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ijuststareatstuffhereok89 · 1 year

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Chapter 2- The Snake Prince of Asgard

You arrive on Asgard, where you are prepared to see your new Master for the first time, unsure of what will come of your first meeting with the unpredictable Prince.

Pairing: Prince Loki x Concubine!Reader

Rating: 18+ ONLY (Minors DNI)

Content Warning: Threat and mentions of assault, eventual smut, indentured servitude and sex slavery, mean people being mean, violence, executions, more warnings likely to come

The Prince did not meet you at the gate, but you were happy with this breach of etiquette. You would have rather pushed off your inevitable meeting with your new Master for as long as possible. Instead, you were distracted from your woeful situation temporarily by the beautiful architecture of your new home. The golden spires, the towering turrets, the shimmering walls that reflected every light and reflection that dared to come too close left you with your jaw open from inside your carriage.

“Lovely, isn’t it? You will soon find yourself growing comfortable here,” assured your escort. You chose not to listen. He probably used that line on all the girls.

Being ‘processed’ by the household of the Royal Family was nearly as invasive and overwhelming as the audition had been. You were, again, forced to strip and stand before strangers (luckily, they were all women this time), who measured every curve of your form and took detailed notes of your coloring, shape, size, and overall posture.

“We can dress her in jewel tones,” remarked one of the old birds. “Such nice coloring for a simple peasant.”

“Her hair is very thick,” remarked another. “We can work with that, but the Prince did always prefer his girls to have straight hair. Pity.”

“No, please don’t straighten my--”

“”--and we may need to do a little work on her chin,” said a third. “She has an unseemly dimple and a bit of a wattle!” She jested.

“W…work?” you asked hesitantly.

“A procedure to reshape your face to be more suitable,” the third woman explained. “Just so you’re perfect for the Prince.”

A what? You thought to yourself, half-frightened and half-disgusted. Do they really mean to cut into my face and mold me like a clay doll?

“W…would it hurt?” you asked meekly.

The first woman, the one who seemed to be in charge, looked about ready to laugh. “Oh, of course, dear! It’s excruciating, but only for a week or so.”

The second lady chimed in as she wrapped a bolt of silk around your naked hips. “A shame you aren’t here for breeding, your hips are perfect,” she thought out loud, before joining the rest of the conversation. “You will quickly learn here that beauty is pain, and you cannot have one without the other. Your job here is to be a beautiful ornament. You will never not be in pain here, child.”

You felt your skin go cold at the sinister tone of her voice.

After you were measured, you were given a hot bath in a tub filled with rose-scented water (with perhaps a little too much oil, as it left beads on your skin). A servant ran a balm through your hair with a comb so fine-toothed that it was a painful struggle just to untangle the many knots you’d acquired living in the countryside of Vanaheim for your entire life.

“You will be presented to His Highness tonight at the banquet, and we will come and get you an hour before in order to dress you,” said the first woman, after you’d been dressed in a simple white robe and led to a small chamber in a gilded-but-dimly-lit section of the palace. On your way, you’d noticed many of the others occupying the harem quarters were also in white, and that all genders, as well as several species, were represented.

“All of the Royal Family hold their slaves and companions here,” the first woman explained. “It’s more luxurious than the servants’ quarters, for certain. You will be happy here.”

The woman knocked on the door she’d brought you to, and from within, a small, high-pitched voice called out “come in.”

The door was opened for you. Inside, you saw a large room, two lushly-furnished canopy beds with drawable curtains in opposite corners, a sofa and table in the center,at least two closet doors, and a large window that led out onto a balcony. The floor was carpeted underneath the beds, and hardwood in the center, and the ceilings were easily 20 feet high. The room was brighter than the hallway, and that may have been due to the light, buttercup yellow of the walls.

It was entirely more than you’d anticipated your prison cell to look like.

A petite brunette was sitting on the sofa, her eyes red and puffed, as if she’d just been crying. On the table in front of her was an ashtray and the nubbed remains of some smokable stick, the contents of which you couldn’t immediately identify by smell.

“Hilda, this is Y/N,” said the woman, gently pushing you into the room. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve picked up that habit. Disgusting.”

“Shut it, you old crone,” said the bitter brunette. “I was having a terrible morning until you walked in and made it insufferable.”

“Hmph,” was all the older woman could muster before turning back to you. “FIve o’clock,” she said. “Please be ready.”

After the old crone left, Hilda looked you up and down, shrugging. “You look like a Westerner,” she said, her accent changing to one that was more familiar to you. This girl had also been a tribute from Vanaheim.

“Borgund,” you answered.

Hilda nodded. “Capitol City,” she replied. “You’re a country girl.”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry you’re here,” your new roommate said. “If I had remembered you’d be coming today, I’d have saved you some more Bliss,” she added, indicating the smoldering cigarette in the tray before her.

“What’s that?” you asked, the naivety in your voice amusing Hilda.

“A drug made from the Lily of Asgard flower, evens your mood,” she answered. “Relaxes you as well. The Royals want to keep us happy so that we don’t tell people about all of the depraved things they enjoy with us, so they supply us with as much as we wish.”

You felt your heart skip a beat and your blood rush to your face. “What sorts of depraved things?”

Hilda looked around the room in thought. “Well, I’m one of Loki’s, so I only know of his interests. But someone who belongs to Thor says that he always summons a servant to watch as he fucks her, and demands that he pleasure himself at the sight. The Allfather likes to watch his women fuck each other with their tongues, and he won’t even always join them…but Frigga will!”

“Oh, my…” you felt the world begin to swing underneath you. Your aunt had told you about some things during your all-nighter, but she hadn’t mentioned orgies, or other people joining in. You weren’t sure what to think.

“Look, Y/N, you’re going to have to get used to it, because you’re likely going to have the Snake Prince’s snake in your mouth in about six hours’ time,” Hilda said rudely. “In fact, he may not even wait until the banquet ends before taking you.”

You looked down at your feet, which were shifting around nervously. “What?”

Hilda sighed. “He did it with me, and he’s done it with most of his boys and girls,” she explained. “A lot of the time, he will just lay a new whore down in the middle of the party and fuck them in front of the entire room.”

You bit your lip, feeling your skin begin to shake underneath the flimsy white robe. “Hilda, are you sure there isn’t any more Bliss? I get the feeling I will need some for tonight.”

Sadly, you were not able to seek out anything to calm your jittery nerves, and before you knew it, the three horrendous women who’d measured your body earlier were back to take you away. Hilda had wished you luck on your way out the door.

You were put into a violet-hued robe that did little to cover your breasts, and a golden corset, which did EVERYTHING to push them up and together. It was an appalling feeling, having nothing underneath the robe. You were adorned with emerald jewelry, and a diadem, from which hung a white veil that obscured your face until the right moment. You were brought barefoot before the Head of Household, who approved of your appearance, and sprinkled lavender water on your hair.

All that was on your mind was what Hilda had said to you about the Snake Prince’s predisposition to rape his whores in the middle of a crowded room like some disgusting barbarian. You weren’t sure if you were ready for this, or if Aunt Ing was even correct in assuming you could seduce the bastard who now owned you.

“This is for Borgund,” you said to yourself. “If I can somehow do this and free my people, it will all be worth it.”

You were put on a pedestal behind a gossamer curtain and instructed to wait until you were presented. For several minutes, you stood there as still as a statue, listening to the sounds of revelers laughing and shouting for more drink, musicians playing horn music from somewhere else in the room, and maids flirting with the partygoers. Every second that ticked by made your nerves pucker exponentially.

Suddenly, you began to hear calls of, “Norns, Highness, didn’t you get a new girl today?” and “Bring out the whore!” began to intermix with the rest of the noise until it became the dominant topic of conversation, and you knew the time came.

Aunt Ing had told you to try and look quiet and dignified at your presentation. Loki didn’t seem to be a prince for ostentatious nonsense like hair-flipping and flirting, nor did he have the patience to deal with a sobbing, simpering victim. You stood tall and stone-faced, prepared to meet whatever hell awaited you beyond the curtain.

Loki must have given the order to draw them in a voice too soft for you to hear, because without warning, the curtains lifted, and the room went silent as their first glance of the Prince’s latest property had to be absorbed.

The room was filled with red candle light, boisterous and drunken partygoers, and, positioned on a table above the rest, sat the dreaded Snake Prince himself, Loki Odinson. You couldn’t make out many of his features, he stood so far away from you, and you could barely make out a form at all behind the haze of the room itself.

You could see the figure cross his legs, not even indicating an interest to get to his feet. You expected as much, coming from a barbarian prince.

There was no introduction, nor direction given to you, so you thought you would begin to descend from your pedestal and walk the clear pathway from your perch to the Prince. However, as soon as you stepped down, several audible gasps filled the room, and you had to fight back the urge to recoil.

However, you kept going, making what you were hoping was steadfast eye contact with your new owner and you began to approach.

“What in Norns does she think she’s doing?” “Stuck-up Vanir think they can make their own rules.” “She’s not supposed to do that…”

You ignored the protests and kept walking until you were in the center of the room, when the first drunken reveler grabbed your arm.

“What do you think you’re doing, little country slut?” he asked, his words slurred. “You aren’t supposed to make the first move!”

“How dare she think she can approach our Prince?” said a companion nearby.

“We should teach her a lesson!” said another.

“L..let me go…” you said, with much less authority than you were hoping for.

A burly dwarf reached for your robe, ripping it as you struggled out of his grip. “She talks!”

“Maybe we should break her in for the Prince! Teach her to respect her betters!”

You weren’t physically very strong, and you found yourself being consumed by a hot whirl of hellish catcalls and big, scratching hands molesting all part of you as the Asgardians got a firm hold on you. People were grabbing you both on top of and underneath your flimsy silk armor, and you couldn’t so much as twitch against their will. You felt your senses take leave of you as you were thrown to the floor, the big blonde man who’d initiated the attack standing over you while the others gathered around and laughed.

You screamed as the blonde man began to undo his trousers, and two of the men pinning you to the ground began lifting your hem above your knees, to your hips, exposing all of you to the room for the first time. Some men jeered. Others applauded. Others still accused you of liking being assaulted. You heart raced in distress as you prayed within to Freyja for some kind of salvation from the humiliation and torture that so greeted you to your new home.

Please, Mother Freyja, out of love and honor for your acolyte, protect me now…

Another voice finally joined the room, booming, loud, and full of masculine bravado.

“I SAID, ENOUGH!!” Gasps filled the room as the rough, hungry crowd parted at last for The Snake Prince, finally descending from on high to observe the situation for himself.

Oh no, you thought as the Prince slowly commanded the room with his stride. Here he comes to do the deed himself!

The entire room bowed for him as he finally came to your body, lying helpless, still pinned under the two dwarves holding your arms. You looked up to him with pleading eyes and heavy breath. A part of you wanted to give him a more defiant stance, but in the moment, all you cared about was protecting your body from being gangraped by a room of drunken asses.

You could only muster one word to your new Master.

“...please?”

The Prince seemed caught off guard for a moment at your brazen lack of etiquette, addressing him without title or greeting, but a plea, already demanding things of your new owner. He thought a moment before reaching out a silent hand, something YOU did not anticipate. You only looked at it, confused and still highly on guard.

“Go on, girl,” he said quietly. “It won’t bite you.”

Mumbles from the crowd began to ripple around the room as you hesitated one more moment. Out of fear that you would be further offending the entire nobility of Asgard, you took his hand, which was soft-skinned, gentle, and more graceful than any of the miserable louts’ claws that had just violated you.

Prince Loki brought you to your feet, his eyes never leaving yours. You were astonished at the kindly gesture, especially coming from a man who was so renowned for being an arrogant beast.

“Are you...recovered?” he asked, his voice low now, speaking only to you. It was all you could do to nod silently and keep your head high.

The Snake Prince turned to the rest of the party. “You brutes will all be punished for this inhospitality. The banquet is over.”

Some in the room appeared confused. Others were silently protesting with angry glares. Others were stone-faced, perhaps interested in the event unfolding.

“I SAID, it's over,” the raven-haired Prince repeated. “Now, off with you, before I have you all whipped, and any protestations will be met with execution.”

Such an extreme threat sounded a little silly to you, in spite of the serious moment. Yet, a few in the room almost seemed to gasp in fear. One older-looking dwarf had the audacity to step forward. He was one of the two who’d held you down moments ago. “Sire, we’ve done worse before, and in lesser circumstances. She is just another whore--”

“--guards!” The Prince commanded almost too casually. Two stepped forward and shoved their way through the group. “Take him to the death cell. Inform his family. He is to be beheaded at dawn for insubordination against his Prince.”

“But Sire! Mercy!” cried the dwarf as he was grappled by the sentries.

“You dared to try and claim MY property,” The Prince explained. “You assaulted MY concubine before I had even touched her flesh for myself. You are a pig, lower than the dirt that stains my riding boots. You will die at dawn, and let this be an example to the rest of you scoundrels not to touch my things.”

The gasps around the room were much louder, and the dwarf immediately sank to his knees in plea for his life. You looked at Prince Loki with a face full of surprise and fear. Is this really a Prince who would behead a man for speaking up, even in a terrible place such as this?

The Prince saw your stunned look as you watched with an odd amount of pity as the dwarf was dragged away, attempting to protest with cries of “my five sons!” and “my wife!” to no avail. For your part, you were still trying to get your bearings, having been accosted with so much intensity in such a short time.

“Come with me to my chambers,” said the Prince to you, still stone-faced and authoritative, as if he’d squashed a fly and not sentenced a high ranking official to death on a whim.

“I…oh…” your words were still failing you.

Prince Loki took your hand, a kind gesture that brought your shivers down from an intensity of 10 to perhaps a 7. “You must be exhausted, and probably haven’t eaten, I imagine. I will fetch some wine and bread when we get to my apartment.”

A silent crowd watched in awe as the brutal Snake Prince of Asgard gently led you away from the hall and toward his bedroom, your mind still attempting to catch up with everything that had just transpired around you.

I’m going to drown here, I just know it…

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