**PLEASE READ**

I'll be honest here-censoring this chapter in order to comply with the community guidelines for FF was frustrating. *sigh* For those of you who might wish to read the full uncut version of this chapter, which contains sexual content of a more graphic nature, head over to . It is not simply gratuitous smut, but rather a significant emotionally charged scene for Loki and Sigyn. I've done all I can to keep the spirit of this chapter, despite cutting it down, but ugh...

Chapter 7: Blóð Seiðr.

(Continued from chapter 6)

Every inch of Sigyn burned (quite literally) for Loki. Pulling at the roots of her hair, he angled her face up to his, not breaking their heated kiss, and walked her backward so forcefully she nearly tripped over her dress. Her back collided with the bedpost behind her, and pressing into him, she slid her hands from his neck down to the hem of his shirt.

Taking the hint, he pulled away, and gripping the back of his shirt, he yanked it over his head. Her jaw dropped, openly gawking at the exposed pale skin of his lean chest and torso, and the v of his hips, barely concealed by the low waist of his pants. She'd imagined what was hidden under all that leather many times, but even her fantasies couldn't compare with the real thing. Gods, he was absolutely gorgeous.

Strong arms encircling her waist, he lifted her, and she wrapped her legs around him. He dropped her onto the furs atop his bed, and settling on top of her, his hair fell down into his face as he gazed down at his woman. Her dark locks splayed across his pillow, cheeks and chest flushed red, lips dark and swollen as she reached up to push his hair behind his ears. Lips parted, he breathed heavily. Valhalla, could she have been more alluring? (Yes, once she was naked she would be.) He lowered his mouth to the pulse point in her neck, and she moaned in response, scraping her black nails down the lean muscles of his back.

"Fuck," he raspedーSig had talons.

Being in this position with her felt better than he could have imagined, and damn had he ever imagined. Over and over. The thought of her underneath him had been on loop in his head for nearly two months now, and here he was, finally, her toned smooth legs, skirt bunched up around her waist, cradling his still clothed hips. (He couldn't wait to remedy the still clothed part.) He was plenty experienced in bed, but it hadn't been with anyone significant. This was Sigyn, though, and she wasn't just some fun cat and mouse pursuit. No, she was a different story altogether. He cupped the back of her head and brought her mouth to his again.

"Loki, please," she begged, struggling to breathe (in the best way) around his long agile tongue.

Hearing his name catch in her throat was like having his heart squeezed too tight, and something about it made him even bolder than he'd intended to be with her. And he was a pretty godsdamn bold lover in the first place. Mouth hovering over hers, he licked her plump bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth, and when she pulled his hair and moaned in response, he bit down on it. Alright, maybe a little too hard. She hissed, blood seeping from the split skin, and he licked the little wound he'd created. Eyes narrowed, she bit back, and damn did it hurt. He bled, but he didn't care. She'd already bloodied up his back.

A small sublime eternity later, after she'd rid him of his pants for the most intense sex of his life, he collapsed on her. He steadied his breathing and, realizing he was probably crushing her, propped himself up on his elbows, his fingers twisting in her hair, eyes locked with hers.

Every single thing about her was breathtaking. She was everything he had ever wanted, and what's more, she was his. What good thing had he ever done to deserve her? She moved her hands from his hips, up his ribs, down his arms, and finally entwined her fingers with his. Beneath his chest, he felt her heart slow to match itself to his as he ran his thumb over her red stained mouth.

"Your lip bleeds still, Sig. I'm sorry for biting you."

She lifted her head, kissing him. "No, you're not, you trickster, but it's fine. This is going to sound strange, but I am literally feeling everything you feel."

He ran the tip of his finger up her throat and along her jaw. "It's not strange. I know exactly what you mean," he said with a smile.

"I felt for a moment that I became you," she mused out loud, furrowing her brow.

He nodded in understanding, and ran his finger along her jaw, tracing the curve of her chin up to her mouth. He held the finger up, now red with a hint of blood, and looking at her still, licked it clean.

"It's called blóð seiðr, darling."

Her mouth formed an 'o' and she gazed at the beautiful lofty ceiling, unseeing.

Blood magic.

Did this mean that she would now not only feel his pleasure, but his pain as well? Had they just woven themselves so tightly together that nothing but death could cut them apart? Did she even want to be cut from him? No. She most certainly did not want to be cut from him. She'd never felt so complete, so happy, so...

In love.

Seated on a plush red and gold sofa in front of the huge fireplace in Odin's bedchamber, Frigga stared into the flames, feeling more than a little nervous. Odin had called for her, and it was odd for him to do so this late in the day. It was near time for night meal. He was going to tell her something she didn't want to hear. She could feel it. Odin leaned forward on his chair across from her, elbows on his knees.

"I've set a date for the coronation," he said plainly, as though it were a simple matter, with no weight whatsoever.

Her heart dropped into her stomach as surely as her face fell. It shouldn't hurt to hear those words. After all, the coronation would be a joyful occasion.

For Thor.

Covering her mouth with her hand, she blinked back tears and hung her head. "Oh, Loki," she said under her breath.

Her son would be crushed. They'd all known the day would come when Thor would be crowned king, but her youngest had longed for the throne, or at least he'd longed for the favor that had been shown to Thor, since he was a boy.

Shaking his head, Odin rolled his eyes. "You dote on him far too much, Frigga. You forget that you have two sons."

Incredulous, she scoffed and pushed up from the sofa, her blue eyes narrowing to slits. "I forget? How can you say such a thing? You should look in the mirror!"

"Frigga-"

"I am quite aware how many offspring we have, Odin," she snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "A mother's love for her son cannot be outmatched," she continued. "I assure you, husband, that I love Thor and Loki equally. I also know that you once told Loki he was born to be a king. This will break his heart! Have you no pity at all?"

The memory of the small pink baby with a black tuft of hair and green smiling eyes sliced through her heart. She'd loved Loki instantly just as surely as he'd loved her, wrapping his tiny hand around her finger.

"You are twisting my words, Frigga, and you know it. You know as well as I do that that was not a lie," Odin said, rising to his feet, angry at her clear preference for Loki, "but Loki cannot sit on the throne of Asgard. And you, of all people, know why. There is nothing left to discuss other than the arrangements for Thor's coronation."

Without uttering a goodbye, she marched straight to the doors, the face of a black haired wide eyed little boy stealing a bouquet of flowers for her pulling a painful sob from her throat once she was in the hall.

The moons of Asgard shone on Loki and Sigyn, their cold naked skin gleaming blue in the moonlight. He hovered over her, pushing her down, burning her back against the snow covered stone beneath her. Wincing at the cold, she arched her back up from the frozen ground.

His body offered no sanctuary from the painful cold, and she choked on a cry as his skin darkened to a deep royal blue. He gently brushed off the tiny frozen tears on her cheek, his teeth chattering against hers as the sharp black icicles that were locks of his raven hair fell in clumps onto her face, shattering on contact. He cried out in agony as each of his cold limbs ceased moving, bones becoming ice.

She wanted to rip herself away from him, but his frozen body was a heavy shackle over her. Pain twisting every nerve ending, she pushed and pulled against his ice encrusted frame. Her pale crystallized skin fought the cold, black smoke swirling beneath its thin surface.

It started as a small opening, a rip in the skin below her belly button, where Loki's ice had trapped her against him, billows of onyx mist escaping through the wound as she writhed in pain, her body heating beyond a bearable temperature. Her body melted the frozen prince, his ice becoming nothing more than cold water as the dark flames encircled him, burning his cold blue flesh. The whites of his eyes, the green irises and black pupils, became hot (too hot) and burned red.

Hundreds of ravens suddenly appeared circling and cawing loudly overhead, and pulling her hands from the back of his head, she covered her ears. His eyes, wide with fear, followed the birds as he came to his knees pulling her up with him.

Menacing growls then pierced through the birds' incessant crying. They stood to their feet, his magic enveloping and protecting them from not only the cold, but from the dark creatures peering through the trees. Wolves, salivating with hunger, stalked them on all sides.

Without warning, the ravens dove for her, swirling around her, and she screamed as their sharp talons pierced her skin. He tried to yell for her, but no sound escaped his mouth as the ravens took her into the snow filled clouds, his silent cry cut off by powerful jaws chomping into his leg.

He kicked the black canine and reached for the dagger that should have been, but was not, in his boot. Looking back up, his eyes met with bared fangs. Twenty of them, at least, snarled and snapped at his ankles. His magic failed him, and they launched themselves at him.

Loki shot upright, drenched in a cold sweat and shaking, pulling his body from Sigyn, who was still asleep next to him. Fenrir came out from his hiding place beneath the bed, concerned for his master, and Loki flinched, nearly falling off the bed at the sight of the wolf before remembering where he was. His chest heaved, and bending forward, he put his face in his hands, his body convulsing with quiet sobs.

The nightmare had been too real. Fenrir pushed his muzzle into Loki's hair, earning a weak pat on his furry head, and convinced that Loki was fine, he ran to the balcony, jumped over, landing solidly in the garden below, and ran off in the direction of the forest, presumably, to find a small animal to eat.

Sigyn shifted, opening her eyes slowly and ran a hand through her hair and over her face. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief that she was awake, she sighed. Loki had been in her dream, and he had changed. He'd become ice. His eyes had turned red and his skin, blue. He'd looked Jotun, of all things. Ravens had then wrenched her from his arms, and she'd watched wolves kill him. She didn't want to know why she would dream such a thing, and thanked the Norns silently that she didn't have the gift of foresight, at least she didn't think she had that gift. Well after that dream, she certainly hoped not. It was probably just a healthy fear of losing a loved one that had caused the nightmare. Or maybe she'd eaten something rotten. Wrinkling her nose, she shrugged it off. She wasn't about to let the hair-raising dream pull her down from the high Loki had given her.

Wanting to hold him, she started to reach across the sheets. She'd barely moved an inch when he was suddenly on top of her, his large, cold hands grabbing her face. His warm mouth covered hers, kissing her desperately, as though she'd just come back from the dead.

"You're here," he whispered against her mouth, his voice hoarse.

He wrapped his arms around her ribs, crushing the air out of her lungs, and she kissed him back, thinking this was the way to wake up. But why did his lips feel different? She felt more fear from him than passion. And what was wrong with his voice? Grabbing his face, thumbs running along his cheekbones, she noted they were wet. Had he been crying? Yes, he'd been crying.

It took her a moment to realize he'd had the same dream thanks to their new blood bond, and clearly it had rattled him more than her. His reaction was alarming, and she could hardly just shrug off the dream now. As he held her, she deconstructed the dream as best she could.

She'd seen Huginn and Munin flying around earlier. That explained the ravens, right? The wolves had shown up, without a doubt, because Fenrir had crawled under the bed. Why the Hel had her stomach been ripped open, though? And why would Loki have injured her? Then she'd been pulled from Loki? She was in control of her own actions, and no one could pull her away from him. She would never leave him. But what if...

Someone takes him from me.

Eyes blown wide, fear reared its ugly head at the thought. No. It was just a stupid dream. It meant nothing. He was just overreacting.

"I can't bear the thought of losing you, Sig," he muttered into her hair.

She wasn't just a bedmate. She was a soulmate, if there was such a thing. She meant more to him than anything in the nine, and she could be gone in an instant, leaving him broken and hollow. Seeing her picked up by those ravens, it had felt as though he was falling from her, more than her being taken from him. It had felt so real, and it had shaken him to his core. This was insane. He was behaving as though he was in love with her, and that was more terrifying than the nightmare.

Frigid playlist:

7. "Wake (E-bow)" by Crywolf