Chapter 13

Sigrid had never cared much for men in armour. Between Vanaheim's silvered armies to Asgard's golden Einherjar, she had seen quite a lot of them. Day after day she would see women fawn over the metal and the helmets and she would wonder if she was missing something. That all changed when she caught sight of Loki in his jousting gear.

He looked mighty fine, she decided, with the metal suit encasing his body. Loki had never been a small man. Slender, yes, but towering over most of the crown and muscled all the same. With the armour he looked huge. Like he could pick Sigrid up with one hand and carry her around on his shoulders. Maybe, after the game, she could ask him to help test her theory.

"Loki is doing well," complimented Gri. She sat next to Sigrid on a chair that was less decorated on her own. "Has he done this before?"

"Once or twice." The tournament consisted of eight teams, and Loki and her father had managed to beat out two of them. Leif and Lord Erling had beaten three. If Loki and her father won this next round it would come down to the four of them for the win. "He isn't fond of it, but he knows how much it means to my father."

Gri nodded. "Ivan speaks very highly of him. I'm pleased to see he lives up to the praise." Sigrid narrowed her eyes at the woman. She spoke of the king with such casual affair that it was hard not to let her mind wander to what the basis of their relationship was. "Princess, you look troubled. What's on your mind?"

I'd like to know if you are sleeping with my father.

"I'm just wondering how it is I've never met you before." She mentally chided herself for the rude, invasive thought. "Even as a child, I knew Lord Erling well. Why would I not have known you?"

The permanent smile on Gri's face never faltered. She brought her hands to her knees, which Sigrid noticed were as steady as rock, and said, "Travelling was a well-loved pastime of mine before my daughter was born, and I often stayed for years at a time. I actually met you once the day you were born."

"You did?"

"Yes," she nodded. "Your mother and I knew each other well. I was due to leave for Midgard the day her water broke and I stayed back because your father was such a mess and I knew Lilibet was in no state to handle him. I sat by her bed side for her entire thirty hours of labour, and when you finally came, I was the third person to get to hold you."

Sigrid bit her lip. She felt even worse now for what her mind had almost convinced her to ask. "I never knew that, or that you knew my mother." Gri shrugged.

"Well, I left soon after. Your mother had painted such a wonderful view of Midgard in my mind that I just had to see it for myself. You know she was from—"

"The Middle East," Sigrid supplied. "That's where my father met her on one of his trips to Midgard. He loves it there."

"Rightfully so. Midgard has such beauty if you know where to look for it. Maybe you could go one day?" The suggestion intrigued Sigrid. "Perhaps with someone special?" Her eyes strayed of their own accord to Loki. He was on his horse again, facing a lord with a shock of orange hair. Sigrid thought hard as she tried to remember his name. "That's Lord Bjorn. He was not at your welcoming before. Very prejudiced, that one."

"Would that speak of trouble for me?" Sigrid wanted to know.

Gri, noting that she had alarmed her, patted her hand. "Of course not. The opinion of one bigoted man does not matter when it comes to the rest. We all know how he gets and he is not exactly favoured." Gri gazed upon the lord again. He had shoved a helmet on his head with much force, shoulders rolling back in a menacing way. There was only one word that came to Sigrid's mind to describe him.

"He strikes me as a bully," she told Gri. The face she received was confirmation of her guess. "I must say he looks rather angry. Papa said this was all good fun. Lord Bjorn must not have gotten the message." Hairs rose on the back of Sigrid's neck as she watched Loki face the lord. They both took their positions, lances at the mount, and awaited to signal to begin.

The whistle blew. Both men tightened their grip on the reigns. Two horses white as milk came charging at each other. Sigrid leaned forward in her seat. She hated jousting, that was true, but watching Loki compete had taken the bore out of the sport. He was just too fascinating not to watch as he held his lance, shoulders thrown back with skilled confidence as he tapped the edge of Lord Bjorn's chest plate with the tip. Lord Bjorn did not fall, so the two men took up residence at their respective starting lines.

It was subtle what happened next. The whistle blew again, and the charge began. Loki had switched his form to a more forward favouring position. He knew more weight was needed to knock down the mountain of a man. Lord Bjorn, however, had a different idea. As their horses neared, he swung his lance laterally and caught Loki in the middle of his chest. He was knocked backwards off the horse and landed with a rather sickening crash.

"Loki!" Sigrid flew to her feet. The guards around her tensed for trouble. "That's not allowed, is it?"

"No, it's not." Gri had a hand to her mouth. Her eyes were filled with the concern of a mother. "You cannot reposition your lance mid-ride."

Sigrid gathered her skirts. "I must go to him." She ignored Gri's call to wait for her guards and high-tailed it down the steps. Her shoes for the event were not made for running across such hard ground, and they threatened to slip off with every step. By the time she made it to Loki she knew they would no longer be wearable.

"Loki?" She slid to her knees beside him. Mud and grass stained the yellow of her dress. "Loki, can you hear me?" She took his still helmeted face in her hands.

"I'm fine," he grit out, face contorted with pain. Sigrid felt like crying seeing him struggle to mask it. "Just a scratch."

"Here." It was Leif, reaching down to help Sigrid pull Loki to his feet. "We should take him to the healers. Lord Bjorn is known to sharpen his sticks and by the looks of that," he motioned to the dent in Loki's chest plate, "he went overboard this year."

"BJORN, WHAT THE HEL WAS THAT?" She heard her father yell. He had been across the field when the accident occurred and was now up in the face of the carrot-haired man. "THAT IS NOT HOW THE GAME IS PLAYED!"

Lord Bjorn appeared indifferent. "If the boy cannot take a hit—"

"You swung your lance to his chest!" snapped Erling. "You're supposed to avoid vital organs!"

"A mistake," Bjorn shrugged. "So goes the game."

"I saw you," Sigrid snapped. She was supporting Loki from his right, Leif on his left, and glared daggers at the man. "You did that on purpose, I saw you. Did you really need to win that badly?"

Lord Bjorn's lips pulled back in a sneer. It revealed yellowed teeth that spoke of too much smoke and not enough hygiene. "Who asked you, you half-breed bitch?"

Loki's arm lifted from her shoulder. It shot out towards the man, grabbing him around his thick neck. "What did you say to her?" Loki gave a shake. "Say it again so I can cut out your tongue!"

Sigrid and Leif shared a startled look. They each latched on to an arm and tried to pry the lord out of his grip. Still, Loki held fast.

"You heard me," Bjorn coughed. His face had turned a comical shade of red. "What are you, her lover?"

"ENOUGH!" The king's command echoed through the field. Everyone stood still. Her father moved to Loki's side. He placed a hand on the shoulder of the trickster and gazed upon the man he was choking. "Loki, son, release him. I will take this from here." With what looked like great difficulty, Loki obliged the king's command. He stepped back towards Sigrid, who grabbed ahold of his hand.

She noticed then that something was off. Loki's body ran cooler than usual, so she was used to the difference in temperature. This time, however, his hand was not just cool. It was cold. "Loki.". He looked down at her. Sigrid clapped a hand over her mouth. "Your eyes…"

His eyes were glitching, switching between his foam green and flat red. Her alarmed look made him glance at his hand. To both their shock, it was changing between white and blue with a dangerous frequency. "I—"

"You have to go," she pushed him. "Quickly now, while everyone is still distracted." Loki was still staring at his hand. Half his face was now overrun with streaks of blue. "Loki!" she whisper-yelled.

"R-right." He waved his hands. The portal appeared, weak at first then round and smoky. "I will—"

"Go," she stressed. "I will deal with my father, go." Before he could protest, Sigrid shoved him through the green smoke.

ooOOoo

Loki stumbled out of the portal and tripped on his slippers. He pitched forward, catching himself with one arm before he could whack his head against the bed post. His hand— his blue hand— clutched the bed sheets in disgust. In one swift movement he had ripped them from the bed and thrown them to the ground. Pillows and goose feathers rained down on the marbled floor.

He tore the armor from his body, searching for the object that would give him a better look at his state. Heavy feet—the feet of a monster—carried him to the reflective glass oval hanging on the far wall. His steps were staggered as he approached the mirror, and when he saw what stared back, he nearly put a fist through the glass.

Blue skin and red eyes, so deep the pupil could not be seen, taunted him from behind the mirror. The skin of his face, previously white and smooth, was now a sickening blue and shot through with tribal markings of his true nature. It was a disgusting sight to behold. How, how could Odin have kept this from him? How could he even stand to have him as a son? Why had he not left him to die?

Even his own parents had not wanted him. Loki was too weak, too small; a disappointment even as a babe. No wonder Odin refused his and Sigrid's union without consulting him first. He was not worthy of her. A headstrong, intelligent princess with a throne to secure and a realm to rule. Sigrid did not need him as a hindrance. She had been overtly gracious with her friendship and now… Loki looked looked at his reflection again.

He willed himself to slip back into his Aesir form. It should have been effortless. Transformations were one of the things he was known for. Men, women, snakes, horses; he had done them all. Yet when he let the tingle of seidr wash over his body, the result was less than impressive. His Jotun form shimmered at the edges. White patches of skin polka-dotted his body from head to toe before fading back into blue.

"Argh!" He brought his fists down on the stand below the mirror. The sound of splintering wood filled the air. "Change!" he commanded. "Right now!" Again, he tried to change to his preferred form, and again he failed. He was too worked up, he guessed, for the magic to take effect. From his Aesir from to another was no problem. But the one he was born in? Not so simple to cover up.

Loki looked upon his self for a third time. A tear fell from his eye, freezing on his cheek before it could even roll halfway down his face. How fitting, he thought bitterly, I cannot even cry in this wretched form. He flicked the frozen tear off his face with a vengeance. It ricocheted off the wall and flew behind him.

"Ow!" Loki stiffened on hearing Sigrid's yell. He turned his head just a fraction to see her rubbing her forehead in the doorway of his room. "Loki what was that?" She saw him then, in his Jotun form, and her eyes widened in understanding. "Oh."

Sigrid's eyes were glistening. She had a hand to her mouth, out of fear or pity, Loki could not tell. He knew he must look like a savage to her. Only his face had been visible the first time she had seen his form. Here, clad in only the form fitting, knee length pants he had worn below his armor, she could see him in his entirety.

"Please leave." His voice was a raw beg. "Please, I cannot turn back and I do not want you to see me like this."

His words seemed to speak to something deep within her. She snapped out of her daze and shut the door behind her. Afterwards, she turned to him with a disarming look. "I'm just going to—"

"Stop!" Loki saw her foot take a step towards him and panicked. He backed up into the stand behind him. "Don't come any closer!"

Sigrid's hands flew up in surrender. "Loki, it's okay. I'm not afraid of you, I already told you this."

"That's not what this is about," he stressed. "I could hurt you. I can barely even control when this thing comes out."

"You're not hurting me now," she said, beginning to walk towards him. "You've never hurt me, and I know Odin would have put a spell on your skin so as not to cause burns to anyone."

"Sigrid…" His tone was a warning. "Sigrid, don't."

"I'm not leaving you alone like this," she told him in a stern voice. It was rare when Sigrid would get authoritative, and when she did it was hard to break her out of it. "Not when you're so upset. I'm staying." She was standing in front of him now, brown eyes flitting over his face thoughtfully.

"Sig—"

"Can I touch you?"

Of all the things Loki expected her to say, that was not one of them. "What?" He watched her like she had lost her mind. "You want to touch me? Like this?"

"Like what?" There was open challenge in her tone. "What's wrong with the way you are now? You change form all the time. What's the issue now?"

"The issue is I am a monster, Sigrid!" His voice had risen to a shout. "A-a fiend in a scary story meant to scare children into listening to their parents. It is not the same as when I turn into my other forms." He gestured to himself with his Jotun hands. "Look at me!"

"I am looking at you," she told him. Gingerly, she reached out and touched the tip of her finger to his upturned palm. Loki let her slide it along his hand until their palms were pressed together. "I'm looking at you very well, in fact." Her other hand met his free one, both sliding in unison up his forearms to his biceps. "Fascinating."

Fascinating? Went his mind. She must be mad. What's fascinating about you? The little voice was back with a vengeance, and this time Loki did not fight it. He agreed with it. Sigrid must have gotten a screw knocked loose during the tussle in the arena.

He had to admit, though, that it was much harder to believe the voice with her hands on him. They were like little mittens of fire against his cool skin, burning a scintillating path up his arms, over his shoulders and down to his chest. They lingered for a while on his pectorals before sliding further down to his stomach.

"Ticklish?" she asked when Loki had stiffened. Her hands roaming places of his body that they never had before was causing a well-known stirring below. It seemed to even please the little voice inside him, which was now panting like a dog in heat.

"Something like that." He winced at how breathless he sounded. Loki was a man who had been with all sorts of races. Men, women, elves and all genders and species in between. Sigrid's touch, bold and inexperienced, should not be having this effect on him.

"Hmm." Her hands had managed to maintain a proper distance from his waistband, for which he was glad. Loki was not sure how much more his will could be tested. Now they moved back up his torso and around his neck. He felt her body move into his as her fingers played with the hair at the nape of his neck. Loki had to grip the stand behind him with both hands to prevent himself from pulling her closer. "I don't understand it."

His eyes had closed during her ministrations. Upon her statement, they opened again. "Don't understand what?"

"This whole thing." One of her hands came to rest on his cheek, stroking the skin with her thumb. It was mind-boggling how insouciant she was to be near him in this form. "From so young we were taught that frost giants were these ugly, atrocious beasts. They told us to stay away because they would surely kill us if we came across them. But now…" She let her thumb trail across his lower lip, drawing a ragged breath from his chest. "Now my only thought is for you, and how magnificent you are. I cannot begin to fathom how there is anyone in the nine realms who could not want you."

Blood rushed in his ears. "Who could ever want me after knowing this?"

"Me." The answer was quick, precise—an admission if he had ever heard one. Even Sigrid seemed taken aback. Her mouth formed a little 'o', face remnant of a blind man whose sight had been restored. "I wantyou." The words were like a prayer. "I want you."

Loki's heartbeat stuttered. "Sigrid…"

She kissed him then, a press of her lips against his own that shook every fiber of his being and sent his mind running wild. Not only was she kissing him, but she was kissing him in his Jotun form. Never would anyone on the other realms think of having such relations with a frost giant. Yet here she was, moving her lips against his in the sweetest way. And who was he to deny her?

His hands found her waist, sliding around to settle on her lower back. Loki pulled her closer—because she could never be too close to him—and placed one hand below her chin for leverage. He used it to slant his lips against hers, deepening the kiss in a way that made her moan in the back of her throat. Unlike his other relationships, he did not fight for control. There was no burning need in his chest to do so. All he wanted, as he had wanted to for some time now, was kiss her.

So he did just that. He moved his lips in tandem with hers until she was gasping for air and had to pull away. She came back for more rather quickly, and he obliged. None of the kisses of his past had ever felt like this. Even Fjor, whom he could say with complete certainty was his first love, had never managed to make his entire body feel like it was on fire. Loki felt as though he would burn to ash. Every nerve in his body whizzed with electricity and he felt like floating, floating, floating…

Let us in.

He fell to the ground again. The voice was back, and this time it had a different goal in mind; Sigrid.

Let us in.

Loki refused. He ignored the voice in his head in lieu of placing kisses down Sigrid's neck. Her gasps from that night in the tub now lived in the corners of his mind, and when he pulled louder ones from her, a wolfish grin lit up his face. "Loki!"

Let us in.

"Yes, darling?" His voice was a tease, strained by the fight in his mind.

"Do that again," she murmured. Her pupils were blown wide, shoulders rising and falling in heaves. A ponytail held her hair back from her face and allowed the low-cut sleeves of her dress to show off her bare collarbones. The way she looked pleased him, and by frightening extension, the voice in his mind. When it spoke again, Loki could not fight it.

We are coming in.

ooOOoo

In truth, Sigrid had not planned on kissing Loki until it happened. The tension between the two had been building for a while and it had reached the point where something had to give, but if anyone were to make the first move she would have bet money on it being him. She never would have guessed it would be her until she did it. Now that she had, she was a little furious with herself for not doing it before.

Kissing Loki just felt right. It was as though she had been building a puzzle her entire life only to find that he was the final piece. His lips, though blue and cold, moved against hers with a softness. Familiar hands gripped her waist like a lifelike and she never wanted him to let go. She just wanted him to keep clutching her to his body.

Sigrid broke the kiss first. Her need for air overpowered her need for him. It gave Loki the perfect opening to move his mouth to her neck, paying it some attention that resulted in a breathy gasp. His name tumbled from her lips, and he teased her for her obvious need. Heat pooled between her legs and she threw all caution to the wind. Sigrid was too far gone to stop anything now. That one kiss had snapped everything into focus, and she decided that whatever happened now happened.

It was as though Loki had read her mind. One minute his lips were on her throat and the next he was picking her up. Sigrid squealed as her feet left the floor. Her back hit the messy fitted sheet of his goose feather mattress and the wall before her gave way to the canopy atop his bed.

Loki settled himself between her legs. Red eyes set in his handsome blue face fixated on her with a hunger. A low growl emanated from deep within his chest, and for a moment, Sigrid was not sure who was on top of her. "Loki?"

"Yes, kitten?" His voice sounded both like him and not like him. It was layered with something heavy—guttural even—that sent a thrill of excitement up her spine. This only magnified when his lips returned to her neck with a sucking force, licking the little love bites to soothe them before moving on to another patch of skin. A little part of her worried over how she would cover the marks. Loki was leaving no fraction of her neck alone. If anyone saw the- "You're not paying attention."

The roughness of his voice registered in her mind. "Huh?"

"Your mind is elsewhere," Loki told her, a dangerous glint in his eye, "and I need it here." Cools hands descended on her thighs, sliding up the expanse of skin and taking her dress along with it. They paused at her hips, where just the thin cloth of her underwear separated his hands from her most private place. There was a question in his eyes, the most himself he had been since he had flipped her onto the bed, and she gave a little nod.

Two strong fingers pushed inside her underwear, connecting with the flesh at the apex of her thighs. He lifted a brow of satisfaction at the wetness he found there. "What is this?" Loki ran his fingers through her folds. The feel of his cold fingers on her heated flesh made her whole body shudder. "Is something the matter, pet?"

"J—Your fingers are cold." She sounded like one of those wanton hussies who followed Thor and Loki around town in hopes of finding themselves between the princes' sheets.

"Oh," she could hear the grin in Loki's voice. "Then let's warm them up."

Sigrid almost bit through her lips when he pushed his two fingers inside of her. Her hands scrambled to grip his wrist, needing something to hold on to lest this feeling of pleasure take over her too soon. "Loki—". Her voice was a moan.

"Yes?" His nose nuzzled at her neck, fingers curling within her in the most delicious way. No answer came from her lip; just a high-pitched, desperate whine. It was ridiculous how close to the edge she was with such little stimulation from him. "Okay," he murmured, "it's okay." His fingers kept their pacing, heel of his palm massaging her nub. Sigrid could feel her breath coming faster, shallower. Her walls began to clamp down on his fingers and just when she felt herself begin to tip over the edge, he removed them.

"Loki!" Her voice was a hiss. "Why—"

"Patience." He gripped her thighs and adjusted his lower body. Sigrid groaned when his hips jerked against hers, pressing his hard length against her panty-clad core. "See?" He ground his hips into hers, eliciting a whimper from her. "Isn't this better?" A weak nod of her head was all she could manage.

Loki chuckled low. His waist never stopped their movements. Sigrid was still so stimulated from before that she knew her end was near. There was no lasting long occurring here. Her entire body burned with need.

"Loki…" She let her hands wander to his behind, cupping it with fervor as she pressed him deeper against her. His lips attached to her neck once more. He gave a gentle bite, then darted his tongue out to smooth the dents in her skin. "Loki."

"We're almost there, kitten." The urgency in his voice mimicked her own. He, too, was nearing his end. His voice was nowhere near as breathless as hers but the strain in it was palpable. Both his hands rested flat on the bed. Blue lids lagged over crimson orbs, pants of cool breath fanning against her face. "Almost there."

Sigrid screwed her eyes shut. The pressure in her lower stomach had mounted to an uncomfortable degree. Loki's motions became sloppy. His grinding stuttered and swayed and hit the places she needed it too. Her nails bit into the fabric of his pants, back arching her up and into his body. One of her legs hooked around his waist. The other splayed to the side. It provided the perfect angle for her to feel all of him; every little thrust of his hips and every twitch of his member.

She came without warning, insides flowing like molten lava. It was so sudden that it yanked a scream from her throat. Had any of the guards been in the vicinity of the room, they would have come bursting in to see what the commotion was about. As luck would have it, most of them had remained at the arena.

"Fuck." The curse came from Loki, hips giving shallow thrusts into her own. She felt his body shudder apart above her. His head fell into the crook of her shoulder, chest heaving against her own. The only noise that could be heard was the sound of harsh breathing as they came down from their highs.

Neither of them spoke in the aftermath. Sigrid, for one, felt there was nothing to be said. She had heard Fandral boast about post-orgasmic clarity before and she had dismissed it as a joke. Now she knew it was not. Her mind was the clearest it had ever been. Everything made sense. The colours around her were more vibrant than ever. Sounds were like music, a melodic symphony that told of life and joys and love.

"S-Sigrid?"

"Yes?" Loki's voice sounded more normal. It was back to its usual suave tones, with none of the grit from before. When he lifted his head to mask at her, she noticed why. His Jotun form was fading away. The blue skin retracted into his body like a black hole sucking up a universe.

"What did I do?" The music stopped.

"C-come again?" The red of his eyes lightened to a pink, then the usual scleral whites came into focus. Little by little his Aesir form resurfaced. The temperature of his body rose a few degrees, indents on his face filling out into porcelain skin once again.

When his eyes returned to the ones she knew so well, and she saw the horror register in them, Sigrid knew that things were about to go south.