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To Hel With It	By : HobNobsAndTea Category: Marvel Verse Movies > Thor Views: 2743 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Written By: Amber Barden, Jade Hagedorn
The Scenario: Loki/the realm Hel
            You are a high priestess in Hel. You're visiting to the palace to pay your yearly tithe to your Queen, Hel. It happens to coincide with a visit from the Queen's father, Loki. You remember him from Odin's court. He has not changed much. His hair is longer and much darker. But you all find him appealing.

            You happen upon him in the courtyard as you wander the cobblestones made of bone. A red hue over the pale moon gives him a sinister light. He has his hands clasped behind his back and is gazing into the starless sky.
            "What is it you are searching the void for, my liege?"
            If he is startled, it does not show. Instead, he continues to gaze upwards, a light wind blows at his back, billowing his hair and tunics gently.
            You are about to turn back, when you hear him whisper on the breeze, "answers."
            Your black robes billow in the same breeze. The red light accentuates your burgundy flesh, deepening the color. You find yourself emboldened by some trick of the moon. "I do not believe I can help you. But I might offer you my company." Your sandaled feet make the barest scrape over the bone cobbles. You sit upon a bench made of a glossy black stone that could be onyx or obsidian or ebony.
            "Is that so?" He says, finally turning his gaze back to you.
            You feel your heart beat faster as that emerald stare bores into your own. He starts to walk about you, sitting on that bench, hands still cupped behind his back. He studies you with those eyes, taking in your appearance like a farmer to a stable horse. You shift uncomfortably.

"Are you aware of the company that I keep? It is not of the same variety my flesh and blood coils about herself."
            If he is studying you like a horse, he'd find you a thoroughbred. You're tall among your people. Your hair is not unlike his, long and black as the void. Your eyes, solid black, the mark of a priestess.
            "I do not make it a habit of trifling in the matters of the gods of other realms." You tilt your head to the side and meet his weighted gaze full on. "But I assure you, lord Loki, I am not the variety my Queen chooses. I am here as a show of fealty to my Queen."
            Loki's lips twitch slightly, his hand suddenly latching onto your chin. His grip is freezing.
            "You certainly are a different kind of breed. One I never expect my daughter to allow in her presence."
            He relinquishes his grip as a palace guard makes his way over to your bench. The guard pounds his iron staff on the ground.
            "My lord, her ladyship requests your presence."
            He nods, bidding the guard to be on his way.
            He slowly leans in, his breath warm, "I, on the other hand, see something more than what she does."
            You hold still. Your pulse flutters in your throat. A seed of fear takes root. He frowns. "I remember you. You came to Asgard with others of your ilk. Offering tithe to the Allfather."
            "And I remember you. Nothing like your family, save your mother. She worshipped with us."
            "And what is it you worship, little priestess?"
            "The chaos that is life. So many of my Queen's subjects are borne of darkness and carrion. Suicide and illness, forever lost to Valhalla. We are charged with easing their suffering should the Queen allow it."
            He tilts his head down. "Would you ease my suffering?" You reach up to touch his temples but he catches your wrists. "I shall find you when I require you." He releases you with a flick of his wrists then stands. "I should like to observe your order."
            You bow your head, placing your hands in your lap. "If my liege wishes." You look up to see his back at the other end of the courtyard. Insufferable Asgardian. You stand from the bench and continue your walk.
            'How dare he,' you think, feeling a small amount of magic filter into your fingertips.

Even back on Asgard, you could barely contain your magic when your emotions reared it's head. It was a flaw in your otherwise calm reserve, one more reason your queen tolerated your presence more than others.
            Then again, Hel was sometimes hard to understand.
            'But look at who sired her,' you smirk.
            You flick a finger at one small stone at your foot, a crackle resounded on the air as the stone split in half.
            The swollen moon dropped lower in the crimson sky. You should head to bed. Morning ritual would be in a handful of hours.
            Your entourage, the handmaidens and initiate priestesses, lay in a tangle of limbs upon the bed. It warmed your heart to see something of the temple in this place so far from home. You longed to join them but the encounter with Loki bubbled in your conscience. Such a confusing creature. He looked and acted like the flower AND the serpent beneath it.

Gathering your robes in your hands, you climb upon a settee. Pillowing your arms beneath your head, you dose.
            But sleep, is a fickle being.
            Your dreams are plagued by emerald eyes and long raven hair. Alabaster skin and cold touches.
            You feel your body respond, even though you know it is only a dream. You ache for it. It burns deep in your stomach.
            The dream turns more vividly intimate, but you startle awake, the details gone instantly.
            The moon barely moved, but you feel even more exhausted. You shift slightly, noticing your womanhood was more sensitive and slick.
            You roll onto your back, wishing for sleep.
            It didn't come.
            "My lady?"
            You snap awake. Your lack of sleep almost painful. You stand and stretch, bowing your back and tawning the air like a cat.
            A bloody sun spilled light into the borrowed quarters.
            You move to the wash basin, cooling your wrists in the water. You splash it on your face, hoping for refreshment but it only serves to remind you of fitful images of cold lips and flesh pressed to yours. You growl and flip the basin. The flurry of activity in the room stops with the splash and sound of broken glass. Gods damn him.
            You sit stoically upon the bed while your youngest and smallest handmaiden brushes out your hair. She dainty places the silver circlet on your head. Another drapes the cloak about your shoulders. You lift the hood over your head.
            The guards open the double doors to let the processional out.
            Loki stands silently in the hall. "Good morning, little priestess. I trust you slept well." His smirk us knowing, challenging you to mention the dreams.
            "You know very well I have not." Your hands are clasped at your center. "My liege."
            He steps up to take your chin as he did in the garden but initiate priestesses brandish daggers not unlike his own. He opens his hand and holds it up then draws it away.

The processional continues down the hall, your entourage eyeing Loki for any sudden or inappropriate movement.
            Loki falls into step with you. "You do no mind my observing your morning ritual."
            "Frigga, Queen of Asgard, worshipped with the every day on our last visit to your realm. So no. But I am afraid you will not be obsvering me. The initiates will be taking my place." The temple hummed with activity as you knelt at the threshold. Unspoken words drift through your mind, 'You kneel so prettily, little priestess.' Your hands twist together but you rise, making no indication of having heard him.
            "I had hoped to observe you."
            "I am no condition to ease anyone's suffering." You level a heated glare at him. His hands twitch. You sit upon the chair reserved for your honour. The Queen sits upon her designated throne. She raises an eyebrow at you and you quickly bow your head. Loki moves to sit beside his daughter as the ritual begins.
            You observe it silently, it is one that you and the initiate's have done dozens of times.
            Your hands make the appropriate gestures, you reply to the correct dialog.
            At one of the quieter lulls, you hear his voice, 'how interesting.'
            Your eyes snap up to his, those dark eyes narrowed, a smirk adorning his mouth.
            'Magic,' you think, weaving the counter spell in your mind.
            You hear him sigh in your mind, 'really, is that necessary? You will only exhaust yourself again.'
            Your eyes narrow at him, 'this is neither the time nor place!'
            'Hardly,' Loki says, 'your order will continue without knowing what transpires.'
            He stands, walking straight towards you. No one notices; in fact, they disappear, the flutterings of his magic playing over everything in the hall.
             "Cease this," you cautiously say, your eyes darting to the empty hall.
            "You worry they will find out? All continues without any issues. You and I are still very much sitting and participating even as we speak."
            "I do not doubt your power, my lord," you say, standing. "But I am needed for the ritual."
            His deep laughter curls around, sliding over your burgundy flesh. "Liar. You and I know that you are fully capable of dividing your consciousness between the ritual and this little tete a tete."
            "My liege."
            He catches your hand as you lift it to ward him off. His cool lips kiss your palm and down your wrist. "Are you a virgin priestess or a mother?"
            Your fingers flex but you don't pull your hand away. Instead, you curl your fingers into his long black hair. "Mother, lord Loki."
            His 'hmmmm' vibrates down your forearm in an altogether pleasant way. "Might I offer myself to you?"
            You fall still. This is a trick. A ploy by the Queen to insinuate her blood into the temple.
            "No." You jerk your hand, the curt downward motion shattering the illusion. The ritual is almost at an end. You stand and storm out of the temple. Loki's fierce following at your back. You'll probably regret this rejection but your ire is palpable. You glide down the corridor like a force to reckoned with.
            You continue through the twisting corridors of the palace, your anger a palpable demon roiling in a red aura about your body.
            He offered himself? Why would he do such a thing? A god of his caliber, mischief, nonetheless, would never...
            You slow your stride, finding yourself deep in an unknown corridor. You turn another corner, revealing a library stacked floor to ceiling with dirty, ancient tomes. You run a finger lightly over a dusty book.
            'Why?' You think, rubbing the dust on your fingers.
            "You found my private library, I see."
            You startled, forgetting Loki followed your angry figure.
            "It is unwise to startle a priestess when she is upset," you managed to say, turning to face him.
            "It is unwise to reject the affections of a god."
            You scoff, placing your hands upon your chest in mock shock. "Affections? Affections. My Queen's father offers himself to a mother priestess. And I'm not supposed to be wary? I'm not supposed to be suspicious?"
            He sidles up to, running his hands down your forearms, cupping his hands over yours. "I assure, little priestess, my sweetling has no idea of my offer." He moves your hands to cup your own breasts. His cool lips touch upon your pulse. "I'm sure she would likely try to kill you or the babe."
            "I'm sure my Queen would do just that if she chose not to use the child as a hold on the temple."
            His teeth scrape your ear lobe. "So once again, I offer myself to you. If."
            You close your eyes, his chilled breath tickling down your neck and chest. "If what, my liege?"
            "If you will ease my suffering. Can you not hear it, priestess?"
            You lay your head back on his shoulder. "Oh I hear it, mischievous one. It sings to me like the loveliest siren song." Your joined hands move down to rest on your belly. "I long to taste it like the sweetest wine." His hands release yours to cup your breasts.
            "Then let us ease each others suffering here, where we won't be disturbed by anyone."
            "Your madness will not let your suffering go. Were I to drink you, I'd be glutted with power." You reach up and grab his hair hard. He growls. "And Hel will slaughter me like a lamb." You twist around, drawing a hiss from him. His glare sends shivers down your spine. You couldn't read him.
            He clutches the back of your neck, pulling you into his chest and brought his lips to yours.
            His kiss was hard, bruising your own, his silver tongue darting inside, claiming your breath. Your voice.
            And damned that you didn't care about the consequences.
            You tangle your hands in his raven locks, biting his bottom lip. Loki's groan reverberated around the room as he trailed his long digits down your back, along your buttocks, hooking the back of your knee. He yanked you into his hips, where you feel his rock hard manhood press into your pelvis. Your head falls back; Loki began kissing the fine column of your throat.
            He growls against your neck, his teeth nipping down a trail to your collarbone.
            Your breath hitches, it had been so long since you have had someone.
            He seems intent on delivering so much intensity onto your skin, you hardly notice that he managed to get his other hand under your robes. He dipped a long finger into your sensitive folds, you let out a lustful moan.
            He smiles wickedly against your heaving bosom.
            How badly would you be punished if you came with child outside the ritual? Would he intercede on your behalf being?
            "Lord Loki, I must know something before we continue."
            He pushes you up against the heavy oaken table, situating himself between your luscious thighs. "What is that, my pet?"
            You lay your hands on his shoulders. "My liege, please."
            He sighs, stilling his hands on the tie of his trousers. "Go on."
            "I desire you. And it would be the greatest honour to carry your babe within me. But I am I to be the mother in the yearly ritual in two moons. If you truly seek to offer yourself, then be my rider for ritual. But if you simply to seek to rut with me, then I must insist we stop."
            "Two moons," he says, leaning back.
            You instinctively press your thighs together, damned if you still are aroused. You watch as he removes his hands away from his body, settling himself upon a high backed chair.
            "Yes," you say, "two moons, and only then will I willingly allow you all of me. Unless otherwise, my leige decides to not be part of this undertaking."
            Loki's head snaps up, "I have lain claim upon you."
            "No," you say, "you have not. Nor have you courted myself, nor any of my sisters in all my years of service."
            The corners of his mouth twitch upwards, "is that what you ask of me? You wish for a god to court you?"
            Your jaw snaps shut, cursing your inattentiveness. Instead of his temper, Loki seems pleased at the prospect. A worthy challenge has finally presented itself to the god of mischief.

"I am intrigued, little priestess. I will court you for those two moons, but-" he leans forward in his seat, holding your gaze, "-I have a few conditions."
            You settle your robes and cloak as you slid upon the table, crossing your legs. You push the hood back and shake out your hair. "I'm listening."
            He looked delicious and frightening sitting there. His eyes devoured you. That damnable ritual. He reaches out like a viper and jerks you into his lap. A voice of fear piques at the back your mind. You lay your hands on his chests, keeping him from pulling you against him.
            "My suffering-"
            "Done," you answer quickly.
            "I haven't finished," he says, "my suffering does not factor into my conditions.
            "You, my little priestess, will only lay with me from now on." His scent permeates a sweet smelling musk, overlaying the scent of paper. "My seed will be the only one to fill you. I will abide by your rituals, but you will be the only one to receive me."
            You shiver but manage to keep him at a distance, even in his lap.
            "That shouldn't be a problem; two of my sisters have constant partners. Your next request?"
            His smile sharpens, "your dreams. I wish to continue these visits."
            "It hasn't stopped you last night, my liege," you grumble, pushing him back slightly.
            "It was to see you beyond the boarders of your servitude. It just...happened into something more." You could hear his smirk.
            "I wish to not be exhausted in the morn, I do have duties."
            Loki snuggled closer, as you allow him an inch, "I cannot guarantee you that wish, perhaps a spell to use in the morning to stave off the fatigue."
            "If you must," you reply.
            "And," he pulled you closer.
            You place a finger to his lips. "Before you utter your last condition, I have one of my own. And know this, my liege, if you break your word, I'll geld you. Then kill you."
            He smirks, his hands massaging your thighs, slowly imperceptibly spreading your legs wider, settling you closer into his lap. "Go ahead."
            "The child stays with me. Boy or girl. You can visit as often as you like. You may even live in the temple with me and the child."
            "Little priestess, my children are shunned and used by my people." His voice is edged in sadness. "Our child would be safer and accepted with your temple."
            "And what of my Queen?"
            "I will make sure Hel does not use her brother or sister to her own ends."
            Your eyes search his face to find a trick or a lie.
            "I will believe you until you give me a reason not to. What is your last condition?"
            He hesitates, a gesture you haven't been privy to see before. He bites his lip as you glide a fingertip below his chin.
            "Your love." He sighs.
            You gasp lightly, mouth parting in a silent exclamation.
            "What?" You whisper, clearly shocked.
            His eyes, those jewel like eyes the color of lush forests starred deep into your own. You tried to find the lie in that expression. Surely he was toying with your emotions, he was manipulative.
            Strangely, you don't see it.
            "Are you capable of such a powerful thing?" You question, "my love will not be toyed with. I mean what I have said; break your word and I will kill you."
            "This is no lie," Loki whispers, leaning his forehead against your own. "I am known for my lies and mischievous nature, but when it comes to the throws of the heart, I am lost. I'm not sure what it is."
            "It isn't seduction," you say, letting him continue to spread your legs a little bit more.

He lightly places his palm atop your belly, as if he could see the yet to be conceived child.

"Perhaps," you cup his cheek carefully, "our courtship will help you to understand it's meaning. It is magic of the highest caliber one does not toy with until they tire of its presence."
            You rub your thumb across his cheek, finally understanding, "you, my liege, will have your suffering alleviated by my hand. This I promise to you."
            Loki's hands glide from your thighs to hold your backside. "I will give you my love but I will not be used." You close your fingers on the hair at his temple. "If I am to love you, you will love me as well."
            His lips curl into a smirk. "That is a dangerous demand, my sweet." Those hands rub up your back to nestle in your hair. "But I will oblige." His smirk falls to a half smile. "Are all conditions met?" You nod. "Splendid." He opens his mouth to speak again.
            You lay your thumb on his lips. "Hush, love." The air shimmers around you both. Your palms hover beside his temples. The suffering pulls from him. Images flash through your mind. Your brow furrows in concentration. Loki kneads his fingers in your hair.
            His eyes close as his head falls back. Ease flows through him. You feel a metaphysical pop and the pressure flows into you. Setting your jaw, you ride the wave, tasting it on your tongue. The sweetest berry had nothing on this. His hands move to pull you down to him, his cool lips devour your throat.
            "Loki stop." His hips press upwards. You cannot control the flow. Your breath escapes you. "Loki. Stop." The pressure becomes too much. It feels to amazing but he caused you to lose your concentration. His suffering opens within you like a black maw. Unchecked power crackles through your hair, along your fingertips. He notices but he does not care. He has you right where he wants you. Well, not quite.
            With satisfied growl, he lifts you by your hips to slam you onto the table on your back.

The shock severs the connection. But you are momentarily lost, swept away in a rush of power. His mouth crushes yours, his teeth cutting your lips. His fingers bruise where they touch. "My god."
            "Yours. Yours til Ragnarok." He presses into you.
            "Stop." Your back bows despite your protests. Your body is enjoying this far too much. "Loki. Stop!"
            Several pairs of hands pull you apart. Raised voices echo in the library. Until you can recover, you hear the words rape and spell.
            "No!"
            "I am his!"
            The room stops. "What?"
            "He has lain claim. He will court me then be my rider for the annual ritual." The murmur is deafening but you can't focus. Loki jerks his arms free of the guards. That is the last image you see before the world tilts and spins. It fuzzes at the edges then goes black.
            His suffering was great, you realize, falling into that dark abyss. Perhaps this is to be your inevitable end.
*
            "You have exhausted yourself once again."
            You turn your head slightly at that voice, cautiously opening your eyes, pain enveloping your senses. A cool hand cards through your dark locks. "Loki?"
            "Hush," he leans above you, curling his fingers gently over your forehead, "you took too much of my suffering, it seems."
            You manage to see the both of you were in your guestrooms, the curtains pulled closed against the day. In the dim light, you realize it is devoid of all furnishings save for the giant bed you lay upon.
            No one else is with the two of you, either.
            "I'm surprised you are with me now, my love," you breathe.
            "We are not," Loki smiles, "I unfortunately am playing host with your unhappy entourage this very moment."
            He seems truly distressed, but places a small kiss upon your forehead. You notice his own exhaustion by the dark circles under his eyes.
            "And it also seems that my sworn one has taken quite a lashing as well."
            "I have carried this burden a long time," Loki's eyes flutter as your hand cups his cheek.
            A sad smile graces your lips, patting the mattress he sat on.
            "Do not waste your magic. Lay down beside me."
            "And then?" He still hasn't given up, a wolfish grin plastered on his face.
            "Rest," your hand falls into a pillow.
            Surprisingly, he complies, pulling your limp body to his own, a sigh escaped his throat.

You watch him, his body completely relaxed and sated along your own. To have him in this state, all to yourself, a side he hardly shows to the outside world.
            "Your suffering was great," you say, "I am curious as to what brought it upon yourself."
            "Many things. But now is not the time. You wish to rest. And wish to show you something. I feel your resistance, your wariness." It was true. You'd been at the palace mere days. And you only seen him in passing once or twice before the chance meeting in the courtyard.
            The memory he shows you is of the courtyard at the palace in Asgard. There you are but you are not a high priestess, you still only an initiate. With several others of your sisterhood. Queen Frigga bows to your mentor then to each of the girls. A guard grabs the viewer which you can only assume to be Loki. You're dragged before the Queen and the high priestess. "We found this one lurking on the other side of the garden." "He is fine." Frigga looks down to him. "Loki, shouldn't you be in the training yard with Thor and Sif?"
            "Yes, Mother. But the Temple only comes once a year. And I wanted to watch them." His shimmering emerald eyes find yours. Yours widen before they drop to the stone. "Who's she, Mother?"
            "Loki. She has given up her name. She will receive it when she is no longer an initiate." He looks from his mother to you. Then how am I to know which girl I am to love?
            You know that he went on to marry Angrboda and Sigyn. "I have married twice. I have sired seven children that I can knowingly and many that are probably mine but I cannot prove. But my first love was a little initiate priestess when I was thirteen years of age."
            The illusion shimmers and you are awakened by a touch on your shoulders. "My lady. The elders have sent word they will prepare to receive Loki in the Temple. They did not, however, sound happy."
            You sigh and roll over into the spot that he had lain in the dream. "They never are."
            You ghost your hand over the spot, imaging him laying beside you. You long to hear his heart beat under your own.
            "My lady, we must prepare you for the ritual."
            You sit up, your aches gone as you prepare.
            You and Loki kneel in the circle of initiate priestesses. One takes your left hand and turns it palm up. She takes Loki's right hand and places it palm down in yours.
            "Do you offer yourself to the mother?"
            "I do." He bows his head and a second priestess lays a silver circlet inlayed with obsidian stones upon his head.
            "Do you mother accept him as your rider?"
            "I do." A third priestess lays a matching circlet on your head.
            "In two moons, you will perform the great dance. Do you both accept?"
            You echo "I do." His hand squeezes yours. Your eyes find his. His voice breathes through your mind. 'Let the courtship begin.'
            The two of you stand, hands joined and leave the circle. The pair of you sit upon a pair of high back chairs.
            He leans in, tucking your hair behind your delicate ear. "You are not participating today?"
            "After our little tete a tete, I passed the ritual on to my apprentice."
            His thumb rubs the back if your hand. "Is she yours?"
            "No. She is my sister."
            He watches the ritual, glancing at you from time to time. He sees the look on your sister's face, the joy, the bliss as she draws the suffering of the Queen's chosen.
            "And what of yours? Are they here or back at the Temple?"
            You remain stoic, but a tear quietly falls from your eye. An old pain from the past, that first and only time so far as a mother, until...
            "No," you whisper, aware of him observing your reaction.
            "Tears mean something more," he gives your hand a light squeeze. "And most times, it means a hardship."
            You blink, another tear trails down your cheek.
            "It means nothing."
            "As a courtship to my chosen, I must know. I recall giving all of myself to you, and usually it is expected of the other to do the same."
            You turn to face him, ignoring the ritual, "my child did not survive it's first night."
            Loki's eyes widen, his haughty resolve softening at the admission.
            "It was my first time. I lain with another nearly three years back, became with child. A daughter.
            "And when it was time for me to birth her, our Temple was overrun by a hostile group."
            Loki draws your hand to his lips and presses them into your palm. "We will speak more of this later. The temple room of Hel is not the place to bare old wounds."
            You share your meal with your priestesses, seated upon the floor. A purposeful knock fills the chamber. A guard bows at the edge of the room. "Forgive the interruption, my lady, but i bear a message from Loki."
            "What is it?"
            "He's been called back to Asgard. He deeply regrets not seeing you before he leaves but he will join you at the temple when he is able."
            You nod. With his absence, perhaps the next few days of the visit would pass quickly.

You were to meet with the Queen before you tomorrow before you take your leave. One can only imagine what she had to say.
            You retire early, the events of the day, the admissions of your earlier sorrows, left you weary. You fell asleep amongst the sounds of the initiates excitedly talking about the return back to the Temple, of the stories they will tell to the others.
            Your dreams were blissfully quiet, a pair of strong arms cradling you throughout the night.
*
            You make yourself presentable the next day for an audience with Hel, your queen. She was one of two faces, especially in the literal sense. Her split face, symmetrical in both unworldly beauty and unworldly ugliness, watched you enter, flanked by two initiates. You bow your head to her seated form, as she swept her healthy hand at the others.
            "You two, become scarce," her voice was both raspy and enticing.
            They quickly bow and leave just as fast.
            Hel stands from her throne, ethereal silver hair coiffed about a crown of feathers and bone. A tattered gown hugged her figure, enhancing both sides of her fearsome beauty.

"Welcome, mother priestess. It has been a long while since your last visit."
            You bow deeply, "it is an honor to be in your presence once again, my queen."
            She steps to the edge of the dias, regarding your meekness in her mismatched eyes.

"Of all the travelers that have graced my realm, he could have lain with anyone." Hel took a step closer, cutting quickly to the chase, "virgin priestess, younglings, my other followers. He could have taken your younger sister. But he chooses you. One who already bore a child now long passed."
            You keep your mouth closed. The daughter of Loki was keen in her own way.
            You knew this was going to be an interrogation, but the ritual, your conditions with Loki, were still going to continue.
            Hel leads you to a private courtyard. "Why do you think that is?"
            "I am sure only your father knows."
            "I do not know if my father is scheming or if he truly desires love and companionship and possibly a child. With one of the most devout priestesses in the order."
            "Again, my Queen, I do not know. He has seemed sincere in his desire and his intention."
            "Priestess, Loki is a trickster. A liar. His silver tongue is known across the nine realms."
            "His reputation is not unknown to me."
            "And you know this will be just another child of many."
            "My Queen, your father, my chosen and I have gone through negotiations you might call them. We have an understanding."
            "Do you think to be accepted in Asgard?"
            "No, my Queen. Hel is my home. I may visit the other realms as my duties within the Temple dictate but I always return." You sit facing each other. "If we are voicing concerns, I should tell you that you are my greatest concern."
            She laughs. "What? Me?"
            "That you will use the child to assume some kind of control in the temple or that you would kill me and the child."
            She simply nods. "You are not as empty headed as I feared. Take this as you may. I will leave you be if you do the same. But do not think I will not be keeping an eye on you. Now, you will take my suffering and share it with your ilk."
            "As my Queen wishes." You knew you'd be open and vulnerable. That she could kill you while you were swollen like a tick.
            You place your hands on her temples. Hel shreds your control. Instead of the steady wave, she shoves her suffering into you like a white hot knife. There is no bliss, no calm. Only pain. Punishment. She was punishing you for garnering the affections of Loki. You grit your teeth and spread the suffering out to those you have been blood bound to, and through them those they are bound to and so on. But you kept the pain to yourself.
            Hel takes your wrists and moves your hands down. You collapse to the floor, writhing and breathless. You do not stop the tears but you don't give her the pleasure of your screams. She watches you with a curious expression. Bless and curse you, you've piqued her interest. She clicks her tongue then leaves you.
            You do not know how long you lay on that floor, her suffering causing your body to twitch unpleasantly. You took it, the pain twisting behind your sweating skin.
            You wonder how many more times you will endure Hel's punishments, if she would do so while you carried her father's child. Surely she wasn't THAT heartless.
            Pushing up with shaking arms, you unsteadily help yourself back onto the bench. You curl your fingers in your dark hair.
            You can only hope that the next two moons of your courtship will be with less pain, but maybe your wishing for something that doesn't exist.
            The Temple teemed with activity. Servants and initiates preparing the Temple for Loki's arrival. They'd been home from the palace for seven sun rises. Just before the seventh sun set, a rider had brought word that Loki would arrive before sunset the next day.
            The Elders had once again expressed their concern and misgivings about not just the visit but the courtship, the ritual and the child.
            "Sister?"
            You look upon your sister. "What is it, child?"
            She kneels at you feet. "I do not think the Trickster seeks to use you. I think he seeks refuge in you from the life he has made. You see through his illusions and the masks he wears."

You cup your sister's face, smoothing your thumbs over her cheeks. "My darling, I have no illusions that he would use me to his own end. But I believe you are right."
            She smiles beautifully up at you. "Is he a frightening as they say?"
            "Yes. Terrifying and beautiful." You look off into the darkening sky. "But, little sister, I have never felt the desire I feel with him with another. I know he has lain with many and will likely not be faithful but I cannot resist him." Your eyes meet. "I do not want to resist him. I want to lay with him. I yearn for that child. I yearn for something to give my devotion purpose.
            You are grown and you will either leave to another temple or you will be the mother next year. I need purpose." You stare off at the same spot. Your sister watches you silently. "My broken god and the child we seek might very well be that purpose."
            Your sister pops up and kisses your cheek. "If he can make your aura shine like that, then I will receive him with the warmest welcome." She bows and scampers off to help prepare the Temple.
            The day passes in a flurry, servant's scampering for the final preparations to the Temple. It had been a long time since someone of great import came from Asgard. Even more so, the second in line for the throne.
            You wait patiently atop the long set of stairs leading up to the Temple, your sister just behind your left shoulder. More of the initiates lined the walk of the stairs, living sentinels awaiting an attack. Even in the safety of your home, the others fear another raid, another failed ritual of life.
            Deep down, you empathize.
            He arrives in a small procession on horseback, four of Asgard's elite following behind. A pair of man servants with the Tricksters personal effects trail after.
            Upon seeing you, his smirk and his voice are in your head, 'good morrow, my dearest. It has been far too long.'
            'I am in agreement, my love.' You focus back.
            He dismounts, taking the marble stairs at a slow stalk.
            The others don't draw their daggers this time as he takes your hand, placing a chaste kiss atop your knuckles.
            "I have missed you," he says, "I trust your dreams were adequate?"
            Surprisingly, you blush, happy that the fall of dusk hidden it from the others. Portions of your dream selves were even more scandalous with each passing night. The things he could do with his hands and that dexterous tongue.
            Especially the night before; his fingers slowly thrusting into you, his tongue lavishing on that swollen bundle of nerves between your legs...
            "Ah, yes. They were...refreshing."
            That devilish smile returns as he straightens. His visit, though difficult to discern how it will go, will not be boring.
            "My sisters and I welcome you to our home," you say, accepting his offered arm.
            "Is it not my home as well? For you are my chosen. My heart." You walk side by side into the temple.
            The Elders stand stoically upon the dias. "Loki of Asgard. Welcome to the Temple Of the Burning Sea." He bows to them. "Thank you for receiving me. As well as consenting to my courtship of-" One of the Elders holds up her hand.
            "Know this, Giant, if you show any impropriety that consent will be revoked."
            "I understand."
            "We will receive evening repast in two hours. You are free to move about the grounds. As the rider of the annual ritual, you are a member of his temple and privy to all that entails."
            The Elders bow then file out. "They are a fun bunch."
            "They have lived as long as the Allfather, my sweet. They know many things. They seek to groom me for their ranks one day."
            He spins around and takes your chin. The heat in his eyes is frightening and arousing. "No. I will not have my heart dead in a robe, drinking the suffering of suicides."
            A furrow forms in your brow. Your lips perse. "Then what am I to be?" You twist and jerk away. "Simply because you are a Prince of Asgard does not mean I will simper and fawn. Nor does it mean that I will become a broad mare. Bearing your seed until my body gives out."
            He tries to take your chin again and you smack his hand away. He seizes you at the back of neck and holds you still. "Silence your shrewish ramblings." You glare at each other. "It seems we have things to discuss."
            "Yes we do."
            He softens. "Let's not fight, my heart. I have missed you." He holds to still, tipping you head back. His thumb caresses your jawline. "Where are my quarters, dearest heart?"
            "It is this way," you tug on his arm, putting your differences on the back burner for now.
            You lead him deeper into the temple, the halls lit by sconces dotting the walls, tapestries adorning huge expanses of bare grey stone. High arching windows overlooked an arboretum spilling with fertile green life.
            You accend a staircase, the living quarters spreading out before you. You push open the nearest door on the left.
            "It isn't much in the ways of what you are accustomed to on Asgard," you waved your arm, lighting torches along the perimeter of the room, "but it is adequate for our needs."
            He steps inside, taking in its furnishings; a low table and couch, a writing desk, around the corner a washroom, a black dresser and expansive bed. It was layered in thick carpets of various sizes, adding a sense of comfort.
            "It is comely," he nods, turning to face you. "Where are yours?"
            "Inaccessible to you. Until we are united, we will not share private quarters."
            Loki pursed his lips, "this will be a long two moons."
            Your hands frame his face, "and yet, you continue to pleasure me in my dreams."
            "Enjoyed that, did you?"
            You looked to the side, "I won't deny it, I have never experienced such a thing before."
            "Not even from your first rider?" His eyebrows raise.
            "No. It was something that needed to be done. Pleasure to myself was not on his mind."
            He gone quiet, then queried, "perhaps we can continue our conversation we were having earlier."
            "Must we?"
            "We are in safer settings, Hel won't hear what you have to say."
            You help Loki out of his leather and metal and down to his linen dress. He lounges on a couch, laying his arm along the back. Raising an eyebrow, he waits for you to join him. You gather your robes in your hands and step into the couch. Curling your legs under you, you sit in the curve of his body.
            He turns your head so that he can look into your face as you speak. "So tell me, my heart."
            "My little one chose to arrive early. On the day she chose, we were attacked. A group of suicides who sought to send a message to the Queen and the Temple by attacking the most prosperous temple. We were not prepared. Most everyone was celebrating baby's arrival. We lost many."
            The tears sting your eyes but he does not let you look away. His troubled emerald eyes drinking in the lovely shimmer of your tears in Tit blackened eyes. He touches your chin, his thumb caressing the edge of the bone.
            "I took an arrow to the side where I lay curled around her. I used my body to protect her. But the arrow pierced through me and into her." You can still hear her screams. They didn't last long though.
            "May I see?"
            "You will see soon enough."
            "Please." You sigh. Drawing the robe up, you expose your thigh and bare hip. A pink puckered scar is mirrored on your front and back. He leans down and places his cool lips upon it. His hand grips your hip, thumb rubbing over the hollow. Your chest tightens.
            "Please, don't," you whisper, tears trailing down your cheeks.
            He hesitantly takes his hand away, helping to pull your robes back down. It was all too much, your memories of that day twisting in your mind like poisonous snakes.
            "There is more, isn't there?" His said, a touch of sorrow colouring his question.
            You bit your nail as the memory, oh, how terrible it was.
            You keep his gaze, "the archer who did so... was the one I had lain with."
            Even Loki was taken aback. He jerked in your arms.
            "He must have been taking intel," you were calm at this exchange, "and they waited for the right moment, where we were the most vulnerable."
            Fresh, hot tears gathered in your eyes, the pain despairingly fresh. Your sobs breaking the calm exterior you wrapped about yourself for three years. No one, not even your younger sister ever seen you in such a vulnerable state.
            You feel his cool, strong arms wrap protectively about your body, his chin resting atop your hair.
            When your tears quieted, he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. "I am sorry that happened, my heart. How did the meeting with my daughter go?"
            "She hates me."
            "My love, Hel hates everyone."
            "I worry, my liege. I worry the baby and I will have to leave the Temple and leave Hel."
            "If that is the case, I will handle it."
            "How?" You sniff, curling your fingers in his green tunic.
            He merely looks at you with so much love in those eyes, you wonder if he ever for a moment stopped loving you. "I have my ways."
            You swallow, his scent and his body grounding your emotions. His lips, so near yours, grabbing your attention.
            You raise your gaze to his, "kiss me."
            Loki's eyes take in your expression, slowly leaning over your body and claimed your full lips.
            It was a completely different experience from that first stolen kiss in the private library. Where that one was forceful and rough, bruising harsh with want; this one was soft, careful in its thoroughness, tender affection with each meeting of your lips. The slow sensuality as your lips mould to his, heating your skin.
            Was this what love is? Perhaps you are unsure of it's power either.
            He pulls away slowly, his pupils dilated in the flickering firelight. You lick your lips, tasting him upon your tongue.
            Your fingers find his hair, teasing your fingers through it. "Have we tempered enough to discuss our disagreement in the chamber? Because I have had enough talk and should like to just lay here with you."
            "Then that is what we will do." He shifts to your left side and onto his side. His fingers ache to explore you, to touch you. But if he tarries down that route, you will not make it to the ritual untouched. He sighs, deeply, drawing his eyes down your body. But you are no fool. You feel like his gaze as good as a touch.
            "Perhaps I should leave my liege to rest before the meal."
            "I think not. Two days at my daughter's palace and a handful hours here have not quenched my need to look upon you. I have waited so long." His fingertips ghost over your belly.
            "The Trickster god come unhinged by a lowly priestess."
            "There is nothing lowly about you, my heart. But you definitely unhinge me. I shall be a master of control by day. And hungry beast by night."
            "Devouring me in my dreams?"
            "Whole, my heart. And revel in the taste."
            You cheeks flare red. You body clenches in desire. "You should not say such things."
            "If you think you become hoarse in your dreams, wait until I may have you in the flesh."
            A knock echoes in the chamber. "Enter!"
            "The Elders are ready to receive you, my lady, my liege."
            "We are coming."
            His fingers dance down your arm. Curling into your hand then wrapping around. You walk in comfortable silence to the Elders' chambers. This should make for an interesting meal.
(Next Chapter -->)
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To Hel With It