Pet, had been the word he used when he silenced her.
The word resounding within her head.
Brushing her fingers through her bi-color hair, she releases an exasperated sigh.
Frustration, conquering her.
She, was no one's pet.
An abrupt knock on the opposite side, drawing her out of her daze, "I'm coming in." A woman chides, before sliding the door open.
"I'm Cerovella. I'll be your caretaker this evening." She informs.
"Cerovella," Mechelle repeats, "What do you mean by 'caretaker'?"
"The King has assigned me to watch over you. I had been informed to keep a close eye on you. As he does not trust the actions of a mortal. In the end, you are a priso--"
"I know what I am." Mechelle tiffs, "And, I am not a prisoner."
Her anger boiling just beneath the surface.
Cerovella stands, silent. As an eerie tension brews. A sense of guilt claims her, but only for a brief moment.
The wave of silence is broken, "I've been informed to aid you in your physical appearance. While you may be a mortal, you will not dress as such on Asgard."
Mechelle didn't intend to argue.
Would It matter?
No one would hear her, either way.
. . .
Evening fell upon Asgard and the clock continues ticking.
Although she hadn't been able to relax, during her 'makeover', the bath itself has been enough to ease her anxiety.
Words hadn't been exchanged during their time together and Cerovella had been certain to keep her distance, aside from applying the mortal's facial cosmetics and manipulating her tresses.
The cosmetics against her skin made her feel odd. She had never been fond of makeup. It wasn't her forte. Many women claim that it makes them feel beautiful, but for Mechelle, It had been the opposite. She felt weighed down, awkward.
The only sort of makeup she had ever worn, is eyeliner. That, she hadn't mind and the cleanup was easy.
The end result shocked Cerovella, herself.
The beauty of the woman nose of her, is exquisite.
Her Goddess crown atop her head brought out her cheekbones and freckles. The winged eyeliner located on her top lid drew out the brown in her eyes.
The cosmetics used had given her a natural appearance, with a hint of golden eye shadow located in the corner of her lids. It compliments her skin and the Asgardian dress she had been given.
Although, a tad plain, Mechelle takes appreciation in the effort given, in light of her newfound beauty.
It was the first time in several years, that she felt like a new being, and beautiful nonetheless.
And then, It hit her.
She had been beautifully dressed, bathe, and evenly brushed over.
"Why are you doing this?"
The woman continues, silent. Mechelle didn't intend to press on.
Being one of the King's servants, she knew Cerovella would refuse to tell her, being sworn to secrecy, no doubt.
Swinging the door to her chambers, open, she stands idly by for a brief moment, "Follow me."
Hesitant, Her heart rate elevating, gradually, as her breath becomes unsteady.
It seemed not only a second later, they had arrived at their destination.
Attempting to quiescent her nerves, she breathes, deep.
She knew not where she had been taken, but the feeling in her gut sent warning signals to her brain, and the adrenaline gradually overtakes her.
Mechelle stands in utter silence behind the woman, terrified of what is to come.
"Milord." Cerovella speaks, "She is ready." Standing aside, she reveals the mortal woman behind her, and to his surprise.
"Mhm." He hums, "Leave us."
She bows quickly, before departing, leaving the two in absolute silence.
Although, brief.
"Please, sit." He demands.
Striding toward the elongated table, she takes a seat opposite of Loki, her eyes glued to the dome platter directly front of her.
"I take it, that you are starved?" He hadn't given her a moment to answer, not that she intended to, "The dish in front of you, is the finest Asgard has to offer. I guarantee your enjoyment."
He sat silently, expecting a simple reply, only to hear the opposite.
"Why am I here?"
"We're not complaining now, are we?"
"It's not a complaint, It's a question." Although she had been afraid, Mechelle would not dare to show that side of her. There are people, who feed on the fear of other beings, and she hadn't intend to give in to that fear.
"Oh." Loki laughs, "You have a bit of a bite, don't you sweetheart." His voice made her skin crawl, "With just the snap of my fingers." He sniggers, playfully examining the cup he held oh so elegantly between them.
He could kill me. Her subconscious reminds.
Her mind races, as her heart rate accelerates.
She swallows, hard, before parting her lips to speak.
"And would killing me bring you satisfaction?"
"Satisfaction is not in my nature." His words were quick, no sign of hesitation.
"Then, why?" Mechelle hadn't the chance to consider her words carefully, the only thing her mind and body knew, was that she wanted to survive. "You're obviously not thinking big enough."
"Oh?"
"You are a God, correct?"
"Do you intend to challenge me?"
"No," She pauses, "It just seems like a waste of a life, don'tchu think. You have all of this power. You can bend people to your will and the only thing you can think of, is murder. It just seems like a waste."
Loki scoffs, "What are you getting at?"
"I'm your prisoner. I can't escape. You can do whatever you want with me." And before she could rephrase her sentence, a wide grin spreads across the Gods face.
Shit. She chides, within.
"You're absolutely right." He agrees, "I can do whatever I want, with you. Or anyone, for that matter. Perhaps, sparing your life hadn't been a terrible idea."
A meager wave of relief sweeps over her.
On the bright side, your life would be spared, again. The inadequate voice spoke.
"Understand this, mortal," His tone, bitter, "Disobey me and I will kill you."
This Is The End. ✩
I've been going through each chapter to revise and edit. So, do not be surprised if parts have been added or deleted.
Thank you for reading and I do hope that you have enjoyed the story, thus far.
**Note: Mechelle has no idea that Loki is the "current" ruler of Asgard. Whether he tells or her not, is the question.
Arigatō Gōzaimasu.
Sayonara~ ✩*.ﾟ