenching, confusing, and even somewhat bitter. Bitter for the things we couldn't have, for the abuse that would continue in the palace, unchecked and unchallenged.

If Loki couldn't do it, no one else could.

No one else would care to...

But that didn't matter—I'd thank him for it, anyway.

A low voice drew my attention down one of the adjacent hallways. My eyes snapped toward the familiar sound, footsteps stalking toward me with a harsh wave goodbye to another councilman heading in another direction. Silver eyes met mine, the man's harsh features showing little compassion for all the experience they held.

Mine widened with recognition as King Veris slowed, gaze narrowing distastefully as he looked me up and down. "Lower your eyes, bitch," he growled.

My throat constricted as I remembered how Loki had stood for me before this man, how he was shot down mercilessly.

"Drop dead..." I barely murmured, turning to continue to Loki's chambers.

The footsteps stopped.

An icy chill shot through me, and I barely stumbled as I heard the king turn toward me. My legs felt weak, but I walked on, fear stamping through me as several large steps followed me down the hallway. Loki's chambers weren't so far away now, just down the adjacent hallway ahead—

A firm grip took my shoulder, spinning me around. I mapped the hallways in my mind, so close to Loki—to safety. I panicked as King Veris took my collar and raised me to my toes. His hand went to my jaw, gripping my cheeks between hard, callused fingers. At that moment, I was less afraid of who he was and more afraid of how he looked at me, so cold and bitter and domineering. The king turned me abruptly, shoving me back to strike me hard across the face. Stars cut across my right eye, black spots peppering my vision as I fell to the ground.