"aren't you supposed to be working?" A deep and smooth voice sounds, breaking me from my trance.
I look up, and Prince Loki stands over me, a smile on his face, with a quirked eyebrow.
"Oh!" I stand, curtseying, "I was given some time off, your highness."
He clicks his tongue, his smirk growing.
"Well, don't let me interrupt you, dearest maid." He says, taking a seat on the other side of the couch.
"Would you like me to find somewhere else to sit?" I ask, feeling small in his presence. Maids aren't supposed to simply relax in the company of a god.
"No, why would you move? Am I disturbing you?" He asks, frowning.
"No! If course not! I just thought, because you're a prince and I'm a maid that you wouldn't.." my voice trails off, becoming small, and I can feel myself trying to make myself less noticeable, drawing my arms closer to my body.
Lokis pov
Usually I don't get involved with any maids or servants in the castle, however, this particular maid has caught my interest.
Her hair is pulled into a bun, which I assume was neat when she started working, but now locks of her (h/c) hair fall out of place, framing her face, making her beauty unmistakable. She wears a standard dress, with tatters and stains, and it's baggy on her as well, hiding her natural figure. A hand-me-down I presume.
"Just because you're a maid and I'm a prince gives no reason for you to not stay in your spot. If I make you uncomfortable, I can find somewhere else." I state. Although I mean it genuinely, I know she won't ask me to move.
"No, no, that's okay." She says, taking a seat.
She sits as far from me as she can, trying to take up as little space as possible.
"What's your name?" I ask. I had bumped into the poor thing earlier, when she was muttering to herself about Bjorn. Bjorn never gives her a break. I've seen her talk to him only a few times, but from the way he looks down on her- literally and figuratively- I know he enjoys scaring her and treating her as lesser than him.
"(L/n). (Y/n) (l/n), your highness." She says.
"(Y/n)." I repeat to myself. The name suits her perfectly.
She nods.
"Might I ask what you're reading?"
"A book on the Midgardian ocean." She says, looking down as though she's ashamed.
"A good choice." I give her a light smile, which seems to make her relax just a bit.
I feel bad for making her feel uncomfortable, so I decide to allow a comfortable silence to overtake us instead of conversation, and after a little I see her begin to relax.
(Y/n) pov
I try to focus on my book, but with Prince Loki being so close, it's near impossible. I can't just dismiss myself, but I don't want to be here, either. It's not that he makes me uncomfortable, I just don't know how to act. He's being so informal with me it catches me off guard, and I don't understand his motives.
After a few silent minutes of him reading, I find myself drifting back into my book, as well as my eyes beginning to feel dry, and my eyelids heavy. I wish I could lay down and sleep right here and now.
A yawn escapes, and then another soon after. I look out the window to see what time it is, and find that it's nearly 4. I curse and stand, completely forgetting the prince.
I have to get Bjorn's dinner clothes layed out. How did I let myself get so distracted?
"Where are you going?" Prince Loki asks. I had completely forgotten he was there, and I don't even know how. He was mere feet from me.
"I have to go. I have more chores to attend to. I'm sorry." I say, turning back.
"Well, then I suppose you should get going." He says, turning back to his book.
I curtsey and leave, having forgotten my book on the couch arm. I'll have to come back before I sleep to put it back.
•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•
Going back to Bjorn's corders takes some time, and when I finally do arrive, he is sitting on his bed, scowling.
"Where the hell have you been?" He roars, standing.
"I'm so so sorry your excellency. I lost track of time and-"
"Lost track of time? It's your job, as my maid to keep track of time!" He stalks towards me, and I take a step back, fearful of what his anger might cause him to do.
"I'm sorry." I whisper, looking towards the ground.
"Sorry doesn't cut it. This is the third time in three months. Do you want to get fired?"
"No, I don't. I'm sorry. It won't happen again. I promise."
"Well," He says, now just arms length away from me. "I'm going to make sure of that."
⚠️⚠️beep beep trigger warning! Abuse and SH! Feel free to scroll down to skip! ⚠️⚠️
A sharp pain stings through my cheek and I fall, my hand moving to my face, a ringing in my ear starts, and my face is hot.
Did he just.. hit me?
"Now, stand up, and go get my clothes." He says, walking to his bathroom, and starting a shower.
I sit for a moment, trying to regain my thoughts, the stinging in my cheek stretches through to my neck and ear. He hit me. He hit me hard.
My ear won't stop ringing, and I cant hear anything from my left. My vision blurs as tears well in my eyes. I can't believe he hit me. I've never been hit before.
I muster my strength and stand, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand, and going to his closet. I pull out his dinner clothes, fold them and lay them on the bed, then I look around me, seeing what needs to be cleaned. I notice a broken vase of roses, with glass shrewn over the hard floor. I grab a sweep and bin, and kneel down, picking up the larger pieces delicately in my hands. The sharp corners of the glass dig into my skin, creating small cuts, I slowly squeeze the glass into my palms, pushing it farther into my skin. It hurts, but it's controlled, and it feels different then the pain caused by Bjorn. Sharp and warm, not stinging and hot.
Blood slowly stains the glass in my hands, pooling in my palm, and slowly dripping to the floor, splating the white glass with crimson red. Pretty.
I realize Bjorn is about to come out of the shower so I quickly shove the glass into the bin, and sweep up the rest. Holding the broom hurts, a lot, and only then to I realize what I've done.
The glass is gone, but the blood still sits on the marbled floor, and I look down at my hands, seeping warm dark crimson. The cuts are deep, not deep enough for stiches, but, it's going to take awhile to heal.
Why did I do that? I need my hands to work. Idiot.
I take out a clothe from my pocket and push it between my palms. It quickly absorbs the blood, and I squeeze my hands together until the blood has stopped. Then I clean the blood from the floor, discarding the clothe.
"I'm such a moron." I mutter, standing up, and walking from the room. I wait outside, and Bjorn comes out.
"Come here." He says. His voice is soft now.
I walk towards him, trying to not show my fear, but I'm sure it is written along my face. My hearing on my left has returned, but the pain and hot feeling haven't left.
He cups my face with on of his hands, the roughness against my smooth skin feels strange.
Him touching me gently makes my stomach twist. I want to run, but I can't get fired. I have no where to go if I got fired.
"Your face is red." He whispers, running his thumb over my cheek. The one he hit.
Gee, I wonder why.
"You look lovely when you're in pain, you know." He says, moving his face closer to me.
Please, you're too close. Let me go. You have somewhere to be.
⚠️Beep beep no more triggers! ⚠️
"It's almost 6." I say, which makes him back up, cursing and walking quickly to the dining hall.
I let out a breath and fall back onto the wall. Tears spill from my eyes and I slowly fall to the floor, the stress, lack of sleep, pain and uncomfortableness of my body catching up to me. I begin to sob into my knees, forgetting about dinner, and forgetting about other people walking by.
"I want to go home." I hear myself say, beging the universe to let me relax. It's silly, though, wanting to go home. This is my home. I live in this castle. But I don't feel safe here. I don't feel ok. "I just want to feel ok." I cry, sobbing harder.
I've never broken down like this before. Sure, I've had my fair-share of sobs from stress, or exhaustion, but I've never done this before. Ive never, ever, fallen in a hallway and started sobbing and beging to be okay.
"Pathetic." I say to myself, "you're so stupid. It's not that bad. Stop crying. You're pathetic."
"You're not pathetic, darling." A soft voice says, and there is the shifting of clothes and then a warmth next to me.
I don't look up. I know it's Prince Loki, I can tell by his voice and the fact that I never heard him approaching.
I try to stop crying, but I just can't. The past 8 years of working here, forcing myself to keep going and hold everything together has caught up with me. The event with Bjorn was just too much for me.
"I'm sorry." I manage out between quick breaths.
"Don't be sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for. What's wrong?" He asks.
"I just- I just can't do this anymore. I'm so tired. I barely sleep, I work all day, I barely eat because Bjorn won't let me take breaks while I'm working, I can't fucking do this anymore. I'm just so fucking tired." My voice is unsteady, and my words are broken up through sobs and gasps. "And I'm so sorry. You don't have to sit with me. You should go to attend dinner."
"Hush. I'm here because I want to be here. I wouldn't have stopped otherwise. Have you eaten today?"
I shake my head no, and he stands, offering his hand to me.
I wipe my nose, then wipe the back of my hand on my skirt, and go to reach for his hand. But I stop.
"What's wrong?" His eyebrow furrow.
"I, um," I hold out my palms, which are covered in cuts. Small openings in the wounds let bubbles of blood prickle from them.
"What happened?" He asks, kneeling again, and cupping my hands.
I don't answer, instead I look off to the side, avoiding eye contact.
He sighs, then stands up again.
"I'll be back, ok?" I nod, and he vanishes into thin air.
A moment later he reappears, gauze, cotton and antiseptic In his hands.
He sits down Infront of me, taking one of my hands into his, and soaking a cotton ball in antiseptic, then runs them over my cuts.
I wince, closing my eyes and trying not to close my hand or pull away.
"I know, I'm sorry." Prince Loki says, looking at me with pity. I hate that he looks at me with pity, but considering he found me having a breakdown outside of Bjorn's room, I can't blame him.
After the antiseptic he gently wraps my palms, and slowly the pain subsides, and so do the tears.
"There we go. Let's go get you some dinner." He says, gently grabbing my hands and helping me up.
"Thank you, your highness."
"Loki."
"Thank you, Loki."