Chapter 1: Cool Breeze
Loki steamed behind the plexiglass, pacing…he hated waiting. He had the patience, he merely disliked having to use it. He wished to get on with it, carry out his mission. He wished to be as he should be: a great king, ruling Midgard as it should be ruled. He'd been trained well for this; failure would be nothing but his own fault and the god would not, could not, allow such a thing to happen.
A thud came from behind, he ignored it. He would not give the Avengers or any pathetic mortal the honor of his attention; it was mere curiosity at a choked yelp that caused him to turn. The sight was darkly beautiful...Crystals crawled up stone walls, across metal flooring. It spread over monitors until the cold cracked the glass. Loki watched with increasing interest as frost began to coat the outside of his cell.
“You know…” a man taller than even himself stood, pinning guard up by the throat between wall and himself. “You’d think they’d know better than to leave a Frost Giant in a cold, damp, cell.” His eyes glowed red in delight.
With blue set in place by the Mind Stone Loki’s eyes grew violet as he grinned. “And who might you be?”
“It does not matter, my Lord, I’m but a humble servant of my King.”
“Of Jotunheim…” A flick of the wrist, the guard drops dead. Quick strides to the control panel and he hits the release button. “Of our people…” He grins into his bow. “Of these people.”
“Yes…” Loki steps out of his containment. “Yes…I like this.” His body swells in prideful delight as the man goes lower, kneels without question. “I like you.”
Chapter 2: Cold Snap
“Just do it already.”
The tense change here is intentional.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
You move only eyes to take in the audience. Men cracking jokes and making lewd comments, women cowering in the back without word. You glare, refuse to show the terror you feel even as your body’s shaking gives you away. Who’d have thought the frozen streets of a destroyed planet would be the safer place.
“I ask for Helen of Troy…” a voice slithers down the hall. “And you bring me Angrboða in dwarf form.”
Even without fully understanding you know it’s an insult, an attack on your appearance. Like you give a fuck; as with the others you go to glare towards the voice. Your breath catches at the sight of Loki and, behind him, a second, larger, man with crimson eyes. You’ve been sold a lamb for the slaughter.
“She just needs cleaning up,” the man who bought you insists. “Bath and new clothes, she’ll beat out any of your others, I assure you.”
“You shouldn’t make assurances to your king that you can’t keep,” Loki warns darkly in his approach. When a foot away he finally seems to truly look at you. “Strip.”
There’s a split second you think to fight, run, but given those around you - men with monstrously hungry eyes, women without the spark of life - you decide to obey. Angrily, defiantly, obey. This supposed god is looking for a fight, for a reason to hurt, so you won’t give him the satisfaction. You’ll do exactly what he says, when he says it, and let him feel your hate the whole time.
Men cheer, whistle, as you toss shirt and bra to the floor. They ogle breasts you don’t bother to cover as you continue until standing nude before your planet’s new ruler. Loki grins, your jaw locks as you focus solely on him. “Anything else?”
“Shhhh…” he half-coos, encircling to take in your curves and edges; you’re underfed, but otherwise healthy. “I don’t need your words. I don’t want them.” He smiles a twisted fraction when his face returns to yours. “Not yet.”
You arch brows to repeat the question he won’t allow you to ask.
Loki grins viciously. “Bend over that couch.”
Brows furrow before you half-snort and do exactly that. The women shudder, men cackle. Except for the biggest in the room, he still lounges against the frame of the hall with red eyes watching indifferently. They all know what’s coming, but so do you. This monster can fuck you all he wants, in front of anyone he wants, that doesn’t mean you’re his. That doesn't mean you'll just break apart.
Hands pet through matted hair, down bare back, as if Loki were trying to calm a skittish animal. As if he cared. As if he wasn’t getting painfully hard in smelling that fear under all your bravado. Fingers pause at the small of your back, spread out onto the curve of your ass as he undoes trousers.
…You wait…prepare for intrusion…but nothing happens…
The god explores with ice-eyes only, hand still settled on ass as if you were part of the furniture. He watches the soft rise and fall of your back, the twitch of muscles slightly strained in your bend. Fingers gripping the couch on either side, toes digging into soft carpet. Loki watches your head lift slightly to glance around, but allows it. Foolish mortal, looking for sympathies where there are none. Looking for leverage when there was none to be had. You were in his world, in every way imaginable.
The big one catches your eye, a corner of his lips flick up, but you can’t read him. You take a deep breath, anticipation driving you to a brazen act. “Just do it already,” your voice shakes despite the gutsy words. You didn’t need the giant’s grimace to let you know you’d made a mistake. “AH FUCK!!”
One strike of Loki’s hand is enough to move the couch with you, release tears and weaken knees so you nearly crumble. Your whole body flares in pain, breathing labors and an off-kilter sensation flows over you, but you don’t get to recover. You don’t even get to fall as Loki’s on you like a beast in heat. Leg is forced up onto the back of the couch, exposing you farther, as he shoves cock inside until you scream at the stretching. Till you’re crushed between him and couch that moves with every one of his thrusts.
Men cheer, hoot and holler and chant encouragements to their god. They ask how pleasurable you are, how tight you are, how wet. They beg you to be shared and laugh when you nearly tip over the couch itself. The pain of it remains even as pleasure begins to mix in, as juices finally begin to flow and ease the length of Loki’s cock along.
Fingers stuff themselves between you and the couch, find your clit. “Nah…” You try to give yourself room, push him away, but he rubs faster until you give a cry. It’s worse as the pleasure increases. As Loki expertly manipulates moans, then cries, of arousal from you. “Nah…Nah, stah…I…” Whatever last bit of control you had over your body Loki takes with a cackle. You can feel him everywhere, body and mind, as arousal builds towards climax despite the disgust.
“Don’t you dare fucking come,” Loki growls hot rage in your ear as he snaps head back by the hair; you squirm, whimper. “You haven’t fucking earned that, not from me!” He throws head back into the couch.
You don’t want to give him the satisfaction of obeying him nor making you orgasm, but your body’s instincts are overriding everything. And it’s as if Loki knows it. It’s as if, by sheer force of his will, you balance on the edge, but never fall over even as he does.
Loki doesn’t even give you the satisfaction of warm cum, he lets his Jotunn side show in leaving a strange chill inside that quickly spills out and down your legs once he pulls out. “No dressing, no bathing…only basics until I say so.” Hand on the back of your neck to keep you in place he grins maliciously at the crowd. “No one has or harms her but me until she breaks, is that clear? She is mine until further notice.”
Whether that’s a good or bad thing seems irrelevant as he tosses you back onto the floor before smoothing himself out. You don’t dare move save to cringe at pounding head and battered body. You’re sore everywhere and still swimming about the edge of arousal so that every sensation is amplified. You can hear Loki breathing as his predatory gaze locks onto your splayed form; you can feel his cum sticking to your insides, caking on your thighs.
“You don’t speak again until I say so. If I hear so much as a moan from your lips I don’t request, I’ll cut out your tongue, understand?” You stay silent and the beast chuckles. “I knew you’d be a fast learner. Still…” He leaves your presence, the whole room’s, without another word.
The crowd dissipates without a show to watch or leftovers to be had. Where they go, what they do, you don’t know. You stay on soft carpet, muscles throbbing, breath wheezing - Christ, did he crack ribs? - trying to figure out if you can even move.
“Get up.” You don’t open your eyes; you don’t want to see, to know, anything anymore. There’s a deep sigh, a poke with the toe of a boot. “Get up, you’re in everyone’s way.” You simply raise a hand, hoping he’ll understand. “I can’t touch you. Now GET! UP!!”
Eyes open to see the red ones. Hands in pockets and gaze apathetic as ever he steps back as you struggle to stand. You manage only a hunched stance with hand on couch for stability. Too frightened to even breathe heavy you give him a pleading look.
He cocks his head in vague interest, but without understanding. What did you want from him? He couldn’t touch you, he wasn’t the one in charge…he had nothing for you at the moment. Another moment of looking you over, he walks off with a shrug.
Angrboða is an apparently unattractive Jotun giantess and the mother of Fenrir - also Jörmungandr and Hel, I think? - with Loki in Old Norse Myth…I’m just dropping a little Easter egg for Norse mythology fans, these characters will not actually be in the story, haha!
Chapter 3: Tip of the Iceberg
Tense changes are intentional; the top is a bit history and a bit dream, the bottom is current and the night after the previous chapter.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He could not recall the first one; the time Odin came and stole their people’s prince. He himself an infant, left to the trials of survival for his small size, was only collected again after so many were lost. Ulfr was raised by his own kind, taught his own history, and grew up in his people’s culture. He’d lived believing King Laufey’s son a prisoner, wishing only to go home and, in time, rule his people…
Then Ulfr saw whose side Loki was truly on. With Odin’s son, Thor, and Asgaridan warriors they came onto Jotunheim land. They trespassed, they demanded, they attacked. The lost prince turned on, murdered, his own kind in favor of his captors. Looking over the ruins of his homeland, the bodies of his family, his mate, his future, Ulfr knew he could not let it slide.
He’d been brash though; he went straight for Thor when the god was sent to Midgard, powerless. Ulfr imagined an upper-hand, but not that certain Midgardian’s would have ways to capture and contain him. He let his rage flourish behind unbreakable walls; heard rumors, in the end, their prince made the highest betrayal in killing their king, his father. Still Ulfr waited, docile and patient, for his opportunity.
Surprise that it was the brazenness of his sworn enemy that would give Ulfr what he wanted most. Loki Laufeyson came to Earth to rule only to be taken down by the same men as he. In the rush to secure Loki they’d forgotten about him completely, thrown him in a cell with just what he needed most…the cold.
Out, free, serving under the man he hated, Ulfr would bide his time until he could no longer abide the other’s existence….Until he could avenge what was lost and could never be returned.
* * *
He wonders how much longer before he can make his move; it feels he’s been waiting eons.
He wonders if the bold one is dead or still lives; it’s so hard to tell with Midgardians.
He sits on the edge of the bed, watches blue patterned hand turn to human flesh with only the fainest hints of his markings remaining, and wonders if the dreams help to push him on or merely hold him in painful past now…
Asta is Old Norse for “divine beauty” if my research was correct. The "bold one" is the reader. And I can tell you, straight off, Loki is completely unaware of Ulfr’s past or how he affected it - the two did not battle on Jotunheim and Loki’s never bothered to ask Ufr about his life, haha!
Chapter 4: Cold Comfort
“…My bold little pet”
If you count by dream cycles, you’ve been in the room at least a week. Seven nights for seven series of dreams that keep you rocking between reality and fantasy. Seven mornings where you wake in a sweat-stained bed on the cusp of release, never able to throw yourself over. Seven days without showering or bathing, of bits of bread and water for meals, and the constant fear that at any moment you’ll be ended. Seven days to spiral into desperate madness.
…It’s the day you give up that he arrives, returns; like he knows you can’t take another second, knows you’ll cling to him now if no other time just to feel real, human, again…
“Ah, my bold little pet,” Loki coos with a too-pleasant smile. “I see you are still alive.”
Even wanting the connection, any connection, you slink back to brace against the wall with sharp, hard, eyes. He steps in, you stand on the bed with gaze darting to the door.
His boot shuts it. “That would be most unwise, little one. There is bold and there is foolish, best not to test the line.” In his approach you freeze, slide into a crouch as tears form without flow. You want to run, to fight, but only freeze in terror. “Come now, it’s alright, I’ve no interest in harming you, my dear.” Loki’s laugh bursts in reply to your counter-look, but he stops at the other side of the bed, respects your space. “You were disrespectful when we met, you talked back and did not know your place…I cannot have that, little one. No king can.”
Your eyes drop to your filthy feet.
“But I can see now that you’ve learned your lesson, haven’t you? Of course you have, and for that you’re to be rewarded.” He offers up his hand with a soft smile. “It is so simple in the end. Poor behavior is punished, good behavior rewarded.”
Without moving you glance up at his hand, then his face.
“I assure you, this is no trick..” As you lick lips he chuckles. “You may ask what you want to ask.”
Now you have more questions, but stick with your original. “What is it? What’s…What’s the…reward?”
“Take my hand, trust me, and find out…” He leaves you no choice, you both know it. You hate it, but in taking his hand you see how he loves it.
In the attached bathroom the tub is filled with softly steaming water, bubbles, blue petals…it smells of vanilla. It’s so beautiful, so luxurious after so long of nothing, you feel faint in its view.
Loki gathers up and carries you into the tub. He slips in behind, nude as you. For all the heart-thudding tension that hits you in that realization you stay without struggle. Resting your back against his chest - you haven’t the energy to sit up - you try to match your breath to his so as to not panic or pass out. It barely works, then falls apart in his voice. “Relax, little one, let me attend to you.”
Neck arches to catch sight of him, watch him gather up and prepare sudsy cloth. So many questions, so many instincts and emotions…you can’t suss anything out. Not even yourself.
“You may speak now, don’t worry.” His reassurance comes with a pull of your face to press soft, wet, lips to yours.
“Why what?” His smile grows as the cloth comes down across your face, leaving it wet and striped between dirty and cleansed. “Why you?” You nod. “I did not pick you, my dear, though I imagine my servant did because he saw the beauty under all of this. And it is beauty, indeed. Great beauty.”
Eyes roll without intent.
He scrubs cheek a bit harder in his laugh. “I was cruel in speech and act before, I know.” The god’s gaze alone tells you to turn back, face away from him, as he continues. “One must be hard as king. If I were to fawn over every little gift given me I’d seem easily swayed, if I allowed that gift to disrespect me I’d seem weak…”
There’s a tone in his voice that curls into your ears, soothes muscles and mind, as his speech continues. It allows you to relax, enjoy the bath, and not account for the strangeness of it all. In bath prepared from thin air, in water remaining clear and warm despite time ticking by. It keeps you from thinking of how Loki may wash your hair without memory of him scrubbing in shampoo or even wetting locks.
What you do notice is where his touch goes; soft cloth running across the front of shoulders, then bare hands down breasts. He cups, kisses behind the ear, and your body presses back and up into thumbs rubbing nipples to hardness. It must be something in the water, the soft scents and warmth, that has you shuddering out wanting breaths.
…Yes…something in the water…
“Do you want more?” The snake in his voice is back from the first night. Hands crawl down stomach, between thighs that automatically open for him.
Tongue collects warm water, tastes cleaned skin. “Please what?” Fingers drag the length of your thighs lightly, dipping into the water before coming back up to knee without ever touching what’s needed.
All the tension, the body’s desire, from the first time, from every single dream, from every time you attempted to give yourself the relief you needed, floods back. Your clit tingles, swells, throbs; feels as if burnt with need. “Let me…” body arches, trying to get Loki where touch was so desperately required. “Please, just…”
Fingers slip on either side of your folds, but again miss what’s wanted most.
Somehow you lose your base, your stability, and go under, thump the tub before scrambling back to the surface in a panic. Wide-eyed, coughing out the water that shot up nose and mouth, you look around.
Loki grins from clear across the room; clean, dry, dressed. “Not just yet, my bold little pet, but I assure you, one day, I’ll give you so many you’ll be begging me to stop.” He chuckles at your dazed stare. “If you’d like you may explore your new home in the meantime…Should anyone give you troubles, simply notify Ulfr.”
“The tall one.”
You know who.
* * *
A teasing laugh breaks Ulfr’s concentration from what’s beyond the door. He turns gaze with vague interest to see Tia grinning in a strange sort of delight. He ticks his head, unsure of its meaning.
“Come on, given her first time we both know she’s too stubborn to survive.” Tia closes in, confident he won’t touch her. “He’ll get pissed, break her…” She’s a favorite, she knows it, but forgets her limits…and his. “Then you get the scraps, right?”
Ulfr’s hands slide into pockets, pull out leather gloves to slip on. “…Speaking of.”
Tia snorts. “Don’t even think about it, you know you can’t.”
His cold coats the inside padding; he cracks fingers in effort to focus and warm. “Who might protect you? The king?” Lips part a fraction in amusement at her growing insecurity, worry. “Certainly not Michael, he’s dead.” Terror hits her eyes, his tongue peaks out between teeth. “Think you’ll last longer?”
“Ulfr…” she attempts a placating smile, as if she didn’t always see him as a beastly creature. “I was just playing…”
His red eyes shine in the chuckle. “I like to play.”
She doesn’t even get a full turn before gloved hands are grabbing, pulling, dragging her off towards his room…
Many hear, no one intercedes.
Chapter 5: Death of Cold
“Just like all the others.”
He tosses her so that she ricochets off the bed and hits his chest on the rebound. It feels like hitting a wall of ice. Freezing hard and completely impassive. His expression is similar aside from fiery red eyes that watch with a vague sort of interest.
“Loki will find out,” Tia protests, backing up with a shudder. Even through his shirt there’s a sting to Ulfr’s body. Like stepping into a snowstorm without proper layers. Lips blue, breath puffs like that of a classic train, her teeth chatter. He doesn’t notice the cold, but it’s all she can think about. It’s like being trapped in a meat locker.
“You think he doesn’t already know?” Ulfr’s lips lift, more when her breath stops at the removal of his shirt. His chest is marked in intricate, frost-colored, lines like those on his hands, arms, neck, and even face. He can tell Midgardian fear from desire for the most part; he knows she’s scared, not aroused, at the sight of him. “It was so easy for you…” he muses.
She steps away until the back of her knees hit the bed.
“But you made it complicated. You always do. Why do you do that?”
“Your people.” He attempts to clarify. “No matter how simple, you complicate things. Why is that? Is it boredom? Indecision?”
Wide eyes slip down as the strange lines decorating Ulfr’s skin raise and darken in their blue along with the rest of him. He works his skin back to more human tones, but the markings remain raised. He sits and she scrambles to get away, but gloved hand grips, holds, her upper thigh until she settles with a whimper from the stinging cold.
“Loki believes your people crave subjugation that, once you have a proper ruler, you’ll embrace the simplicity of it, but I don’t think so.” He releases her thigh without noticing the faint red hand-print left behind. “Know why?”
Ulfr ignores her. “Because you crave the fight more. No matter who rules or how…your kind always fights it for something else.”
“I…I didn’t —”
Leather clad hand grips her jaw in annoyance at the blatant lie about to come. “All you had to do was attend to him, not be with another without his permission, but…” Ulfr nearly laughs as her breath flows like candle-smoke. “It’s as if, even knowing you’ll lose, you fight. Maybe…” He tilts his head to the side in curiosity as she tries to escape his ice-cold. “Maybe you like what comes after even more?”
“The fight.” Teeth flash in his grin; this time he knows he’s burning her. “The victory. The loss. There can be pleasure in both, especially if one enjoys the punishment.”
Fear can no longer be contained, she snaps head free from his hold and screams. It hurts; her jaw aches, the skin’s nearly blistered from his touch. She attempts to stand. “HELP!!”
Ulfr chuckles as arms gather and toss her further up the bed. “No one cared when they could hear you, you think they’ll come to your rescue now?!”
“Because ‘please’ always works,” he mocks. He’s a glacier in male form, crushing as leather pins wrist over her head. The ridges on his face lift; running across hairline, dipping slightly in the middle, as others go from temple over ears to curl up at his jaw, making the appearance of a helmet in total. Shorter lines run under, across his jaw, split his chin, and continue down to branch out across neck. At his clavicle and chest the lines become more clearly patterned. Growing in towards the center they start thin and intricate, then form into hard, thick, branches that ultimately come together at his chest as if a great tree grew across his body. They speak of primitive, earthy, tribalism and spread everywhere…Tia can even feel them through his pants as he pins her legs with his.
“Wha-What are you?”
Lips flick up as he switches to his truest self - darkest blue, deepest freeze - for just a moment; in that moment she’s set on fire by the cold. She wails before he covers her mouth. “I am Ulfr of Jotunheim.” His more human form returns and he presses ice-lips to her forehead, leaving a burn mark. “The same as him, he just hides it. He’s ashamed of it, hates it. But not I.”
Tears frozen to the corners of her eyes begin to spill as he works to heat himself. Focuses in effort to control not just his appearance, but body temperature. If he can gain power over it Ulfr can do so much more. This can last so much longer.
“I need you to know something.”
Tia’s eyes close not wanting to look, see the monster again. What was once a flash-freeze is now a slow, numbing, burn from the man. It spreads as his lips find eyelids, tip of her nose…. She’s so cold, pale, shivering so hard muscles ache; still she fights to stay conscious, moving, alive.
“Loki’s allowing this,” Ulfr’s voice chills her ear as legs shift hers apart. “He said I could have you, he said to take you, knowing exactly what I can do to a little Midgardian like you.”
Unable to form words Tia only groans against the leather. Lips are deep blue; he kisses them and they go purple with a white sheen of frost on top.
Hand slips down, between her thighs, and he smiles at her shudder. “Later tonight…” he rips thong from her. “He’ll ask about it. How long you lasted…” two leather fingers enter roughly as the pad of another finds, rubs, her clit. “If I think it’s the cold or roughness that ended you first.” A faint moan escapes her lips as frigid mouth takes in a breast through cotton dress.
The numbness of her body spreads, deepens. Pain no longer registers, there’s only a strangely sore exhaustion. A dream of warmth, a wish to die, flits in as she faintly hears the clicks of a belt’s undoing.
“You’re just a toy,” Ulfr bristles, though his rage is for Loki more than the woman under him. “One I get to fuck until it breaks.” His thrust of an entrance moves not just them, but the entire bed. “Just like all the others.”
* * *
The knock at the door startles him so that he roars. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”
“I…Uh…Sorry, never mind!” Your voice trembles back. You take a full step away as you hear a great cracking from beyond the door before it opens. Ice coats its frame.
“The Bold One,” Ulfr’s lips curl, amused. “Alive and well, I see.” His tone’s playful as he blocks the view of Tia’s frost-bitten body on the bed. You only see him, the blueish-white lines running over his body - are they tattoos? some strange body modification? - and that his pants are undone. “Well? What is it?”
“N-nothing I was just…” Shoulders lift and fall. “Exploring.”
“Yeah, well, this hall’s off limits.”
Ulfr’s head ticks to the side. “You’re clean.”
“…Kinda smell like ice cream.”
“The vanilla bean flavor, it’s good, have you ever had it?”
“Are you hungry? Your kind need to be fed frequently, right? Come on, I’ll get you ice cream.”
“Um…Okay.” It isn’t what you’d pick - something hotter would be better - but beggars can’t be choosers and all that.
He closes the door behind him; fixes his trousers as he ushers you back towards the kitchen.
Chapter 6: Ice Cream
“Just show me a sundae.”
You watch him warily. He’s not overtly threatening, he didn’t root for his turn with you like the others that first night, but there’s something not quite right about Ulfr either. If Loki’s too intense, he’s too erratic. He’s apathetic, then annoyed, now seemingly delighted as he stuffs large spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth.
“Is…is that all you want?”
“Hmm?” Red eyes glow curiously.
“You don’t…want it…in a bowl, maybe?
He swallows. “You people are almost as fussy as Asgardians.”
“Maybe we just don’t want our ice cream melting all over the place?”
“Is the ice cream melting?”
Now that he mentioned it… “Well, no.”
“Then don’t worry about it.” He stuffs more in his mouth, gives a moan that borders on obscene.
You shift on your stool, play your body into the angles of it. “You, um…you don’t want it in a sundae?” Given his love of the food, he seemed the type.
“Sunday?” He chuckles. “I eat it every day.”
“No, um…” you try not to laugh as you spell it out. “Sundae, it’s uh…” You smile. “Can I show you?”
Ulfr shrugs. “Go for it.” Continues eating.
“Well, don’t eat it all!” You laugh, reach for the tub, only to have him tense slightly. You pause, watch him crimson-eyeing you back. “Are you…scared of me?”
The easy smile returns. “You’re half my size.”
“That’s a bit of an exaggeration.” Your lips curve. “And doesn’t mean you aren’t scared.”
“Just show me a sundae.”
Still smiling you pull items from the refrigerator and cabinets, whatever you think might work for toppings. You set them across the counter before grabbing two bowls. “So…” you settle onto the stool beside him. “What you do is -”
He immediately grabs and tosses the bowls into the sink. “Get on with it.”
You sigh, press on. “Just…add whatever you want to the ice cream. Chocolate sauce, caramel, butterscotch, peanuts, candies, whipped cream.”
“And that’s it. That’s a sundae”
He laughs, pouring everything into the ice cream carton.
You can’t help but laugh as well, more when the man stuffs a massive portion of the mixture into his mouth. There’s an unmistakable, deep, growl of enjoyment as he savors the first bite. He swallows hard and growls into another. “Mmm…” he licks lips after another swallow, you copy without realizing. “Genius.”
“This…” he grins. “This is genius! Who would have thought…only Midgardians.” He chuckles. “Have some.”
“Uh…” you’d forgotten one hunger for another. “Yeah.” You grab a spoon and dig in. This time you’re the one watched and he makes no efforts to hide the keen stare. It should scare you, the intensity of it, but fear isn’t what bubbles up. It’s closer to aroused insecurity. What’s he thinking? Does he like what he sees? Does he even care or is he just playing nice on Loki’s orders? You smile, swallow. “Good.”
You watch him eat, start to pick up details beyond his eyes. Lines the color of faded-denim too distinct to be veins that decorate his body, his face. The chill that comes off him like an open freezer. His maintained hold on the ice cream unless you go for a bite. Those leather gloves still, always, on. “Can I…ask you something?”
He shrugs as he eats.
“What are you?”
Ulfr has been getting that question since his arrival on Midgard, but yours is somehow different. It holds interest rather than fear. Red eyes soften into yours, he smiles. “What do you think I am?” It’s meant to be cocky, playful, but hits your ears as almost…shy?
“Well, um…I don’t know.” You laugh nervously, not wanting to offend in a guess. “I mean, it’s not a stretch to say you’re from another planet, right?” He blinks, leans in with interest. “But you’re not, um, from Asgard…You’re not like Thor or Loki. You’re big…cold. You make, keep, things cold.” You nod to the ice cream, his smile turns impressed. “Are you a god too?” Your understanding was that Thor and Loki both were…or at least as close to gods as can exist. “Like, an ice god or something?”
His small smile blooms wide; seeing the potential awe in your eyes he wants to tell you he is, but in the end goes with the truth. “I’m from Jotunheim, my people are known as Jotunns…or Frost Giants.”
“That explains your size,” you smile as pieces start to fit into place. “Is…Is that why this place is an ice castle from the outside? Why it’s always wintry now?” Maybe you should be terrified, but all you are is fascinated as you move in closer. “Is it to remind you of home?”
This time he’s the one shifting, only it’s back as you strike on a bit of truth he’d rather you didn’t. Yes, he misses home, of course he does, but there’s nothing left for him there. “It’s to keep those who might attack docile and away from here…And it’s what we do when we take over a planet. Make it more suitable for us.”
You know all too well how many are dying on the streets due to the bitter cold, a cold of his making…but remain pathetically fascinated. “What else can you do?”
Despite all efforts to hide, control, his Jotunn nature there’s something genuine to your interest that makes Ulfr want to show off. He stands, pulls gloves off, and you see the dull blue lines creating Vs between his fingers before continuing on as roping vines.
You stand, eyes widening in awe, as he cups hands together and they go blue. Deep blue, those crisscrossing lines lifting into ridges, before one hand slowly lifts off the other. In his palm is a small, transparent, four-legged creature. You lean in closer to see it’s made completely of ice. You grin up at him. “Is that a wolf?”
“Ulfr…” there’s a softness mixed into his relaxed nature. “It means 'wolf' so…” he shrugs. “Wanna see it move?”
“It can move?”
He doesn’t answer, only runs a finger from his other hand across the creature’s back, giving it frost for fur before it begins to shift, settle into a pouncing position, before jumping up to attention and barking mutely.
“Oh my god, that’s awesome!” You can’t even pretend it isn’t, that you’re not impressed, amazed; it’s like nothing you’ve seen before. It’s something out of a Tim Burton movie, bizarre and fantastical and beautiful. You reach out to touch, to pet, but suddenly Ulfr closes his hand on the critter.
“Sorry,” you frown, deeper as he backs away. “…I just…”
“I wouldn’t get too close to him, my dear.” Loki’s sneering causes you to jump and he laughs. “Have you ever seen a severely frostbitten hand? It’s not a pretty sight, I assure you.” A too-bright smile appears. “Quite a sweet scene you two make. Almost…romantic.”
You can feel the heat of your face, know you should look Loki defiantly in the eye, but haven’t the ability. Instead your eyes furtively go to Ulfr - gloves back on, face dulled - then down.
Loki breathes dark amusement. “Are you enjoying yourself, my bold little pet?”
As if the words themselves remind you, trigger that desire still unsatisfied, you feel your body reignite. The raw need for release returns, intensifies. It’s like you can feel Loki, his fingers between your thighs, at clit, brushing ever so slightly. Teasing, drawing to the edge once more. Deep breath in, slow exhale, and you answer. “I’m just…enjoying ice cream.”
“Yes, I see that.” His eyes rake over your form, setting off sparks. “But there’s more than just ice cream to be enjoyed…Shall I show you?”
“I, uh…” Desperately want to…so desperately you don’t. He’s playing with you, you know it. It doesn’t change the desires, just increases the urge to fight it.
There’s a new chill from Ulfr, a shutting down, even as he closes in. “What are you waiting for?” Ulfr backs up, shifts attention away and to his ice cream sundae.
Eyes well tears...You guess you were right, he was just being nice. Entertaining you until Loki wanted you again. You take a defeated breath and head towards Loki. What else is there to do?
Chapter 7: Cold Cream
“Now service your king.”
Loki’s eyes crawl the length of your body, like he tastes what he sees. His hands lift, play, with the straps of your dress. You flinch, he chuckles into a low hiss. “Shhh, stay still little one, I’ll not hurt you….Not unless you disobey.”
As much as Loki’s gaze touches, so does Ulfr’s. Even with his casual dismissal of you, you know he’s watching. Focusing on every movement in Loki’s pulling aside straps, every inch of your skin slowly exposed. You swear you hear that low, hungry, growl of his.
“Focus…” Loki coos, faint smile growing with your full attention. “Good girl. Now kneel.”
You get on shaky knees, head down. He turns, walks away, goes to lounge in a chair. He’s not looking at you, he’s looking at the man behind you. This isn’t about you, this is about them, you’re just a pawn.
“Come here…” Loki leans forward with malicious grin as blue eyes pulse their shine. “Crawl to me like a good pet.”
You try not to think about the show made in the swing of breasts, the shape your ass. Eyes reconnect as you glare up from his feet; Loki seizes your throat with a ferocity that causes you to squeak. He forces your mouths together, covers yours with his, and teeth pierce flesh until he pulls back, licking blood off his lips.
A satisfied moan comes out of him, then the order. “Take my cock out, put it in your mouth, and suck until I say otherwise. Do you understand?”
Slight relax in Loki’s hold lets you attempt a plea of a look to Ulfr, but he gives no reaction. He only blinks, gives Loki a slight smirk. There’s a sense they’re speaking to one another, communicating in a way you can’t identify, but can’t fathom what they might be saying.
“YOU WILL DO AS I SAY!!” Loki rages in your face, then lets go with a shove. “Now service your king.”
Tears stream down as you cough, wheeze, try to collect yourself. Shaking you search for a place in your mind to go. Home? Your childhood? Your first love? The memories break apart in the undoing of his belt, get pushed aside with clicks of his zipper…
Growing erection in hand the memory of your first night looms large; the way Loki nearly tore you apart - now you can see why - and how much he enjoyed it. It swells, skin stretches over pulsing veins, and you think on Ulfr’s ridges growing across fingers and hands in creating the ice wolf.
“Well…” Loki thrusts into hand, you flinch. “What are you waiting for?”
Deep breath before you tentatively brush lips over his tip; the throaty groan is immediate and obscene…like Ulfr with his food. You close eyes, let the tip breech your mouth, simply grateful for the opportunity to go at your own pace. Maybe it’s to make you consider it more - to let that shame and degradation build up - but your mind’s already found a new place to sneak off to. A different man swells between cheeks, tests the limits of your jaw. You refuse to hear Loki’s voice, refuse to acknowledge his existence or even your own, until there’s a reply.
“You’ve got a girl’s mouth around your cock and still can’t stay hard, huh?” Something’s tense in Ulfr’s tease.
“I’m merely curious as to your progress.”
“She lasted longer than the others.”
“Well, did you at least come?” Loki chuckles out before falling into a moan as a deep breath of yours briefly heightens suction.
There’s shifting, you hear a spoon clatter into sink. “I came.” There’s a sneering edge to Ulfr’s reply that makes you shudder. “I think that’s what killed her.” His laugh comes out dark, nasty, too much like Loki’s.
Loki joins him, becomes indulgent in the laugh, before grabbing hold of your hair upon realizing you’ve stopped. This time he gives no instructions, no options, merely forces your head down until nose brushes soft, black, curls. Farther, until you almost choke on flesh and leather fragrance, then again to reinforce: this is how much you’re too take, this is how deep you’re to go. You. Are not. To stop. “Did she beg?”
“There’s not been a one yet who hasn’t,” Ulfr notes with another off-centered laugh as he puts away the ice cream. He turns back, gives a murderous smirk as he focuses on Loki; the way the god curls fingers in your hair, ensures you don’t stop even for a full breath. “In the end they always do, one way or another, am I right?”
“It’s a shame really…” Loki moans, thrusts up until you gag. “That you can’t have this.”
Ulfr’s eyes slip down to you; you can feel it. Feel his focus find your bobbing head, the curve of your spine, the way you unintentionally present ass and cunt for the taking. As much as you can hear Loki panting, you can hear him too. Tenser, darker, but his breaths are audible nevertheless. “…We’ll see.”
“Not with this one…” A viciousness rumbles out of Loki as he begins to thrust up, hard, fast, fucking your mouth. Jaw burns, lips bruise, before the shuddering swell comes. The cool cream from his first time with you fills your mouth, coats it, making you near gag as his cock stays deep in the back of your throat. This time you actively fight, pull away, before he relents. You make sounds to retch and his hand snaps over your mouth. “Swallow it.” He orders.
Your stomach churns, acid and bile rise, but without another option you force it all down. The moment Loki removes his hand you retch again, nearly vomit, but hold together. You don’t dare move, don’t dare look up; not as Loki pulls himself back into decency or as that disgust you feel so profoundly fades and twists to desire once more.
“I like her.” He stands, steps over, blocks you from the other. “And tonight, I think I’ll make her beg…one way or another.”
“Because waiting’s half the fun.” Loki chuckles. “But maybe, if you’re very good, I’ll let you watch.” The laugh grows until Ulfr joins him.
“Thank you for the offer, my king, but I’m afraid I’ve business to attend.”
All laughter stops. “Good man.”
Chapter 8: Cracks in the Ice
“The real you.”
Ulfr freezes his door, his room, to a thickness that assures privacy from all, save perhaps Loki. He growls irritation seeing Tia’s body still on the bed; he forgot about her. Lacking his usual patience he simply opens a window wide and tosses her out. Her frozen form smashes upon landing…interesting, but there’s no time for experiments or play just now.
Settling into an overstuffed chair Ulfr works to relax, to clear his mind. It proves more difficult than usual as his mind returns over and over to you. Your interest, your sundae, your delight at his ice wolf, your body…he growls a heady mix of jealousy and arousal in the memory of Loki forcing you to suck him off.
He shakes it away; he’s gotten so far, he gets closer every day, he can’t let one little Midgardian derail everything. He can’t let Loki’s childish games get to him. Deep breath in, slow exhale…
At his best he’s still little more than intermediate in his magic skills beyond the ice-based that come naturally to his people. It takes focus, a clear mind, as eyes fade shut - deep breaths in, slow exhales - and the second layers of magic flow across the room. These hide not just body, but mind and heart.
The world refracts, mirrors, around him and he becomes his true self. As fascinating as the dimension is, Ulfr never feels fully comfortable in it - needing the other to let him in and out, it’s far too close to the containment rooms of S.H.I.E.L.D. for his comfort. More so when the other isn’t there to greet him, like now.
He would say they’re partners, even if only in this task, but that’s still no where near accurate. They neither like nor trust one another and do not share the same goal in the end. Another world, another opportunity, they could just as easily be enemies in battle.
“Have difficultly?” His deep voice announces the sorcerer’s existence on this plane.
Ulfr’s lips curl slightly as he looks for the man. “At least I’m here in full.”
Strange appears before him, cloak billowing in attempts to intimidate. “I’m here.”
“And I’m ready.”
* * *
It’s no use. You can still taste, feel, Loki all the way down your throat. You can sense him in the pit of your stomach and swimming through your veins. It’s like he’s entered your core. It isn’t even the act this time - distasteful as it was - it’s the feeling of being a pawn. That Loki might not even be attracted to you, but thinks Ulfr is and that alone is enough to degrade you.
You look in the mirror, examine sallow and bruised skin, thinning face, and force a deep breath through raw throat. He will not break you. Not for his pleasure, not for another’s pain. Not for anything. You have to be stronger, learn more. Find a weakness, a way to his humanity. If Thor had it, if Ulfr does, so does Loki…no matter how deep it’s buried under sadistic acts and frosty blue eyes.
As the hours pass you force yourself to think on your interactions with the god. Each one. In detail. His peacocking destruction of the city…the sadistic, preening, delight of your first night…the angry disregard afterwards…the playing gentleness of the bath…the events of this morning. Every one a display, every one a tableau of… Your mind falls to the terrible, haunting, ice in Loki’s gaze and the way it counters the bloody red warmth of Ulfr’s…
“Did you truly believe your pathetic attempts at keeping me out would work?” Loki’s voice breaks your thoughts so that you jump. He gives a malicious chuckle as he stands at the end of the bed. “I suppose I could admire it…” he slinks around to the side. “The tenacity of it.”
This time you stay seated in the center, focusing on him, refusing to show on your face the fear given away in pounding heart and shaking body.
“Of course, I could also consider it a great disrespect to your king.” Eyes shine their blue at the veiled threat. “Everything is mine. Your room, your bed, you. It’s all mine and I’ll not be denied it.” He flashes an image of himself in full armor, horned helmet, scepter in hand.
You lean back, but do not actually move away. “I know, my king.” You play in.
The vision fades; Loki returns to more regal dressings, pleasantness on his face. “You’re learning.”
“Of course, your majesty.” You smile softly. “Though, I confess, I have much to learn still.”
“May I ask a question, my king?”
“Very well.” He’s too cocky to be wary.
“…Why are you doing this?” Loki tilts head in puzzlement, but lips show amusement; you press on to clarify. “Not taking over Earth, not ruling, I…I get that, I suppose. I mean…this.”
“This.” You stress the word, continue. “You’re not a fool, you understand our cultures and you know you’re hurting people. I can see you enjoying it. But…why?”
“I am a god.” Loki insists.
“Gods aren’t sadistic.”
He chuckles. “Clearly you haven’t done enough research.”
“We haven’t offended you.”
His amusement is fading. “You’re getting close to it.”
“Please, your majesty, I merely want to understand.” You get up on knees. “I could supplicate myself and I think…I think you’d treat me worse. Certainly not better.”
He says nothing, only examines you.
“I would think you’d have an easier time getting loyal, truly loyal, followers with kindness. But you just…” The blue in his eyes seems to fade briefly, you swear they go green. “Hurt. Degrade. Why?” You move closer to him cautiously. “I know there’s a good king, a good man, in you Loki…”
Eyes go greener still as the god looks off somewhere you can’t reach, fathom, his face losing all fierceness, all confidence. His face, stature, change…he looks like a lost boy, unsure where he is, what he should do. It’s more haunting a look than his nastiest one could ever be.
“It’s okay…” you whisper, shift closer still. You’re getting through; whatever his guards, his walls, you can see the cracks in the small quiver of his lower lip.
What you can’t see is what’s beyond those cracks. Those memories buried in the darkest parts of him. That pain - searing, cracking, throbbing, burning - dug so far into him it’s settled into his heart. The abyss and those in it churning him through humiliations in the name of preparing him for this. Loki can feel it all, the seeming eons of it, and all at once as he shudders. The Tesseract’s power muffles his scream as tears slip out of green eyes.
You reach out. “I just…want to know you, Loki…” Hand reaches up, brushes a soft, cool, cheek. “The real you.”
In a snap it’s gone. All of it. His eyes flash blue rage and your head crashes against the wall on the other side of the bed. Vision blurs, spins into stars. You kick out under him, claw at hands squeezing your throat. This isn’t an act; he truly rages, hates, for whatever you’ve done to soften him in that moment.
His lips curl over teeth. “You presume to know me?! A god?! You stupid, fucking, mortal whore!!” He shakes you like a rag-doll, head bouncing off the wall, the mattress. He straightens up, lifts you in the process. “Tell me why I shouldn’t end your miserable existence right now.”
You only wheeze.
“Where are your pretty words now?” He sneers, drops you back onto the bed. “Good, stay silent, I’ve no use for your mouth beyond its pleasures. Speak out of turn again and I’ll cut your tongue from between those lovely, cock-sucking, lips of yours!”
Even after he storms out, door locking behind, you don’t move. You let tears stream down your face, wheeze breaths, but don’t dare move. You found a raw spot within Loki’s perfect exterior, the humanity behind the exhibit, and rattled him out of his illusions…but you know deep down that you’ve not yet paid the full price for it.
This Dr Strange is from the future and Ulfr’s main source for magical training (outside whatever Loki decides to teach him)…both men may have similar goals, but certainly not the same and that’s all I’m saying on that at the moment, haha! (And forgive any magic-logic lapses, I’m working under the “for the story!” principle, lol!)
Chapter 9: Keep a Cool Head
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
Within the mirror dimension Strange easily stretches hours of practice into minutes and even then Ulfr presses the constraints of time. For once he works with single-minded focus, gives the doctor a student eager to learn. He pushes the limits of his own abilities and, in some ways, the sorcerer’s. Every second is worked with an intensity that unsettles; something’s changed, something’s affected Ulfr’s determination, and Dr Strange cannot be sure if it’ll be for better or worse.
“I think we’ve covered more than enough for tonight,” Strange cancels out the latest spell, much to Ulfr’s annoyance as it finally begins to work.
“I want a Sling-Ring.”
There’s a low growl from the blue beast. “If you want it, I’m trapped here. I don’t like it. You claim using the ring is a basic step in magic, one of the first you learned, and now you’re denying me those lessons?”
“You don’t need it to achieve our goals.”
Ulfr moves closer, attempts to intimidate as he looks down. “I’m not a fool, I know you’re not teaching me anything that puts you, others, at risk should I betray you.” He forces a deep breath as the mirror dimension shivers. “But if something happens to you, here or elsewhere, I’m stuck with no means to carry out the plan. Not without a ring.”
Fractals of Loki appear just outside the dimension, both men curse. “I’ll consider it,” Strange yields, panic touching his voice as Loki speaks to, reaches out for, Ulfr’s illusion still in the chair. “For now, you must return.”
The force of sudden extraction unsettles Ulfr’s usual demeanor, puts him on edge in his own body, and he attacks on instinct. Grabs by the throat, slams with ice-cracking and wall-crushing ferocity, as he growls between deep blue lips.
Loki’s mouth snaps free of Ulfr’s icy hand. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”
He takes in the king’s Jotun appearance; red eyes and blue skin, ridges, contrasting black hair. It’s strange in its rarity to see Loki in his true form, even for him. Ulfr notes how the lines of his arm and hand seem to swallow up those on Loki’s throat and face. “Forgive me, my king.” Ulfr lets go, they both slip back to human form. “You startled me. Was there something you needed?”
Loki came in ready to rant, to take out terror and rage on his second-in-command, but the sudden aggression throws him. All the anger and fear shifts, twists into something far more dangerously calculated. “I’ve been thinking on the new girl.”
"The bold one."
“Would you like her?”
“What do you mean?” There’s traps abound, Ulfr’s not answering until he’s sure.
“You know what I mean. I saw you looking at her, watching her on hands and knees before me. You wished it was you, yes?”
“I’d kill her.”
The smirk grows as Loki straightens, steps up until Ulfr steps back. “Since when has that stopped you in the past?” Eyes turn predatory, approach continues. “In fact, if I’d hazard a guess, it’s part of the pleasure for you, isn’t it? Pushing them, yourself, farther and farther until the inevitable happens? Until they break apart in your hands, around your cock.”
Ulfr reveals only a hint of wariness; he blocks the god from his thoughts, but not so much Loki sees it as an increase in abilities.
“How far do you think you can get with that bold little bitch you want so much?” Loki grins, finally starting to feel his new self - powerful, in control, a true king - once again. “Unless your feelings are more romantic than desirous…is that it, Ulfr? Is it love?”
Another step forward from the king and calves hit the chair.
“No matter. If you don’t wish to have her, that’s fine. It was merely an offer, a show of appreciation for all you do.” Loki blows a chuckle in Ulfr’s face. “I’m sure the rest of the men will enjoy her, she’s hardly been used after all.”
“You’ve barely tried -” Ulfr cuts himself off.
The god ticks head, arches brows. “She’s mine to have and give as I choose.”
There’s no clear way out. Anything Ulfr does is going to lead to some kind of failure, someone’s pain. He contemplates the least abhorrent option. “True, your majesty, but…” he spreads a smile. “What would others think, you unable to cow one little Midgardian thrall? It doesn’t look good, people might lose faith in you.”
They both know who Ulfr’s referring to, though neither will say the name. Loki cannot bear to say it, can hardly bear to think it, and Ulfr knows he doesn’t need to. Thanos is there, always, even when he’s not.
“You’ve a valid point, Ulfr.” Loki smiles back. “We’ll break her, properly, tomorrow….or kill her, whichever comes first.”
“Of course. You’ve been such a great help to me thus far, why wouldn’t you continue to be…You do wish to help your king, don’t you?”
“Good.” Loki goes to turn away, before pausing and turning back. “One more thing, Ulfr.”
His hand flies up, grips Ulfr’s throat and yanks him almost to his knees. “You touch me like that again, you touch me in public, I will cut off those Jotun hands of yours and use them as a new mantelpiece to rest my scepter upon.” Another harsh tug and Ulfr’s kneeling. “Understood?”
“Yes, my king.”
“Good.” Loki forces himself into human form, though keeps his own brutal cold as he squeezes. “Now I suggest you practice controlling yourself or I’m sure tomorrow may well be the first and last time you touch that dear girl of yours.”
Ulfr nods, head still down, even after Loki releases him. He thinks of all the things he wants to do. Crush Loki’s throat, slam his head until brains splatter, throw him out the window. Make the false king weak and wailing and begging mercies. Ulfr’s mercies. He shakes in the thrill and bottled up rage of it.
At the door Loki suddenly stops, turns. “…Why were you sleeping in your chair?”
“I was trying to work on my body heat.” Ulfr glances up, gives a sheepish smile. “…But I guess I dozed off.”
Loki nods, takes in the thick layers of ice that surround them, and muses. “That poor girl, I pity her already.”
The moment he’s alone Ulfr stands, laser-focus on where Loki last stood. His jaw clenches. The walls and ceiling grow slick, drip wet, as a puddle forms under Ulfr’s feet. Held breath releases in a growling-grunt as fists ball and fissures pop apart the glacier room.
If curious, the last scene with Ulfr is meant to be akin to Loki's magical rage-throwing furniture in his cell in Thor: Dark World.
Loki returns to his quarters satisfied. By tomorrow you will surely be gone and all will be right once more. Ulfr will be without your distractions and so will he. Free from your amusing boldness, foolishly soft looks, and that naive belief he’s good. Loki hasn’t been good a day in his life, he was born wrong. Born to be wicked, manipulative, cruel. Loki was born a monster, just as his second-in-command was, and no sweet smelling Midgardian with gentle eyes will change that..
That strange feeling of weakness you give him crawls back inside as he sleeps. Starting at the base of his skull, spreading down spine in a shiver, across face in an unsteadiness of lip and tearing of eyes. His dreams go from that of rule to ruin. Himself on high dragged into darkness, through pains unknown, as fire and ice scorch his skin. His dozing form fights, seizes, as the sensation takes over his body.
* * *
With long, sure, strides he makes his way to the section of the building-come-palace where the Hunters lived. Hunters: those sent in search of whatever their king’s whims decides, including men and women to be used as Loki wishes. Those like Jacob, who purchased you and whose wall Ulfr simply walks through now.
Two birds, one stone.
* * *
I know there’s a good king, a good man, in you Loki…
How dare you unravel him with your stupid, foolish, words! He will not be controlled by some pathetic little Midgardian. He will not fold to something he can crush under his boot. That is not, cannot, be how this goes!
Loki is a good king because he is not a good man. Like Laufey, like Odin, like others…even the Mad Titan. He’s feared, followed obediently and without question. No one dares betray him. Not even by those who might still be capable. Everyone’s loyalty is unwavering because they understand what will happen if they step out of line. What Loki, King of Midgard, will do to them.
You, with your weak Midgardian mind, simply don’t understand, can’t comprehend the danger as it stands before you. If you did you’d clearly not show any hope, any kindness towards him. Kings have no need for kindness; it’s better to be feared than loved. He needs to make things clearer for you, obviously you won’t understand until it’s made plain.
* * *
Careful to offer Jacob first passage through doorways, to suggest to him the elevator code, Ulfr hides his astral projection as reality. Down halls, down floors, all the way down to the former heart of Stark Industries. As elevator dings open Ulfr leaves lingering instructions in Jacob’s mind before bringing himself back to his body.
Jacob steps out into the lab alone. The place is dark, littered with tools, bits of metal, and unfinished or destroyed projects. It’s awesome and awful both, realizing he’s in the workshop of the late Iron Man. He turns to ask what this is all about, but there’s nothing, no one, there. “The fuck?” He mutters, facilitating between shock and confusion.
There’s a faint blue glow in a room beyond the main area and it draws him forward. That’s where he’s supposed to go, what’s in there is what he’s to see. A great secret, an immense power, that calls to him as much as Ulfr’s memory pushes him.
He passes smashed screens and broken bits of robot, sketches and models, before reaching the glass-walled office. Inside is Tony’s dead heart - the arch reactor gone inert - and Loki’s false beating one in a glowing, blue, box. It brightens, lighting the room and beyond, as it seems to call Jacob like a moth to a flame.
* * *
“P-P-Please…” you croak out under your breath. “Sssstop-p-p…” your voice breaks apart into a weep.
He thinks to wake you from the terror, to kill that pitiful expression, but then realizes waking to him will only make it worse. Even if a good king, he’s surely a terrible creature. Loki sighs, turns out to leave you be.
“NO!” You startle awake before senses catch up to body and you groan in pain. Breath shudders out as you spot the god come to get his due. You made him feel; he’s about to make you wish you can’t. Swallowing dried blood and decency in favor of wanting it over you cast gaze down. Once he has you to his satisfaction maybe you can return to sleep. Or die. Either way, it will surely be over quicker if you don’t fight anymore. You work shaky limbs to begin disrobing.
“No.” Loki’s voice vibrates insecurity through the silence as he turns back to you. Your eyes are wide with surprise, confusion. “Why do you think me a good man?”
This is why he crept into your room? You almost wish it was just to have his way with you so he could then leave. Muscles ache in your shift, head spins as you rest against the wall for support. “Because you go out of your way to prove you’re not.”
* * *
At the ding Ulfr continues on towards the back of the lab where The Tesseract is tucked safely away…or was. Now the office is unlocked, wide open, and the powerful weapon exposed to anyone who wishes to take it. Jacob wears a spare pair of Stark’s work-gloves in another foolish attempt to touch the cube. He doesn’t get the chance as, in five steps, Ulfr reaches him. The Frost Giant lifts him off the floor with a single hand, then slams him back down like a rag doll. The man kicks up, attempts to escape the burning-cold, but it’s no use. A flick of the wrist and Ulfr snaps necrotic neck like a toothpick before kicking body through the plate glass and into decommissioned Iron Suits at the other end of the lab.
Ulfr smirks at a plan setting perfectly into place. Those watching - The Chitauri, Thanos’ men, perhaps Thanos himself - will see exactly what he wants them to. The Tesseract left unprotected; their greatest desire, the thing Loki promised to keep safe while attempting to find more Stones for them, left in the open for any pathetic mortal to stumble upon and attempt to touch with their nasty, unworthy, hands.
Red eyes shine as they crawl back to The Tesseract. Ulfr only glimpsed it prior, watched as Loki tucked it away, but otherwise he had no interaction with it. Loki made sure to keep it out of his range; out of everyone’s range save his own. While the effort to figure out where it was hidden proved minimal, it took more to decipher Loki’s complex security codes. The greatest effort taken was in patience though…all that waiting and now here Ulfr stands before The Cube and its immense power.
It seems to call to him…
* * *
“Well? Don’t you have anything to…say?”
Loki’s frustration makes him scream. “You are the most foolish Midgardian I’ve met!”
“You took over an entire planet and you’re here trying to convince one ‘stupid, fucking, mortal whore” to be afraid of you?!” You shift, crawl towards him in rage-fueled adrenaline. “You rape, strangle, demean, one foolish Midgardian because she doesn’t see you how everyone else does?! How you want to be seen?!” Fighting through arguing body you get up on knees in front of him. “A real king, a real man, does what he thinks is best and fuck everyone else!”
“Fuck everyone else?!”
“Yeah. Fuck everyone else!”
Whatever your right mind might’ve done, it isn’t what you do. You slap him. Hard. Hard enough a stinging bloom of pain bursts from your palm out. With nowhere else to go but onward you slap again, then shove. The effort throws you off balance, you fall forward.
Loki catches you only to pull you into a kiss that you fight with a replied one. A biting of his lips, his tongue, as you growl. Hands once shoving now pull in, dig nails into leather, before you push away with churning stomach. Breath tears from your throat, tears flow from eyes. “I hate you.”
“I’m sorry.” His eyes are a bewildered green; he’s not confused in his statement though, he’s apologizing.
“You’re sick.” You sit back on the bed, unable to remain kneeling. “Whatever’s here, doing it….you need to get rid of it.”
* * *
Pure power rushes through as he goes from human to deep blue Jotun. The Cube starts to blacken his skin as he works to keep handle on it; frost crawls across the floor, covers Tony’s arch reactor, shatters the glass room, screens, turns suits to icemen. Ulfr’s red eyes begin to blaze blue.
“Ah!” He drops it in favor of his blackened hand as it splits at the palm. He examines the wound, works fingers from his other hand across to heal himself. A scarred line remains, disrupting the roots and vines of his markings. Feeling the power coursing through his veins he concentrates, tries again, and his hand heals completely, returns to blue.
Out of the corner of his eye The Tesseract pulsates and almost in a panic Ulfr returns it to its cradle. He immediately wants it back in his hands, wants more of the power it holds coursing through him, but he holds back. He’s already pressed farther than he should. Nevertheless, Ulfr can’t look away as the thinks to try something. He closes his eyes in focus, thinks of the spot in detail, and…
A rush of air and Ulfr opens his eyes back in his room at Stark Towers. He grins wide, amazed and thrilled both. He warms himself, the room, until everything is as it would be for any other person on this planet. Everything except his eyes…they burn blue, glow just as the scepter in Loki’s room and The Tesseract in the lab.
* * *
“Loki…” You start another approach before the god’s eyes blast sapphire and Loki himself seems to hold his breath. “Loki?”
“No!” It’s more a beg than an order and you want to ask, but….
For this story, I have a headcanon that any infinity stone can both draw in and affect a person personality-wise with its power - especially if said person is power-hungry. They also work together when together, hence Ulfr's eyes going blue even when touching The Tesseract (as opposed to Loki's scepter). Also Ulfr’s singing DMX’s 1998 Ruff Ryder’s Anthem, haha!
Chapter 11: Cold Sweat
“I guess this is mutiny.”
"You think you know pain?"
He remembers those words. He remembers everything that came before them too; all that pain he didn’t know. Searing hot, like fire in the veins, until he begged for a simple strike. The way they would scramble his mind, undo whatever moment of peace he might search for. He had heart, but they’d cure him of that. No need for heart, for sentiment, as King. Gods don’t care for ants…
Loki dares to hold his gaze high in fear that doing any less will reveal him as weak once again. He cannot be weak; if he’s weak he cannot rule and, if he cannot rule, he serves no purpose. Not for them, for Him.
“I give you a gift…” It’s only a voice; He does not deign to show himself to such a disappointment. “And you leave it open to whomever may have desire for it.”
“Forgive me, I…”
“Are so incompetent you’re ignorant of your own people’s actions?”
The fire alights, twists in his belly, and Loki cringes in effort to remain standing.
“Would you like to witness it? The betrayal you could not see under your very nose?”
“P-Plea…” The burn within spreads like wildfire and all energy goes to remain standing. The god’s breath holds, then explodes through gritted teeth. “Please.” Stop. Show me…show me whatever you like, just stop the burn.
It is not displayed openly; it’s shoved into his mind’s eye so there’s no option but to buckle under it. A flash of Jacob stepping from the elevator, his mindless walk through Stark’s destroyed lab, flickering hand racing quickly through the second code…a sight Loki focuses on until he drops to hands as well as knees. “I…I d-did not…” reveal the codes to anyone. Type them before anyone’s eyes save a select few, of which only one still lives.
“Perhaps I was mistaken, perhaps you are not worthy of this task.”
“The Avengers are gone, Midgard is mine, and I’ve secured the Tesseract -”
“But you haven’t, have you?”
Sweat soaks fast - skin, clothing, hair. “I…” Salt stings the eyes, tears begin to stream, mix. “Will fix this.”
Head dips, snaps back up as Loki forces himself up off hands. “Give me time.” Rocks burrow through leather, into knees, but he deals with it. He has to.
“It took your subordinate no time at all.”
Scenes again flash through Loki’s mind. Ulfr’s determined walk, his easy kill, his glare down at…Loki? No. No, not Loki. The Tesseract…Ulfr’s looking down at the Tesseract.
“Perhaps I should have chosen him instead?”
Loki sees Ulfr’s hand stretch, fingers splay, and it’s as if the man grips his brain in his hands…Fingers grow thick and crushing as they become those of Thanos…
“Perhaps he will treat such power with more respect…”
Digging in, around, pain fries and seizes Loki’s very existence. He wants to scream, wail, beg for it to stop, but can only roll his eyes up and gasp as he drops forward, curls up into a ball. He goes Jotun blue, tries to keep cool through the flaming pain, then conscious through the draining feel that takes over…
* * *
At the end of the hall he enters what was Stark’s room, but now his king’s. Eyes run over furniture and books, across walls and closets, all lush in green and gold and black. Within heavy-lidded casket, cradled in soft fabric, he finds what draws him. Two strides and the scepter’s in his hands, jewel at the center glowing in the same pulsating manner as the Tesseract.
Body hums in floods of excess energy, power. Ulfr pants, sweats, without notice…not until the heat starts to burn. He cringes, curses, lets the scepter fall back to its cradle. Deep breaths work to calm, cool, himself, before the Frost Giant again goes to hold it. It seems to allow, accept, him this time.
“Well then…” Ulfr’s smile turns to wicked grin as he sets the scepter onto the floor with an authoritative stamp. “I guess this is mutiny.”
Because it may not be clear: Thanos pulled some of the power Loki was getting from the Tesseract and his scepter around the same time Ulfr happened to be touching them, thus the power was transferred into Ulfr.
You try to stay awake in hopes Loki will return, speak with you again; that perhaps you can help free him from whatever holds him to his cruel and sadistic existence. From there you can free others, free yourself, but Loki never returns and you drift back into nightmares. Loki’s blue-eyed rage, his sad emerald gaze…
Raw cold sinks into your bones, centers at your ankle where it begins to burn. You jump back to waking life and find a gloved hand on your ankle. You look up, expecting Loki, but it’s Ulfr. His eyes, a frosty blue over his usual red, pin you down.
“Ulfr?” His usual calm is gone, in its place is a piercing look. There’s a moment of heart-stopping terror as hand grips harder and flaming heat replaces the burning cold. “Ulfr?!” Desperation hits before he blinks the blue away.
“Morning, Bold Girl!” He releases, pain fades into a cool sensation; his lips stretch into a soft smile, his eyes red as ever. “Sorry about that I just…” he looks down at gloved hand, fingers curling into a fist. “Guess it got away from me. Hmm…really thought I had it.”
“Control.” He grins strangely. “Enough to touch anyway.”
“To touch…” There’s a wariness to your budding smile. “Me?”
One minute he feels he can set the world on fire, the next his heart and mind feel too cold even for him. He transported easily from the basement to his room, but now can’t even pass through a simple door. Ulfr felt like an all-powerful king, a god, not more than a few hours ago…Now he struggles. Now he can’t do what he wants just when he wants it most. His jaw clenches in frustration, in callbacks to failures, before your words finally reach him. “I’d like to.”
You curl up against the wall, out of his reach. “Ulfr…”
Ulfr’s chest rumbles in amusement. “A meeting.” You shudder under another flash of blue, pull knees up as his eyes narrow. “You don’t believe me.”
“Did you hurt him?” Valid or not, it’s the wrong question.
A long stretch and the giant corners you, breathes a chill across your face. “You should be grateful…he wanted to kill you. Wanted me to kill you.”
“What did you do?”
His lips curl. “Does it matter?”
“He’s sick, Ulfr. He can be helped.”
“You think you can help him?” The smile twists viciously as one knee rises onto the bed. “You’re nothing to him.” Then his other. “You’re one of many that have come before, that will follow after.“ He seems to lose focus, blank-stare, as leather gloves brush your legs in an adjustment for balance. He blinks back to focus, frowns. “Why be that to him when you could be more?”
“To me…” His eyes close, you feel the warmth spread in the air before lips settle on yours a brief moment. A hot moment where the chill only stings towards the end.
He kisses again, this time there’s warmth so soothing you slip into the kiss with him. Leather thumb rubs thigh, he growls low in sensing your nipples harden as tongue seeks the parting of your lips. There’s the sense this is a tightrope walk. One wrong move and it’s the end of everything, but it’s too late to stop or go back. Do that and you’ll both end up in an abyss from which you’ll never return. You open to him.
Ulfr feels his control wavering with the rippling of his lines, with the urge to grab, pin, and take. He pulls back, leaving a chilled sting on your tongue. “I didn’t hurt him, I didn’t touch him at all,” he confesses, his smile faint, hopeful. “I just…” a smirk, eyes clouding blue, “took him off the board for awhile.”
“Help me rule in his place.”
“We’ll let everyone go, fix what Loki’s broken…” Ulfr’s smile fades, blue comes in full. “If we act now, while he’s gone, we can take over this world. Rule it as it should be. Firmly, but fairly.”
“I don’t want to rule!” You snap, push him. He doesn’t move save his eyes flaring with his nostrils. Whatever this was, it wasn’t Ulfr. At least, not as you know him. He’d never showed interest in ruling, his eyes were never blue. It was like he was someone else, some strange new version of Loki.
In a flash he’s up on knees, yanking you hard under him, spreading thighs around his. Oversized shirt rides up, exposes boy-shorts, bare stomach, and the bottom curvature of breasts. “Ulfr!” He runs hot and cold through clothing, hands making your skin rise and sweat virtually at the same time.
Blue gaze fades into a cringe and you yelp as the room’s temperature drops then rises fast enough it creates an unnerving stillness in the air. The calm before a storm. His hands snap away to the mattress, leaving frost-nipped red marks behind. “I…” his smile is strained, wavering. “I can’t…” Focus. His mind is running in all directions at once, his best and worst instincts crashing into each other. Something that feels completely under his control one moment surges beyond his comprehension the next.
“Ulfr.” Your voice softens, lowers, as he shudders. You reach out, but don’t dare touch as he goes fully blue, lines seeming to throb across his face and arms. “Ulfr, what did you do?”
“What I had to!” He snaps, heats fires off him before it cools and his human form returns. This isn’t mutiny, it’s torture. He takes a deep breath, gloves creaking in the curling of his fingers as he tries to maintain some semblance of himself. “I-I did…what I had to…to help you.” His mind screams it’s a lie; he did this to hurt Loki. His eyes look like lava through his tears.
“It’s okay.” Rejection, questioning, only makes what’s going on with him worse, so you turn more submissive.
“I’ll hurt you.” He doesn’t trust himself, his body, as the tide of control swells and ebbs with each second. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”
“You won’t…I trust you won’t.”
“You did this to help me, didn’t you?”
Mirrored back, the thought hits right and wrong. His plan was to hurt Loki, to ruin him, but the timing…That was for you. That was to keep you safe. “I knew what you wanted.”
You smile softly, nod. “That’s right, you did. I didn’t want Loki around, hurting people.” It’s not the full truth, but true enough not to be a lie. Still, the man over you seems to waver in his mind and body, He shifts, waves of cold then heat coming from him. “Ulfr…It’s alright.”
He thinks to speak, but can’t find words. He wants to leave, he knows he should, but another surge of power takes him. Eyes go azure, body warms, and leather slips its way back to your ribs. You shudder, wince against the touch, then force yourself to relax as hold turns bruising.
Kisses are soft, careful, to start, but fast grow demanding. They come with tongue and teeth until you taste salty metal; they break and reconnect with growls so deep you feel them in your own heart.
Raw power hums from within; It assures him, if he lets go, lets It take over, he’ll not harm you. He can have it all - woman, crown, vengeance - if he just stops fighting what’s meant to be. “Show me your cunt.”
The blunt vulgarity of the words take you aback so that you almost question him on it, but then you see his eyes. You don’t dare as blue flames hold you in submission. Your hand slides down between the two of you, breath held, as his eyes follow. You shift fabric aside just enough to expose yourself; shiver at the sudden chill to the area. “Ulfr?”
He goes up on knees to tear underwear until it shreds away. Gloves stay on as he forces thighs as far apart as they’ll go, until you wince and he’s satisfied. Leather smooths, explores, the inside of your thighs and soft curls between them. “Touch yourself.” His face is dark, demanding, as he licks his lips.
Fingers shake as you’re left to obey, his hands holding knees wide. You take deep breaths, close eyes to fade away. Somewhere warm and safe, a different world. A different universe. You calculate your next move as you take care to spread folds, show him everything…he’s always watching, not unsurprising he wants a show now.
Ulfr finds a balance here, between himself and his newfound power. This way he can enjoy you without touching…without risking you pain. His eyes follow fingers as they rub and roll along clit, as they slide through lips to dip into your entrance before slipping back up. His desire releases in heavy breathing as yours does in glistening juices.
Lashes flutter back open at a thick groan from above. Eyes back to red, Ulfr’s sitting back on heels, hand massaging his crotch. Even hidden in the slouch of pants you can see he’s big - bigger than most and big enough to give you serious pause. Maybe, if you’re lucky, this is all he’ll need, all he’ll want. Slipping two fingers inside your cunt, you rest your head back and let your other hand rapidly work your clit. …You miss the blue swirling back over the red…
There’s a grunt and you’re airborne, flattened onto your stomach with hands pinned behind your back. Heart stops, then rushes ahead as you hear the undoing of belts and fly. Face stuffed into pillow you struggle to breathe “Ulfr!” It’s beyond plea into panic before you’re pulled down enough to catch air.
Your first full breath is nearly shoved right back out as he impales you. You thank god for his request to watch, otherwise you doubt you could’ve held back the cry. You sense tears in now flaming skin as his size stretches, hits painfully deep inside. With effort you time breaths, try to relax, as his mouth finds the back of your shoulder.
Midgardian’s are always so tight, bodies always fighting him…by nature and nurture, Ulfr found extreme pleasure in it. In breaking it apart, making it submit to him. His teeth pinch shirt and flesh across your back so that you squirm under him. His moan is amused as his hand wraps under, gripping breasts, pulling nipple until you gasp. He barely pulls back before ramming in again, belt clasp striking your thighs over and over until there’s a raw sting. He says nothing, only grunts, growls, in your ear between increasingly harsh markings across your back.
You curl fingers, dig nails into palms in hopes of lessening the pain everywhere else. Maybe this started as being about you, but not anymore…this was all about him. His power, his control, his pleasure. Just like Loki before, you were just the tool, the pawn. You go limp, let it happen, as you repeat to yourself this is not Ulfr. Not the one you know.
In arousal his Jotunness is slowly revealed. He grows cold over you, inside of you, and ridges rise across his body. They massage your back, chest, rub nipples in a pleasurable way you didn’t expect. Enough you start to give up moans. His cock becomes ribbed in intricate designs you can’t imagine as he continues to bury, thrust, deep inside you. You gasp as ridges hit, grind into, sensitive spots you weren’t even fully aware of yourself. The pain remains, but fuck was the pleasure starting to override it.
Ulfr reads it as any of his kind would - you’re enjoying it - though if you aren’t, he’s too far gone on instinct for it to matter anyhow. He wants; he wants to possess, to take, to fuck and cum inside you until you’re so full of his seed it’s dripping back out of you. He goes faster, harder, and hears you cry out, feels legs kicking up under him. He chuckles presuming a game, enjoys the feel of your body wriggling helplessly under him. The power of the stones keep him warm enough to handle, but his form continues to revert to his nature.
In the window’s reflection you see it. Him. Deep, dark, blue skin with paler blue lines crawling like vines across his body. You think of roots; of that tree in Norse myths you can’t recall just now. You think of primal and primeval creatures. Blue shines across mostly red eyes and you catch sight of seemingly sharpened nails and teeth. Something in the sight is horrific, out of a strange pornographic creature-feature, but you’re not horrified. You’re worried…for you and him both.
Jaws clamp on the back of your neck, leather fingers seize hip so hard you fear bone might snap under his hold. You try to speak, but other hand flies to force your face into the mattress. The Frost Giant grunts, growls, lets out a roar against your flesh that shakes your whole body. He pounds, unrelenting, and the grinding of your pelvis, your clit, against the bed shakes you again.
There is no mistaking his orgasm; the throbbing swell of him stretches you all the more, his whole body flashes cold before it centers and releases at his cock. Like Loki before, his cum is chilled. Cold. It floods, overflows, spills from you as he rides his climax still deep inside. Ridges continue to massage your core, tease G-spot to your limits, until you find yourself finally, almost blessedly, thrown over the edge as well.
Over the edge and into oblivion as muscles seize until you shake and eyes roll back into your head.
…The tension of everything releases as the world goes dark…
First and foremost…the reader is NOT dead, she just passed out during orgasm, haha! Second, as you may be able to see, Ulfr’s not quite in his right mind and he's still functioning on Jotun/Frost Giant customs mostly where consent (and thus rape) isn’t really a concept/thing…so he doesn’t see any of this as wrong. (Personal Headcanon) Third, given Ulfr’s brain is currently scrambled after touching the Tesseract and scepter he’s clearly not strong enough to handle Infinity Stones…but given he survived doing it he could be in the future (wink wink), haha!
Chapter 13: Fire & Ice
“What shall we do to the traitorous beast?”
He checks your pulse, breathing…aside from not being conscious you seem fine. Perhaps it’s a Midgardian thing? No…Loki’s lovers do not to fade out in the same manner. Maybe it’s simply you? Midgardians are such strange and complicated creatures, the more he becomes acquainted with them the more they seem so terribly different. But he’s not killed you, he can fix the wounds and dissolve the marks, and he does each time he enjoys you.
You feel him throughout the night, slipping in and out of you as you sleep on and off. There’s little point in struggling - he’d win - or in even protesting - you imagine he won’t even understand your complaints. It should enrage that any man takes such liberties with your body, with you, but - unlike Loki - you genuinely doubt Ulfr comprehends why what he’s doing is wrong. For now you’re merely grateful he’s still warm, his aggression’s lessened, and he heals you after each time.
The feel of body, mind, and Seiðr thinning, fading - like an elastic band repeatedly pulled to its limits - takes over Ulfr by daybreak. He grows cold, hovers between human and Jotun as red eyes return and blue skin pales without fading. He senses someone pressing in, into his mind, his very being, until it chokes, threatens to overtake. The Frost Giant jolts upright, too warm, too drained, and too aware.
“YOU RIMY, BLUE, CUR!!”
It’s fire. Pure fire rushing, screaming, through his veins. Even reverting to his Jotun form gives Ulfr no relief. His shriek pulls you from deep slumber.
“Ulfr?” You don’t think to hesitate in touching, grabbing, shaking, eventually straddling him as body arches in a fit you don’t understand. He’s not freezing even as he turns blue and ice forms over his body; he’s feverishly hot, the sheen of ice-sweat crackling and melting over and over. “Ulfr?!” Red eyes roll, unable to connect, as his jaw clenches.
You curse your disorientation as the room explodes with blinding light. You’re wretched from Ulfr, flail in the air and then in Loki’s hold, throwing legs and pounding fists in all directions. It’s fear, yes, but also rage and determination. You’ll not be the toy they pull between them, you’ll not be a toy at all.
“What do you think, my pet?” An ungodly rumble of a laugh curls in your ear. “What shall we do to the traitorous beast?”
Ulfr can feel his throat going raw, his skin starting to split, but cannot move to stop it. Power from the stones faded to nothing, Seiðr already depleted, his strength goes to keep alive, in one piece, as the flames seize his heart and brain.
“STOP!!! STOP IT YOU’RE KILLING HIM!!”
“Not yet…” Loki moans darkly. “I’m keeping him on the edge, like I did you…but that’s not true anymore is it?” He inhales you, licks across the side of your neck. “You fell over for him, didn’t you?”
It should be panic, but rage is what leads you to turn head and clamp teeth onto leather and flesh. Loki hisses, then growls as you bare down all the harder. Every time he pulls away he feels you tear layers of skin apart until, finally, he frees himself from you in a vicious yank that nearly pulls flesh clear from body. You stumble into the dresser, hit the floor as the back of Loki’s hand strikes your face. The sting spreads across cheek and jaw; there’s a flash where you expect him to do more, but instead he turns.
Loki seizes and drags a lukewarm Ulfr to floor, sets a boot to his back and point of scepter to his neck. “Did you truly think I’d not discover your treachery? Do you think me a fool?! Please don’t tell me it was all about her…” a slight rage runs through his sneer. What was it with Midgardian women? How could they so bewitch those such as his brother, his general…other, even greater, men…
Ulfr only groans, too drained of everything to do anything. He can feel Loki continually pulling, leeching, what little Seiðr he has remaining. He knows what that means. Loki’s lost a significant portion of his own powers and cannot replenish so easily at the moment. He might be alive, but he is not well. He’s not as powerful as he once was, as he wishes to seem.
“No matter, she is not yours, she’ll never be yours again because she never was to start, just as everything else you feel yourself so entitled to.” He bends knee, leans upper half to close in on his captive. “Including you…you are mine as much as she now…perhaps more so.”
You scurry up and the god turns back to you. You don’t speak, but you don’t look away either. You look him straight in the eyes…still blue. But underneath blue rage you see pain. Physical as his body shakes nearly as much as Ulfr’s, emotional as you catch the watering of eyes when he questions. “You want him to live?”
“I want everyone to live.”
His eyes narrow, as if sniffing out the truth. “Even me?”
The god expects lies, but finds none. The rage in his heart for you diminishes, but you can’t be sure it doesn’t surge for Ulfr. “You are still mine…” Not even he’s certain if it’s in boast or relief as he finally steps off the other. “Give me a reason to spare him and perhaps I will…for you, my bold one.”
“I…I-I don’t…” Know what he wants that he cannot already take and have. “W-What do you want?” You immediately regret opening a door you’re sure you can never close.
“Stones,” Ulfr huffs out, causing you and Loki both to snap attention over. He’s pulling himself up, resting against the bed, with cracked and bleeding skin. “I…can get you…another.”
Your confusion is as clear as Loki’s interest…his grin spreading wicked as the light in the crescent of his staff gleams. He turns from you to Ulfr. “How can I possibly believe a weaselly, usurping, shit such as you? You’ve lied to me for months now.” And successfully.
“You doubt your…” he winces his attempt to laugh, throat and lungs equally raw. “abilities?” He knows he’ll pay, and does in the crescent swinging out to slice up his ribs, shoulder, head, just missing his ear. He ignores the rush of blood down his face. “Test me, read me…I’m not strong enough to hide anything at the moment.” Almost the truth; he could still freeze the god out from those details he didn’t want him to know…make it appear foggy rather than frosted.
Loki nearly shoves the tip of his scepter into the open head-wound as he uses its Mind Stone to boost his reading of Ulfr. His motives. His honesty. He sees enough to satisfy…but only just enough, causing him continued wariness. “Tell me where it is.”
“That won’t work.”
“TELL ME!!” He kicks ribs hard enough even you hear the crack.
“IT WON’T WORK!!” Ulfr roars back before he coughs up, then swallows back down, a metallic taste. “You think I’ve gotten this close to…to its current…owner by using…my connection to you?”
“Ulfr…” you warn, but both men seem to dismiss with a wave of a hand.
“I got close promising to help lure you into a trap with it.” The absolute truth. “You go for it, you’re done. I go for it…I’ve got it.”
Loki smirks. “You mean I’ve got it.”
There’s a near overwhelming urge to fix his traitorous servant up and send him for the stone immediately, but Loki holds back. For fear it’s a trick, yes, but also because he is not yet satisfied. The punishment has yet to fit the crime and, if he cannot have death, Loki will have pain and suffering until Ulfr’s begging on knees before his lord and master where he rightfully belongs.
Rimy is a real word; it means "covered in rime a.k.a. rime ice - frost formed on cold objects by the rapid freezing of water vapor in cloud or fog." [Visual Examples Here]
Chapter 14: Absolute Zero
“Just do it already.”
It’s a sick déjà vu with a twist, the roles reversed, as you stand at the back of the crowd and Ulfr up front with Loki. Only the crowd remains the same, gives the same sense of humiliation as public entertainment with its terrified women and amused men. You shake without control, both totally unsure and completely certain of what’s to come.
“I expect treason now and again,” Loki’s opening smile freezes your blood as eyes burrow into you, then drag to the crowd. “Even the best kings have those who think they may do better, those who dare to attempt assassination and revolution. Often their punishment is death.” He pauses to let insecurity and discomfort bloom. “But I am loving god that allows for such wretches to learn better. I am a king that is willing to show mercy to those who might deserve it, who show they’ve seen the error of their ways.”
Ulfr’s a strange mix of slumped and rigid, his lack of strength preventing even Loki’s magic from raising him up on knees properly. What little there is of his own energy seems dedicated to listening, watching through blackening eyes.
“Of course, one still must be punished for such an egregious act as treason,” Loki grins, drags a hand down through the air so the Frost Giant drops…just catching himself with his hands. “Crawl to me, Ulfr, like a good pet, and beg for my mercy.”
Stomach turns over, legs weaken, as you watch Ulfr grunt himself across the floor. He leaves it spotty with blood as swollen head hangs, seemingly too heavy to raise. You think to speak out, try to reason with Loki, offer to take Ulfr’s place, anything to stop it, but don’t for fear it’ll only make things worse.
“My king…my god…” His voice is soft, crackling with bloody lungs and raw throat. “I know I have done wrong, I have disobeyed and betrayed, for that I deserve to die…”
The speech is rote, given in a beaten monotone. You sense he’s slipping off, finding safe places inside his mind to go, even as he continues. Is this something Ulfr’s heard before? Had to give before? He’s not present, there’s no defiance or spark of life in the man’s eyes, yet he doesn’t stall or stumble. You flick a look to Loki, who seems pleased, but arrogantly unimpressed.
“…I beg that your justice be swift and true, your punishment help me to learn better, and you may allow me the chance to correct myself and prove my loyalty over and over until you have it once more.”
Loki grins. “Ah…Ulfr…” Crouches, runs hand through his second-in-command’s hair before gripping it hard, forcing Ulfr back and up on knees to look him in the eyes. “I don’t believe you.” His laugh holds a hollow, dark, amusement. “Give me your belt.”
There’s a rumble of twisted chuckles throughout the crowd, both eager and unsure, as your breath holds. You watch Ulfr undo and slowly pull off his belt without emotion, your heart jumping at every snap it makes through another loop. You swallow hard as he folds up it, presents it to Loki like a gift. “Loki!” you call out, unable to stop yourself. “You don’t have to do this, please…Please!”
Loki snatches the belt, then turns head with a malicious grin. “Oh, that choice will not be mine…or yours, my dear.”
You stop in your tracks, look over the crowd only just realizing you’re at the front once more. That you’re on display again, before everyone, with Loki only too-delighted to have you that way. Heart beats against your chest, driving you to flee until you shake with the urge. With shocking speed Loki loops the belt around Ulfr’s neck, yanks him up to stand. “Loki, please!”
“Silence, quim!” He snaps back at you before smirking at his leashed captive. “You want to prove to me how sorry you are? Where your loyalties truly lie?” Eyes narrow, nostrils flare as if sniffing for the truth. “Take her now.” Lips curl over Loki’s teeth. “Show me, show everyone, exactly how you betrayed your king…and destroy the thing that led you astray.”
Something in Ulfr’s detachment breaks; he comes back to the present, the situation as it is. His own eyes narrow, lips quirk up into a smirk, in a countermove. He knows what Loki’s truly requesting…and he imagines Loki already knows his answer.
It’s then it occurs to you…Ulfr can’t touch you anymore. Whatever he’d done the night prior, whatever turned his eyes frost blue, also gave him the power of control. It’s gone now and, if he touches you, he’ll burn you. He’ll kill you if he attempts intimacy. He’s being setup to refuse Loki, to worsen his punishment. You’re the pawn again.
“Take her, Ulfr, or I’ll take you.”
Something in the stillness of the air suggests they’re speaking to each other without words; their glares hard and unwavering so that the whole room shifts in discomfort. Are they arguing, goading each other? You half expect a brawl to start, a winner-take-all cage match to the death between the two beings. You move to back away, but the crowd insists you stay as they push back. The buckle clinks, insisting on an answer, and its captive growls back.
Ulfr’s lip splits again in his grin. “Just do it already.”
The god grabs and there’s a moment you swear you see them both go blue, lined, like Ulfr the night before. They both show as Jotun…then you blink and it’s gone. You look around, but no one else seems aware. They only see the awe of their king, their god, as he spins and slams Ulfr face first into the counter.
“LOKI STOP!!” You blurt out in utter desperation; in frustrated wish for this to be nothing more than a game of chicken between the two.
“If she opens her mouth again,” Loki scans the men of the crowd before focusing in on you. “I encourage you to stop it however you may see fit.” That your eyes tear, beg in silence, only seems to delight.
With belt held firmly, ready to choke, Ulfr doesn’t bother to fight, adjust, or say a word. He barely grimaces even as the head wound from the scepter smears its blood across countertop. He knows better…Loki wants signs of pain, fear. He wants the reassurance he’s the most powerful and scary thing in the universe. Well fuck that and fuck him.
Dark chuckles of the crowd rise once more and nausea bubbles up in your stomach, your throat. You think to speak, but one glance around shows men are waiting on it, on that opportunity to stop your mouth in the most sadistic ways they can. Instead you will your words heard. The begs, the pleads, the curses at Loki, the apologies and pleas to Ulfr. Neither seem to take note if they hear.
Whatever’s in him that might acknowledge the terrible cruelty of it, that he knows all too well the damage it will do, fades in rage and the drive to dominate. Loki only indulges in the feel of himself growing more in charge, more feared, more like the god and king he needs to be. He leans over the other, puts lips to ear. “I am a god!” He hisses. “You’re nothing without my stolen powers…just another frozen monster to be destroyed.”
“That what Odin told you before he tossed you into the abyss?” Ulfr growls back. He gives a heated chuckle before the tip of Loki’s blade slices up tailbone and small of his back, cutting fabric and flesh both.
“Do not think for one second that anyone will see such a thing.” Loki as a Frost Giant, he’ll never allow it. “They will see their god fucking his usurper into submission.” Hand undoes fly, reaches in to stroke himself to hardness.
The belt is stretched across the counter, held at the corner by Loki’s hand, so that every move Ulfr might make to fight, to resist, will only result in choking him. He’s also choked in Loki’s movements from behind. “Behave and I’ll let you watch all the times I take her,” he taunts, roughly stripping Ulfr from the waist down. “That is my mercy for you, you fucking traitor.”
Ulfr curses Loki’s harsh entry, eyes watering at the sheer shock of pain. No preparation, no easing in, just a snap of Loki’s hips that jolts what should be a solid island-counter. Waves of sickness that cause Ulfr’s head to spin overtake his whole self, heighten as his body instinctively fights the intrusion trying to rearrange his insides.
Your eyes fill with tears of shock and terror, mouth open to speak even as nothing comes out. Nothing can. Beyond his threats Loki seems to have taken your voice from you; words swirl and fill your throat, but none escape. Nothing does as you watch Loki do the unthinkable…listen to him cackle in delight as he does.
Blood runs down Ulfr’s thighs, works as the only lubricant while Loki shoves cock up his ass over and over. Every attempt to lessen pain, to slip away into his mind, is stopped by a sudden jerk of the belt or bark of his name. Loki wants him present, wants him to know exactly what’s being done to him - every painful, humiliating, thing. Hand once bruising his hip moves into hair, yanks until his head is bent back…bloody, tear-streaked, face and throat exposed to the world.
“Who is your king?” Voice snaps, demands, with Loki’s thrusts.
“You.” It’s barely a word, it’s a croak.
“My name…” Teeth bury into the back of Ulfr’s neck to break and mark the skin. “Say it, Hoarfrost.”
He considers holding out, not giving him the satisfaction, before Ulfr feels that soul-breaking heat once again. As if turning into fiery metal Loki’s length starts to burn deep inside him, hits prostate so that Ulfr finally gives up a wail of pain in the form of the other’s name. “LOKI!!” That fire in his veins starts to spread into his heart and head once more…He cannot not repair or even protect himself if he wishes now.
“Who is your god?”
It doesn’t lessen Loki’s drive, only spurs it on. He fucks faster, harder, demanding his name be said over and over. He wants nothing more than his newest pet’s pleas and cries…he wants it to beg him for death. Death should be the mercy, not life. His grin goes psychotic, actions wild, as he slams the Frost Giant’s head into the counter and grabs limp dick, squeezing until Ulfr screams…until Ulfr can’t make sounds he’s in such pain.
Whatever else is happening in the room blurs in inattention as you focus on the two men. On Loki’s seeming reenactment of your introductory rape with Ulfr. No, it’s worse than that…Loki was trying to scare you, hurt a little, yes, but not like this. With Ulfr you’re not so sure death isn’t the goal. That Loki won’t suddenly slit him open or snap him in half. And, for all your desires to stop it, to protect Ulfr, you’re frozen to the spot utterly helpless. Hopeless.
Loki spills with a growling shudder and smile, letting himself fill Ulfr’s ass with the heat he denied you. For a moment he simply stays inside, heavy-lidded and panting, as if shocked himself at what he’s done. Then he pulls out, white cum flowing after to mix with the red blood already running down the thoroughly owned Frost Giant’s legs. Loki cleans and does himself up swiftly. “Am I not merciful?” He looks over to see faces of shock and awe. “AM I NOT MERCIFUL?!”
As much as the crowd cheers its response, it’s also stepped back a fair ways. It’s left you out in the open, alone. The only one refusing to answer, to obey, Loki. Even knowing Loki’s glaring right at you, through you, you don’t catch his eye. Your eyes stay on Ulfr as he tries to hang onto the counter and what little dignity he might still have with knees giving out, starting to buckle.
Loki closes in once again and Ulfr cringes away. “You heal a single wound before its time, I’ll do the same to her ten times over,” he hisses before shoving Ulfr to the floor with belt still around his neck and turning back to his people. “He should remain warm for the next few hours.” Only when you look up does he add. “Do with him what you wish…just don’t permanently damage or kill him.”
You rush forward, hoping to get to Ulfr first, to get him away if at all possible, but Loki catches you around the waist before you get more than a few steps. You fight and squirm to get out of his hold, more when you see the crowd start to close in on the Frost Giant, but not even biting stops Loki from hefting you over his shoulder and carrying you off in the direction of his quarters…
Hoarfrost is a real word; it means frost; a grayish-white crystalline deposit of frozen water vapor formed in clear still weather on vegetation, fences, etc. [Visual Examples Here]. The summary quote, the one Ulfr says to Loki, is a repeat of what the reader told Loki upon his initial public rape of her...I like parallels and Ulfr couldn’t resist, haha!
Chapter 15: Nuclear Winter
“You come near me and I’ll -”
The moment you hit the bed you bounce back up and out. “YOU SICK FUCK!!” You scream, grabbing the nearest thing - a book - and flinging it at Loki’s head. It misses so you grab a vase, which shatters as it connects with Loki’s shoulder. “You come near me and I’ll -”
“You’ll what?” Loki grins in delight, approaching his prey. There isn’t anything you can do; you’re just a pretty little mortal standing before a god. You’ll lose, just like everyone else; you just refuse to acknowledge it. Beautifully foolish Midgardian.
You back up, reaching out for whatever you can find. You feel something like a pole and grab, swing out wide so Loki has to stop short lest the crescent of his scepter catch him. The surprise of it suddenly here only registers a moment before you attempt a stab next.
“Put that down.”
“FUCK YOU!!” You spit out in the face of his laughter. “If I’m gonna die, I’m going out swinging!”
Loki leans away from another attempt to gut him.“Oh…I’m not going to kill you.”
“Well I’m not about to just roll over and take more rapes either, fucker!”
“You did for Ulfr.”
Mouth drops open in enraged shock…you don’t have words, even actions, to express yourself. You want to kill him, destroy his world like he did yours. He grins, takes another step forward, and the blue of his eyes shine…as does the gem in the staff. You grip tighter, turning your hate onto the scepter. This is the thing making Loki like this, this is where his arrogance and cruelty is coming from…this is what Ulfr touched yesterday.
With a enraged swing you smash the nearby window and let the scepter fall out with the broken glass. You turn to Loki’s hand seizing your throat, squeezing so hard you briefly see stars.
“Think you’re so clever, don’t you…Think THAT will stop me?!” Loki’s other hand opens with golden light that solidifies into the shape of his scepter. Firmly back in his control both gem and eyes pulsate before you. “Nice try, my bold little Midgardian.”
You go with a classic, kick him right in the balls, and clearly connect as he lets out an undistinguished “oof” and grimace. You scramble across the bed, find a new weapon, and turn just as the tip of the crescent sings towards you. It’s one of Loki’s own knives - deadly sharp, dangerously light, with smooth blue handle - that stops the contact.
Both of you look down in shock; the scepter’s landed hard enough a bloody outline of the blade begins to seep into your shirt.
* * *
Perhaps, just maybe, he can manage to call for Dr Strange. It’s a pathetic move - even Jotun children are to die like men - but it’s preferable to what he currently sees as his future. Yet he can’t simply leave you behind; leave you in this place, alone, with Loki and gods know who else to do with you whatever they wish. He cannot leave you to such a fate, not when so much of this is his fault.
There’s a short, testing, kick to his back. He doesn’t move. The next kick is harder, comes with a demand to wake up, but Ulfr remains still. He calculates his options quickly, determining his remaining energy, his remaining Seiðr, and what can be accomplished with it. Can he fight them off or is it better to just take the abuse?
What triggers him isn’t the violence - he’s suffered far worse beatings - it’s the soft touch. It’s the gentle hand removing hair from the side of face, stroking his cheek, as something Ulfr can’t make out is muttered. That’s what sets off the uncontrollable panic that floods his system, overrides all calculations, and drowns logic.
He goes blue as everything around him goes black.
* * *
The blast is enough to force Loki back into his Jotun form, but with his own disorientation he doesn’t notice. He does notice the burn of the cold, but fights through it to remain warm enough for you. For him it’s discomfort, for a Midgardian it’s potentially deadly. He wonders at the magic of it, the power Ulfr must have to cause it, and feels a flash of fear. Could Ulfr truly be that strong? Even now??
Temperature rises enough to feel the heat of Loki over you, but not so much you’re willing to push him off and brave the cold yourself. Eyes slowly open to a room of ice, of falling snow…the tower’s now Elsa’s castle inside as well as out. You shiver, teeth near clenching they chatter so fast. Huffs of breath escape as you try not to panic in your confusion, in the growing pain of your chest.
“Are you all right?” Loki’s voice is soft, gentle, as he shifts in worry he’s crushing you. “Speak to me.” His hand moves to take one of yours and he gasps in utter horror at the bloody frost covering it. He finally, for the first time you can recall, calls out your true name.
“Loki…” Stickiness begins to spread under you, then pump; you still feel the icicle in your chest. You give cry, whimper, as Loki carefully rolls you onto your back. You look up to see alarmed red eyes and deep blue skin decorated with fainter blue lines….You hadn’t just imagined it, he was like Ulfr. You cringe as more waves of pain come; move to look down for the source when Loki takes your chin in his hand to ensure you don’t.
“Shhh…You, you don-…” He can’t possible let you see, he can barely stand the sight himself; his own blade, diluted red dripping from the handle, jutting out angrily from your chest. “…Just look at me, yes?”
“It hurts,” you whine, breaths harder to take. It feels like drowning; drowning in unbearable pain and fast-growing fear. “Lo-Loki, it…” Tears spring as you start to guess at the source. Again you look down, but see nothing. Nothing but Loki trying his best not to show panic, to seem in control when he’s not.
He hides the sight of it from you, unwilling, unable, to give you the terror and pain of that image. “You’re fine, just relax. Just…please…trust me.” Again your real name leaves his lips. “Can you trust me?”
“Yes…” The more the room reheats, the drowsier, dizzier, you feel. “…Loki…” You want, need, to sleep, but you have to tell him first. He should know at least. “I trust you.”
To be clear on the events: When Ulfr’s magic exploded Loki threw the reader to the ground with the blade still at her chest, the impact of them both hitting the floor accidentally drove the blade into her. Also, Elsa is a reference to Disney’s Frozen.
Chapter 16: Thaw
This takes place many hours - 12 or more - after the last piece.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
You wake up surrounded by softness. Soft mattress, soft blankets, soft sounds of a tune hummed deep behind you. There’s warmth now too. Warmth between the sheets, warmth from the body next to you. You feel safe, truly safe, for the first time in far too long…so long you imagine it a dream. Something a pain soaked and dying mind would think up.
Eyes pop open in a panic, hand clutching where wound was and finding another already covering the area. You blink down tentatively; the hand is large, smooth, but distinctly masculine and firmly against your heart. Holding bared breast. There’s no pain. You feel sheets and him wrapped around your naked body, shudder at the thoughts running through your mind. How long had you been out? What had he done in the meantime? Two sides fight for control of your body; one side declaring the danger of Loki so close, the other reassuring he saved you. You had trusted him and he came through.
“Loki…” Your voice shakes in fear of waking the beast instead of the man you know is underneath.
“You’re awake.” Fingers flex into a grab of your chest and you cringe. They almost immediately relax again, leave your body entirely. “I…I didn’t…” He hadn’t done anything indecent. “I needed to see the wound, to ensure nothing was left behind.” Like any of his curses. “I thought, perhaps, if I redressed you you would…” Think he did exactly what you think he did.
You shift, turn to face him. He’s without shirt, in sweatpants instead of usual kingly attire. He’s also without the cockiness and cruel blue eyes. This is the Loki you saw before he disappeared. “Thank you.”
The worry in green eyes lessen, hope creeps in, but then turns to near panic. “I’m sorry…for all of it. I just…” He doesn’t want to, can’t, tell you everything. He needs to explain though, while he still feels like himself. “I can’t…stop this. It’s too far gone. I’m too far gone.”
“What do you mean?”
“…I can’t…” Tears turn eyes into oceans.
“Loki, let me help…”
“There’s no going back and, soon, it’ll come again. I can feel them.” The stones calling to him, luring him back to his task. His mission. No, not his. Thanos’ mission. The one he was broken and remade for.
“What, Loki?” You reach out to touch him and he flinches. You pull hand back, but he grabs and holds. “What’s making you sick?”
“You know…” he whispers, as if afraid someone will hear.
You do know, or at least have a strong suspicion. “Break it.”
“No!” He gasps, more afraid than offended. It’s unthinkable; he isn’t even sure it’s possible beyond the theoretical. Still, even thinking of doing such a thing would certainly alert Thanos and bring immeasurable wrath down upon him…and you.
“It’s destroying you.”
“…Let it.” Better to die with a kingdom and power than nothing but Thanos’ boot on his neck.
“Loki.” You take a deep breath, close in until your chest touches his. You find yourself forming a conspiracy, a way to keep him from whatever wants him. “What if I did it?”
His smile is grateful, but hints at pity. “It is beyond a mortal’s power.”
You sense it’s the truth, so only sigh at a lost option. “We could look for the Avengers that survived…your brother?” He only shakes his head and you sense you’re down a road Loki will never follow. For all his seeming remorse, he isn’t willing, doesn’t believe, he can change course. “If you make me a promise now, will it hold then?”
“Is…is there any way you can…make sure?” He looks down guiltily and you know he can’t…But better to try and fail than not try at all. “Promise me you won’t hurt anyone else. You can have me, I’ll take whatever you have willingly, but please don’t hurt anyone else ever again.”
“You mean Ulfr.” He glares up, anger hiding hurt. “You want to protect him.”
“Him and others…You.”
“Because, whatever you think of yourself, I know there’s good in you.”
“You’ve not seen the real me.”
“Yes I have.” Even if he didn’t realize it, you’ve seen more sides of him than almost anyone. You don’t tell him that though. “I see him right now. And I want him to survive this with the rest of us.”
“I’m sorry.” How disappointing he must be; all bravado gone, too weak and stupid to fight for anything but what he’s been told to. If he were any sort of real god, real king, at all he’d reclaim himself, protect and fight for what he wanted rather than let others control his body and mind.
“I’m not.” You squeeze his hand before opening it up with yours. You press lips to his palm, set the hand on your hip. “I just…I think you need this.” A physical connection that isn’t marred by lust or anger or jealousy. Something gentler than that, closer to love.
He pulls you in, wraps arms, and bows head against breasts. Your scent remains sweet even after your time here. He hums his sigh, exhale heating chest, hardening nipples. Finger draws lazy circles around hip, then hand carefully explores skin around the small of your back.
You slip leg around him, hand tracing hairline, jawline, lips, chin. For once you’re not frightened, not unsure where it’ll go, not calculating what he wants. For once this is wholly about acceptance, reassurance. If Loki sees that, after everything, you still don’t think him a monster, maybe he’ll be able to fight whatever’s making him one. You press lips against cheek and that alone makes him shudder.
“May I?” His mouth hovers over your chest, but he doesn’t dare presume. Not now. Not like this. Not when you’re showing him such kindness, such trust, after being given no reason for such things.
“Yes,” you reassure before sighing at the brushing of lips just above nipple. Sigh falls to moan as he takes one into his mouth, lets tongue explore, then you gasp as he takes more of your breast for himself. There’s no teeth, just lapping, suckling, as he moans.
Loki feels fingers gently comb through hair, slip across back, grip shoulders to push him closer. After all he’s done to you, to those around you, you still allow him this near. Without tensing, without shaking in fear, you let him wrap himself up in you. It’s the closest thing he can recall to unconditional love since he’d discovered who, what, he was back home…if home was ever what Asgard really was to him.
You can feel a spark in your belly, spreading out across skin, pooling between thighs. His mouth heats chest, hands warm backside and thigh as he shifts to align you together. You gasp at the friction of cloth-covered cock brushing against your sex, again when his fingers graze soft curls and clit.
He breaks attention from your breasts to be greeted by your lips. His movements are cautious, tentative, even backing tongue away as you take the lead. When his tongue finally meets and swirls with yours he tastes remnants of metallic blood that breaks his heart. “I am…” he mutters through a break in the kiss. “So sorry.”
“Shhhh,” you deepen the kiss, work to take his and your mind away. Past and future don’t matter right now; you don’t want either of you to think on them. On anything. Hands move to his sweats, roll and push them down…off.
Rumbles leave his chest as you take his length in hand, stroke slow, steady, without breaking eye contact. It’s too much, he closes eyes. Thinks to stop it, to pull away, to tell you to run from here while you can, but he doesn’t have the heart. No, not heart…he doesn’t have the guts. Because, just maybe, you can be the one to help keep a shred of his sanity when he fails again.
It’s you that slips him inside, you that watches Loki’s face as he seems to, however briefly, fall apart. Mouth open, tears leaking from shut eyes, shaking. More than violence, anger, hate, he seems to fear kindness, comfort. There’s immeasurable sadness in that and it breaks your heart. You roll slow, careful to hold him in, and he slips easily onto his back. “Open your eyes,” you whisper against his lips.
Green eyes obey and tears slide in full down Loki’s face. He doesn’t deserve this; he doesn’t deserve anything close to this. His hands are taken by yours, pinned above his head. He doesn’t fight it. Maybe this is all a ruse to get him to drop his guard, maybe you’ll kill him…he won’t fight it. He’ll take what little pleasure you offer before the tables turn, because they always turn.
Maybe holding his wrists is for safety, but it’s more to assert control. This time it’s your choice, this time you’re the one taking. You’re in charge as you ride him, as he submits to you. You lead him into the faster pace, you decide the angles for your pleasure, and you’re the one telling him to aid in your climax. “Do you want to come?” You ask, already starting to ride, roll, once again.
Loki’s been close since before your orgasm, holding himself back as much out of respect for you, your needs and desires, as out of a self-imposed punishment. He’d not allowed you, you can disallow him. “Please.” He arches, grits teeth with hiss, as you grind into him. “Plea…Please…”
The tiniest part of you wants to deny him, but much more wants something else. “Be hot for me.”
He understands immediately, allows heated seed to spill and coat your insides as your name falls over and over from his lips.
I think this is sort of a mix of denial, comfort, and almost make-up sex…both know it won't last, it’s not going to end well, but both are setting that aside for their own reasons: The reader wants to show Loki that she knows he’s not a monster and (foolishly) hopes he’ll remember that later. Loki’s mostly letting her have her way (with him basically lol) as a sorta apology for all he’s done…and he’s seeking comfort wherever he can get it after going without for who knows how long.
Chapter 17: Cold Shoulder
"This isn’t going to get better…”
There’s been a time jump of approximately a couple months or so.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He can feel it. Around his neck, first loose and then tight. Tighter. Cutting off air as fingers curl to slam, then hold, him back onto the table by the collar. Limbs, torso, get strapped down and he knows. He knows what kind of day it’ll be even before he catches the glint of scalpels out the corner of his eye. Eyes close against the tears. “It…It won’t…work.” They won’t listen, they’ll cut and gouge and rip…and he’ll beg and bleed.
It’s been weeks, months, and still Ulfr wakes in memories of sheer pain, base terror. Chokes awake, crystallized sweat cracking with shuddering jolts and uncatchable breath; heart racing and stomach aching as Seiðr seems to hum protection throughout his lines. …Loki didn’t break anything, nothing new anyway, but rather pulled out those seams that once held him together. Fired up past scars, reopened wounds so old he presumed they’d healed.
Hand massaging neck, reassuring no collar is there, he turns shower to steaming temperatures. The shock of it is meant to ground him - this isn’t then, it’s now - but again it fails. Ridges shiver, skin blues, on instinct. He examines himself, runs fingers up arms, down chest and stomach, feeling for his own comfort. He’s not cut, he’s not opened, there is nothing being pulled out or left in.
Ulfr allows himself a minute, just 60 seconds, to break down and pull himself back together…much better than the 60 minutes he’d started with. After that he adjusts his appearance in the mirror, dresses, and heads out into another day of holding a low and beaten profile. A profile that still comes a bit too easy for his comfort.
You turn with a smile at his approach, but he gives no reaction. He looks, watches, but never comes close. Never responds. Not anymore. It breaks your heart, but you don’t know how to fix it. What openly trying to will cause Loki to do…thus far he’s been true to his word, you don’t want to risk others in doing something that he may read as betrayal of your deal. You watch Ulfr go to the freezer, pull out ice cream, and start to head back to his room. “Ulfr, wait!”
“I…” and all your words leave you. All those well-worded apologies, all those explanations of your sudden attachment to Loki…all gone in a sigh. “I’m sorry.”
A sneering snort exits his mouth. “Okay.”
“What Loki did to you was…unforgivable.”
“And yet…” he shrugs. “You forgive.”
“Him. Not what he did.”
“You think they’re different?”
“In this case.”
He takes a step forward, towers over with narrowed eyes. “You think this is aberrant behavior for him still. It’s not. He killed my people, his own people…my family. His father.” Ulfr’s fingers curl into fists, then relax to take your chin in leather-clad hand. “Go back to your master, little bold one, go back to warming his bed as you were purchased for.”
His grip doesn’t burn, just his words as you slap him away. “I’m doing the best I can with the situation, Ulfr. I’m trying to manage Loki’s descent, protect you and the rest.” The ones that managed to survive Ulfr’s arctic blast. “I just…” you breathe deep, try to keep your emotions in check. “I don’t need to be made to feel like shit on top of all that.”
“You’re a thrall, just be happy you don’t have the collar to go with it.“
There’s a moment you shrink back, hurt, but then step forward again. “Believe it or not, I still care about you. That’s not going to change.”
The Frost Giant closes in, but you refuse to move this time. You refuse to look from his crimson gaze. You stand stock still even as he reaches out to touch. Even as leather caresses cheek. “Remember something for me.”
“This isn’t going to get better.” You sigh, twist head away from him, but he sets both hands on either side of your face to force you to look at him. “And that child growing in your belly won’t help anything.”
You step back, away. “Why are you saying this?”
There’s a moment his face falls, he bites lip as eyes water, then it fades. “I don’t know, you won’t listen anyway.” Ulfr gives you one last look over, then turns and shuts the door in your face.
…Only then do you realize his touch barely even registered as cold…
Ulfr rubs back of neck, pulls off chain necklace, tears at collar of shirt until stitching pops. Even then he feels the weight, the pressing metal, the pressing magic, of the collar choking him. Appetite gone he puts his food on ice, settles on the floor against the bed, and creates an ice-pup. Something small, simple for him even as a child. A pet, friend, potential protector that he can grow and shape, solidify into near reality…Something that, when you call his name, growls warning in return.
You step back from the door, unsure if the growl is Ulfr or something else. You remind yourself he may still need time, that from his perspective you’ve likely betrayed him. That, like Loki, he doesn’t like to show weakness, pained emotions outside the aggressive-based.
“You! Now!” Loki calls out from the elongate balcony that once served as Iron Man’s take-off and landing pad. You turn and see blazing blue eyes, one blackened after his latest meeting. He grins psychotic, more seeing whose door you’re at. “Oh, I see…Would you like to invite him?”
“Loki, don’t…” you start, but don’t finish as the god’s eyes narrow.
“Invite him or I will order him.”
The words already haunt: This isn’t going to get better…
Ulfr’s memories are not of what Loki’s done, but one’s Loki triggered of his time at S.H.I.E.L.D. and elsewhere - more of Ulfr’s past will likely be delved into in a sequel. And, yes, the reader is pregnant…but, no, I’m not saying with whose child.
You were a fool to think Loki would not snake his way around your agreement, that he couldn’t find ways to torture without touching…keep hands on you, but malice for the other. Fucking you in front of others was nothing new, Loki forever wishes a great audience, but this is not fucking. And this audience was of just one.
“Say my name,” Loki mutters against your lips, your neck, your chest. Over and over, never satisfied no matter how often you oblige. He must sense it, that you’re not there. Your body reacts - nipples perk, skin pricks up, breath shortens - under his skilled mouth, yet you haven’t the true presence of mind to play along. Your thoughts are focused on the other.
Ulfr sits in utter silence, watching without fully taking in the scene. He can’t. He needs his head right, his desires - good and bad - under control. For your safety if for no other reason. He saw it coming with the “invite” and separated immediately; remains detached, but aware.
Loki ghosts a possessive bite over your belly that causes you to tense. It’s too intimate right now, awkward without knowing the father. His chuckle oozes as he glances up. “I hardly think a single kiss will affect our child.” It’s between tease and provocation. “What?” He mocks your shock, smirks as he raises legs over his shoulder. “Honestly think I wasn’t aware? My, but you are such a foolish little Midgardian. Your good fortune you’re also delicious…”
Tongue gives a single, slow, lick between your folds and your head falls back without response. So the tongue laps again, this time slower still, flicking fast at the end to get the desired response. Your arch, your moan, your juices flowing for him to taste. You want to look to Ulfr, to see if there’s anything within his stillness, but don’t dare. It’s too dangerous; safer now just to relax, to let Loki have his way, and attempt to speak later…always later.
“If only you’d the presence of mind to taste her when you had the chance.” Loki laughs his taunt across your sex as two fingers enter to elicit a moan. “Not that your kind holds any interest in such things.” Loki indulges in overly greedy moans, suckling at your clit until you shake. “Tell me,” he moves to kiss his way back up, fingers never stopping. “Did you even come for him…Come for him as you always do for me?”
You don’t dare answer, confess you had so intensely you’d passed out. Eyes shift to Ulfr and they catch. His spirit seems to light up, but face remains expressionless. Then his eyes drop away.
“Perhaps we should let him try again, what do you think?” The god’s mouth slams yours to prevent any answer. Fingers slip out, up to your clit, and near abuse it until you're crying in need for what simply will not come. He slows as he pulls from the kiss, his grin vicious. “It’s not as if there’s risk of a child with mine already growing inside you.”
Finally Ulfr announces his alertness in a reply. “I can’t.”
Loki’s on his feet, leaving you to cover yourself. “Oh yes you can.” Eyes narrow as he closes in on the other. “You think me as foolish as she. Think I’ve not kept my eye on you, my senses open to your abilities? I know full well you can touch her now.” He sneers down at Ulfr. “You should be grateful that I even allow you to look in her direction, she is the future mother of a prince! Your prince!”
The Frost Giant slowly tilts his head up, then back down. “I will do as my king commands me. If he is generous, I will take the gift given.”
“This isn’t a gift, it’s a reminder of what you cannot have without me. That, as much as you want, you will never truly have her. You will never have children with her while I’m having the first of many.” He smirks wide, gestures Ulfr to stand. “And you need to be happy with whatever leftovers, scraps, I bestow on you, ergi.”
Whatever air’s left in the room leaves; it’s all tension, a swell of hate from Ulfr that nearly drowns you as Loki stands against it in calm amusement. You attempt to get up, slip away, but the bed creaks an alarm and both men turn to you.
The god laughs. “Come now, my dear little bold one, I’ll not let him take you as he did before. I’ll ensure he’s gentle…” Loki turns back to a glaring Ulfr. “Considerate of our child growing within you.” It’s meant to remind you of how dangerously aggressive and uncontrollable Ulfr is; that an animal’s about to fuck you and only Loki can keep you safe. And, if Ulfr isn’t aggressive, it’ll show just how much he truly cares. The offer, in Loki’s eyes, is a win-win move.
You too see the clever cruelty in it. Loki’s not just exposing Ulfr’s increased skills in magic - and how aware he is of them - but potentially his true feelings for you. You don’t fear Ulfr will be harsh, you fear he’ll be so gentle Loki finds it a reason to attack as he did before.
“Well?” Loki gives an expectant expression.
Ulfr take a deep breath, gathers his many thoughts and calculations, and acts. Approaches you slow, eyes not quite catching, and yet you get the sense he’s calm rather than unsure. That he’s thinking of his next move and those four ahead of that. But all he says is. “I won’t hurt you.”
You didn’t believe him last time - you’d hoped, but didn’t believe - you do now though.
“Take off your clothes,” Loki orders as he slips into the chair once occupied by the other. “If you’re going to be with the mother of my child, you’ll do it properly, not like the rutting beast you are.”
It’s purely for humiliation, but Ulfr doesn’t hesitate. He strips down completely and, in truth, it’s awing. Those lines you felt you now see rising across his body; the way the vines grow, entwine, swirl, from the tree at his center. The image of a wolf prowling underneath. Ridges even spiral around cock as the mere sight of you seems to arouse. Only when your eyes meet does he seem to show discomfort. “May I approach?”
Mute, eyes still taking in his full form, you nod.
He does, slow and steady, hands out at his side. You slip back, he sits. So close you feel chilled breath on your face, can see his ridges almost twitch, Ulfr mutters into your mouth. “Trust me.” His lips hit soft before you can respond, but you show your trust in opening to him.
The feel of Loki’s eyes on you remains, but you continue your attempts to ignore him. To force him to the back of your mind. The task is made easier with Ulfr’s hand cooling your thigh, soothing your sex where Loki had been so unforgiving just moments before. Whether due to Loki or the baby or simply being of sound mind now Ulfr’s touch is tentative. He breaks kisses only to return to them, hand fluttering between thighs and fingers shaking as they brush clit. With him your reaction comes quicker, more naturally, with a shudder and sigh.
“Do not drag this out,” Loki snipes suddenly, smiles tensely. “I assure you, she’s plenty prepared.”
There’s a split-second look that suggests amusement, maybe victory, before Ulfr encourages you back onto the bed. “Trust me,” he repeats even as his own nerves show. A slight shake in his lips against yours, frequent glances away - whether to the side at Loki or merely down - as he shifts to hide you both by sheets.
Loki chuckles. “Nice try.” They fade away along with the remnants of your clothing. “You’ll not hide yourselves from me. After all, how can I ensure nothing will become of my child if I cannot see what’s being done to its mother?”
The taunt sets off your anger more than Ulfr’s as you deepen the kiss, put arms around the Frost Giant’s neck to pull him to you. He’s cool, but there’s no risk of a burn and, the longer you touch the warmer he becomes…melting against you as fingers tangle up in his hair.
“Trust me.” You lift leg to hide Ulfr’s initial entry, to better feel the length of ribbed cock sliding in and filling cunt. The slowing down makes it feel so much better and you moan into his mouth, tightening muscles on instinct.
It feels so much different this way; strangely heightened and almost unnervingly intense. Being face-to-face, looking into each other’s eyes, is not Jotun custom and nearly throws Ulfr beyond his comfort. It isn’t until he feels your other hand slip down, fingers trace along curling vines over hip, waist, and ribs, that he relaxes. Begins to move.
You bite lip, hold back a moan of his name, still very aware you’re being watched. That Loki may find this amusing until he doesn’t. Ulfr’s name is turned into just a soft huff, “Ul, ul…” as he keeps slow, shallow, in thrusts.
“See, my dear bold girl,” Loki’s voice snakes in. “He’s too frightened to even fuck properly now. He’s nothing but a rimy little pup.”
Something in the word causes Ulfr to flinch, as if struck, as he looks away. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“Watch our bodies,” you offer, recalling his preference to observe. “My hand…” Fingers at ribs move in, feel along branches at his chest, then down towards his roots.
"I imagine you wish the child yours…” Loki continues, delighting in the reactions. The insecurity, the weakness. The pain. It feeds the worst parts that the Tesseract and Mind Stone have brought forth in him. It reasserts he’s the king, the god, he needs to be. “But you’ll not have her without my child already growing inside. Now finish my leftovers before I change my mind and pull them from you forever.”
Ulfr gives a growl as you reach the strangest twists in his lines; the section of his lower stomach where roots turn to wolf. His breath catches, lips crash to you, as desire begins to override doubt. Hand runs down, wraps one leg around his waist as you wrap the other yourself. Pace remains steady, manageable, but the thrusts are full and deep. Arm bracing by your head curls protectively, hand brushing back hair from your face.
Now you can truly feel that want building, going beyond hope into reality. You arch, grip the back of Ulfr’s neck with only his moan as reaction. Other hand circles to grab ass, trace ridges and allow him deeper as your body shakes under him. “K-Keep going…fuck…” Loki’s all but faded for both of you. If he watches, you don’t notice. If he speaks, you don’t hear. You only feel Ulfr filling you, hear Ulfr grunting and groaning your name.
“C-c-come.” It’s half order, half beg, half warning as it spills from his lips only moments before he does. There’s that same rush of him filling you, overflowing, but this time it’s warm. He’s warm with hand slipping down to join yours in rubbing clit and finally, blessedly, throwing you into over into orgasm with his name a cry on your lips seconds later.
“ENOUGH!!” Loki’s up, full-armored, face twisted in crazed loathing. His eyes glow a murderous blue in time with the scepter now in his hand. Enough of this game, of all games…enough of Ulfr, such foolish rivalries (certainly not those he may well lose!) are beneath him as king.
Instinct has you curling around, up into, Ulfr all the more. Arms and legs wrapping around as much for protection as to protect. You hear him faintly request you trust him once more before light smashes the bed to pieces.
The god cackles his victory as he goes around, expecting to find you and only ashes of his rival…but he finds neither. There’s nothing but bits of cloth, splinters of bed, and shards of shattered lamp.
“You honestly think touching her is the only thing I’ve learned these last few months?” Ulfr leans against the doorway behind him, dressed for combat with Eye of Agamotto around his neck and malicious grin on his face.
Loki raises his scepter to strike once again, but the other is quicker. The arctic blast strikes at the god’s center of mass with such force it slams him against wall and window, cracking one and shattering the other…
Ergi is an Old Norse (noun) insult meaning “unmanliness” or ”effeminacy”, but more specifically to be the bottom/submissive in a gay male coupling. It’s somewhat considered the equivalent of the gay slur that starts with f (you know the one). And, for super ironic sake, Ergi was also related to men practicing Seiðr (magic), which was generally considered women’s stuff.
Also what’s happened, Ulfr’s trick, will be revealed in the next piece.
Chapter 19: Blood Runs Cold
This is the official finale, but there will be an epilogue as well.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
He knows Loki’s “invite” is the first step back down the spiral to Hel. Loki gets this he’ll keep pressing and pressing until it’s as bad, worse than, it was before. Ulfr can either stop him now or let it all go to shit for himself, you, the baby, and everyone else in Loki’s path. So, really, he doesn’t have a choice. It’s now or never.
The split is quick, easy for him, this time; as one steps out to follow you into whatever trap Loki’s laid, the other slips off to contact Dr Strange.
Over the months Strange grew increasingly wary of Ulfr. Not for fear of his mind, his control, but in his abilities. In once raw power now honed without the limits of morals or consideration for others. When they meet now, Strange keeps his distance, his guard up, and rarely lets the other get too close…even in the mirror dimension.
“It’s time.” Ulfr declares.
“You wanna stand around debating or stop Loki before he does any more damage?” He smiles. “We don’t have time for both.”
“We can’t afford to act without consideration…like before.” When Ulfr set their plans back by months in touching The Tesseract. “And, if you can’t…”
Ulfr’s mirage fades and Strange tenses. Where is he? What sort of trap is this…and whose is it? Loki’s or Ulfr’s? The sorcerer spins; Ulfr grabs and slams hard enough the wall refracts in multiple directions preventing additional injuries. The doctor’s vision blurs, head spins, as the other hits like a sledgehammer, doubling him over, before he can recover enough to fire Ulfr back and throw up shields. The Frost Giant fades away again…And Strange sees his folly. He didn’t intend to fight, only distract. No more Sling Ring and while the Eye of Agamotto remains, its falsehood is sensed. One doesn’t have to contend with protective spells if he’s switching rather than stealing…
“Fuck,” Strange groans out.
* * *
“Yeah, I do,” Ulfr grins back before light flies in his direction. It cracks across his shoulder like a hot whip, one whose burn burrows under skin, muscle, and into bone. He hisses, growls, as ice soothes wound, patches up torn armor, and grows into spikes across the Frost Giant’s form.
Both men charge, allowing rage, frustration, and testosterone to fill them, fuel them, to mad battle…
* * *
There’s a crash as Loki flies through the wall, landing a few feet from you in an enraged heap. Red streaks down his face from hairline to chin and he flicks blood from his hair to glare about with blackened eyes, but he looks through rather than at you. Grunting up on his feet his scepter fires through the hole his body made, lighting up the bedroom in red. He’s blue, lined…full Jotun. Just like Ulfr who steps through the hole, pink-tinged armor reforming as fast as it melts. “I am your king!”
“I don’t care,” Ulfr states, taking wide strides in approach to a scrambling Loki. With a flick of his wrist he sets Loki’s insides on fire and the man begins to seize and twist, gasp for air through burning throat. “You killed your king, your father…My family…You’re a traitor….Murderer of your own kind!” His voice begins to shake in pure rage, loathing…then pain as the magic he uses causes his own Jotun skin to crack and bleed. “NÍÐINGR!!”
“Ulfr, no!” You give a scream, it echoes back without reaching either man’s ears. “Stop!!” It isn’t that you want either to win; you don’t want either of them to lose. They can be terrible, terrifying, but that they could kill each other horrified you. That they might leave you and your child, their child, alone in whatever this world's become shakes tears from your eyes.
Loki times it perfectly, the blade appearing just as Ulfr goes for the kill. It slips in red hot, severing the roots of tree, and Ulfr howls in agony. Muscles tense, fight the intrusion, as the god’s wrist twists, yanks, and more flesh opens to the shock of the gutted. Loki chuckles darkly as hand once ready to strangle hits the floor to keep the Frost Giant from collapsing outright.
Ice armor melts, Seiðr spills with blood, as Ulfr fights to heal over everything else. The heat of Loki’s cursed knife spreads, burns the core of him, even after it leaves his body. Fiery poison pumps through veins, boiling blood both within and spilling across the floor. He’s been a fool, indulgent in vengeance, and now he’s lost as Loki stabs again, pushing him off with the blade itself.
“Loki!” You scream as the pocket universe Ulfr tucked you in melts with your armor. “STOP!! STOP YOU’RE KILLING HIM!!” You rush forward, then stop short as the god’s eyes flare up at you.
All semblance of humanity is gone. “Yes…well that is the point.” The maniacal look leaves in a gasp as ice impales his chest. He looks down, sees Ulfr’s blood-caked grin, before going to grab the Eye of Agamotto for himself. He’ll heal later, but first the stone. The moment his hand touches the pendant Ulfr’s hands latch over his.
“STOP!!!” You beg as the two enter an impenetrable battle of wills; as they grab, hit, and stab each other in the struggle to get the upper hand before their death. “Fuck….” Your mind races for a distraction, anything to get them apart and away from that stupid necklace. Then you hit on it and wail as if in pain. “THE BABY!!!“
It gets their attention…sort of. They look to you, but both men keep hands on jewelry and, in seeing nothing wrong, Loki only laughs before yanking hard. He gains control of the Eye, but loses balance in the process and tips back. Hand releases the gold chain in instinctive favor of staying upright and the pendant crashes against the wall.
Desperate to end this, in hopes they can be saved both physically and mentally, you dash forward before either’s collected themselves. The gold chain is knotted, gilded cage cracked and broken, and a short ways off is the glowing green stone that’s slipped out. You reach down to pick up it…
“NO!!” They both roar.
The second you touch it agony seizes your entire being…an incomprehensible, raw, burn of energy that makes you wail like a flaming animal. It pulls you apart on a molecular level, body and mind and soul. Through blinding light both men rush forward. Ulfr’s body wraps around you, grabs the stone to funnel energy into himself, and Loki follows after, but you know this is it. This is the end…
“Think of before…” you hear their voices mix in your mind more than ear. Weak, desperate, pleading, dying with you.
The stone flames itself into your palms as you try to focus on the life you had before all this. Before Ulfr, before Loki, before New York and your world fell to the bitter cold of their conquering…
There will be an epilogue showing what’s happened to these three after...also Dr Strange is fine, it’ll just take him a bit to get out of the mirror dimension and back to his current time and place, hahaha!
Níðingr means “villain, vile person” in Old Norse.
Chapter 20: Touch of Warmth
"You really are a bold one."
You fly up in bed with a scream, ripping sheets from body as if they’re flaming. Your heart slams so that your chest hurts, so that you double up and cringe in sweat-soaked bed. There’s a strange numbness in you, like nerve-endings still working to reconnect after a deep burn. Eyes cast around for reassurance…
It’s all there. The lockers, the bunk-beds, the table covered in computers, files, and a television. You’re at work, still on-call like everyone else. Black smoke fills the sky, crawling up to the sun, and in the distance there’s explosions.
“Triage external…” the intercom announces throughout the building. “Triage external…all available personnel to the emergency department…” The siren blares twice, then the intercom announcement begins again.
You’re already up, slipping phone into back pocket before splashing water from nearby sink on your face and heading out. Stairs over elevator you take the two flights down in record time and dash into Emergency as the news in the background covers the outside chaos.
“We can confirm the being known only as Loki has escaped S.H.I.E.L.D.’s custody…residents of New York City and surrounding areas are encouraged to remain indoors while attempts to recapture….”
“I need a hand!” A male voice from down the hall reclaims your attention and you rush through the throngs of patients and staff. He looks up when you arrive, eyes between relieved, unsure, and still panicked. “There’s a wound along the hairline at the back of his head with a metal fragment inside, I don’t have tweezers available.”
“Lemme give it a try,” you offer, grabbing gloves from nearby dispenser. “You’re the great Dr Steven Strange, right?” You slip gloves on as the doctor rolls the man as best he can.
“Mostly I prefer Dr Strange,” he smiles faintly as he watches you bunch the sheet of the gurney up by the patient’s head to catch excess blood. “But Steven is acceptable outside work.”
You examine the area, clean the wound as best you can using more of the gurney’s sheet. “Think we’ll meet outside work, do you?” You don’t give him a chance to answer. “Got him steady?”
You nod, gently spread skin just enough to see what you’re looking for. Fingers slide into wound, pausing only when the unconscious man twitches, until you have pinched-hold of the shard. “Stabilize or remove, Doctor?”
“How’s it feel?”
“Thin, but firm…Loose…slippery though.”
“Think you can get it out?”
You glance up, smile faintly. “Absolutely.”
He nods. “Stop if you feel resistance.”
You proceed - careful of potential veins, arteries, flesh - until the length of shrapnel is completely out. You set it aside and quickly press the bunched up sheet over the wound. “Hold him still, I’ll stitch him up.”
“Thought I was the doctor.” It comes with a faint smile as Dr Strange continues to hold the patient in position.
“With hands shaking due to a panicked rush of adrenaline,” you note, holding out your own, steady, hand for the suture kit on his side. You take it as he concedes without word.
“You know, I hear there’s a vacancy on Dr Palmer’s team.”
You can’t hide your smile. “I hear there’s one in yours, Dr Strange.”
“You’re a bold one,” Steven notes with a mix of amusement and admiration.
* * *
“You gonna behave?” The armed guard steps into the cell, slight sneer on his face. “Or you need another round in the sauna?” Their name for the overheated room they seem to delight sticking him in whenever they deem him uncooperative.
Soft eyes and slight pout, Ulfr nods his head.
“Good boy.” The guard chuckles in triumph before a shiver takes over his body. Then another, this one bad enough he sucks in breath and teeth chatter.
“I’ve learned something new,” the Frost Giant smiles softly. “I think it’ll make things easier…for me anyway.”
“What’re you talking about?” The man’s hands shake even as he lifts flame-gun at the other.
“You’re not gonna believe this, but I am sorry for what’s about to happen.”
“What’s about to happen?” Eyes narrow, face turning blue as he grows colder still.
“I’m gonna kill you…and all your friends…again.” His memories of the first time are still in there, at the back of his mind, and he’s powerful enough now to bring them forth. To see which steps he must retake and which he must avoid to make things right. “I’ll do it differently this time,” Ulfr rises, growing more his true self with every second. “But, I’m afraid, it’ll be more painful.”
The guard steps back from the Frost Giant on joints so stiff they barely move. “On your knees, you frozen prick.” His finger goes to the trigger, but not a moment later he finds he can’t move his finger. Or any other joint.
Ulfr towers over him, blue form decorated in delicate pale-blue lines, with sympathetic red eyes. “Believe it or not, probably not,” he chuckles, refocuses, “I enjoy your realm, your people, greatly, but I’ve been an experiment one too many times. I cannot allow it to continue, not even with creatures as lovely as you Midgardians.”
As the guard slowly turns to ice, the Jotun shape-shifts into his form.
* * *
You. You looking haggard, shuffling across the park in hospital scrubs, yawning between sips of Starbucks. You looking lovely too…Unspoiled, full of potential and hopeful for a future you truly have once again. That you turn as Loki attempts to reach out, willing you to see him, stuns.
It’s shocking that the Avengers might bring such a danger out in the open with others casually going about their lives at the same place and time. More shocking that you can’t seem to look away from the being. That he seems to hold you in the thrall of his sad, but commanding, eyes. That strange numbness of your body returns and you’re hit hard by a deep chill in the pit of your stomach so that you nearly cry out, double over.
Large hands catch you, help you straighten out. “Deep breaths, I’ve got you.” The voice is deep, a touch of gravel mixing with its overall smoothness. He walks you towards the nearest bench, sets you down. “And we’ve got him…Well, the Avengers do.”
As pain fades, sensation returns, you look up…and keep looking up. He’s like a tree, a giant, well over six feet tall with long legs, broad shoulders, and shaggy hair. He blocks the sun as he smiles down at you; you can’t help but smile back. “You, uh…you’re from S.H.I.E.L.D.?”
“For the moment.” When your face falls to confusion he smiles more. “It’s all hands on deck, so to speak…I’m sure things will change once Loki’s off-realm.”
“Right…right…” It still sounds strange, off, but you haven’t the energy nor clarity of mind to press the man. And, when he crouches down to meet your eyes, you haven’t the words.
White tattoos cover his body in intricate patterns, his eyes seem…red. “This is gonna sound strange, but can I…request something of you?”
“Don’t worry about the numbness, about your stomach, it’ll pass. It’s just…residual memories your body’s holding onto. You should be fine in a week or so, sooner if S.H.I.E.L.D.’s got something up their sleeve, which I’m sure they do.”
“…Okay…” You can’t think of anything else to say as chilled hands takes yours.
“You’ll be fine,” Ulfr squeezes your hand gently. “Trust me, I won’t let anything happen to you again.”
Even as he closes in, even as ice lips press against your cheek, you don’t move. You don’t even tense. It feels…like it’s okay. Like he’s meant to do it, like he’s done it before or should be doing it in another world. You close eyes in a sigh only to reopen them to nothing.
The red-eyed giant is gone and, looking out, so are both the God of Thunder and his Machiavellian brother, Loki. The other Avengers seem to mingle a moment or two, then go their separate ways.
You remain on the bench as if waiting for the men to return, but they don’t. Of course they don’t. So desperate for an hour’s uninterrupted sleep you must be losing your mind. Finishing off your coffee you groan as you start to get up again, then turn as someone calls your name.
Steven hustles in your direction, smile appearing once he reaches you. “Are you still serious about wanting to be on my team?”
“You ran after me to ask me that?”
“No, of course not,” he huffs, smile growing. “I ran after you to walk you home.” Your eyes narrow and he chuckles. “I heard on the news The Avengers were in the park, with Loki, I thought maybe…”
“You’d catch a peek?”
“I’d walk you home,” Dr Strange insists in a friendly manner, straightening up. “Still interested?”
“In the job or the walk home?”
“Sure.” You start walking.
“Good.” He follows. “I have a surgery scheduled next week and could use another steady hand around.”
“And the walk home?”
“Thought I’d be chivalrous.”
“That’s sweet.” You smile, he smiles. “Next time you should just ask me out though, unless you’d rather I do it.”
Steven laughs. “You really are bold, aren’t you”?
“To the point of bluntness, I’ve been told.”
“Always is…until it gets me in trouble.”
“Well, I admire it.”
“That’s only because I asked you out.”
To clarify: Due to the Time Stone reset the reader never truly met Loki or Ulfr, therefore she never got pregnant. She doesn’t remember it, she won’t be mourning any loss. Only her body vaguely remembers the other timeline and while the chill in her stomach is related to the pregnancy, the rest has to do with when she touched the Time Stone. Loki and Ulfr DO remember the other timeline though (haven’t decided yet if others will remember, I’ll figure that out when I do the sequel haha!). Also I’m NOT saying the reader ends up with Dr Strange, I’m just saying maybe they went out for a couple coffees or dinners once.
“Triage External” is a US code in hospitals for a disaster outside the hospital…and I’m sure what I wrote is medically wrong, but I don’t care just now hahaha!
((PS: If curious, the baby was Ulfr's...just don't tell Loki that, haha! 😉))