Chapter 11: Frigga's Will

Iskalla sat at her windowsill, staring out at the darkened sky. It was night still and she had just awoken from her latest dream. She knew she wouldn't be getting anymore sleep that evening. Her own imagination had frightened her.

Loki's final, harsh demand kept echoing through her mind.

"Oh...I'm going to cum. Get ready for it, princess. I want you to swallow every drop like the whore you are."

The words had been responsible for jolting her awake. He called me a whore, she thought to herself. And I…liked it. Loki had been rough, commanding, and domineering. He had treated her no better than a lady of the night. What was wrong with her that she enjoyed it so? What was wrong with her that she would think up such things? She was uncovering a side of herself she hadn't known existed, and one that she was not sure she liked. Such things went against everything she had been raised to believe. Despite her shame, Iskalla could still feel her own arousal at the memory, curled warm and hot in her belly. Her undergarments were uncomfortably slick with her feminine arousal.

It was not real, Iskalla reminded herself. It does not mean that I truly want Loki or that I desire such things in my waking hours, she tried to reason.

But even if that was so, looking the prince in the eye again would be no easy feat.

My dreams have turned to Loki so many times now. Will this futile longing ever cease haunting me?

Iskalla struggled to lace up her dress and fidgeted with her hair in the mirror. This is a lot harder than it looks, she thought to herself. She was unused to being without the services of a handmaid yet she did not regret firing Ysmay.

Iskalla was still fixing her hair as she heard a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" she asked.

"It is I, Lady Sif, the Asgardian Goddess of War. May I enter? I was ordered by the All-Father to attend to you as a guard," the female voice replied.

"You may enter, although I do not believe a guard is necessary. I have requested self-defense lessons because I intend to take care of myself," Iskalla explained.

Iskalla's door swung open to reveal a tall, striking woman with long dark hair. The woman was fitted in silver and red armor and had a long sword strapped to her back. Iskalla recalled having seen her before; the woman kept company with those Thor called 'The Warriors Three'.

Sif strode into the room.

"A warrior's skill cannot be learned overnight. Do you not think it wise to have a guard present until you are at least proficient in self-defense, princess?" Sif quirked a dark brow.

"I am certain that I will be fine. I am going to attend a dress fitting in the All-Mother's quarters. You do not need to follow me, but I appreciate that you have come by. Have a good day, Sif." Iskalla not-so-discreetly tried to dismiss Sif.

"I am sorry if my presence is not welcome, my lady, but I am under orders by the All-Father to accompany you wherever you may go. Do you not think I would rather be training and further mastering my craft than watching you braid your hair? I am a goddess of war - not a einherjar. I have as little choice as you do in this. The All-Father does not wish a repeat of the attempt on your life," Sif explained adamantly.

Iskalla was annoyed by the woman's insistence. She felt as though she was being treated like a fragile piece of glass. Does the All-Father truly think me so weak? Still...perhaps a guard would not be such a terrible idea. At least until Iskalla attended a lesson or two. Sometimes, when she was alone with her thoughts, Iskalla could swear she still felt the sting of Maiken's phantom blade.

"If there is nothing I can do to turn you away, you may follow me to the dress fitting. But you will stand outside and not interfere with my day. Is that understood?" Iskalla realized there was no winning this argument.

"Yes, princess. I will be sure to stay out of your way," Sif replied, sounding resentful of being relegated to 'Frost Giant sitting' duties.

Iskalla and Sif made their way to Frigga's chambers.

"Stay outside," Iskalla ordered Sif.

Iskalla tentatively knocked on the door. She was not looking forward to trying on her wedding dresses—the thought of marrying Thor made her ill—but she was eager to start on her self-defense lessons.

"Do come in Iskalla, I've been expecting you," Frigga greeted warmly. "Are you ready to try on your gowns?" she asked as Iskalla made her way into the room.

Iskalla's eyes moved over the clothing racks that held the many opulent designs that the Asgardian seamstresses had made for her. While the gowns were undeniably beautiful, Iskalla could not bring herself to feel any excitement.

As Iskalla perused the gowns on the rack, she began to think of what she knew of Jotunn wedding traditions. I wonder if I will have to mate with Thor in front of everyone to consummate our union as I would on Jotunheim. That would be...unpleasant, she shuddered. These gowns are so feminine and soft. Nothing like what we have on Jotunheim. Her fingers traced the silky fabric of one of the gowns. Jotunns rarely wore so much material, as the cold was no threat to them. Most Jotunn brides wore nothing but a small fur covering that preserved their virtue for their husbands. Jotunn brides were also released into the wild to procure a hunt for their males before the consummation of their marriage could take place. It was supposed to prove that the women were warriors and could birth strong, fierce young.

"See anything you would like to try on first?" Frigga asked as she watched Iskalla.

"This one looks lovely," Iskalla replied, trying to muster up some enthusiasm in her voice.

One of Frigga's handmaidens fetched the white gown off the rack and handed it to Iskalla. Iskalla took the gown and walked behind the changing screen. She pulled the gown on and scowled at her reflection in the mirror as she closed the gown's fastenings.

"Oh! You look so beautiful!" Frigga exclaimed as Iskalla walked out from behind the changing screen. "I think your first instinct was correct, my dear. I believe that dress is 'the one.' What a picture you will make on Thor's arm." Frigga's gaze studied Iskalla in her dress. "Oh, but I see that you left one of the fastenings undone. Let me help you with that."

Iskalla turned around as Frigga began to tend to her, pulling the laces to cinch Iskalla's waist.

Frigga's eyes were bright as she smiled at Iskalla affectionately. The All-Mother seemed truly delighted for her son's upcoming wedding. Iskalla felt almost guilty for not returning the sentiment.

Frigga had been nothing but kind to her since Iskalla's arrival in Asgard. They frequently chatted over the banquet table and Iskalla had noticed the woman jumping to her defense more than once. In fact, Frigga treated Iskalla better than most other Jotunns (with the exception of Tulling and Isbitier). Odin had been decent to Iskalla, too, but the old god was distant and closed off in the way of most kings. I might not approve of my betrothed, Iskalla thought, but at least I can tolerate my new mother-in-law.

"You know, my dear, originally Odin wanted you to marry Loki, but your father rejected the offer," Frigga commented nonchalantly as she finished cinching the dress. "I'd like to think that either way, I would have gained you for a daughter. For that I am grateful."

Iskalla felt her pulse quicken at the new information. "May I ask why he rejected the offer, my queen?" The curiosity would kill her if Frigga deigned to answer.

Frigga's mouth tightened with displeasure. "Your father was of the opinion that Loki was an illegitimate member of our family due to his adoption. He claimed to be insulted that Odin was offering the 'inferior' prince into a marriage contract with his daughter. In order to appease your father, Odin gave Thor to you instead." Frigga shook her head. "To make myself clear, it does not matter to me what your father believes. Loki has been, and always will be, my son. In my eyes, Loki is no less equal than Thor."

For some unknown reason, the thought of nearly being married to Loki made Iskalla's heart skip a beat. She wondered what her life would have been like if she were engaged to Loki as opposed to Thor. She couldn't help but be disappointed at the way things had turned out. At the very least, Loki would have been the lesser of two evils, she mused. Perhaps on our wedding night, he would have been as skilled in the bedroom as he is in my dreams. The thought of consummating a marriage to Loki wasn't nearing as frightening. She had a feeling she would have enjoyed herself.

There was also the added benefit of Loki not being a raging drunk. Iskalla could not remember a single time since arriving in Asgard where Thor had not reeked of ale. "Frigga, do you mind if I ask you a question about Thor?"

"Of course, child."

How to go about this delicately..."I cannot help but notice...has Thor always...partaken in the consumption of mead with such, um...vigor? Has he always been this way?" Iskalla hoped that she was wrong and that her future husband wasn't quite the alcoholic lush he appeared to be.

Frigga seemed hesitant to answer Iskalla. "Thor has been under much stress since his father's announcement of your wedding. I am certain he is no less nervous than you must be. I am afraid he is not handling it as well he should. It will pass...with time. Of that, I am sure."

"Thank you, All-Mother. Your words bring me comfort." Iskalla hoped Frigga was correct in the assessment of her son, even if she doubted it. "I have been thinking of how I can be a better wife to Thor and I believe that as his wife, it is my duty to be able to defend myself in battle so that he would not have to worry about my safety. I do not want to be another burden of the throne," Iskalla began nervously, hoping Frigga would not deny her wish. "I would like to begin training in the ways of battle."

Frigga's eyes studied Iskalla intently. "The All-Father has given you Sif as a bodyguard. But still...I can see that you wish to be independent. I respect that about you, Iskalla. I myself undertook self-defense lessons and can handle myself on the battlefield. Being able to defend oneself is an admirable quality and a wise move for a queen. I will arrange for the lessons as soon as possible."

Iskalla felt the first real smile grace her face that day. Frigga's approval and complimentary words were both strange and wonderful. Iskalla had never experienced parental approval before. Isvann had merely tolerated her until she reached maturity; and then he had quickly married her off, all too eager to be rid of his runt of a daughter.

Frigga smoothed down Iskalla's dress and gently guided her towards a large, gold mirror. "Do you not wish to admire yourself? You will be one of the prettiest brides Asgard has ever seen. Loki will not be able to pry his eyes away from you," Frigga said confidently and with a hint of pride.

Iskalla's head snapped up as she craned her neck to look at her queen. "L-loki, your majesty?" she stuttered.

The All-Mother rose a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Loki? What about Loki, my child?"

"You said 'Loki,"' Iskalla repeated, her voice raising with emotion. "That 'Loki' will not be able to pry his eyes away from me!"

Frigga laughed as though she was amused. "You must be mistaken, Iskalla. Why would I make mention of Loki? I spoke only of Thor. I said that my Thor will not be able to pry his eyes away from you."

For a brief moment, Iskalla thought she glimpsed a spark of mischief in the queen's eyes—the same look that Loki often sported before he was about to cause trouble. I must be losing my mind, Iskalla scolded herself. My dreams are starting to bleed into my reality. I only hope Frigga does not see right through me. I doubt very much she would approve of my sinful lusts towards the wrong son. My betrothed's very own brother, no less! She decided to drop the subject lest she make herself more suspicious.

Iskalla smoothed her fingers over the wedding dress. "Yes," she lied. "I do hope I will look pleasing to Thor. I cannot wait to wear this as I walk down the aisle." Iskalla hoped that her words sounded sincerer to Frigga's ears than her own.

Loki walked to his mother's chambers as he responded to her summons. He found Frigga standing regally on her balcony, a blue shawl around her shoulders, as she looked out at the view of Asgard before her.

"You summoned me, mother."

"Yes, Loki." Frigga turned around to greet him. "I have a request to make of you. I would like you to train Iskalla in the ways of self-defense."

"Mother, you cannot be serious, and if you are, surely Lady Sif can see to her training. I do not understand why you would wish me to do it," Loki protested. Though on the inside, he was intrigued. This will suit my plans to get closer to the princess nicely.

"I would prefer that you be the one to train Iskalla. You are both Frost Giants - you know her capabilities better than anyone here. If there is anyone who can bring out Iskalla's full potential, it is you, Loki, not Lady Sif," Frigga insisted.

Loki scowled at the reminder of his true heritage. "If you believe it is wise for me to train Iskalla, then I will not protest further. Besides, the girl has required saving so many times already it is almost comical." By the norns, the princess must have a death wish. Since her arrival, Iskalla had narrowly avoided being struck with Mjolnir, had been stabbed by Thor's disturbed wench, and then, for the pièce de résistance, the healers had almost accidentally murdered her. It has become ridiculous at this point. What is next? Will she trip on her own gown and break her neck?

Frigga paused, her eyebrows lifting at Loki's easy compliance. "I'm pleasantly surprised, my son, I thought you would require more convincing."

"What can I say mother? I am, after all, a good Samaritan. I am always eager to serve Asgard in anyway I can," Loki said as he winked at her. He knew Frigga would detect the playful sarcasm in his tone.

Frigga shook her head, but there was a small smile tugging at her lips. "Of course, my son. You know I think the world of you." Unlike Loki, her words were genuine and from the heart.

Loki pushed down how her compliment pleased him. "When would you like me to begin training my new pupil?"

"As soon as possible, Loki. I fear that with Iskalla's luck, more trouble may not be far behind..." Frigga reasoned worriedly.

Loki bowed his head. "As you wish, mother."

Iskalla followed Sif towards the Asgardian training arena, excitement nipping at her heels. She was keen to begin her training. Frigga had provided her with her own traditional Asgardian female armor of which she was wearing. Iskalla was not used to the stiffness and weight of the armor. It would take some getting used to. She did, however, enjoy the surge of fierceness she'd felt as she'd put it on.

"What will you teach me first, Sif?" Iskalla asked just before they reached the arena doors. As they approached, Iskalla spotted a telltale flash of green and gold.

"I will not be teaching you anything, princess. I have been informed that Loki will be your trainer," Sif said over her shoulder as she swung open the doors.

Iskalla was shaken to see Loki standing proudly in the middle of the training arena. He smirked widely as he caught Iskalla's startled gaze.

"Iskalla, Sif." Loki nodded his head to acknowledge them. "I'm afraid I must temporarily relieve you of your charge, Sif. I can assure you that the princess is in good hands," he put on thickly, his smile widening even further.

Sif eyed Loki suspiciously. "Do not try anything, Trickster. I will be waiting right outside that door. If I hear so much as a whisper of Iskalla requiring my assistance, it will be you who will be 'relieved' of your duties."

Loki stared at her smugly, unaffected by her veiled threat. He simply waited for her to leave.

Sif scowled and turned on her heel, exiting the arena.

Iskalla almost wanted to call Sif back. She felt terribly exposed without the warrior's company. It was the first time Iskalla had been face-to-face with the prince since her most recent dream. She knew it was illogical, but she felt a great sense of embarrassment. He does not know what I have been dreaming. He can't possibly know how corrupted my mind has become, she tried to reason. Nothing that transpired between us was real. My feelings are silly - I need to gain control of myself.

It did not help matters that the prince looked more handsome than ever. Iskalla's eyes wandered over his lean, muscular form. Loki was so different from Thor. Loki was strong, but still graceful and compact. His green, gold, and black armor fit him snugly, revealing the lines of his biceps, and his defined chest. Iskalla's eyes moved lower; she could not help but notice his strong thighs and the way his leather pants fit him like a second skin...her breath caught in her throat as she noticed how his trousers clung to the prominent bulge of his manhood.

It appeared her dream had not been far off.

"You are my trainer?" Iskalla sputtered, darting her red eyes quickly back to his face. She prayed he had not noticed her slip. Please tell me I am hearing things. I will never maintain my composure if I am to work so closely with him. She was already on the verge of flushing just from her own silly mind picturing them pressed together as they practiced hand-to-hand combat.

Loki looked her up and down, his disdain clear. "Mother forced me to train your worthless hide. I did not wish to displease her," he replied bitterly. "Though I doubt any amount of training will make a warrior out of you."

A look of realization washed over Iskalla's face. "Frigga sent you to teach me Frost Magic, didn't she?" She would have bounced on her feet in excitement had her armor not weighed her down. "That is why you are here!"

Iskalla had always longed to learn Frost Magic. She had never been able to summon it at will. Her father had refused to train her, claiming that she had no place on the battlefield. He believed it was an unbecoming and unnecessary skill for a young lady to possess. When Iskalla had been defending herself against Maiken, she'd felt a surge of her hidden frost abilities. She longed to access that power again.

"What? No! You foolish woman. I will only be teaching you Asgardian battle techniques. Why ever would I teach you something so abhorrent?" Loki protested angrily.

Iskalla was not deterred. "Why else would the All-Mother send you? You are a Jotunn, as am I. It only makes sense. You will teach me the magic of our people!" she insisted.

"I will only say this once, as it has still not penetrated your thick skull! I am no Frost Giant! I do not wish to teach you their magic - I do not wish to speak of them or think of that race of monsters in any form! I have never, since your arrival, been so reminded of my perverted heritage! I will not encourage you in the barbaric ways of Frost Giant culture, or tolerate mention of them from this point forward. Do I make myself clear, frost princess?" Loki's temper had been unleashed.

Iskalla felt her own temper ignite in response. She was hurt and exasperated with Loki's stubborn denial of his true self. "No! No - it is not clear! Why do you hate yourself so much? Your blood flows through both of our veins because we are the same! Why can't you understand that? What have the Asgardians done to you? We both come from a proud heritage, Loki! There is nothing shameful about either of us! You have known me for a while now, am I truly so bad?"

All at once, the wooden weapon rack behind them exploded with the force of Loki's power.

Iskalla's red eyes widened as she jerked back in alarm, caught by surprise at his violent outburst. However, she quickly reclaimed her nerves, jutting her chin high as she held his gaze stubbornly.

Loki said nothing in response. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides. His green eyes were burning into her with a world of hate. She could sense the internal struggle that was surely going on in his mind.

Iskalla was once again shocked at the sheer force of Loki's self-hatred. She'd believed that he was refusing to teach her Frost Magic out of spite. Now, she thought better of it. Everything he had done to her had been born out of his own self-loathing.

Iskalla almost regretted her outburst. Her voice lowered pityingly as she watched him. "I see through you now," she admitted softly, striking him with another verbal blow. "And I feel sorry for you..."

Loki's rage hit the roof.

"You? You feel sorry for me? A Prince of Asgard? That's rich, ice princess. You, who have nearly gotten yourself killed almost every day since your arrival - you dare to pass judgment on me!" Loki shouted, an angry vein in his neck pulsing. "Tell me, princess, what do you know of pain? How would you feel if you were left on a rock to die by your own father? How would you feel if the one who took you from your home—the one who raised you—taught you to believe that you were one thing when you were really another! All my life, I had been told by my own 'family' that Frost Giants were monsters - and all the while they raised one in their midst! And you want to know the best part? I was told this lie for more than one-thousand years! I have even been given the name God of Lies by my own people. I used to think it was due to my skill at trickery but now I wonder if it is because of all the lies they had told me!" he shouted between ragged breaths.

Iskalla stared at him, stony faced, throughout his entire rant. Her red eyes were swirling with something—sympathy perhaps—but she showed no other signs of having heard him. Her cool composure felt like a slap in the face after all he had revealed.

The princess took a breath. "Your story is not as unique as you think, you know," she said softly. "I had a twin brother, one who never even received a name. He was a runt, like you, and he was left out to die. My father was angry that all he seemed to be able to sire was undersized offspring. I was forced to suffer the brunt of his fists and his disappointment many a time. He only saw value in me because I am female, and was therefore an asset instead of a person - someone who could advance his political connections. He locked me away in a tower. My handmaidens were the only friends I ever knew. Suddenly, without warning, I was transported to a land where I was hated everywhere I go. Your 'people' even had the natural sharpness of my teeth shaved down so that I could better please an Asgardian male in bed. You tell me, Loki, are we all not monstrous in our own way? Is one truly worse than the other?"

For a moment, Loki was left speechless. He did not know that the Asgardians were capable of something so brutal. They shaved her teeth down, he thought to himself. Norns, that is vile. He cringed slightly at the thought.

"You are not the only person who has suffered," Iskalla said plainly. "I spoke to Frigga. She truly loves you. That is more than I ever had."

Loki felt a sudden pang of guilt of at the mention of Frigga's love, but smothered it before he could dwell on it. He found himself needing to retreat from this verbal battle between himself and Iskalla. He did not like the way the princess was making him question his own beliefs, or the way she was making him feel. What right does she have to analyze me? She does not even know me. She is nothing but a stupid girl who falls prey to my manipulations every night. If she only knew...he thought indignantly.

"I think this was enough 'training' for one day, princess," he said in a tight, clipped voice, pretending he had not just borne the brunt of her outburst. Loki quickly turned to leave.

"But we haven't even…" Iskalla began to protest.

Loki ignored her as he strode from the room, leaving Iskalla alone with her thoughts.

Later that evening, Loki lay in bed reflecting back on Iskalla's words. He did not wish to enter Iskalla's dream that night. Odin only knows what that stupid girl will say next, he griped to himself with a heavy sigh.

He stared out his large bedroom window at the moon, drumming his fingers on his pale chest in contemplation.

Though he tried to push his and Iskalla's heated conversation from his mind, he found that he could not. He had to admit to himself that the ice princess was getting to him. Loki continued to think of Iskalla until he fell into a restless sleep.

AN: Wow, look, I have 49 follows (and hundreds of views according to FFnet's stats). Amazing. And yet, only 2-3 people (if that) are kind enough to review each chapter. I do this for non-profit because I enjoy sharing my creativity with others. But part of that joy is the feedback. How will I grow as an author if I never hear what you guys like or dislike about my work? I might as well be posting my work into a void.

If you guys can't be bothered to review, I can't be bothered to update. Fair?

For those of you who have been reviewing, I am beyond grateful to you. You have kept me going this far. I would never leave you hanging and am willing to send you updates somehow. Just let me know.

Peace out.

Hawt4Loki