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Anything can happen if you let it, life’s out there waiting
so go and get it grab it by the collar, seize it by the scruff once
you've started living life you just can't get enough
Anything Can Happen, Sherman & Sherman
“Are you sure this is entirely a… a wise plan, my dearest?”
I roll over onto my other side - even this early in my pregnancy, this is not an easy undertaking; not quite akin to turning a super tanker, as it will be in a month or two’s time, but already not something I can just ‘do’. “Why do you ask, Lokes? I would have thought me getting a bit fitter before the birth was an extremely sensible idea.”
I know perfectly well that is not the aspect of my scheme to which he’s referring, and so does he, so as punishment I get one of his looks: the ones that burn a hole in my prefrontal cortex and would set my knickers on fire, were I still wearing them. In fact, they are already smouldering - literally. Loki tossed them firewards in the frenzy to get me naked an hour ago and they’re dangling from the largest log in the hearth. I can smell the unmistakable fragrance of charred silk.
“Matchmaking is a...um...Mother always said it was a tricky business.”
“Then you should be an expert, Trickster-God.” I tweak his elegant nose, which makes him laugh. Anyone else would lose an arm for doing that, our children excluded, naturally. But he is right, I am wading into dangerous waters. But I simply can’t let this opportunity pass - Thor is stuck here for a bit, almost literally, and poor Sif… well, if I can at least try to help, then I am damn well going to.
It’s just over a week since Loki came back from fighting whatever or whomever it was, carrying his half-dead brother and Mjölnir. He hasn’t told me the full story yet, saying he wants to wait until Thor can explain as well, so I am being patient. I’m used to his secrecy, after all. I’d know nothing if I didn't seek out information and trawl the library. He knows I do that - of course he does, the fucker knows everything - and he’s fine with it, because he also knows that Odin has carefully censored what’s in there. Or Loki has. Who can tell? It’s all written in such flowery language that even in translation it makes the Silmarillion seem like a Robert Harris thriller.
Things are starting to get back to normal, sort of. The people of Asgard with whom we shared our hiding-place have returned to their homes. Most of them, that is; those whose homes have been destroyed or too badly damaged have been temporarily re-housed here in the palace, at my suggestion. Loki only hesitated for a moment when I proposed it, smiling broadly as he nodded eagerly. The Lord Chamberlain, or whatever he’s called - the bloke who always looks as if he can smell a week-old herring, that one, can’t stand the fucker- he was horrified, I could tell. There are literally acres of empty rooms in this place, and it seemed ludicrous not to use them in this time of crisis. Heimdall was there at the time and those golden eyes looked inscrutable as ever, but I saw a definite twinkle.
The thin end of the wedge, that’s what Old Sourpuss was thinking, I’ll bet. He might well be right. I have plans, ones even my darling man doesn’t totally grasp yet.
Anyway, back to the matter at hand: despite at first looking to me as if he might die, the God of Thunder survived and is already starting to recover, but he can’t do much yet. For the time being, Thor is confined to his own rooms, under the care of Eir and her Healers, but as you might guess, he is a terrible patient. Long-suffering Healers are stationed there on rotation, to ensure he remains in bed, as he has several serious wounds which have not yet healed sufficiently, but he uses alternately all of his charms and some (blustery sort of good-natured) bullying in an attempt to get around their instructions. Observing this, I had an idea, and suggested that the Lady Sif might visit him every day to do some - very - light training of the kind he could indulge in while lying down - to keep his hand-eye coordination sharp, his mind stimulated, and stop him from getting too bored. That sort of thing.
You will be amazed to learn that she agreed to this immediately. Yeah, I know, shocking, isn’t it?
So, this is how my new daily routine is shaping up, because naturally I have to keep a regal overview on all this, check on my brother-in-law’s health, you know, as queens do… Plus, seeing the wisdom and the need myself for more physical fitness after last time, when I ended my pregnancy with all the mobility of a beached whale, I have asked Sif to honour me with a little of her time and expertise every day, too.
If that gives me a chance to find out how ‘it’ is going, then that is purely coincidental. Yes, my husband isn’t the only one with a few crafty moves around here.
What is ‘it’. I hear you ask? Well, my masterplan, the real reason why I have arranged for the very beautiful and athletic Lady Sif to visit the God of Thunder every day is this: she is hopelessly in love with him and he probably would love her too, if he’d only notice. Trouble is, she’s spent so long hiding it from him and he’s spent so long deciding she wasn’t interested, that… well, you get the picture. Will this work? No idea; I’m a complete novice at this matchmaking malarkey. But watching Sif’s heart breaking is more than I can stand, and this seemed like such a good opportunity to at least shut them in the same room for a bit with old Thunderpants in a somewhat vulnerable position. It might bring out Sif’s more, well...
Let me tell you about her, what limited amount I have learned by observation, anyway. She is one of the four musketeers, as I think of them. They turned up in New Mexico during that incident that SHIELD tried to hush up but leaked out anyway (and which I think might have been the first time my darling hubby tried to take over Earth or whatever, but we’ll brush that under the carpet, shall we? He’s a reformed character now, you see. I hope…). Remember that one? Seemed insane, didn’t it? How naive we all were then!
Anyway, the guys - they really are a bit like Athos, Porthos and Aramis, actually. There’s Fandral: classic Scandi blond, waxed moustache and goatee, a total dandy, makes Beau Brummel look like Phil Mitchell. I’d say ‘ladies’ man’, but he’s not that exclusive. I don’t think he entirely trusts Loki, even now, but he was the first to extend the hand of friendship to him after… after whatever happened that NOBODY WILL TELL ME, EVEN NOW… Anyway, Fanny is a doll, I adore him, and for all his fancy clothes, he’s a true hero and a proper fighter. Then there is Volstagg, who can eat and drink for Asgard and has the waistline to show for it. Despite being a pig, he is as brave as a lion, and he adores the kids, for which I forgive him his still rather chilly attitude to my husband. He is polite enough, and Loki tells me he is loyal and obedient, so I must assume all is well there, too. Hogun, the third of the ‘Warriors Three’, is more of a mystery to me, as I have only met him once, at our wedding. He appears very spiritual, looks like a samurai to my uneducated eye; he spends little time on Asgard. He has returned to his home world now and only pops back here for special occasions or crises. He is a man of few words, that much I can say.
The Lady Sif, on the other hand, I have come to know quite well, as she has been, on and off, my personal bodyguard whenever Loki is off world. She comes across as serious and taciturn but once you get to know her, she is warm and funny, but usually only when she thinks the men she has to work with aren’t looking. Like many women who have risen to high rank in a male-dominated world, she has had to put away feminine things, and from what I can gather, be better than most of them to succeed. And oh boy, she is…
But I saw, early on in our acquaintance, how she looked at my brother-in-law, when she thought nobody was looking. I may not know much, if anything, about Asgardian history or politics, warrior culture or religion, but I know what a woman in love looks like. And since Jane dumped him (or they dumped each other, as he insists), Thor has been a bit, well, moody. It won’t hurt to try, I think. And it might prevent any more silliness from my jealous husband, too…
Speaking of whom… Ever since he and Thor returned he has been busy, spending his days in meetings with delegations from other realms, consulting with heads of the craft guilds about repairs to the city and the palace, and generally being very kingly. This is his forte, you know, all this stuff. He has such a quick mind, and he loves the challenge of it, of solving complicated problems. He is good at both strategic overview and grasping details. And it has to be better than scheming and causing trouble as - apparently - he used to in the bad old days.
But for my part, the change in him that I have detected has been more gradual but no less profound for that. Let’s face it, the wickedly sexy, slightly frightening Loki who first shimmered into my flat what feels like a lifetime ago definitely wouldn’t have been able to lift Mjölnir. He was, I think, trying to change, even then - he more or less told me as much not so very long after - and I like to believe that he is right in saying that my influence has helped. Not that I am an especially good person, fuck no! Quite the reverse. But because love, family, all that stuff makes a person re-evaluate their choices, right?
But don’t worry, he is still as sexy and snarky as ever. Those things were what made me fall in love with him, along with his potential for love and his innately good heart, both of which he tried very hard to hide but shone through anyway. His heart was broken, or at least a bit crushed when we met; between us we have healed it. Mostly.
So, here we are in bed - yeah, shocking, I know. It’s mid-morning and sex is what Loki and I do instead of having a coffee break together. Oh, don’t look at me like that. Yes, I’m preggers again - how do you think that happened? I’m married to the sexiest being in the Nine Realms, you know, who, even when I have a belly that looks as if I’ve eaten my way through the ENTIRE Pizza Hut menu in one sitting, still fancies me. And the other reason is that if we wait until the more traditional hour for such activity, I am usually snoring. It’s no joke carrying a half-Frost Giant baby, even though Eir and her team of clever women have got the recipe perfected for the herbal drink now. I rarely get the chills, but I still get knackered.
So, where were we? Oh yes, my husband was telling me to be careful:
“I am simply counselling caution, Theresa my dearest one. My brother has little left but his pride now. If he detects what you are up to and feels he is being manipulated, he may react...poorly.”
“Yeah, I see what you mean… But hang on, what do you mean by saying he has little left now?”
He sighs heavily.Loki has started to dress and has his back to me, but I can see him stiffening as he speaks. “Our father is dead.”
I sit up as quickly as I can. “Darling, why didn’t you tell me before?” I shuffle over and wrap my arms around him. I must tread carefully: Loki’s relationship with Odin was...complicated, to put it mildly. It is interesting that he has used those precise words… But poor Thor! I am pretty sure he was much closer to his father; he must be devastated.
“It was just one event in many, and it was quite peaceful. He has joined our mother now.”
I reach up and cup his cheek, making him face me. “Did you part on better terms?”
He smiles sadly, tears glistening in his eyes and nods quickly before looking down. “We did, yes.”
“I am glad, darling.” A thought occurs to me. “Should we be having some kind of funeral for him? Services, memorials?”
Loki stands up quickly, shaking off the emotion, readying himself to return to his duties and striding over to fetch his trousers from where he threw them earlier. “When my brother is recovered enough, perhaps. We have not discussed it. I do not wish to slow his healing.”
“OK, right, well…” I am floundering. My own parental relationships aren’t exactly great, so I have little to draw on. And once again, I find myself in difficulties because of the extreme secrecy my husband insists on cloaking his activities in. “I’d better get dressed. Sif will be here soon for my daily repor- I mean workout.”
Loki pauses on his way to the door, turns and grins in a familiar gesture that never fails to make me melt. “Give her my regards. She and I have, um, unfinished business, actually.”
“Oh yes? Second thoughts, don’t tell me. In this case it’s probably best if I don’t know…”
_____________________________________
So, yes, my mornings have a new pattern now. Breakfast with the kids and Lokes, then Lily goes off to preschool (well, sort of - it’s a little group I have formed in the Palace with some of the resident and refugee children around her age, and the lessons/sessions are given by a variety of tutors, so it is a ‘school’, in effect), Mary P takes over minding Frey and I do a bit of reading or whatever research I have on currently. Then, around coffee-time, my husband pops back for a bit of hanky-panky (whether this is for my benefit, seeing as how I get too tired for bedtime sex, or his because he is already terminally bored by this stage, as he claims, I am never entirely sure. Or it could be that he is just a pathologically randy bastard. Actually, that might be it, in fact…
And usually, late morning, after he has dragged his apparently reluctant royal arse back to the business of ruling, the Lady Sif shows up for my daily workout, because as well as being Thor’s physiotherapist, she has taken on the role of my personal trainer. I think she has enjoyed both challenges from a professional point of view, quite aside from any personal side benefits that may or may not derive from her extended alone time with the prince. She consulted with Eir about what each of us should and should not do, how far she should push us, and what advice was appropriate under our very different circumstances. Whilst I have to concentrate on keeping myself limbre and getting the right amount of cardio without over-exertion, the plan for Thor is to try to maintain the muscle mass he has in the uninjured parts of his ludicrously powerful body.
Naturally, being a demi-god, Thor is healing at a preternatural speed, but his injuries were very severe, much worse than the ones Loki had when he came to see me on Midgard on the occasion when he realised I was expecting Frey. He has some broken bones in one arm but worst of all he was run through his upper chest with some kind of spear or sword, according to Sif, and while this wound has not become infected and is already healing, he is still in some considerable pain. Of course, he tries to hide it, especially from the women who are caring for him, that is the Healers, Sif and me. Not that any of us are fooled for one minute, fortunately. Oh, and he has also lost his right eye, so he really looks like his old dad now.
This morning Sif bustles in dressed as usual in what I have come to think of Asgard-casual: much like the sort of gear Loki relaxes in when off-duty: loose tunic, trousers and comfy boots, all handmade in a wonderful soft wool and leather combination, and which would probably sell for hundreds of quid back home.
“Good morning, Your Majesty. Are we ready to start?” She is, as ever, serious but with a definite twinkle today.
“I am. How is Thor doing?” This casual enquiry causes a satisfying pinking of her cheeks.
“The prince was his usual stubborn self this morning. He wishes to go beyond his current limits, but yes, he is improving.” She smiles to herself. “He is most certainly keeping good muscle tone in his uninjured arm.”
“Excellent. Actually, I thought I might pay him a visit this afternoon, perhaps take the kids with me. He does love them.”
“That would be much appreciated, Ma’am, I am sure. I fear his main enemy in the coming days will be boredom.” She straightens her back as if shedding thoughts of Thor and strides over to the cupboard where my collection of exercise equipment is stashed. “Now, Your Majesty, shall we start with some gentle back stretches?”
I have to focus on the poses - Asgard exercises are a bit like a cross between yoga and Pilates, at least the ones I do are - and it’s only when we get to the cool-down that I can do my debrief session (I mean casual chat) about Thor with Sif. “How would you say Thor is, in himself, I mean?”
“In what way do you mean, Ma’am?”
“Well, you know that his… that Odin died while he and the King were with him on Midgard.”
“Yes, he, um… he mentioned that to me yesterday.”
“Does he seem to you to have processed it?”
“Processed, Ma’am…?”
These damn formal Asgardians… “Has he mourned properly yet? I’m not convinced the King has, and that’s not good, I’m sure.”
“No, Ma’am.”
“No, ‘he hasn’t mourned’, or ‘no, that’s not good’?”
She hesitates, then speaks firmly. “Both, Your Majesty.”
I look her squarely in the eye. “Right. Well, we need to do something about that, don’t we, Sif?”
“Um… we?”
“I shall speak to Thor this afternoon, but you’ll need to talk to him too.” She looks a bit pale at this. “Oh, come on, we both know how useless men are when it comes to feelings. We might need to give them both a shove.” She nods, reluctantly. I smirk. “I think Thor could do with a bit of help getting in touch with his feelings on a few fronts, actually…” She goes paler still at this, and I grin.
Getting up from the rug where I had been stretched out, with a hand from Sif, I walk over to the table and take a big drink of the herbal draught the Healers make for me. It keeps my body temperature more in tune with that of the baby’s, so I don’t get the same wild waves of cold that I endured when carrying Frey. They still come, just not so severely. And the little girl I’m carrying is not as lively as he was, which is nice; she moves around but she is less keen to play football with my internal organs.
Sif is tidying away all the bits and bobs of equipment and studiously avoiding eye-contact. I fear I may have given myself away, but it’s too late now, anyway. And I suspect I’m pushing against an open door in Sif’s case, anyway…
____________________________________
Loki isn’t always free to come back to our rooms for lunch, but today he manages it, so I outline my plan to take the kids to visit Unky Thor.
“I shall accompany you.”
“Oh, er, OK.” Damn, I wanted to talk to Thor about you and Odin, you bugger. And that other thing… Never mind.
“Is that a problem, Theresa?” I am getting the full lowered-chin, raised-eyebrow treatment across the table.
“Not at all, I had just planned to talk to him about you, of course.” Honesty is definitely the best policy when dealing with the God of Lies, because if anyone can tell when you’re not being straight, he can. And if I try, well, the retribution… Actually, that’s the good bit, although he does dial it back a bit while I’m pregnant, as keeping a woman teetering on the edge of orgasm for hours (and not allowing her release) isn’t exactly great for the blood pressure. So I just get it for minutes… and delivered with loads of snark, but that I hand back in spades, so nothing new there.
“About me?” Eye-fuck is on full and I squirm a little, something I see Loki note with satisfaction. “You know I don’t appreciate-”
“Hakuna your tatas, dear, I just wanted to ask him what happened when you were with Odin, that’s all.” He grimaces. “It’s completely normal for a wife to express concern about her husband’s emotional well-being, you know that. And if you won’t tell me what’s going on, then...” I shrug and keep my gaze on him and I am pleased to see him look away, ever-so-slightly shamefaced. He knows I’m right, so perhaps we are finally getting somewhere.
Now of course, taking an infant and a three-year-old anywhere is always an expedition, but as we are making a family visit, we manage it between us, leaving Mary Poppins behind for once. Thor’s apartments are literally around the corner, so I can walk without resting en route, Loki carries Frey and Lily skips along, singing and pulling the little wooden trolley Fandral gave her along the corridor. It’s piled high with toys, because the Norns forbid that she might be bored for five seconds.
“What is in the bag, my Queen?”
I am clutching a paper bag which I picked up after Loki shouldered my usual tote full of baby kit and cooling drinks. “I made some shortbread for Thor. I know he loves it.”
“Humph.” The mouth is tight.
“What?”
“I like it too.” There is a definite pout in the lips now.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll let you have a piece.”
Loki turns to look at me, a definite look of grievance in his bright green eyes. “Why do you never make me any?”
“Because, oh God of Mischief, to my knowledge, this is the first time you’ve mentioned it.” I poke him hard in the ribs, which hurts me more than it does him, although sweetly he feigns injury and laughs, acknowledging his omission.
We enter Thor’s rooms in a clatter, Lily shouting his name and running over before screeching to a pouting halt as she is reminded again that she mustn’t jump on the bed as she wants to. Thor is sitting propped up with pillows, pale but grinning as he pats the coverlet next to him. “Come, Princess Lily, and sit with me. I need a kiss from my favourite niece.”
“How’s your bad place, Unky Thor?”
“It is much better, much better, Lily, thank you for asking. Improving every day.” He bends carefully to one side to kiss the top of her head as she snuggles up beside him. I walk over and pass him the biscuits I’ve made. “What’s this? Shortbread? My favourite! Thank you, my Queen.”
“Well, I know you love them, and you need spoiling.” I bend over and kiss him on the cheek, feeling my husband’s eyes burning in the back of my head. I step aside and allow the two men to greet each other properly.
“You look better than when I last saw you, brother.” Loki reaches for Thor’s good hand, which was held up to him. Their eyes meet and they hold each other’s gaze in a way I haven’t seen before.
“Yes, there is some definite improvement, as I said. And the sessions with Lady Sif help, too. That was a good idea, my Queen.”
I nod, smiling to myself, and I catch Loki’s eye as I turn to find a seat. There is a twinkle there: he knows I was right about them. But for now, I have other matters to explore. We have a general chat about how the repairs to the city are going. Loki moans about the noise and the extra work, but I know this is exactly the sort of thing he likes - who knew that he was secretly also the God of Logistics…? Lily inevitably finds all this talk of buildings and workforces rather dull, so she slinks off to the far corner of the room to do some constructing of her own with her Duplo, occasionally running over to show us what she has made. Loki gives Thor a rather sleepy Frey to cuddle (although he has to hold him to one side with his unbroken arm and away from his wound), and I try, as casually as I can, to work the convo round to their Dad. Loki, having been forewarned, keeps steering it off, so in the end I have to just come straight out with it.
“So, Thor, I hope you won’t mind me bringing this up, but I was thinking earlier that it must have been pretty traumatic for both of you to find Odin and then for him to die like that.” The men exchange looks so full of meaning that you could write an entire saga on what was NOT said in that split-second.
“Yes, Theresa, it was.”
I turn to Loki, who is beside me looking at his hands, which are tightly clasped in his lap. He nods in agreement. I wait patiently for one of them to say more.
“I asked...we asked him to come home with us, but he said it was too late, that our mother was calling to him.” I glance at Loki, whose eyes are full of tears. Have I gone too far? I’m a great believer in catharsis, but Loki makes a speciality of avoiding confronting his feelings, no matter how hard I try to change that. “He said that we, his sons, had to deal with the threat to Asgard now, that he was sorry, but he had to leave us.”
“And then he was gone.”
Right, so, think fast, Theresa. What do you know? Loki isn’t Odin’s son; he was, as he described it to me, kidnapped and held as war-booty, lied to and then rejected. He loved his adoptive mother, he hated his ‘father’, who, he realised, had never loved him… but now it seems there had been some degree of reconciliation at the end? That’s good, surely? But these two need to talk about it and what with Thor’s incapacitation and Loki’s walled-off emotions…
“And then our sister arrived and attacked us.”
WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?
Loki has a look of grim satisfaction on his beautiful face that I don’t much like. “Yes, it seems that I wasn’t the only one Odin lied to… my brother wasn’t the first-born after all. Hela, Goddess of Death, had been dear old Dad’s right-hand woman during his all-conquering phase.” Thor closes his eyes, leans back on his pillows and pulls Frey a little closer into his side. “Odin’s life force was keeping her imprisoned. Once he crossed over…”
“She had become too bloodthirsty, even for his purposes, apparently, so he locked her away, buried all references to her, pretended she never existed.” Thor’s voice was almost breaking.
“I’m sorry, I had no idea-”
“None of us did. It would have been helpful to have some warning, but…”
“Well, you exiled him.”
“He chose to stay, I told you.” The sky begins to darken.
“Don’t start, you two. Not in front of the kids, please.”
“I am sorry, my Queen.”
“No, I’m sorry. I knew this was going to be a painful subject, but…”
“No, you were right, Theresa. My brother and I need to discuss what happened, what it means for the Nine Realms and the future of Asgard. And for us, as a family.” Thor nods, his jaw set in that determined way I’ve seen before. They might not be related by blood, but they’re brothers, alright.
“But not right now.” I look meaningfully at Lily, who has made a sort of rectangular structure and has put one of her dolls inside it. She is chattering to herself happily, oblivious to the world-shattering events being discussed only metres away. Frey is snoring in the crook of his uncle’s massive arm.
“Indeed, not at this precise time, no.”
“So, Lokes,” I get a look I like for that, because as I intended it lifts his mood, “could you take the kids back to ours, please, darling? I want to have a word with Thor in private.”
“What about?” He looks distinctly displeased at this notion. I wink heavily at him, out of Thor’s sightline.
“About exercise regimes, that sort of thing. I want to compare notes. You’d be bored, and Frey needs to be in his cot.”
Once Loki has gathered up the little ones in a display of disgruntlement which is so over the top that I fear his brother will see through it, I settle down on the bed next to Thor. “So how are you really, love? Still in pain?”
“Somewhat, clever Theresa, yes. But it lessens, almost hourly. Eir and her Healers are most talented, and Lady Sif is providing me with some pleasant and necessary distraction.”
“Is she now… So, you and Sif, how long has that been going on then?”
His look of innocence doesn’t fool me. “How long has what been… to what are you referring?”
“Thor…”
“Theresa…”
“Seriously, you like her?”
“I do, very much but… she does not see me in those terms.” He looks sad. I laugh. “That amuses you?”
“Honestly, MEN! Anyone would think you’d lost both eyes in that fight… Thor, she’s got it bad. She has for years, probably. As long as I’ve been here, anyway. I’ve seen the way she looks at you… honestly, you great dope!”
His puzzled expression was so endearing I have to kiss his forehead.“But she was always throwing me to ground most harshly in our training sessions… and she was extremely rude to me… She once dislocated my elbow when we were children!”
Knew it!
“You really don’t know anything about women, do you, dear?”
He chuckles softly.“Apparently not.”
“Well, the first thing you mustn’t do is let on that you know. But now is the time to - gently, mind you - let her know that you are interested in having a relationship… nothing more. Don’t get sleazy. No inappropriate touching or anything.” He looks mortified. “Well, I’ve seen how some of you lot carry on, that’s all. Sif’s pride is very important to her: she’s fought hard to be a successful woman in a male-dominated area, as you well know.”
“Yes, I get your meaning… You are certain about her?” I nod vigorously. He smiles and relaxes back into the bed again. “So, my Queen, you have been indulging in some matchmaking, have you?”
I smirk. “Might have. But just for my favourite bruv and my bodyguard who are clearly made for each other. I will drop the odd hint on your behalf, too. I’m sure it will work out alright.” Assuming she doesn’t dislocate anything else if he gets this wrong… the next few days are gonna be fun.
___________________________________________
The early morning light on Asgard is very beautiful, and especially so when it is filtered through the voile curtains that drape over the floor-to-ceiling windows of our bedroom. It has a metallic, almost golden, shimmering quality, and it makes my husband’s skin glow. I love these times, when I wake before he does and can admire him without his knowledge, unhindered. He has rolled onto his back and the sheets have fallen down to reveal most of his body to my greedy gaze; his beautiful, elven face, those dark eyelashes soft on that white cheek, his black hair so silky. He is alabaster-pale, smooth, with barely a mark left from the cuts and bruises he bore only a week before. His long arms, one raised up beside his head, the other resting alongside his lithe torso between us, are lightly muscled but, as I know from experience, powerful. And below his flat belly, the dark hair trails towards the source of so much joy, not to mention my current condition. As I watch, the divine phallus twitches and a dark voice speaks.
“Was it your intention just to look, my Queen?”
I smile and raise my eyes back to his face. “Well, I was going to surprise you…” I trace my lips with my tongue suggestively, “but I should know better, shouldn't I?”
“Did you sleep well, my darling one? How is the child?”
“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” Loki has already begun to commune telepathically with our new daughter as he did with Frey.
“Perhaps later. For now, I think we have more, um, adult matters to attend to.” He reaches up and pulls me down for a kiss on the mouth, and as I fall (I am nothing if not graceful, I always was, and pregnancy has exaggerated these tendencies) he somehow contrives to end up over me.
“I can’t be on my back, Loki, you know-”
“I know, my darling.” The next thing I know I am on all fours and yet supported (magic? Nah… science - one and the same around these parts and boy, am I grateful!). Two large, cool hands are caressing the backs of my legs and my bottom and suddenly I hear groans. They’re mine, because you try feeling that and not groaning… What I said about Loki being randy? Yeah, well, me too, m’kay? For him, anyway, god, yesss….
His breath is fresh, almost chilly on my ribs as he looms over me, I feel the cold flick of his tongue, darting, then his lips are exploring the flesh on my flanks. I shiver and he chuckles. “Are you comfortable, my naughty one?” I arch my back, turn my head and raise an eyebrow (he’s not the only one who can do that). “I will take that as a response in the affirmative…” He smirks and before I can come up with a witty - or at least sarcastic - riposte, I feel one of those long elegant fingers starting to investigate the damp folds of my soaking pussy. I’m moaning again and I can’t help leaning back into his touch.
I hear him sigh. “So wanton…”
“You wouldn’t have me any other way, darling.”
“True,” he says, sliding one finger inside, making me gasp and shudder with pleasure. “And I admit we are well-matched in this respect, as in so many others, my dearest one.”
Now, as usual, Loki has saved one of his minor confessions for a moment when I am at a disadvantage, that is, helpless in the throes of sexual ecstasy… I dimly register that he is admitting to some fault or other, or was it to being my equal when it comes to being horny…? Hardly a shock, that, from Loki, the demi-god who is legendary for fucking anyone and anything. Oh well, I’ll take it. Little victories, you know. And it means that there is no lingering resentment over what happened yesterday with Thor, the biscuits and the candid questions. I smile, then I turn and gently press him onto his back again.
“Theresa?”
I press my index finger to his lips and his smile broadens. It would be easy for me to allow him to continue teasing me, but I want to please him now. I’m pretty sure he likes me to take the reins, just occasionally. Not too often, of course, but every now and then he is happy to let go, lie back and, if not exactly surrender, then at least concede control for a while. This is the first time I have tried since the attack on Asgard, and I can see some tension leaving his face as I kiss his mouth and begin working my way gradually down his long graceful neck, over the soft skin of his chest and relentlessly down, down.
I’ve always been good at hand-jobs, and me being pregnant with Loki’s babies has meant we have had to get creative as I have got bigger. I’m not too big yet (at four months I’m roughly the size I would be if seven months along with a 100% human baby), but even now I can’t lie on my back for more than a minute or two. Giving Loki a BJ has never been an easy thing for me to do: I might have a metaphorical big mouth, but in reality, I can't fit most of his massive cock in there, so I have developed a certain skill at combining the use of my hands and my mouth. It seems to have the desired effect, anyway.
Now, I’m not sure if I’ve told you this before, but there’s one very special thing about sex with a Norse God, well with Loki, anyway (I can’t comment about any others - maybe I’ll ask Sif in a week or two, fingers crossed). They come, but they can stay hard, so… here I am, back on my hands and knees again, but this time it’s the weapon of the ages that’s driving me insane with lust. Somehow, Loki manages to be just rough enough to make me feel incredible and come repeatedly but without the slightest discomfort in any part of me. He’s clever like that, my fella… yeah, I know, bragging again…
So, after such a lovely start to my day, despite the fact that we had to miss out on our morning ‘coffee break’, I am feeling pretty chipper and looking forward to my exercise routine when the skies start to darken dramatically and the Lady Sif bursts in suddenly, looking extremely upset.
“Oh, Your Majesty! The Prince… I... he…”
“Sif, what is it?”
It seems that my brother-in-law may have mishandled things. I told him not to be… poor Sif! Her stricken face… Quick, Theresa, think of something! Lightning sears horizontally across the sky outside and a deafening clap of thunder wakes Frey up in the next room. I hear Mary Poppins comforting him as Sif collapses into the nearest chair and slumps.
“Stay there, Sif, don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.”
I trundle - that’s the best I can do in my current condition - along the corridor to Thor’s room. Some of his staff and two Healers are standing outside, exchanging whispers and anxious looks. They bow to me and part like the Red Sea as I make for the door. One of the Healers, Alva, coughs politely and dares to speak. “Your Majesty, the prince is very upset. He might not-”
“It’s OK, I know, but I think I should go in, nonetheless.”
The door is stuck, at first, then I realise it’s because someone or something is holding it closed from the other side. I knock hard and shout through it. “Thor! It’s Theresa! Let me in!”
“Leave me alone!”
“Thor, stop being a hormonal teenager and open this fucking door!”
I push again and apparently the sound of my ‘Mum’ voice has done the trick. Cautiously, I peer around the massive slab of oak to see that the room is in uproar. The tempest that the God of Thunder has summoned seems to have originated in there: the floor is awash, the furniture is upturned and some of it is in pieces, with the exception of the bed, where Thor is still lying, bedraggled and thoroughly miserable-looking. “What the- Thor? You’re soaked! What on-”
“I’ve messed it up, Theresa.”
“The room? Yes, you have-”
“No, Sif…”
“Ah, yes, well, she’s in my rooms, in tears.” He looked up, distraught. “What did you do?”
He looks thoroughly shamefaced. “I tried to kiss her.”
I smack him on the head. He barely feels it, it’s like a mosquito biting an elephant. “Thor, you dickhead! I told you to go gently!”
“I know, but she was so… she looked so beautiful this morning, what with the sunshine and everything, and she smelled so enticing… So, I suppose that is it. It’s over.” He practically sobs. They might not be blood-brothers, but he and Loki are so alike when it comes to the old self-pity game.
“What the flying fuck makes you think that, you twat?” He looked at me, astonished. So, he really DID think it was a done deal, then. “I’m not saying it’ll be easy to salvage the situation, but I’m pretty sure that it’s not hopeless. Not yet, anyway, but you need to put the brakes on, right?” I gently but firmly press him back into his pillows, indicating he needs to wait until Sif is ready. He nods cautiously. “OK, well, I’ll go home and start trying to repair the damage. While I’m trying to do that, let the staff in to do the same in here - jeez, man, you’ve wrecked the room, and you’re wet through. You’ll need fresh bedding, for a start! Did you make it rain in here?”
“I may have, yes…”
“Well, you woke your nephew, too.”
“My apologies.”
“I know you were upset, but don’t make a habit of it.”
“A habit of what?” Loki is in the doorway, looking more than a little irritated. He surveys the scene of destruction and picks his way through the wreckage to join me at the bedside. “Well, brother, you have been busy.”
“Don’t start, Loki…”
“No, he’s right, don’t, Loki. Thor’s in enough of a mess without you adding your two-penn’th.” Loki cocks his head in a way he hasn't for ages and I can't help grinning and kissing his cheek. I used to use colloquialisms all the time just to get that response; I’d forgotten how much I love it. “I’ll explain later. Meantime, leave your brother alone.”
“But what in the Nine-”
“Let’s just say that the course of true love never did run smooth.”
“Ah.”
When I get back to her, Sif seems calmer and is looking out of the window. She turns and bows curtly when I enter, her jaw stiffening. “So, he’s been a bit of an idiot.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“He knows it, that’s something. He’s in a right state now, you’ll be gratified to hear.” A flicker of concern crosses her lovely face. “That storm was mainly taking place inside his rooms.”
“I see, Ma’am.”
“So, I’ve smacked him around a bit, and I don’t think there will be a repeat, but I think we need to make him suffer a teeny bit more, don’t you?” A sly grin that pleases me greatly brightens Sif’s face and she walks over to join me at the table. I pour her a cup of tea and we lock eyes. “Right, now, if I were you, I’d turn up as usual tomorrow for your training session, but be really distant. And bloody ruthless.” She nods sagely. “Downright cruel. Make him beg for mercy.” She’s actively grinning again. “Keep that up for a few days. He’ll be putty in your hands by then.”
“I see what you mean, Ma’am.”
“So, you have understood that Thor has been keen on you all this time?”
“He has?”
“You scared him off.”
“Oh…”
“Understandable. Plus, him being a royal and everything.” She nods again, looks into the middle distance. “But times have changed, haven’t they? There’s a new regime in place now, and more importantly, I’m here!”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“And Sif?”
“Yes, Ma’am?”
“If we’re going to be practically related, please, for fuck’s’ sake call me Theresa.”