Chapter 10: A Changing Tide

Iskalla turned her head as she heard the heavy, clumsy footsteps of another visitor approaching her door from outside her chambers.

Almost no time had passed since Iskalla's permanent dismissal of Ysmay and Iskalla was still in a confrontational mood. The drunken mumblings outside her door could belong to no other than her husband-to-be.

The God of Thunder artlessly pushed open her door. The pungent smell of ale wafted into her room, following after him. "Iskalla...Isk-…*hiccup* Iskalla? Are you there?" The slurred voice of Thor reached her ears as he approached.

Iskalla's hackles immediately rose at his impolite intrusion. Naturally, the prince assumed he was welcome anywhere he pleased. "I did not realize I granted you permission into my chambers..." Iskalla remarked, annoyed.

Thor either ignored her remark, or did not hear her. Iskalla had already grown accustomed to seeing Thor in a drunken state, but this was by far the worst she had seen him. The prince could barely stand up. He was leaning against her wall with one hand as if it was the only thing keeping him from toppling over. He was filthy, unbathed, and covered in blood—blood that she was going to assume had come from another poor animal he'd slain—and was muttering to himself under his breath.

Iskalla was disgusted.

"What do you want, Thor? Why are you here?" Iskalla hoped he would just answer the question and leave quickly. She did not want to deal with the God of Thunder's trying company tonight.

"Iskalla...I have come to see how you are…you look well *hic*...I am...am...glad," Thor slurred. Iskalla could hear the insincerity in his babbled words all too well, as if the act of saying something kind to her had pained him.

"Are you really, Thor? You did not come to visit me while I was in the healing rooms. Why is that?" Iskalla asked, her anger building.

Thor blinked, his inebriated mind working even slower than usual. "As...the Prince of Asgard...I have duties I must attend to. You know this, Iskalla...you are always angry with me…why are you always angry with me?" Thor mumbled in confused frustration.

Iskalla rolled her eyes. Yes, Thor, it's always about you. How would this man ever competently lead Asgard? I am beginning to see why Loki speaks so lowly of you. "Interesting," Iskalla replied sarcastically, "because your brother found the time to visit, and he is a Prince of Asgard too, is he not?"

"Loki is not as burdened as I am!" Thor exploded instantaneously, visibly angry at being compared to his brother. "My brother does not have the same duties as I do. What ...wait...my brother visited you? Why?"

Iskalla glared at Thor, waiting a beat before replying. "You did not know? Did you inquire about my wellbeing at all while I was in the healing rooms?" Her voice was beginning to rise as Thor's carelessness began to sink in. Perhaps he is regretful that Makien was unsuccessful and that I have not perished.

She knew that Thor cared not for her, but she was still continually surprised by the sheer depth of his disregard. He truly did not view her as someone with needs and feelings, or as someone in possession of her own personhood. She was a Frost Giant monster to him and nothing more. It was obvious that he thought of her as no better than the animals he hunted or the Frost Giant trophies he kept on his walls.

Thor shifted uncomfortably under her scrutinizing gaze. "As I said, my lady, my duties...the responsibility of the crown...I...it takes precedence…" Thor trailed off, grasping for words. He looked around her room as if he'd somehow find the perfect excuse written on one of her walls. Iskalla witnessed the exact moment that his blue eyes landed on her new fireplace mantle. Thor's eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock. "That was not there before…" he said in a low, strangled voice. "What happened to the Blue Buffoon?"

Iskalla smiled sweetly. "Do you like it? Your handmaiden gave it to me."

For the first time since Iskalla had met him, Thor was visibly shaken. It was the most vulnerable she'd seen him. His golden confidence had taken a hit. "Maiken…" Thor whispered to himself. "No."

Iskalla regarded Thor with a coldness she had never shown before. "Yes, Thor. Now you don't have to miss her," she said cruelly. "I think we have said all we need to say to each other this night. Now get out."

Thor's face grew pale, his eyes roving over her like he was seeing her—truly seeing her—for the first time. "This is not over. You have just proved yourself the monster I have always believed you to be."

Iskalla held his gaze, unrepentant. The hypocrisy of the situation was not lost on her. It was seen as perfectly acceptable for Thor to litter the palace with trophies of slain Frost Giants, but norns forbid she did the same with a precious Asgardian.

Thor struggled for balance as he tried to storm out of Iskalla's chambers. His large, lumbering body bumped into chairs and knocked figurines from their perch as he stumbled off, failing to maintain a dignified composure before he slammed the door behind him.

Iskalla was in no mood for another grand Asgardian feast in the banquet hall. However, she knew that any absence on her part would be taken as a sign of weakness.

Iskalla entered the banquet hall, determined to demonstrate that she was strong and had completely recovered from the attempt on her life. The Asgardians needed to see that they had not defeated her. I have the blood of warriors and ice magic in my veins. I will not be cowed.

She held her head up high and straightened her shoulders, affecting her best royal posture. As she moved through the room, she head the gasps and hushed whispers of the other dinner guests in the hall. Undoubtedly, they had heard what had transpired between herself and Thor's wench. Gossip travelled quickly in Asgard.

The animosity in the palace towards Iskalla was at an all-time high. The Asgardians were no doubt angered after witnessing Maiken's execution that day. Maiken may have been a lowly servant, but she was still of Asgard. Iskalla suspected that most of the Asgardian people had not perceived Maiken's actions as crimes. To them, slaying a Frost Giant was supposed to be seen as a point of pride.

Iskalla took her seat next to Frigga, but Thor was nowhere to be found. He is no doubt licking his wounds. Or passed out in a drunken heap. Good, she thought to herself.

Loki sat in in his usual chair in front of Iskalla. "You look well, princess. I see that my heroic efforts were not in vain," he said, his green eyes gleaming arrogantly as he placed some roast beef on his plate.

"Thank you, Loki. I want you to know that I appreciate everything you did to save my life. Now that I have recovered, I have made it my personal goal to ensure that I will never be in that situation again," Iskalla said determinedly.

"That is good to hear," Loki said as he put more food on his plate. "I have other duties besides constantly rushing to your aid and I would very like much to attend to them," he said smoothly, now pouring himself a goblet of wine. The words were almost teasing.

"I am delighted to see that you have healed, Iskalla. It is lovely that you've returned to us." Frigga smiled warmly. "I know you have suffered greatly due to recent, unfortunate circumstances, but I have some good news. The seamstresses have informed me of the completion of your trial wedding gowns. I am looking forward to attending your fitting tomorrow as to help you pick the perfect one."

Iskalla felt her stomach turn a little as she was reminded of her impending marriage to Thor. She felt compelled to humor Frigga, though. "That's wonderful. I am very much looking forward to trying on the dresses," she lied with forced enthusiasm.

Iskalla hoped that Loki would not notice her insincerity. But it was not to be.

"As she is to marry Thor, perhaps a funeral gown would be more fitting? Something black and mournful and more suited to the occasion?" Loki interjected with a smirk.

"Ignore him." Frigga shot her son a glare but it lacked true heat. She was undoubtedly used to his antagonizing ways. Addressing Iskalla, "I am sure the dresses will be lovely. The seamstresses promise me they are some of their best work."

Ignoring Loki was exactly what Iskalla planned on doing. Nothing and no one was going to phase her tonight. She would panic about her upcoming marriage later. Tonight, she had a message to send. "He does not bother me," Iskalla said airily.

You can stab me, you can insult me, you can even pretend that I am not here, but I will not be defeated that easily, Iskalla thought to herself as she mechanically forced herself to finish her meal.

Asgard would not break her.

Loki sat at the desk in his chambers, resting his boots on the wooden surface. His fingers were steepled under his chin pensively. Iskalla seemed rather closed off tonight, he thought to himself. She seemed different, distant, colder. I wonder how much the incident with Thor's wench has affected her? Something like that is bound to change a person, he mused to himself.

It needled him that she had so easily disregarded him at dinner. Up until now, he was used to eliciting whatever reaction he desired out of the princess.

Well, there is one way to find out what is going on with the frost princess, he reasoned. It had been awhile since Loki had entered Iskalla's dreams. He saw no appeal in taking advantage of Iskalla's helpless state in the healing room. I may be a God of Mischief, but there are some things even I will not do, he thought to himself. Furthermore, what challenge would there be in seducing a dying girl?

Unfortunately for her, Iskalla had now healed. Their game of seduction was back on.

It is time to pay the frost princess's dreams another visit. I do hope she has missed me, he thought mischievously.

Loki wandered through the myriad of horrors that flitted through Iskalla's mind as she slept. He found it curious that the girl was always in the midst of a nightmare when he visited her dreams. By the norns, so many nightmares about Thor, he mused. Though he supposed he'd have night terrors as well if he was forced to marry the oaf. Loki shuddered. Perish the thought.

Loki watched Iskalla's newest dream play out with amusement. Iskalla was garbed in a wedding dress, looking forlorn and distraught as she stared down at the long, red aisle before her. Thor—dressed in bloodied battle armor—and Odin were waiting for Iskalla at the end of the aisle. Iskalla refused to move forward towards her betrothed, despite the guests yelling out to her. Her fear was evident as her eyes grew wide. This should be good, Loki thought to himself as he waited for her to reach her destination. Suddenly, a ghoulish hand made of fire reached up from the floor and began to pull Iskalla towards Thor. "No! Let me go!" Iskalla began to scream. "I don't want to do this!"

Loki sighed to himself. Now this is getting predictable. I guess I should go save her...again. Where should I take her this time? he mused.

Instead of manifesting the terrain of Iskalla's beloved Jotunheim, Loki brought the princess into his chambers as a twist. "Welcome, princess." He let her keep the illusion of her wedding gown, however, as the trickster in him found a perverse joy in manipulating her while she was garbed in the symbolic white dress intended for Thor.

Iskalla's breath began to slow as she realized that she was no longer in the throes of her nightmare wedding. She calmed and looked around the room curiously. "We are in your chambers?" she asked.

Loki knew that Iskalla believed herself to be safe when she was in the presence of the 'dream' version of himself. She was a lamb to slaughter here. Unprotected by the guarded walls she erected in her waking hours. "Why yes, princess. I thought I would bring you somewhere more personal, more intimate," Loki purred.

Iskalla confused Loki by suddenly and unexpectedly pinching herself on the arm. "That did not hurt," she exclaimed happily. "Good."

Loki raised an eyebrow. "Am I to understand why you are pinching yourself, princess?"

"I, well...I needed to be sure this is not real. I might have...mistakenly attempted to kiss you while I was awake the other day, my lord," Iskalla admitted sheepishly.

Ah, yes. Her half-conscious, fumbling attempt to press her lips to his.

Iskalla's brows lowered, her red eyes revealing a hint of sadness. She continued, "You did not seem to like it, I must admit. The 'real,' you, that is."

Loki thought about the split-second kiss and how he had reacted in disgust. It did not serve my purpose to kiss you then, frost princess. Not all of us here are slaves to our lusts.

"Is that so?" he asked Iskalla. "I would never turn you away here. I can assure you, princess, that I would not hold back my desire if you were to kiss me again." Loki looked down upon her and smiled, exploiting the advantage given to him by his handsome face in order to feign honesty.

Loki raised his hand to gently touch her face, caressing her cheek with his thumb. "Would you like that Iskalla? Do you wish to kiss me again?"

"Very much," Iskalla breathed. It was almost too easy for Loki's tastes. But then the girl surprised him by taking a step back and shaking her head softly. "You confuse me. You treat me like the enemy, like a nuisance...but then you turn around and save my life."

"Apparently, I am more heroic than even I give myself credit for," Loki replied smugly.

"When I was injured, I was unable to properly thank you, my prince. I would like to do so now," Iskalla said demurely, but with a sweet, flirty tinge to her voice. She stood on her toes to attempt to match Loki's height and gently pressed her lips to his. She was soft and inviting and Loki found himself responding. His mind clouded over as she traced her tongue over his lips.

"What exactly do you have in mind, princess? I have saved your life, after all. It is not easy to please a Prince of Asgard," Loki said darkly, hoping the princess would take the hint.

Iskalla bit her lip, unsure. "Then tell me how I can please you. I would very much like to try."

"Kneel," he whispered harshly. It had been some time since a woman had pleasured Loki with her mouth and while he assumed the princess would be unskilled and lacking, he was not one to turn down such an offer. The thought of what was to come was almost too much for him to bear. He was already growing hard in his trousers from mere anticipation.

Iskalla drew in a sharp breath. Loki could see the way her nerves were mixed in with her excitement. "I have never...I have never kneeled before," she confided, her face vulnerable and open in her honesty. So trusting. So foolishly young.

Loki stepped towards Iskalla and placed both hands on her shoulders, guiding her to her knees in a way that was both gentle and forceful. "You will learn. I will teach you. Now kneel before me," he commanded.

"Yes, my prince." Her knees buckled and she dropped slowly before him. Her face was now directly in front of Loki's aching manhood, still trapped within the confines of his tight leathers. Loki could feel her cool breath through his trousers. "Undo my fastenings. Take me out, Iskalla. Now. I don't like to be kept waiting."

Iskalla did as she was told. Her small hands shook as she tentatively pulled at the ties of his trousers. His large manhood sprung free, and Iskalla gasped, taken aback. She must not have fully realized what she was getting into. Loki smiled, a distinctly masculine part of him crowing in triumph that he was so impressive to Iskalla. Then again, he had never had any complaints.

"Are they always this big?" Iskalla's innocent, wide eyed stare made it hard for Loki not to chuckle.

"No, princess," he said smugly. "There are no men like me." Now get on with it, he thought. The feeling of her cool breath caressing his velvety cock as she spoke was the utmost torture.

Iskalla tilted her chin up at Loki expectantly. "What do you wish me to do now, my prince? I am unsure how to proceed. Will you...um...that is to say, my lord...will you even fit in my mouth?"

"Let us find out. Now wrap your pretty pink lips around my cock, princess, before I die of old age," Loki replied, anxious to feel her wet tongue against him.

Iskalla licked her lips nervously but did as she was told. She attempted to take his large member into her mouth, giving small, inexperienced licks to the head. She licked him slowly at first, and Loki could see her curiously learning and savoring the taste of the salty flesh. A copious amount of his precum was leaking out of the tip onto her tongue. She gave a small hum, as if pleased.

Loki quickly grew impatient at her tentative, kittenish licks as they only further stoked his desire. "Put me in your mouth. Take me deeper. I want you to suck all of me," he demanded as he panted breathlessly.

Iskalla loosened her jaw, attempting to take him slowly into her mouth, unsure of how much she could fit. "Oh norns." Loki moaned as he was hit with the cool sensation of her tongue as she finally drew him in deeper. Still, it was not enough. Loki needed to push himself deeper into her mouth. He wanted her to feel his cock at the back of her throat. Wanted to brand himself onto her. His hands went to the back of Iskalla's head, tangling themselves into her hair as he tried to push her close. "Take me, take all of me," he said in ragged pants. He was on the edge and needed his release. The pleasure was almost too much. He began to thrust eagerly into her mouth, stopping only when he heard her gag. Damn, I forgot how inexperienced she is, he admonished himself.

His desperate cock slipped from her mouth as she turned her head, coughing. Her red eyes were wet from a lack of oxygen. "Are you alright, princess?" he asked gently, masking his irritation at her lack of skill.

Iskalla blushed fiercely, sucking in deep breaths of air. She didn't appear turned off by his rough, dominant ways. To the contrary, it seemed to excite her further. She nodded. "Yes, my prince. Please give me more. I want you so much," she panted, her eyes desperate. "I want only to please you."

Loki felt his desire rise to the point of no return as he sensed her submission to him. "Then please your prince." He grabbed her by the hair again and pushed her towards him, forcing himself passed her lips and into the cold cavern of her mouth. His climax was close as he began to thrust into her mouth again, this time taking a little more care not to gag her. "Oh Iskalla, that's it. Suck it, suck it harder. That's it, princess." The pressure grew as he began to feel himself climb over the edge. "Oh...I'm going to cum. Get ready for it, princess. I want you to swallow every drop like the whore you are."

He was almost there. About to topple right over the cliff into sweet oblivion.

And then, somehow, that very oblivion was snatched away from him. The fabricated illusion of his bedroom folded in on itself, crumbling away like bits of vanishing ash. Reality returned to him.

Loki awoke with a furious start. "Arrrggghh!" Loki roared. He punched his fist into the mattress with such force that the steel frame creaked and bent beneath him. His temper was such that he didn't even notice the destruction.

His neglected manhood ached painfully as it jutted high against his firm belly. He was still hard from the dream and on the painful edge of a denied release. How had the frost witch escaped him this time? He was sure he'd had her. She'd been enjoying herself - wantonly accepting everything he'd demanded of her. I was so close...so close. The little frost whore had nearly taken everything that I had to give her. Soon, I will have her completely. And when I do, it will be outside the 'safety' and realm of her dreams. It is only a matter of time.

He wanted to storm into Iskalla's chambers and force her to finish the job she had started. What right did she have to leave him, a Prince of Asgard, wanting?

Loki began to fantasize about roughly forcing Iskalla to bring him off with her mouth. He pictured his hands grasping the back of her head as he she sucked him just as she had in the dream. As he thought of Iskalla, Loki's hand wrapped around his large, straining erection. He only needed one or two urgent strokes before he was embarrassingly spilling his seed all over himself.

He lay in the wet, uncomfortable feeling of his own spend, hating what he'd been reduced to. She is only prolonging the inevitable by denying me so, Loki thought to himself. She worsened her fate by fighting him. He would stop at nothing until he conquered the witch. There will come a day when I shall have you, Iskalla.

Ruining the ice princess was no longer simply a plan to rid Asgard of her presence. It was no longer a sinful challenge he indulged in to help pass the endless days of his immortality.

It was fast becoming his obsession.

AN: *fans self* I feel like this chapter is the first time this fic really earned that M rating. 😉 haha Hope you guys enjoyed. I'm not sure if I've ~perfected~ my ability to write smut yet.

side note: I don't have too much free time these days due to work and upcoming exams, but hit me up if you write a Loki/OC fic of your own. The holiday break is fast approaching and I'd love to do some reading and catching up on fic during that time. :)

As always, thanks to everyone who reads/follows/faves/reviews. Every time you review a baby Frost Giant Loki gets his wings lolol ;)