Chapter Text
Four months in, daily training with Lisbeth was beginning to take a toll on Petra’s morale. She was resilient; she came from a hard, brutal realm where validation was nearly non-existent. She didn’t need it to push on. But Lisbeth’s constant criticisms and overall repulsed attitude were overwhelming and the bitter cold of Jotunheim’s winter was also lowering her spirits. Staying warm and enduring the drain of withstanding Jötunn culture was beginning to wear her thin. She lacked the opportunity to re-energize after a day of being picked at by the ex-general, Loki certainly didn’t offer his condolences, and Marit tried to be sympathetic in her own way, but it wasn’t enough to combat Lisbeth’s harsh treatment. Petra felt exhausted, cold and alone. The isolation of being the sole Dökkálfar in a realm of emotionally bereft giants was getting to her.
As a shiver wracked through her, Petra swore loud enough that Lisbeth smirked as the elf followed her towards the armory. Despite having been out in the falling snow for hours, training stopped for nothing.
Once Petra caught her breath, the Jötunn led the elf into the old building. Stacked near the far wall were filthy weapons and pieces of protective gear covered in layers of dust and cobwebs. Petra flexed her numb fingers and coughed as they disturbed the fine blanket of debris, ignoring Lisbeth’s eyeroll as the giant hauled a breastplate onto a nearby table.
“Sit,” the ex-general commanded, dumping the armor in front of Petra.
Petra collapsed into a wooden chair and scrunched her toes to work feeling back into them. Her hands were clumsy with cold, but she took a scouring pad, cleaning cloth and bowl filled with a snow-solvent mixture from the pile Lisbeth made on the table. The Jötunn settled in her own chair and began scrubbing blood from a broadsword, motioning for Petra to do the same.
As the dust settled, Petra sneezed twice and rubbed her nose, using a frozen finger to poke at the gear. “What does this have to do with self-defense?”
“Learn discipline, care for weapons and armor,” said Lisbeth with an air of disinterest. With a grumble, Petra hauled her breastplate closer and began cleaning grime from between the layers of metal while Lisbeth worked silently. Raising her sword, the giant held it at eye level and tilted it in the light. When a bloody imperfection marred the surface, she scowled and scrubbed, acting as if Petra wasn’t there. With a sigh, Petra continued to work.
After fifteen minutes of mute cleaning, the Dökkálfr glanced up to find Lisbeth staring at her with a brow raised in disapproval. Petra’s buffing slowed as Lisbeth continued to glare, and her motions eventually ceased.
“Is something the matter?”
“You missed a spot,” Lisbeth pointed to a smear of dried crimson on the side of the armor.
Petra gave a tight-lipped smile, clenching her teeth to keep them from chattering and rotating the plate until she found the rusty stain. She gathered a handful of snow and spread it over the blood, then started rubbing with her leather cloth.
“Not like that,” Lisbeth snapped. She snatched the breastplate from Petra’s numb hands and used a scouring pad to abrade the corroded metal in a circular motion.
Petra threw her bundle of steel wool on the table. “Why am I so offensive to you? No matter what I do, you find me irritating. I can’t do anything right!”
Without looking at Petra, Lisbeth raised a brow, concentrating on an especially dense patch of red as she spoke. “You’re… useless,” she shrugged. “You can’t fight, you don’t know how to survive on your own. You can’t even clean armor, yet we feed, clothe and house you. You’re like one of those black Midgardian worm creatures… A leech. You take our resources and give nothing in return.”
Petra felt her face flame despite the cold settled deep in her bones. Her spine straightened and she held herself high. Throwing down her materials, she shoved her chair back and stood.
“I will not tolerate your mistreatment, verbal or physical, any longer.”
Gathering her pack, Petra flung open the armory door and stomped outside. Pleased with the muttered Jötunn curse words flowing from the doorway, she tromped through the snow towards the looming castle.
As she made her way through the falling flakes, each step slowly grew more difficult than the last. It was taking twice as long than normal to find her way back. The cold penetrated her skin and the muscles in her thighs burned with the effort it took to put one foot in front of the other. The snow wasn’t deeper than normal, but her feet grew heavier at an alarming rate.
As a wave of dizziness hit her, Petra caught herself on a tree, weakly pausing to beat her mittened hands together to knock feeling into them. A violent shiver wracked her body and she braced her side against the bark as she slowly lowered herself to the ground. Taking a breath, she tried to rise and failed. Her ears rang and the peaceful calm of the wintery landscape gradually turned to black.
She was vaguely aware of someone shouting. Lisbeth, maybe. She felt awful. Her head pounded; she couldn’t feel her feet or hands despite her boots and mittens and her nose and ears were numb as well. There was another voice in the background, but it was dull and muffled. She tried to sit up darkness overtook her again.
Someone was carrying her. Her body was mostly numb, but she could feel enough to know whoever had her in their grasp was jostling her horribly. She couldn’t open her eyes; all she wanted was to sleep. There was more indistinct noise with the lilt of Jötunn speech, but she couldn’t make out the words. More jostling, then unconsciousness.
“Where do I place it?” A strange woman’s voice.
“Near her torso. Warming her arms and legs first could make her heart stop. Get that hot water bottle away from her calf,” snapped a lower female voice. Marit.
Grumbling, then compliance.
“Where’s the king?”
“On his way. Lisbeth went to fetch him and a healer.”
Silence as they packed the space around her body with… something. Her sense of feeling was too dulled to determine anything useful. She was nudged again as someone slipped an arm behind her neck.
“Hold her up.”
A set of indigo arms propped Petra up.
“Now, tilt her head back.”
Speech was hard to decipher, their accents were heavy with stress. Then someone was parting her lips and assaulting her lungs with steaming fluid. Petra pushed the hands away and gasped for air, inhaling warm liquid in the process.
"Don’t drown her,” clipped Marit.
As Petra coughed bitter tea from her lungs, someone repositioned her at a slight incline. Once she could breathe, her heavy lids slipped closed again. She was so tired.
“No. Open, Lady. Stay awake.”
Petra squinted at Marit’s blurry form, though her eyes fluttered shut after a moment. Marit grunted and continued setting stuffed burlap sacks around the perimeter of Petra’s body. As a pouch touched her hand, Petra vaguely registered a faint tickle in her fingers and fought to flex them. It felt as if her digits had fallen asleep and were now waking with the uncomfortable sensation of tiny pricking pins.
Marit and the servant were arguing, but Petra’s attention perked, focusing on her fingers and toes as the tingling turned into faint burning. It intensified and she winced, struggling in the other woman’s arms and letting out a cry of confusion as stinging sensations turned to prickling needles.
“It hurts,” the elf rasped.
Ignoring Petra, the two giants looked at one another.
"Are we heating her too quickly?”
Marit hesitated, then shook her head. “If circulatory system remains constricted from cold much longer, she’ll lose digits, limbs. Blood vessels need to open. Not a comfortable process. Distress is inevitable.”
Petra only half heard them as discomfort morphed into pain. With each passing second she grew more aware of her body. Everything stung, as if she was on fire from the inside and the flames were fighting their way through her skin. With a howl her back bowed and she arched, releasing a whine as pain shot through her limbs.
"What are you doing to her!” Loki.
“Trying to save her life, my King,” Marit grit while fighting to hold Petra still.
Loki grit set his jaw, but nodded.
He watched as the women worked and Petra’s convulsive shivers began decreasing in frequency. The Jötunn all breathed a sigh of relief until Petra released another pitiful cry, her entire body shaking with cold once more.
“Why isn’t it working?” asked Marit’s aid.
Marit pursed her lips. “I’m afraid the heat isn’t penetrating deep enough to affect her temperature.”
Loki’s brows furrowed into a deep frown as he stared at Petra.
"Leave.”
“My King?”
“Leave us.”
That pleased Petra. Maybe if they exited she’d be left alone to sleep and ignore the fire in her limbs.
Marit and her aid left the room after several murmurs, and Petra was nearly unconscious until someone lifted her from the ground like a child. She didn’t have the wherewithal to gasp or cling to his neck, she was only able to lay limply in his arms.
Loki kicked the doors to his chambers open and started peeling her out of her dress, manipulating her lax body easily and helping her recline onto the bed.
The rustle of clothing sounded and feet scuffed against the floor, but she couldn’t lift her head to examine what was happening around her. Petra was in the process of drifting back off when a large form covered hers. Her slatted eyes shot open when a familiar face peered down and soothing fingers brushed her hair from her eyes. For a moment, she couldn’t breathe. There was a man on top of her. He was Loki but… Pale. Creamy. His facial features were almost the same, but his skin smooth, light and he was warm. And beautiful. Wicked green eyes stared down at her with concern.
“What are you?” she slurred.
He ignored her and broke their gaze in order to tear at his trousers. Had she the energy to sigh, she would have. The beautiful creature was most certainly Loki.
When he spread her legs she struggled to summon the stamina to snap them shut, but a tremble interrupted her. The shiver wracked her body and her teeth chattered as a moan slipped from between her lips. Her eyes fluttered closed as she grew aware of the tingling in her fingers. When she slept, the cold wasn’t as bad.
"You will not go into shock,” growled the Loki-creature above her. One hand fumbling to stroke his cock, he used the other to shake her awake.
Petra groaned as he pulled her out of unconscious bliss, weakly fighting his advances. Grumbling sounded from above her, but her eyes were too heavy to lift. He rattled her again, saying her name. With an irritated sigh she tried to slip back to the darkness.
When sharp teeth pinched her lower lip, Petra grunted, the fog of sleep making her limbs heavy as she swatted her assailant. She wriggled beneath him, knocking his face away only to find herself pinned as he settled most of his weight on her.
"You are to remain conscious,” he growled against her chin, giving her jaw a firm nip.
Petra kicked a leg in frustration and tried to turn her face to the side, a move Loki quickly ceased as he gripped her jaw. His lips resumed their unwanted attack, insistently massaging hers in an attempt to stimulate Petra enough to keep her awake. The ability to identify and capitalize on a lesser creature’s weakness was second nature to him, and physical affection was Petra’s.
Despite her utter exhaustion, Petra’s jaw flexed instinctively, returning his insistent kiss. She wasn’t positive that she wasn’t dreaming, especially because Loki was prettier than she was and his mouth was on hers without her having asked for it. But he was warm, his mouth was warm, and his kisses intoxicated her. The mattress sunk when he repositioned himself, scooping his arms beneath her knees to raise her legs. Determinedly he ran his fingers along her exposed slit, dipping the tips between her folds to test for moisture.
Loki pursed his lips. She wasn’t dry, but she wasn’t wet. He hadn’t used seidr in decades, not even in emergencies on Jötunheim. The Jötunn were a superstitious breed and distrusted power without clean explanation. But this specific emergency threatened the surviv al of his race. He had no choice. Glancing at the door, Loki set his jaw and closed his eyes, flexing muscles unused for ages. He concentrated, breathing a sigh of relief when the familiar tingling at his fingertips resulted in a faint green glow, the energy spreading over Petra’s lower half. There wasn’t time to manually arouse her; she needed warmth now and he knew of only one way to provide it immediately.
Her breath hitched as her pussy throbbed suddenly, a rush of moisture flooding her entrance as his magic penetrated her pelvis. The corner of Loki’s mouth pulled with a subtle smirk as he fisted his cock and rubbed the head between her lips. Petra hissed, her hips twitching in his grip as he eased himself inside her. For the first time since she fell ill, her eyes opened and her gaze was focused. As he began moving, she frowned in confusion.
"What—?”
Loki shushed her and kissed her again, his own hunger growing as he pumped his cock in and out of her hot cunt. Their temperature difference wasn’t as extreme, but sheathed inside her the heat of her pussy was overwhelming as always. Rutting like a teenager, Loki canted his hips swiftly and quickly worked himself to the edge. When Petra cried out and shuddered beneath him, the corner of his mouth pulled upwards in pride. As her pussy milked his thick length she went still and Loki frowned in worry as he increased his pace. With a guttural moan he pulled out, violently pumping his cock as he spilled on her swollen belly. He took a moment to catch his breath before propping himself up on an elbow and leaning over Petra’s abdomen. He spread his come across her lower tummy, then used a fingertip to draw two stacked triangles positioned on their sides. Berkana.
As his digit closed the second shape, a faint green glow enveloped Petra’s entire body. She tensed and Loki feared he’d made things worse until she relaxed with a soft sigh. Depth returned to her skin, the sickened gray overtaken by a healthy wash of color. Her intermittent shivering ceased and Petra sank into the bed. Loki breathed a heavy sigh of relief, the tightness in his chest abating as he carefully observed her. She had gone still again, but the grimace she’d sported earlier was gone and he forced himself to have faith in his spell. Sporting a mild frown, Loki retrieved a wet cloth and cleaned her protruding belly before laying down beside her.
Several hours later, Petra groaned. Loki was awake in an instant, hovering and examining her.
“How do you feel?”
The elf rubbed her forehead, squinting at blue giant as she gained awareness.
“I was so cold,” she shuddered. “Did you warm me? Were you human?” Memories trickled back into her mind. “Wait, did we-Did we have sex? When I was unconscious?”
Loki crossed his arms. “I assumed my Aesir form in order to utilize my seirdr, yes. You were semi-conscious. Conscious enough to enjoy yourself. The baby was too cold for you. You were dying.”
She rocketed up, hand on her middle. “Was? Were? I’m not—?”
“You’re still pregnant. I cased the baby in a protective shell of magic. I believe he or she will remain the temperature they need to survive without harming you. I’m not positive it will work. I’ve never done fertility spells, but this is the best I have.”
“You’re so reassuring,” she grumbled. “Wait! You’re Aesir?”
“No. Well, yes, in a way. I have an Aesir form I can assume at will. I haven’t reverted back to that form in quite some time.”
Petra inhaled to pester him with more questions, but he leaned forward and pressed his finger to her lips.
“Silence. You need to rest. We’ll speak of this later.”
Petra narrowed her eyes, but the overwhelming exhaustion she felt won out. She had a faint headache, present enough to bother her but not to incapacitate. Struggling to sit up properly, Loki grunted in displeasure as she struggled and he begrudgingly helped her up, allowing her to rest on some pillows.
As Petra’s blinks lasted longer and longer, she began to nod off again until a conversation form earlier that day invaded her mind. She spoke, her eyes too heavy to lift.”
“Am I… a leech?” “No. You’re not a leech.”
Her sleepy breath of relief was interrupted by Loki’s smooth voice.
“Some species of leech are more than parasites; they’re predators, which you are not. So, a leech is an ill-fitting comparison.”
With a growl, Petra summoned the last bits of energy she could and threw her legs over the side of the bed, snagged the sheet to wrap around herself and began her retreat back to her room. “I could be a predator if I wanted. I could’ve killed you in your sleep ten times over,” she muttered over her shoulder.
Loki ignored her comment, instead rising and firmly grasping her arm. “You’ll stay in my bed for a least three nights so I can keep an eye on you.”
Petra’s steps slowed and she gave him a half-hearted glare, eventually turning and trudging back to his bed. As she crawled back in, Loki watched her intently. More intently than he had in a long while. Deep down she knew it was for the sake of the baby, but for the moment, she pretended it was because he cared for her wellbeing too. Settling her head on a pillow, she drifted off to a dreamless sleep under Loki’s watchful eye.