Chapter Text
This was the worst day of your life, you thought to yourself. There you were, an aspiring artist with heart full of dreams and bank account full of student debt, a simple human girl, kidnapped from her home and taken as some supernatural being's gift to some god or whatever. Being stripped naked and forcefully washed until your skin burned red and then shoved into two pieces of fabric that barely covered you was the highlight of your day. And now, standing by the weird Orc creature thingie's side with chains around your limbs and a blindfold, you weren't nearly as terrified of the situation you were in as you were disgusted by the touch of his slimy large hand slapping your ass. You could barely hear his growls over the drum-like beating of your heart and you were so busy with willing yourself to not cry, you hadn't the concentration to fully understand what the other voices in the room responded to him.
When his hand finally came off you, you managed to slow down your erratic breathing and clear your mind enough to make a mental list of all the things you managed to pick up so far.
The first, this was a birthday party of someone really, really important. You weren't exactly sure what the status of the Orc person was, but he was clearly trying to make nice with the host of the party, who was a king of some sort, probably.
Second, you were the king's gift. You managed to hear something about a portrait or whatever, the Orc said you were a very successful artist from Midgard. That made no sense to you whatsoever. You had no idea whatever Midgard was but you were pretty sure you weren't a "renowned" or "famous" artist, much less any of the other adjectives the Orc decided to use to describe you, and each time you felt another smack on your ass, the doubt in you that you weren't there to just paint royal portraits only grew.
Third, this guy was doing a terrible job. You didn't have to be Sherlock Holmes to detect the annoyance in the host's voice when occasionally he raised it enough for you to hear him. You were standing roughly fourty or fifty feet away from him, and you could hear a few guards restraining the Orc every time he tried to take a step forward, and you were pretty sure there were other people around the room that made fun of the Orc for his gift. Every time the words 'Midgardian females' were mentioned they were followed by a burst of laughter.
"I swear on me good name," your face flinched when you felt the orc's moist breath on your skin as he turned to you, "this is the finest of the finest!" He grasped your shoulder and shook you so roughly you were sure he was going to dislocate your shoulder.
"You don't have a good name." The low and calm voice you identified as the host's said, this time sounding quite amused. Was this man happy putting down that Orc?
Your thoughts began to wander, like they sometimes do. What was so amusing? That wasn't even funny, or clever, it was barely a worthwhile gag, the other people in the room were clearly laughing because they wanted to stay on his good side, did he not know his humour was as stale as a-
Your train of thoughts made an emergency stop when an unfamiliar (yet pleasant, compared to the Orc) hand grabbed your cheeks forcefully and raised your face up. You could feel your neck cracking at the sudden change of position.
"I'll give you that, she is pleasing enough to the eye to justify having to tolerate your disgusting face." This time you didn't have to make an effort to hear the man's voice because he was the one currently holding you. You couldn't help but feel a tingle up your spine at how smooth that voice was, but at the same time, this was once again, a very poorly crafted insult that once again, everyone laughed at.
God damnit, why was everyone so eager to please that guy?
As the man's fingers dug into your cheeks deeper, forcing your lips open, you were relieved to recognise their structure to be similar to human hands.
"She will make a fine addition to my collection." You heard him say before his hand left your flesh, and suddenly you felt someone tugging at your chains. You eeped as you fell to the ground, face first. The pain was nothing compared to what followed, a swift kick right to your rib cage by someone with very big, and very strong feet. All your willpower suddenly disappeared and you bursted into tears.
The whole room fell silent as you wailed in pain, coughing and crying.
You suddenly felt another kick, this time by someone else with human size feet, but with twice the force. You involuntarily shrieked as the shooting pain in your ribs, and you were certain that if you stopped crying right there, you'd pass out from the pain.
The foot stomped on your skull and you feared it would crack it open.
"Now why is this thing making that noise?" You heard the man's voice over you. So it was his foot about to crush you?
"I- I don't know, sir!!!" You heard the Orc panicking. "She will stop, I will make her stop, sir!!!" Then he turned to you "stop doing that!!! I said stop!!!"
But you couldn't stop.
It wasn't just the pain anymore.
Because as your face was smashed against the marble floor, the gravity of your situation started to sink in.
You were taken from your home. The reason you were taken was unknown to you, but you will probably never see your home again. You'll never see your brothers again, nor will your see your mother or father. If you are not killed on the spot, you're going to be this man's property. You read books about slavery, you had a pretty grim image of what you assumed was coming your way. You felt a few more stomps on your back but you still couldn't help yourself. This was it. Your life was over. You were surely done for-
Suddenly you heard a distant door slam open and a man's voice yelling
"Brother, what the hell are you doing to the poor girl?!"
As the foot on your back eased up on you and you managed to quiet yourself down a bit, but just to hear the argument between the two.
"I got a damaged birthday gift."
"The girl is in pain, you're going to break her."
"Well what if I do?"
"Mortals are weak, brother, you can't treat her like that!!!"
"Well this is my toy so I can treat it as I wish."
"Loki, stop it."
Loki? You heard that name before. Wasn't Loki the name of a Norse god or something? You were so deep in thoughts you didn't notice you stopped crying, nor did you notice that the new guy already picked you up and carried you out of the room.
"I'm putting her in your room before you destroy her bones, brother." The man said, but you didn't hear it.
"Wait, brother, put it in the gallery. This mortal is going to be the royal painter."
You didn't hear that one either.
To be continued....