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You have managed to stumble upon Loki's biggest fan's profile. Stay a while. Have a read and maybe even look at the pictures!…

Started writing about him July 2014. I also make amateur attempts at photomanipulation whenever I need a preview picture for my stories or make memes if I get a bit bored :)

Love to hear from people, so feel free to comment :)

Loki's my favourite, whether Nordic myth, Marvel mischief or Disney misunderstood-betrayed-Prince-arch-villain. I love every incarnation. I have to admit a certain interest in the career of his mortal actor, too ;)


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The sound of thundering hooves filled the air and sent birds flying out from the trees as the hunting party picked up speed in the forests surrounding the waterfall. Loki was at the head of the group and he was encouraging Sleipnir to gallop headlong as the thrill of the hunt filled him, fuelled by the foul mood the day had put him in so far. The thin sunlight managed to sparkle amongst the sparse branches which were just about holding on to the last of their leaves and the reds, oranges and yellows of the overhead canopy gleamed like jewels as the Gods and warriors raced along the narrow trails created by the animals which lived there, strappy trailing vines whipping at their faces and fat droplets of rain splashing on their cloaks as they passed. The King’s black hair was blown back from his face as he urged his son ever faster, determined now to be the one who caught the most game in this hunt and thereby assert his dominance over everyone else. He brandished the large net, ready now for the first of the fowl to be sent flying by the beaters who were ahead on the trail and shouted out at his groom, who was only just keeping up with him on the black stallion he was riding.


“Be ready to change my net as soon as I catch the first one. I intend to go back with the greatest bounty!”

“Yes, Your Highness!” Gasped the unfortunate boy as he held on for dear life; his King was pushing how well the poor stallion could perform and it was already starting to puff and blow with the effort of keeping up with Sleipnir.


The aim of the hunt was to bag as many fowl, such as Asgardian Pheasants and Grouse, as possible in the next hour; they were caught in large nets and passed back to grooms or servants on accompanying horses to be placed in large bags to be taken back to the waterfall where they would be counted. It was not nearly as easy as it sounded; the birds were fast and the nets were liable to tangle in the tree branches or undergrowth. The hunter also had to try to remain mounted on their horse as they despatched the bird they had caught humanely by wringing its neck and passing it back to the groom before grabbing the empty net and trying to catch another. This was all done at top speed on horseback as the magnificent animals dodged and weaved through the closely growing trees along the narrow trail, and in previous hunts many participants had taken undignified falls, landing in mud and dirty leaves and having to roll quickly out of the way of their companions to avoid being trampled.


Loki’s excitement grew as he heard Tyr sounding the hunting horn; they had been riding for about ten minutes, so it was not long now until they reached the part of the forest where he knew the beaters were stationed ready for the hunters to arrive and he was eager to make the first catch and thereby be crowned King of The Hunt. Sleipnir was galloping along effortlessly, making the ride smooth and steady, and the Trickster was confident that he would win easily. Yet as they passed the first of the thicker growing trees close to the start of the hunting area, he was puzzled as to why he could not hear the whistles and whoops of the beaters trying to get the birds to take flight from their hiding places. He carried on for a few hundred metres past the starting point, assuming that perhaps the most fruitful area was further on this year for some reason, and brandished his net in readiness. He glanced back along the trail to see that his groom was only just keeping up with him and that the next rider was easily quarter of a mile further down the track, only just visible through the damp and autumnal stands of trees. Grinning widely at the thought of netting the choicest of the game, he turned and looked over the head of his speeding eight-legged horse and whooped with enthusiasm.


The hunting horn sounded again, this time in a series of notes he did not recognise, and he began to peer further along the trail expecting birds to fly into view any moment. But the whistles and noise made by the beaters – when it finally came – was from behind him, far past where he had already ridden. He frowned; did they not know where he was? Sleipnir’s hooves were not exactly silent and it would be well known that they should have spotters looking out for the head rider of the Hunt – where were they?! He spurred the equine Prince of Asgard on, determined more than ever that he would net himself some game. But still no sound came from the track ahead and Loki began to suspect that something was wrong with the whole situation. He eased off and Sleipnir began to reduce his speed in response to the physical direction his mother gave him. Another series of sounds – clearly those of the beaters – came from behind them and he reined Sleipnir in sharply to turn about and look back down the trail past his groom.


Where was everyone?




Njörðr nodded at Tyr as they galloped side by side and the God of Justice retrieved the hunting horn from his belt. Earlier on, he had taken his horse to the picket and had gone past the head huntsman, who was in charge of the beaters out in the forest. The man had clearly seen the red ribbon tied to the horse’s tack and had quickly nodded at Tyr; this was the signal for him to go out along the trail and confirm to all the lads that they should delay the disturbance of the game birds until after the King had passed them. A second confirmation would come in the form of a certain series of notes played on the hunting horn and only when that happened would it be definite that the delay should be put into practice. Tyr was about to confirm everything by playing that series of notes; Loki had been allowed to get a head start on everyone else on Sleipnir so that he would be far enough down the trail to miss the first flush of birds.


“Well, Sea God?” Tyr asked as he brought the great horn to his lips.

“Confirm the deception.” Growled Njörðr and he spurred on his horse, “Then let us catch that game!”


Tyr blew the signal for the beaters to allow the King to ride past without flushing out any birds and returned the horn to his belt. Grabbing hold of the reins, he shouted encouragement to his horse and sped after the God of Seafarers; if they were going to trick Loki this way, he might as well try to win the title of the Hunt for himself!




As Loki looked down the trail, he saw the nearest rider take a slightly different trail to the one he was on and a sudden flurry close by indicated that the game birds were being sent from their hiding places. The sound of shouts and whistles quickly followed and it was soon apparent that the members of the Hunt back down the track were about to catch the first of the day. Immense fury suddenly descended on Loki and before he could even think about it, his eyes exploded into their rich crimson, completely eradicating the beautiful emerald green, and his whole appearance morphed into that of his Jotúnn aspect. Such was his lack of control that it went further than ever before and the present situation of his social dominance being put into question caused the transformation to go further. His scars were more prominent on his features, and if there had been any other Frost Giants present, they would have perhaps been made to bow down to the clear message they sent out: Loki was the King, he was the dominant Alpha Male Jotúnn and any who stood in opposition were commanded by the messages within his scars to fight him in order to show it. They spoke of his prowess as a warrior, as a male mate in his prime and of his worth as a ferocious leader. He glanced at his groom, who was staring at him boggle-eyed as he tried to control his stallion who had been spooked by the appearance of such a frightening creature, then watched impassively as they galloped off back towards the others.


A hot eruption of intense vitriol caused Loki to lose all sense of normality as he finally ceased to control the other side to his personality, but in allowing it to so easily manifest itself and completely overthrow the calmer Asgardian, he made a fatal error. In the background where it had always been lurking and waiting for an opportunity was the Chaos Spirit of Fire; it was his truest form and the one which had never been given an opportunity in all his thousand years to properly express itself. This Spirit stood close behind the Jotúnn, peering, as it were, over its shoulder and seeing Asgard through physical eyes rather than simply through second hand thoughts and images. It fed off the powerful negative emotions Loki was going through and it embraced them in a euphoric awakening of sensations, sensations which were almost directly physical and potent to the true self he had kept buried within deep layers of his psyche. The Fire Spirit began to feel what it was to be alive within a corporeal world.




Sleipnir became restless. What was happening to his mother? He could feel the difference in Loki’s posture and weight and knew that something was happening to the God of Lies, but there was something else. He could sense something different, something new and he was not sure he liked it.


As Loki’s groom galloped off, the great horse decided that they needed to leave the situation before Loki could do something she might later regret and without hesitation he set off at breakneck speed towards a clearing a few hundred metres away. Before Loki could even come to her senses enough to react, Sleipnir had accelerated to the point at which the fiery trail appeared and they took to the air away from the Hunt, away from the forest and back in the direction of the Palace of Asgard.




The cracking of what sounded like thunder came from the air and Njörðr turned to see what had made it as he handed a large net containing a dead Asgardian Pheasant to his groom. It was with immense disappointment that he saw the signature trail of Sleipnir’s flight and he waved to attract the attention of Tyr and Bragi.

“He has gone!” He shouted, pointing at the trail as the other Gods rode over to him, “He has given up without so much as a grumble!” He frowned in his frustration; he had at least expected an angry outburst of some kind, or even a confrontation, but for the Trickster to simply turn tail and leave had not even occurred to him.

“There is nothing we can do.” Said Tyr. “I very much doubt anyone could convince him to come back to continue the hunt. With the behaviour he has witnessed this morning, I should imagine that he is infuriated with the lack of respect he has been shown and that is why he has gone. The easier option would have been to lose his temper and to assert his authority in some show of power, but it would have been to risk a loss of esteem from all those who witnessed it. If he had descended into a screeching fury, he would have quickly lost sympathy from everyone here.” The God of Justice grimaced at Njörðr. “I think the high jinks and trickery are over for this morning. Let us hunt a while to entertain the guests and then return to the tourneys. We do not want to spoil the celebration for everyone just because the King has retired in a mood.”


“Ah, let him stew!” Chuckled Bragi, “I, for one, will not allow this to ruin my morning. I intend to be King of the Hunt! We can continue Loki’s torment this evening back at the Palace.” Without further ado, the God of Poetry brandished his net and galloped off along the trail to catch some more game.


Tyr looked at Njörðr and shrugged, “I suppose it will not harm to have a little competition. What say you, Sea God?”

“I say let us hunt!” Laughed Njörðr, and he spurred his horse on before Tyr could even blink.




The eight iron-shod hooves of Sleipnir created showers of sparks where they landed on the cobbled area near the barracks of the Palace of Asgard and before he could come to a stop, he felt Loki jump off his back and watched as the giant King of Asgard strode swiftly to the rear entrance of the Palace, still clearly in a terrible temper. The great horse snorted in his disapproval of his mother’s tantrum and trotted off towards the great lake which lay round the corner near the terraces; he wanted to find his brother Jormungandr and hopefully have a sensible conversation about their situation here in Asgard before the Midgard Serpent left for Jotúnnheimr with their sister Hel on the morrow. Up to now the siblings had naturally congregated here in the ruling realm as their King had wanted, but things were not quite so straight forward as Loki may have indicated. The idea that they were here and would become leaders in various important positions was not a solid one it seemed; Loki did not have as iron a grip as she might have wanted upon Asgard and she did not seem to have a concrete plan as to how she wanted to go forward.


Sleipnir had lived in Asgard for many centuries as the mighty steed of the King Of Asgard who, up to just short of a year ago, had been Odin – his King and supposed grandfather. Sleipnir had led an active yet reasonably calm life. Aside from being the one to bear the Ruler of the Nine in State occasions and indeed to war, his life had not been turbulent in the slightest until his mother had taken the opportunity to bring war here and to take the throne. And Sleipnir was not entirely happy about it. He knew of the prophecy of the Twilight of the Gods, as did most people, but Loki was being terribly indecisive about the whole thing. Certain predicted events had happened and had moved the Great Cycle ever nearer to the final battle, but the removal of Odin and Thor to Midgard had put all of that on hold. Hope had begun to blossom in Sleipnir’s heart that Ragnarök might even be a thing now destined to remain in the very distant future, but what would happen in the meantime was not clear cut.


He rounded the corner of the Palace and made his way towards the huge lake which lay at the rear, banked for a large distance by the sloping terraces. Ripples in the surface indicated the presence of his brother and he went to stand at the edge where the serpent would see him and come over. It was time for the two of them to communicate and to discuss just where their future lay.




Loki’s pace was impressive as his long leather clad legs conveyed him through the Palace corridors. His temper was dissipating now that he had left the site of the Hunt and all the treacherous Gods and nobles behind. The distance that his son Sleipnir had put between them was in fact a very good idea and had diverted any chance of disastrous consequences through the potential for a catastrophic loss of temper with the guests of The Hunt. However, the blood of the Jotúnn had been fired up and he was in his full Frost Giant aspect. As he made his way through the buildings of the Palace, many nobles and servants shrank to the side to keep out of his way and to avoid attracting any kind of attention from the menacing King who was storming along.


One person, however, did not shrink back. One person saw him approaching from twenty metres away and stood her ground as his crimson eyes fastened upon her. As he registered quickly who she was and allowed a predatory grimace to appear on his chiselled Frost Giant face, she swallowed down her nervousness and met his gaze, hugging a length of green and gold bunting to her chest protectively. Even as his thick blue fingers grasped her upper arm and the corridor disappeared from around them with a sickening wrench and a swirl of golden hued colours, she fought down trepidation and kept as calm as she could. And even when he pulled her towards him as they appeared in her room and claimed her mouth with his cold blue lips, she returned his eagerness and pressed her body against him. In the back of her mind she was wondering why he was here in the Palace and not back at the Hunt, but here he was and his hands were roving all over her as his tongue invaded her mouth roughly.


The graceful Elven Jotúnn was accepting his advances unquestioningly and this satisfied the hungry Jotúnn King. His desire to express his masculinity and to reassert his power had found its outlet as soon as he had espied her in the corridor. Quickly teleporting them both here to her room, while the excess testosterone coursed through his veins along with the notion that he had to do this to reaffirm to himself that he was a male monarch in his prime, he found himself highly aroused by her femininity and her scent. He pulled open the top of her tunic to reveal her scars, which only served to further inflame his lust and he clasped her tightly to his body as his kisses grew deeper and more passionate. Her breath came in short gasps against his lips and he found he could hold back no longer. He scooped her up and took her over to the bed where he laid her down and climbed quickly on top of her, only to press his body down upon hers as she writhed below him. His muscular Jotúnn physique was coarser than that of the Asgardian and his lust was so inflamed that he took her with greater vigour than usual. Yet they fitted together so well and she found herself so receptive to him that her body acted almost as if it craved every movement, every part of him and a tight coil wound up deep within her as he gripped her thighs and moved faster. The Jotúnn King was eagerly mating with her and something in her reacted to this as if it was how it should be and her strong fingers dug into his flesh to encourage him. His sweating skin glided against hers, mingling scents and stimulating sensitive nerves. He felt so good and she began to call out freely, bringing him to the edge, where he crashed into a deep and powerful orgasm, riding it out with long and firm movements. His climax was taken to new heights as her tight and muscular walls began to quiver and pulse around his manhood and he called out with her as she came over and over again.


Loki sank onto Aida’s body as he panted hard to get his breath back and he buried his face into her sweat-soaked hair, inhaling her unique scent deeply. He felt her hands stroking his slick skin, exploring it as they traversed his arms, his buttocks, his waist and on up to his back. And that was where the euphoria vanished and the real world came rushing back.


He could not ignore it. He could not make it go away! As raw fire ignited in the nerves of his scarred and damaged skin, Loki felt his ardour melt away as if it had never been there in the first place. He hastily climbed from her and hurried into the en suite. He showered briefly and emerged from the cubicle to dry off and get dressed. With images of the abyss, of Erika and of many other things now plaguing him, he found he needed to get out of here quickly and once more the King of Asgard left his beautiful Jotúnn lying on her bed alone.




At first the people in the other areas of the clearing near the waterfall were unaware of what was happening to the large marquee which had been erected to take shelter and relax in. There was a lot of noise generally as tourneys were carried out and entertainers amused the crowds of onlookers. Shouts from Wagermen and rounds of applause along with loud cheering were going on everywhere and it was only as the landslide really gathered force and made enough noise that heads began to turn in the direction of the waterfall itself. Screams of terror began as the displaced rocks and earth cascaded down the unstable water-logged slopes and began to engulf the marquee. Giant trees tumbled from their suddenly precarious hold on the cliffs flanking the waterfall and the white tent canvas was rapidly disappearing from view.


After a momentary pause of shocked disbelief, warriors began to throw down their weapons and leave the battle arenas to run towards the site of the disaster, where everything had come to a stop only seconds after it had begun to slide. It could be seen that part of the marquee was still upright where it had been on the side away from the cliff face, and very quickly men were working to remove debris, using anything to hand to help them. The tough fabric was slashed open and those who had been trapped inside began to stagger out, many of them clearly injured or in a state of shock and confusion. Now more people turned up to help as word had quickly spread around the site, and they helped to lead the victims away from the danger and to seek medical aid for any who were injured.


Yet it could be clearly seen that around a third of the marquee had collapsed under the weight of the tons of dirt and stone and vegetation which had landed on it, and worried glances revealed that it was not over yet. Those who were hoping to rescue those who were still inside the marquee were sent running as further horrendous rumbling announced another cascade from the top of the cliff where the weakened banks gave way under the force of the water now that there was nothing helping to hold them back. Thousands of gallons of thick muddy water gushed from a widened source, bringing with it yet more rocks, trees and the rotting accumulated vegetation which had been up there since the start of the decline of summer into autumn.


And all they could do was get everyone to safety before turning to watch in horror as the last of the white marquee completely disappeared under a new mound of dirt.




The icy wind on Jotúnnheimr blew with a harsh vigour and the fur-lined hooded cloaks of the Jotúnns only just kept their wearers safe from the minuscule shards of ice which were carried along by it. Their mounts, which were shaggy-haired Jotúnnheimian Horses noted for their hardiness, stood patiently while Angrboda surveyed the landscape before choosing which way to use to go forward. It had been treacherous here before the Casket had been taken; now there was no power to hold the geography together, things had worsened.


Their destination was the great Granite Palace of the Jotúnns. Its soaring cliffs of black stone had once been a handsome stronghold with straight geometric lines dominating its design. Incredibly high towers had flanked a central gate tower, presenting an impressive and impenetrable front to the fortress which had put off many a would-be invasion. The complex itself was massive and all built of the same Jotúnnheimian Black Granite, which was mined from the giant mountains where it was situated. Yet it had also been strangely beautiful. The Casket of Ancient Winters, from which the realm had sourced its power in the absence of any real energy from its sun, had imbued the stone with an ethereal ice-blue glow. It was not so much seen on a relatively bright day, but it really came into its own on a dull day or at night, lending the Palace an almost magical appearance.


But it was all gone. Without the Casket the Palace was crumbling, along with the citadel around it, and it was perilous to journey here any longer. Huge slabs of granite fell from the edifice constantly and would crush any unfortunate adventurer who came too close. Yet she had to come here now that she had been entrusted with the future of the realm. The former Queen still resided here along with a few loyal attendants and a few of the clans had kept her provided for by bringing tributes from their own scant supplies. However, the time was now ripe to tell her that the realm she had once ruled over was about to be restored.


Angrboda sighed; it would probably not register with the poor woman. Ever since she had witnessed the war, lost her prematurely born son to harsh rules regarding the attributes of a potential King and had seen her realm deteriorate so badly, she had withdrawn from society and was rarely seen in public, leaving everything to the King. Then when news had reached Jotúnnheimr that he had been killed whilst on a mission to Asgard to try to retrieve the Casket, the Queen had retreated to her private rooms and had not been seen by anyone except her attendants ever since. This was largely to blame for the subsequent splintering of the Clans and the rise of the feudal system once again; there was no one to rule over them. For reasons known only to themselves, the Royal Children had not risen to take the place of their parents to rule Jotúnnheimr and Loki had been presumed dead for a long time before he had revealed his position on Asgard. Even he had not exercised his right to the Throne of Black Granite and this had almost left the Jotúnns in a worse situation. Then an edict had arrived to remind them that Loki was their true King, even if it was in his capacity as Ruler of the Nine. This had caused an outcry and had led to increased fighting between the clans as they had fallen out over what he had said. Many had wanted to storm the Palace and to try to find the Queen to hold hostage in order to force Loki’s hand and make him come here, but this had been fought back by others who knew it would possibly have meant the end of them all.


Now there was a chance. Loki had extended a boon in the form of the Casket and there was a real future potentially ahead for Jotúnnheimr.


But Angrboda wanted to tell her Queen. For the other promise Loki had made would inevitably affect her future. He had declared that he would announce who he wanted to rule the realm and be his ally and Angrboda had a strong feeling that the one he had in mind was not his mother. She needed to know what was going to happen.


Pointing at a faintly visible darker trail in the middle of the wasteland which lay between them and the Palace, Angrboda shouted directions and the horses were spurred back into action. It was time to pay a visit to the Queen of Jotúnnheimr.




Aida lay on her bed as she listened to the familiar sounds of her King taking a shower in the small en suite and she studied the carvings on the ceiling above her as she tried to fathom out his behaviour. The passion with which he had just made love to her had been incredibly intense; it was as if they were newly-weds and in the first blush of their life together trying to start a family. The hormone-charged air had affected her just as strongly as it had Loki, with her Jotúnn instincts causing all sorts of reactions in her. She felt as if there had been a deep meeting of minds, that they were having sex for a purpose much more profound than their surface motives. He may have come here to reaffirm his masculinity and she may have accepted his advances in order to get closer so that she could have him be totally relaxed around his would-be assassin, but the last half an hour had felt like there had been another agenda entirely.


The shower ceased its watery music and within a few minutes the King had taken his leave. What had caused his sudden change in demeanour after such intense love-making? One minute they had been crying out together in ecstasy and the next he had scrambled from the bed as if he had been burned! She blew out a puzzled breath and looked towards her timepiece. It was approaching midday and there was still a lot to do for the evening’s Harvest Feast. Trying to put her thoughts to the back of her mind, Aida padded through to the en suite and ran her own shower, stepping in under the hot crystal clear jets and soaping her skin with her favourite perfumed soap. Perhaps when she attended tonight Loki would be attracted to her again and spend time talking with her like he had the previous night. It would be occasions like that where she could perhaps make more progress and get closer to her King. Close enough for him to start to count her as a friend as well as a secret – or not so secret as it was beginning to turn out – lover.


Stepping from the shower, Aida wrapped her slim blue body in a large towel and went to the wardrobe to select her gown for the night’s celebration. She hung it next to her mirror ready to put it on after the afternoon’s final preparations and smiled at the wonderful design. It was going to knock Loki dead!




Having satisfied his desires, but also having had old raw memories awakened, Loki felt the need to get his mind back on track. The infuriating way in which the guests of the Hunt had acted towards him today was still plaguing him to a certain extent and the odd behaviour of Erika was also nagging him. Something had to be done about her; she was immortal and it seemed she was perhaps the only one ignorant of the fact. He had been so tempted to read her thoughts this morning to discover what was making her behave so oddly, but she had asked him to stay out of them so often that he was actually making a concerted effort to respect her wishes. Surely he could trust her now after all this time and prying into her private feelings was a sure-fire way to make her believe that he did not. Now he found himself wishing he had looked; at least he would know what the matter was with her.


As his long legs conveyed him swiftly along the corridors of the Palace, Loki grimaced. He needed to stop being so involved with her! He was not stupid and he knew she was – albeit reluctantly – making herself step aside so that he would be free to pursue someone whom she perceived as a more suitable candidate for the position of companion to the King of Asgard. Yet he did not truly know if he wanted it to be that way. Yes, his Jotúnn desires were strong and were influencing him more and more, but there were still moments, especially when he was in his Asgardian form, when he felt he would not want someone such as Aida as his Queen. Yes, she was beautiful. Yes, she was a prominent member of Asgardian Society and yes, he was incredibly attracted to her. If he was to relinquish all control and allow himself to return to his Jotúnn physiology completely, then he would perhaps find her to be the ideal woman for the role, but the fact of the matter was that he had spent over a thousand years as an Asgardian. He had adopted that form, whether through a desire to fit in and be accepted, or simply as a survival instinct and he had been raised that way. He was Asgardian to all intents and purposes, no matter the recent revelation that his genes were Jotúnn and his spirit was Chaos. He could not simply throw away all of the nurture he had received in this ruling Realm because a Frost Giant he had been fighting had made his hand turn blue!


The demons rose in Loki’s mind yet again and he found himself wanting to be away from it all. He needed somewhere private and quiet. In a flash of green light he disappeared from the golden corridor of the Palace and reappeared seconds later in the weapons vault, where no one could come without proper permission and announcement. The giant space was only dimly lit and the only sounds were his footsteps as he descended the stone steps where he had finally been given the truth of his origins from Odin only a few years ago. As he walked down the central aisle between the giant pillars, he glanced at the various artefacts which were held here as the trophies Odin had brought back from various escapades. Mjölnir sang almost mockingly as he passed her on her plinth, the Tesseract hummed with potent power as it illuminated its niche with its intense blue light and The Eternal Flame, stolen from Surtr caused Loki’s scars to sing on his back. But the most beautiful of them all, the one which Loki now approached and laid his hands on reverentially, was The Casket Of Ancient Winters. Once long ago, Odin had shown this vault to his young sons, and Loki had found this trophy the most interesting of them all. It was not until a thousand years later that he found out just why it had called to him as a youngster, but now he could appreciate its beauty for what it was. He stroked the surface of the Casket, within which was trapped the power of the Fimbulwinter, and allowed himself to relax completely as his Jotúnn features intensified in its presence. Tomorrow, this would travel back to its rightful place in the Palace of Jotúnnheimr, but first – tonight – he was going to bring Erika here and ask her to imbue it with the lightning of Mjölnir. With the extra power inside, the Casket would rejuvenate the realm of the Frost Giants in days rather than weeks and he would be able to bring her a new Monarch.


Loki stood back from the Casket and allowed himself long moments of calm as he stared into its never-ending winters. With Jotúnnheimr back up to full power and with the construction of Naglfar nearing completion, he would have all he needed to bring about the Twilight. Then it would simply be a matter of sitting back to enjoy his rule here on Asgard for a while and if it became irksome or if he simply tired of it, he would have his revenge.


If necessary, he would invoke Ragnarök.

States of a God's Heart Ch94: Forces Of Nature

*Holds up white flag and waves it cautiously*

Don't shoot!

No, seriously. Don't shoot. Or you won't get to know what happens next! Yes, yes. It is long in the telling, but I'm afraid "The tent collapsed and then this happened" is simply not my style of writing. Why tell it in four disappointingly sparsely worded paragraphs when you can really let your readers escape into the story for four whole chapters?!?! Thanks for reading :)

Edited to remove some of the sexual content. Original on AO3
This is the Ninety fourth part of the sequel to To Tame A God
Previous Chapter: States Of A God's Heart Ch93: Upheaval
Next Chapter: 


Sæunn watched as the throng of the Gods, nobles, warriors and their companions exited the Great Hall and her spirits fell; she had turned up too late after all it seemed and everyone was already on their way to the waterfall. She searched the crowd, wondering where Erika was, but it soon became apparent that her friend was not there to meet her and she began to worry if she would be allowed to go without her. She glanced at the back of the stragglers and made a quick decision; if there was room in any of the transport taking guests to the Hunt, then she would go along and if not… well, she would go home to change into her uniform and spend the day at the Spa refining her skin cleansing technique. She ran to catch up with the others and followed them as they left the Palace through the giant front entrance to go to their carriages and horses.


Many of the horses and traps had already departed and Sæunn walked out to see only a few people mounting their horses, with no more carriages available going to the waterfall. However, she saw Sleipnir standing there, and the huge grey beast was clearly looking to see if someone he was expecting was about to arrive. She decided to go to stand near the Royal Equine Prince so that if Erika did happen to still be in the Palace somewhere with her King, she would be here to greet her when they came out. However, after about ten minutes, Sleipnir and Sæunn were still standing there with Loki and his maid nowhere to be seen.


“Oh Your Highness,” Sighed Sæunn, “I believe I am going to miss the hunt today. I was supposed to meet Erika and go there with her, but she must have left without me.” She looked up at the massive grey horse and cocked her head to one side. “I imagine you were waiting to take Loki. I think we can surmise that they have gone there by some other mode of transport.” She looked around again one more time and then made up her mind; she would not be able to attend and she might as well just go home and change into her work uniform. But a snort from Sleipnir caused her to look at him and he tossed his head and snorted again. As she watched, he came closer to her and then knelt with his forelegs to get closer to the ground. Her bright young features creased into a smile and she asked excitedly, “Am I to climb on? Are you going to the hunt? May I go with you, Your Highness?!”


Sleipnir blew air from his nostrils and nodded his head as his eye fixed on her and she tentatively went to his side and took hold of a bunch of his mane hairs. Loki’s son remained still as she somehow managed to clamber onto his back despite how small she was in comparison and she let out a nervous giggle as he got to his feet again. “Oh by the Gods! It is so high up on your back, Your Highness! I can see everywhere…. Oh!” Sleipnir started to trot down the wide paved area which led from the front of the Palace to the great gates and Sæunn laughed with exhilaration as she leaned into his muscular neck and grabbed even more of his mane to help her stay on his back. As the great horse increased his speed, a thrill went through her and her eyes shone in excitement; never in a million years did she think she would arrive at a Royal occasion this way.




As new surroundings appeared Erika clutched at Loki’s arm and doubled over, retching with sickness. But the strong arm she clung to slid from her grasp and she was more or less forced to quickly stand upright as she waited for the feeling to pass and was shocked to find that they were at the site of the Great Hunt. Loki turned to look at her as he took his place on the Throne which was situated in the Royal Stand next to the tourney areas and he beckoned to her.


“Come along Erika and stand beside me in your place! We want to be ready for the arrival of our people, do we not?” His voice was tight, and with a heavy heart Erika detected the warning signs building in him; today was already turning out to be a trying one and the thought that she was going to make it worse by leaving during the Harvest Celebration supper back at the Palace was beginning to weigh heavily on her. Should she stay?

“Erika! What is keeping you?” Impatience now laced the Trickster’s voice and she hurried over to him, hoping to deflect any deterioration in his temper.

“Would you like some refreshment, Your Highness? I can see that the chefs are already here in the kitchen tent. Some tea, perhaps, or…” The words tumbled out of her mouth to try to dispel the heavy atmosphere, just to say anything to avoid a strained silence.

“Some spiced mead would be nice.” Erika paused; a stab of uncertainty passed through her as she looked down to where Loki’s fingers had suddenly grabbed at her arm and winced slightly at the strength of his grip. She glanced at his face and could still only see a stony façade there, “Do not tarry Erika. I want you back here for when the guests arrive.” He let go and waved impatiently in the direction of the area where food and drink was being laid out, effectively dismissing her. She hurried away and hoped with all her heart that it would not be long until everyone else arrived. Then with a sudden pang she remembered that she had promised to meet Sæunn at the breakfast. Loki’s decision to teleport her directly here had ruined that plan and she now wondered where the young Spa attendant might be. Things seemed to be going from bad to worse and she now considered making an exit while the Royal party was out hunting rather than waiting until they were all back at the Palace.


The young maid exchanged pleasantries with some of the servers while she obtained a pitcher of hot spiced mead for the King’s Table and on the spur of the moment, she decided to take a goblet for herself as well as for Loki; the autumn air was very chilly and damp and the mead would surely warm her bones. As she exited the refreshment tent, a thunder of hooves sounded and the smell of scorched grass reached her nostrils. Turning to see what was happening, she was rewarded with the sight of Sleipnir landing on the ground from his fiery aerial path, which he had taken from the Palace to get here. He snorted and tossed his great head as he got his bearings and then approached the King’s Royal Stand, where he nodded to his mother respectfully before coming over to where Erika still stood near where she had got the mead from. To her surprise, someone jumped nimbly from his back and shouted out, “Erika!”


It was Sæunn! Her young friend hurried over to her and smiled broadly, “Oh Erika! I have just had the most amazing experience of my life! I flew through the air, borne by Prince Sleipnir! Can you imagine what that must be like?” Sæunn’s cheeks were flushed with excitement and Erika’s heart lifted. Such events were what made life happier and she laughed gaily along with her friend. She did indeed know what it was like to ride on the massive horse’s back, but it had been in very different circumstances and he had been saving her life. She held up the pitcher and two goblets.


“I was just getting a drink for the King,” She said, “You go and get one for yourself and have a wander around to see what sort of entertainments are going to be on. I have to attend to Loki, but as soon as they depart for the hunt, I will join you and we will have our own fun.”

“Very well, Erika,” Replied Sæunn, her eyes still shining with happiness, “I think I might just have a little of that hot drink too. See you later!”


Erika watched Sæunn thank Sleipnir once again before she disappeared into the tent, clearly very excited to be attending an occasion such as this. A sad smile crossed her face as she remembered being so naively happy at Palace functions back before she had found Loki lying in the King’s bed with a stonking hangover. She turned back to the King’s Table to take Loki his drink, recalling how she had once denied him his wine and had caused a courtesan to be hurt in doing so, which had led on to all manner of terrible things. The young maid hoped that this last day in Loki’s service might at least be bearable with her friend now here to talk to, but all traces of merriment drained completely from her as she met his gaze and realised he was not happy at all.




“We must ensure the beaters are slow in their efforts to flush out the prey.” Njörðr said to Tyr as they rode along on their way to the waterfall. They rode great stallions which had been bred at the Palace stables, and each of them had livery in their own crests adorning their mounts. He was pleased with how the morning had gone so far; the warriors had excelled in their efforts to rile the King with what they thought was just a harmless prank to wind him up before going hunting, and the look on Loki’s face as everyone had left the Hall with Hel and Tyr leading the procession had been priceless. Yet it was not enough. He was now putting into action plans to spoil the King’s experience during the hunt. Several staff from the Royal Household were already in the woods, searching out various game animals for them to pursue and they would wait until they heard the Hunt approaching before flushing them out with beaters so that the party would spot them and have a decent chase. However, Njörðr had spread the word amongst them to get their timings wrong so that it would be the other members of the Royal Party who would be more successful in their tally than the King and he was ensuring Tyr was still on board to carry it out.


The God of Justice was still having a bit of a hard time reconciling this behaviour, but he knew that the bigger goal was to try to cause Loki to tire of ruling Asgard to the point where he might abdicate. What would happen after that he did not know because surely Loki would want to appoint his successor rather than having one forced upon him? As far as Tyr knew, plans were afoot to return Thor and Odin to Asgard in a timely manner so that they would show up conveniently to wrest the title from the Trickster whether he wanted it or not, and thence arrest him and put him back where he belonged; in the dungeons. It all seemed a bit complicated and precariously balanced on chance and supposition, but it was the only plan anyone seemed to have and the only alternative was to sit back and watch him eventually bring about the Twilight.


“I have sent word on ahead, Sea God. My horse has a red ribbon on its bridle. This is the agreed signal to indicate the plan is still to happen. I must warn you though; Loki will not like this one iota and I cannot possibly predict his reaction to it. Hopefully it will culminate in an almighty sulk, but I cannot guarantee that he will not find cause to imprison someone for neglect of duty. He is already wound up by the public correction by his maid of his attempt to charge Hulda with Regicide yesterday and by the awful lapse in Royal etiquette in leaving the breakfast this morning. We risk much by piling on the pressure like this.”

“Fear not Tyr! What if he loses his temper? What will he do? We can contain any repercussions between us… you can offer to mete out the justice on his behalf and I can offer to investigate why the training of the beaters was not satisfactory…” Njörðr grinned at Tyr and spurred his horse on ahead to speak with a few of the warriors who were involved in the ruse, “Do not allow your doubts to stop us having some fun on this fine day, my Prince!”




At the Palace, a transformation was taking place. The Great Hall, which had only just been vacated by the Gods and Nobles, was being cleared of all the breakfast paraphernalia and getting spruced up for the evening’s Harvest Celebration. By then everyone should have had a good time out at the Hunt and be ready to party on until perhaps the early hours as the harvest of the Apples of Iðunn was duly celebrated. The kitchens had been at full steam ahead all morning as they prepared the various dishes for the feast and the smells permeating the great corridors of the Palace of Asgard were enough to make everyone’s mouth water. Some of the dishes had small amounts of the Apples included and would be served to those mortals who were involved in their cultivation, and some of the dishes were potent concoctions for the Gods to consume as part of their intake of the life-enhancing fruits.


As gilded branches and green swags of silk were placed around the huge space, Aida stood in the middle of it all and felt pride in the theme she had created. The only things spoiling her day at the moment were the side-long glances she knew were being thrown her way and the ill-disguised chatter and smirks that went along with them. Even the people she worked with could not resist gossiping about her public appearance with the King and she was finding it difficult to ignore. Doubts began to surface in her mind as to the path she was following and she wondered, not for the first time, whether she should abandon the idea of killing Loki and perhaps simply enjoy her time as the Palace Designer, which she actually loved doing. A little dalliance with the King might have to be something that went along with the job, but was it really all that bad? He had seemed to be getting more interested in her personally the previous night, even if he had gone on to leave her later without speaking, but surely that was something that would change as he grew to trust her? He was surrounded by those he was not completely sure of – except that maid of his – so his distrustful and distant manner was not entirely surprising.


A loud bang as one of the chairs being moved around the room fell over brought her back to her senses; sounding like a distant explosion, it brought back to mind the mission of ACPoS, which was to get rid of Loki and somehow bring back Thor or Odin. No, her path was still clear. This doubt was all part of the potential to fall under the Trickster’s deadly charm and should be dismissed immediately before it had a chance to take hold. Pointing to a corner of the room which was looking decidedly neglected, she advised one of the workmen as to what she wanted him to put there and strengthened her resolve. She must complete her mission for the good of Asgard, indeed for the good of the Nine. The one who would bring the Twilight must be stopped at all cost.




Loki watched in annoyance as Erika employed what he believed to be very obvious delaying tactics in bringing him his drink and began to glower at her. Why was she taking so long and who was that girl she was talking to? Erika was not usually so circumvent about things she felt were wrong; if she thought he should not be drinking so much so early in the day, why did she not simply tell him as she usually would? He tapped his long pale fingers impatiently on the arm of the wooden Throne and sighed heavily; if she did not make her way to him soon, then he would simply bring her here by the force of his Seidr! However, just as he felt his temper begin to fail, she turned towards him and met his eye, whereupon her face fell at the dark look he was throwing her way. She lowered her own eyes and began to make her way over to him, carrying the two drinks carefully, but now completely avoiding looking directly at him.


Loki frowned. There definitely was something the matter with her this morning. Things had been strained between them over recent days as it was, but today she appeared to be very uptight and there was certainly something on her mind, yet she did not seem to want to share it with him. Did she know about his having entertained Aida in the Great Hall? For the briefest of moments, Loki saw what his behaviour must be doing to Erika and how it might be making her feel, but he quickly dismissed it. She was basing her choices on her limited – and incorrect – knowledge. She was bringing a lot of her sadness upon herself! At least she only had one side to her personality; she was an Asgardian through and through. That she had somehow been imbued with immortality – the strength and type of which was yet to be determined – had not split her mind! Unlike Loki, she was still very much herself.


He, on the other hand, had undergone a prolonged period of rejection, torture, and abandonment! His physiological composition was such that he was only now experiencing certain aspects of his life cycle, of which he had previously been unaware. He had not had anyone there to teach him of what he might expect to happen! There was no supportive Jotúnn Elder to explain what was happening to him inside and to guide him in his actions. From what he could fathom, he seemed to be undergoing some kind of puberty all over again, yet this time it was of a stronger type and it was causing him to be exceptionally interested in pursuing what one could reasonably argue was his primary goal whilst here in the Nine: to procreate. Had it been brought on by being in close proximity to another of Jotúnn descent? Perhaps it had been held in check because he had only ever been close to those of non Frost Giant heritage since that part of him had awoken. He sighed and his fingers ceased their staccato on the arm of his chair as Erika tentatively handed him a large goblet of winter spiced mead. It was also making him incredibly selfish and ignorant of the needs and the worries of perhaps his truest friend, and something about her whole demeanour was telling him it was far too late to put it right. Just as he made the decision to ask her what was wrong, a horn sounded and the faint thunder of hooves and jingling tackle broke the silence, killing the question on his thin lips.




The noise of the approaching throng of celebrants reached the waterfall shortly before they eventually appeared and all of a sudden the site became a flurry of activity. Grooms ran up to greet Hel and Tyr who were leading the procession and the Princess of Asgard looked every inch a Royal as she accepted Tyr’s hand to dismount her horse. The horses were picketed, traps and carriages were driven off and parked up to one side and everyone poured into the tourney areas, the refreshment marquee and the spectator areas. It was not long before the tournaments had filled up with competitors willing to show off their prowess to those who were interested enough to watch and even to bet on the outcome, and the servers in the marquee were soon filling goblets with spiced mead and mulled wine for the nobles and Gods. Having put on a show of politeness in greeting his daughter and her chosen escort for the day, the King was soon regaled with those wishing to greet him and Erika found herself taking a step back as others brought him drinks and delicacies to try, which was not entirely a bad thing for her. No one had even flinched as they had seen that he had been there before anyone else; it had not been remarked upon either and Erika could tell that this marked indifference towards the accepted etiquette in the presence of the Ruler of Asgard was winding him up. Spotting Sæunn wandering along one of the fences watching the warriors warming up, she glanced at Loki to see if he wanted her to stay near him. He was busy talking to a very muscular-looking man and she realised it was one of the senior War Masters. Deciding she did not want to spend any more time in the company of her moody King, she slipped away down the back of the Royal Stand and made her way over to where her friend was staring in admiration at the men and women lining up to get their competition numbers.


“Impressive, are they not?” She asked, and Sæunn turned to her with a smile.

“Impressive indeed! Look at that woman there… her arms are bigger than my legs!”

“Hahah, yes they are! She must have trained all her life in the warrior corps to develop a physique like that. I have to admit it is not something I ever felt drawn towards, but I do appreciate their appearance.” The two girls stared as the female warrior turned to her side and picked up a massive battle axe, swinging it experimentally and making it whoosh through the air.

“No wonder she has such large muscles!” Exclaimed Sæunn and then she blushed as the warrior turned to her and grinned. She wandered over to her little audience and brandished the axe in a mock menacing manner.

“Would you like to try it?” She asked and Sæunn quickly shook her head.

“N… no thank you, my lady!” She blurted, “I think it would be too heavy for me.”

“Ha! That is what I once thought, dear girl. Watch me in the tournament today, for I will win! My name is Boudicca and I am from Midgard. I am descended in the line of a great warrior from Midgard’s history…. And I will win today. Good fortune go with you, my ladies.”


Both Erika and Sæunn stared goggle-eyed as Boudicca strode back to where she had pitched a small tent in the tourney enclosure; she was a formidable woman and huge for a Midgardian, but kind as well, it seemed.

“I think we should back her in the competition.” Said Erika, “What is her number?”

“Oh, I have never placed a wager on a tourney before!” Said Sæunn excitedly, “What do we do?”

“We take her number, look at the odds being given on her winning and place money on her to be victorious.” Replied Erika. “I have a little coin with me, come on!”


They went over to where a few tables had been set up next to the fence and watched the Wagermen chalking up their prices. Boudicca’s number was nine and Erika pointed to the sets of numbers written on one of the boards.

“There. He has the best odds. We will place a wager with him.” She pulled on Sæunn’s arm and they went over to the Wagerman, who smiled at them warmly.

“Greetings to you, dear ladies! Who would you like to back today?”

“Boudicca, please. Number Nine to win!” Said Sæunn brightly, pointing to where he had written the Midgardian Warrior’s name.

“Hmmm. Boudicca. To win? The entire heavy weapons tourney?”

“Yes! She will win today. She said so!”

“Very well, young lady. You do understand that she will go up against male warriors from all over The Nine in this competition, do you not?”

“Yes. She will conquer them!” Sæunn turned to Erika, “I do not have any coin. Please will you place a wager for me?”


Erika looked at the shine in her young friend’s eyes and grinned; “Of course!” she said and placed two silver coins on the table. “Boudicca of Midgard to win. The heavy weapons tourney victor will be number nine on your board.”

The two coins disappeared into the Wagerman’s meaty hand before they could say Odin and he grinned at them, revealing a row of gold teeth.

“Boudicca of Midgard to win the heavy weapons tourney.” He said as he scribbled out a receipt and handed it to them. “Good luck, dear ladies!” He laughed and turned to his next customer in the belief that he had just made the easiest money of the day. There was no way a mere Midgardian Woman was going to beat some of the Nine’s best warriors here today, no matter how much training she had put in!


The two girls walked away from the stand, looking at the piece of parchment the Wagerman had given them. Erika gave it to Sæunn to put in her belt pouch.

“Keep it safe or you will not be able to claim your winnings. Nine is the luckiest number of them all and Boudicca is sure to be victorious!”


The smell of roasting chestnuts reached them and it was not long before they were walking along eating some as they wandered in and out of the various areas of the Hunt celebration, taking in all that there was to see. Some of the competitions had started, such as the children’s archery and there were lots of entertainers around showing off their skills. Fire eaters and jugglers caused whoops of appreciation from the spectators as they blew great spumes of flame high into the air and juggled increasing numbers of brightly coloured balls. Then the horn sounded and people began to grow quiet as Seneschal, dressed in even finer finery than usual, took to one of the stages and signalled for silence.


“Gods, Nobles, Ladies, Gentlemen and all…” He paused for dramatic effect and raised his arms, “Let the Hunt commence!”




The last of the horses disappeared into the woods and the people who had been cheering them on drifted off to watch the various entertainments and tourneys which were still on. Only about twenty Gods and warriors had gone along to the Hunt itself and everyone else had elected to stay here at the waterfall. Sigyn had waved her sons off as they had ridden in pursuit of their father, who was riding Sleipnir just in front of Hel, Tyr, Njörðr, Bragi and various other Gods and warriors, and she now decided to retire to the luxurious large tent which had been provided for those who had decided not to go hunting. It was warm and cosy inside and there was a server there to bring whatever it was one wanted. The Goddess chose a comfortable looking sofa near to which a trio of musicians was playing soft music and she sat down to relax. She was so happy that her sons had been invited along to hunt with their father and the other Gods; it indicated his acceptance of them as part of the ruling House of Laufeyson and would be a great experience for them.


For about an hour Sigyn sat and listened to the pleasing music being played by the trio, sipping at some deliciously spiced mead and chatting to various people who came and went. It was very nice to spend time in the company of these Gods and nobles as she had during her time at the Palace while she was growing up. Living at the house of Njörðr had been somewhat lonely until Loki had come to visit and had taken an interest in her, but her time at the Palace being educated both academically and as a young lady had been a wonderful time. Her marriage to Loki had been an odd one and was not – she felt – entirely voluntary on the Trickster’s part. Odin had played no small part in it, she felt; he had not been entirely happy that Loki had some sort of blood partnership with the Jotúnn witch, Angrboda, and had insisted he take a wife from the Goddesses. The green-eyed God had been a friend and an admirer of hers when they had been younger, and so it was perhaps inevitable that she had been the chosen one and their marriage had actually been a good one at first. They had quickly conceived and Loki seemed to love her and to be happy in their home together, but as the years passed he had eventually started to stray and she had known deep in her heart that it had been back to Angrboda, his true love. Yet the scoundrel had strayed from that poor woman too! Loki was never satisfied with something for long and soon felt the pull of adventure. To love him was to hurt deeply at times, yet when he returned the love he had been so freely given, the reward was one of purest happiness.


Sigyn looked up as someone else entered the tent, which was growing fuller by the minute as various people – mostly ladies – came in to escape the relative chill of the outside air. She noticed it was Loki’s maid, Erika, and a young lady she recognised from the Palace Spa. They looked around for somewhere to sit and as they approached, she waved and called them over.


“Erika, Sæunn! There is room here.”


The two young women spoke briefly with the server, who busied herself making some drinks, and they came over to where Sigyn was sitting. As they arrived however, Erika stopped and looked down at the ground, which was covered in groundsheets and rugs.


“The ground is soft here!” She remarked and prodded with her toe to demonstrate, “I hope it is not going to seep up and ruin our boots and the ladies’ gowns!” She prodded again, but the oilskin groundsheets seemed to be doing their job of preventing the wet from getting to the rugs, and she sat down across from Sigyn. The server arrived with some drinks and little canapes, which she placed on the low table in front of them and curtseyed, “My ladies.”

“Thank you.” Said Erika, “Could you ask one of the workmen to take a look at the ground just outside this bit of the tent, please?” She poked the rug with the toe of her boot again, “The earth is very soft. It won’t get wet in here, will it?”

“As you wish, my lady. I will get right to it.” Replied the server and she left to go to find someone.

“It will be alright, Erika,” Said Sigyn, “there have been Royal occasions held here for years. Have you seen the waterfall today, by the way? It is absolutely magnificent and there are even rainbows in its mists, so beautiful.”

“Yes, it is a very pretty sight, I have to agree.” Erika took a long draught of her warm spiced mead to ward off the chill and grinned at the beautiful Goddess. “Have you seen the warriors who are to compete in the tourneys? We have been watching their exciting fights for ages and have only come in here to warm up again! Sæunn has placed a bet on one of the Midgardian competitors called Boudicca; she is quite the most powerful mortal I have ever seen in my life! She is descended from a great historical figure in Midgardian feudal affairs, whom she is named for. Are you aware of any such mortal?”


Sigyn, who had been taught Midgardian history when at school in the Palace many centuries ago – indeed she had attended the same lessons as Loki for much of her schooling – thought about the name. It was familiar and she knew of the original name bearer. However, Boudicca was not someone she had learned of in history lessons; she had been someone alive and well when Loki and Sigyn were about two hundred years old and they had watched on from Asgard as the primitive races of Midgard had matured and developed from fairly simple tribes into well organised towns and cities. Boudicca had been the Queen of the Iceni in Roman Britain and had fought fiercely against the occupiers at the head of her armies. It was not clear what had happened to her or her daughters following their desperate last stand, but that this Midgardian was now claiming to have been descended from her indicated that someone could well have survived.


“Yes, there was indeed a woman of note in Britain about a thousand years ago with that name and she was a prominent warrior Queen. I would be interested to see the mortal you have backed in the tourney. Perhaps she has her looks, even after all this time.”

“Well, let us have our drinks and then maybe we could take a walk to the arena to watch, my Lady.” Suggested Erika.

“That would be lovely!” Sigyn smiled, but her face changed to puzzlement as a strange noise began to grow in volume from the direction of the corner of the tent, which was about ten feet away from them. Just as shouts began from just outside, muddy water began to seep out from under the rugs and run across the groundsheets in brown slurries. The women pulled faces at the mucky sludge and picked up their feet to avoid spoiling their fine boots, but then the noise suddenly increased tremendously and the shouts turned to screams which were quickly muffled. Cracking of timbers reached their ears, along with awful rumbling and the ground began to shake. Erika leapt to her feet, no longer caring about getting mud on her clothes and turned to pull Sæunn up off her chair and towards the other side of the tent to get out.


Then their whole world caved in around them.


States Of A God's Heart Ch93: Upheaval

So, even though he is not keen on these grand occasions, Loki still (quite rightly) expects etiquette to be followed to the letter.

What better way to wind him up than to ignore the fact that he is the King?

Meanwhile, Erika and Sæunn have a nice time watching all the entertainment!

This is the Ninety third part of the sequel to To Tame A God
Previous Chapter: States Of A God's Heart Ch92: The Breakfast Club
Next Chapter: States Of A God's Heart Ch 94: Forces Of Nature


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The faint blush of the Asgardian pre-dawn began to wash the horizon in preparation for the arrival of the Asgardian Sun, and was heralded by the crow of an Asgardian Cockerel waking those who lived nearby with its call. All over the city those who baked the day’s fresh bread and those who served the great noble houses and the Palace rose from their beds to start a new day. Fires were lit to drive off the chill of the night and slowly the shining Realm Eternal began to awaken.


The charming soft chimes of her timepiece roused Erika from her slumber and she lay in her bed for a few moments as she became fully awake, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and stretching out the stiffness of the night from her limbs. Sitting up, the first thing she saw was her riding outfit hanging ready for the day’s Royal Hunt. The second thing she saw was her packed bag. A sinking feeling went through her as she remembered the decision she had made the day before; tonight she would leave Loki and her life here in the Palace behind. Erika rose from her bed and drew back the heavy drapes at her window just in time to see the very first sliver of the glowing hot disc of the Asgardian Sun appear over the distant horizon, which from her window was formed by the edges of the turbulent waters of Asgard flowing interminably over the edge of the realm and down into the Abyss. The Abyss. The place which was a place in between worlds and in which Loki had suffered at the hands of the Titan Thanos. A cruel corruption and twisting of the last vestiges of the former Prince of Asgard into the bitter and vengeful God he was now.


Loki’s maid angrily brushed away an errant tear which was trying to trickle down her cheek as she remembered his dreadful account of all that he had suffered there. There was nothing to be done about it now. Many people had tried to help him and had failed and she was just the latest on the list. Erika quickly got ready for duty, dressing in the elegant black velvet riding outfit which was trimmed in deep green and had golden buttons with emblems of Loki’s crests on them, just as his maid should wear. She wove black and green ribbons into her newly cut hair to keep it tidy for when she put on her hat later, and took a final look at herself in the mirror.


This is the last thing you will wear as Loki’s maid, she thought and was surprised to find that it did not upset her that much. She had clearly made the right choice and it really was time to move on. Smoothing the nicely cut black jodhpurs she was wearing, Erika went to awaken her King for the last time.




In a small house on the outskirts of Asgard, another young servant awoke to the Asgardian dawn, but she leapt out of her bed in excitement. Sæunn quickly washed and dressed in the riding trousers her cousin had lent her, along with a reasonably smart jacket and some sturdy boots. She braided her hair back and thundered down the stairs into the small kitchen, where her mother was just putting a large blackened kettle over the fire to boil.


“Hold your horses!” She laughed, “There is plenty of time before you have to be at the Palace!” The plump Asgardian went over to her daughter, who was positively bursting with anticipation of her day, and kissed her on the forehead. “Take a little bread with me this fine morning before you go.”

“Very well, Móðir, but I did say I would attend the breakfast. Erika is expecting me…”

“Is that your new friend at the Palace?”

“Yes!” Sæunn watched as her mother prepared a few slices of bread and a log of the local tangy goat’s cheese. “She is the King’s maid and that is why I am going along with them today. Oh, Móðir I am so excited!”

“I can tell! There you go, dear.”


Sæunn and her mother ate for a few minutes, but she fidgeted so much that finally her mother said,


“Go! Go Sæunn! I can see you are eager to be on your way.”

“Oh Móðir I am!” The young Spa attendant jumped up from the tiny kitchen table and went to give her mother a hug. “I love you, Móðir. If you had not supported me, then I would never have been able to work at the Palace and I would never have met Erika and I…”

“Yes, I know darling. We are so proud of you. Now, have a wonderful day and I expect you to tell me all about it when you get back. I love you.”

“I love you too, Móðir!” Sæunn grinned and hurried to the door to leave for the Palace. “See you later!” she laughed, and she was gone, leaving her mother smiling happily as she started with the day’s chores.




Hel stood patiently while Fulla laced up the tightly boned bodice, pondering upon her father’s return to his suite last night. It had not been especially late, he had looked decidedly unruffled and he had been alone. Had he actually spent any more time with that designer or had he simply escorted her back to her room and then perhaps taken an evening stroll around the Palace Gardens or something? When he had paused momentarily in his approach to his rooms, she had quickly stepped back from her own door, where she had been looking through a keyhole to try to see what he had been doing – had he sensed her? Hel grinned to herself: did she really care? If he had a problem with the level of interest she had in his life, then all he had to do was tell her. He should be flattered that his daughter was so bothered about him!


“Ow!” She winced as Fulla pulled a little hard on one of the laces.

“I apologise, Hel. The structure is a bit more complicated in order to accommodate your dead side and I am having trouble fastening it.”

“Do not worry Fulla. I understand and… do not worry about any feeling on that side as I do not have any. Just be careful wherever you can see blue skin!”


Over the time she had been here and had been attended by her father’s former nanny, they had relaxed into an easy relationship. Fulla was matter-of-fact about the problems Hel's physique presented without being mean or embarrassed and Hel liked it that way. It meant they could discuss ways to get around it and make her look her absolute best as a Princess of Asgard and made her feel less of an outsider. But Fulla was very old and although she was polite and friendly, she was not quite on the same level as Hel. Certainly not in the same way as someone like Erika would be.


“Yes, my Lady. Now, that is very tightly laced. It is a strong corset and should minimise any injury should you be thrown from your horse for any reason.”


Hel looked at herself in the long mirror and twisted from side to side to see what it looked like. She was impressed. Her lack of flesh and skin on half of her torso meant that she could potentially sustain nasty injuries through things getting lodged in her exposed skeleton, so the Palace dressmakers had designed a corset which copied the shape of a woman’s body on that side and hid nearly all of her, including her hips, ribs and chest. It was articulated at critical points, allowing her to move freely, but nearly all of her exposed bones were hidden beneath it.


“Perfect!” She said, smiling brightly. “Now, let me don my riding clothes. I am famished and I wish to take breakfast with T… everyone.”


Fulla hid the small grin which appeared on her face. It was nice to see that Hel was making friends and acquaintances whilst here at the Palace. She remembered all too well the day Odin had cast out her sister’s grand daughter and how devastating it had been to all – well, nearly all – of those involved. Despite the fact that Hel was not here at the invitation of the All Father, Fulla still held affection for the woman she remembered as a vulnerable little girl and she was quite content to attend her while she was here.


“Yes, my Lady. Now, I seem to remember that you settled on the midnight blue velvet outfit….”




In the much larger King’s suite, Loki’s maid had ensured that his riding clothes were ready for him to get into, had made his morning cup of tea in his favourite cup and had just swept open the drapes surrounding his bed to let in the morning sun. She watched as the stark naked King raised a lazy arm up to cover his eyes and listened impatiently as he groaned and then rolled onto his side to bury his face in one of the three pillows she had arranged there for him the day before. Not in any mood to pamper to this behaviour, she walked away from the bed and drew the window drapes open wider, brightening the room even further.


“It is time for you to rise, Your Highness. It is the day of the Hunt and you are to attend the breakfast in the Great Hall.”


She went over to the very large wardrobe and opened one of the spacious drawers she rarely looked in. This held an assortment of his alternative headwear, some of which she had never seen him in. There were a few older battleworn horned helmets of slightly different designs to his current one, some golden circlets with much smaller versions of the famous horns on and then there was the one she was after: his riding helmet. It was not quite the same as his usual one, being a little smaller and with much reduced side panels. The horns were much smaller, although no less curvaceous and pointed, but there were other crests on the golden metal. Images of Sleipnir galloping at high speed and of Fenrir in hot pursuit were depicted on each side. Jormungandr weaved about the neck plate and Hel was staring out of the back of it at anyone who chose to ride right behind their King. As she lifted it from the velvet-lined space it was kept in, a shadow fell over her and she stood up to face Loki’s bare chest, since he was standing right beside her. For the tiniest of moments, her eyes focussed on the thin smattering of fine black hairs on the pale skin and she felt an overwhelming temptation to reach out to touch them, but she shook herself and turned away to place the helmet on the top of the stand holding his riding clothes.


“Good morning Erika.” Loki’s voice was hesitant, as if he was not quite sure what mood he would find her in this morning, yet he did not move away from her, clearly expecting a response from her.

“Good morning, Your Highness.”


In that, he had his answer. Erika’s habit of defaulting to formal address when she was unhappy, scared or angry was a clear indication that she had a problem with him after what had happened and wanted that professional wall between them as part of her defence against any kind of emotional response she might be in danger of having should he try to talk to her about it. He decided to allow her some space as he did not want to spoil the day by an early morning argument and he made his way to the bathroom to carry out his ablutions.


Erika watched him go and breathed a sigh of relief; he had even conjured a robe around himself so as not to assault her senses with his naked form. Was he actually being considerate of her feelings now? Now, when it was far too late? She sighed and steeled herself. She would be leaving tonight and that was that.


When Loki returned from the bathroom, she made some small talk about the clothes he was wearing and brought the long mirror for him to look in once she had got him ready. He was wearing well tailored black riding pants with criss-crossed strips of leather – some plain black and some embossed with tiny horseshoes. They encased his long legs down to the sturdy black leather riding boots which came up to just under his knees. His riding shirt was of a deep green and a gold cravat was tied smartly at his neck. Erika was behind him and she brushed tiny specks of fluff from the very elegantly tailored black velvet riding jacket which hugged his lean figure in a very flattering way.


“Do you want me to braid your hair, Your Highness?”


Loki eyed himself critically and decided his hair would be just fine held under his helmet.


“No thank you Erika. I believe I am ready?” He turned to look at her riding clothes and smiled warmly as he reached down and linked his arm with hers, suddenly melting her heart. “I think we match perfectly, don’t you?”




The burning disc of the Asgardian Sun rose higher in the crisp blue morning sky and there was not a cloud to be seen which may have spoiled the day of the Hunt. Slowly but surely, its golden rays travelled down the Great Mountain of Asgard, bathing it in a warm glow and lending deeper hues to the autumnal colours which clothed the lower slopes and foothills where the trees were turning with the season. While the guests were arriving in the Great Hall back at the Palace to take breakfast and discuss the day’s various events, the ruling realm became alive with its almost ethereal glow which was revered as many Midgardian mortals as being only worthy of the home of the Gods.


Sparkling crystal clear water tumbled over the edge of the beautiful waterfall in the clearing which was destined to be the site of the day’s festivities and a rainbow appeared in the mist thrown up where the tumbling icy water hit rocks on the way down and splashed up into the air. The frost which had coated the cliff face to each side of the cascade began to melt under the warmth of the sun and the verdant green of the grass which coated the banks and the hillocks formed over time began to appear. It looked almost magical with the leaves on the trees still sparkling here and there with frozen droplets of water and the first of the servants arrived to get the fire going in the large pit ready to cook the wild boar they had been hanging for some time. Others busied themselves with setting out markers and straw targets in the tourney areas and it soon became a hive of activity.


Although anyone invited to the occasion could go along with the Royal Hunt, quite a few had declined for various reasons and provision was also being made for those who had chosen to stay here and watch the entertainments or even just to socialise. A large white marquee was being erected about ten feet to one side of the waterfall near the cliff face where it was well out of the way of the busy cooking areas, tourney arenas and horse pickets. Inside it was made comfortable with plenty of rugs on the floors, braziers with hot coals for warmth and lots of informal seating where people could gather with their friends and acquaintances. There had been a bit of a problem with the chosen site – as decided upon by one of Seneschal’s team – and the workers who were responsible for erecting it had complained at some length as to the difficulty in putting it right. However, the location was already almost finished and there was no time to relocate the marquee without great disruption and delay, so they simply put down lots of large oilskins to stop the very wet ground becoming muddy. It would not do to have clothing of the elite becoming wet and stained from what should have been the driest and warmest place available.


It took no small amount of effort, but the workers were being constantly shouted at to get the marquee ready and they hurriedly drove pegs into ground which was soggy, hoping that they would not move and cause the guy ropes – and the tent itself – to collapse. And as the last of them threw an off cut of oil skin onto the bottom of the large grassy slope they had erected the marquee right in front of, no one noticed the water starting to pool around the metal moorings.




The official breakfast for the Hunt was a whirlwind of activity and the various waiters, chefs and pot boys were run off their feet as they ensured all the guests had as pleasant an experience as possible. For those who were on the lookout, however, all was certainly not well with various people and not all of them were making much of an effort to hide it.


Loki had arrived with his maid on his arm and had instantly attracted a lot of surprised attention from the Gods and nobles who had seen him here in the Great Hall the previous night. Why had he arrived with his serving companion and not the beautiful Palace Designer? His display of being interested solely in her company the night before and of leaving with her to go to her rooms was surely an indication that he was considering making an announcement of some kind regarding their very obvious, if unofficial, relationship. There was not much which got past the Palace gossips and it had been a rumour for some time, so why had he brought Erika, of all people, to this breakfast? However, the King seemed oblivious to any increased observation from those around him and Erika took her place as his personal server anyway.


The next intriguing thing was the arrival of Hel on Tyr’s arm, looking exceptionally like the perfect Royal Couple. Loki’s daughter was in a stunning dark blue velvet ladies’ riding outfit and not even the dead half of her face could detract from the regal aura she gave off. The radiant smile on the living half of her face lent her enough beauty to more than make up for her disfiguration and it was clear that she had arrived with someone she thought was very special: Tyr, the handsome God Of Justice. He was wearing armoured riding gear and looked every inch the gallant warrior. He turned more than a few heads as he escorted the Princess of Asgard up to the High Table and took a seat with their King. Loki’s face was an impenetrable mask, but if anyone had cared to look properly at his eyes, they would have seen the green storms raging there in reaction to just how friendly and close a manner Tyr was treating Hel with.


As more people arrived and took their seats at the various tables around the room, it became clear that the elite warriors of Asgard had decided to attend the occasion, probably more for the tourneys than for the Hunt itself, and many of them were accompanied by ladies who were very good looking and very loud and flirtatious into the bargain. Njörðr looked on from one of the side tables satisfactorily. As the handsome fighting men and their beautiful companions began to grow louder and exhibit very familiar behaviour for breakfast time, he could see that Loki was growing more and more agitated. Like it or not, he was quite a self assured and vain God when it came to being around women and not one single one was giving him any kind of attention, even to greet him properly as their King.


Loki stewed inwardly; damn Hel for encouraging Seneschal in his ridiculous ideas! He motioned to Erika impatiently.

“Bring me a goblet of hot mead, Erika. I am already feeling the chill of the day.”

His maid looked at him quizzically, but upon seeing a dangerous glint in his eye, she decided not to question him in his request for an alcoholic drink first thing in the morning. She went to the large tureen set in the hearth of one of the huge fires and ladled a generous amount out for him, but she also collected a plate of food to go with it in the hope that he would have something to eat too.


“Thank you.” The words were said in a short manner and she watched as he drained his goblet swiftly. Realising there would be no opportunity to quietly try to discourage his behaviour, she picked up the goblet before he could ask and went back to the tureen which held the foamy drink, but she stretched out the amount of time it took her for as long as she could without risking his wrath. This day – her last here on Asgard as the King’s maid – was going to be a long one.




On Jotúnnheimr, one of the larger males woke from his sleep and saw the faint light creeping in around the edges of the tent flaps. He rose and threw his furred cloak around his shoulders before exiting his tent to go to relieve himself at a convenient tree, but he checked his stride as he glanced over towards where the fire had been the night before; the centre of a lot of discussion amongst the Clan Chiefs. The fire was still alight – just – with thin tendrils of smoke and steam rising here and there to join the early morning mist which was rising from the ground in the early sunlight. He looked up in surprise for the sun very rarely made an appearance these days, yet it seemed that there was scant cloud cover this morning and the distant grey-white disc was just about visible. He looked back to the fire and a figure appeared as a breeze blew away some of the mist which was there. He squinted, narrowing his crimson eyes as he tried to discern the identity of the figure and then grunted in realisation. It was Angrboda.


High Chieftain Angrboda, he corrected himself. The talk last night had gone on for hours, often peppered with shouting and disagreement, but one thing had been clear; the fact that Angrboda had managed to unite some of the most acrimonious clans over recent times had stood her in good stead for leadership of all the Jotúnns. Not one of the other chiefs had managed to come close in their attempts at showing their qualifications for the role and many of them were greatly disliked amongst opposing clans anyway. During the often heated debate, she had frequently interjected and calmed everyone down, voicing sensible and mostly agreeable solutions and ideas to their plight and it had all culminated in one thing. Angrboda was elevated to the position of the High Chieftain and when Loki’s envoys arrived with the Casket Of Ancient Winters, she would pledge allegiance to the Trickster for its return.




Njörðr sat at one of the lower tables reserved for the Gods. He had never been considered a true Aesir, being a hostage of a kind sent by the Vanir, and so to sit at a lower table was not uncommon for him. From there he observed the behaviour of those around him and smiled inwardly; the King was also observing the guests from up on the High Table and his face was displaying a measure of irritation at being largely ignored by them. A few words in the right ears, along with a bit of coin, had gone a long way in carrying out what had been termed “A harmless prank on the King” and he was pleased with the result. Anything which would make this day unpleasant in some way for the Trickster would add credence to the idea that being the ruler of Asgard was not necessarily all it might appear. Perhaps suggestions made by the right people and more burdens upon his shoulders would lead Loki to tire of his position and even be persuaded to give it up.


The breakfast passed fairly quickly as the servants bustled about efficiently, bringing food and drink and removing empty crockery and goblets. A herald arrived after about an hour and sounded a horn which silenced the general chatter enough for him to announce the departure for the Royal Hunt and Tourneys. A flurry of activity immediately followed as the celebrants rose to go to their various modes of transport, be it carriages, open traps or horseback.


In amongst this almost heaving mass of people, there was one who remained still to watch it all happen. He watched Hel positively glowing as Tyr took her arm and led her at the head of the exodus from the Great Hall, as befitted a Prince and Princess of Asgard, he watched noted warriors of the realm do the same with their many beautiful female companions – and some female warriors accepting the arms of theirs too. There were happy smiles all round as they anticipated the day's festivities, but they failed to infect their King, who was all but forgotten in the rush to begin the short journey to the waterfall.


Erika was mortified. Had all sense of propriety suddenly vanished? On a day like this, it should be the King who would quieten his guests and announce the departure, not a herald! It should be the Ruler of Asgard who led the party from the Palace to their destination, not his direct competition for the title of King, nor even his daughter. She stared at Loki as he watched everyone piling out of the huge doors with a sinking feeling; the very fact that he had not leapt to his feet to question what was happening was very worrying to her and she could feel his anger radiating off him in waves of tension. He sat looking at the doors for long moments after the last guest had disappeared, chewing on a fingernail at the end of a long pale finger, as if contemplating their fate, but then he sighed loudly, making Erika jump, and rose from the Throne slowly, straightening his tailored riding jacket and turning to her to smile tightly. He approached her and she did not quite know what to do; was he angry? Was he going to have a fit of temper at her? She stiffened as he reached out and gently gripped her arm, pulling her towards him.


“If you would allow me, Erika?” He said in a falsely happy voice and she felt a wave of nausea as the Great Hall disappeared from around them.


States Of A God's Heart Ch92: The Breakfast Club
The morning of the Hunt and the Harvest Celebration dawns. Those poor servants really are over worked on grand occasions such as these - is it any wonder things get over-looked?

This is the Ninety second part of the sequel to To Tame A God
Previous Chapter: States Of A God's Heart Ch91 The Spirit is Willing
Next Chapter: States Of A God's Heart Ch92: Upheaval
  • Listening to: In Isolation
  • Reading: Fan Fic
  • Watching: Assassin's Creed 3D
  • Playing: Final Fantasy XV
  • Eating: Christmas leftovers
  • Drinking: Prosecco
Happy New Year to everyone out there in Deviant land!
Wow - another fresh start and with already so much to look forward to before the year has really got going :)

Today I saw Assassin's Creed and what an action-packed adventure it was. I don't know how hard-core fans will receive it, but I enjoyed it and I hope they will be making more because the characters were well-developed (not just physically!) and ready for the story tellers to let us know what happens next, which is all anyone wants from a story, really. Enough interest and enough truth for us to want to continue to follow the events which unfold from the author's imagination.

Which is a decent enough segue for me to get to what I really want to say.

Thank you for continuing to look at and to read my head noodles. I know I'm not a massive blogger or popular artist of any kind, but to those of you who are popping in to catch my updates, or even just to have a look to see what I'm all about I'd like to say hi and thanks for the 100K views! I'm just an ordinary gal who loves to watch the success of our bright young (and older) things and if I can entertain you while you're visiting, then all the better!

I wish everyone peace and happiness in this New Year of ours and may Thor:Ragnarok be everything you want it to be. Which for me is to see Loki bash the living sh*t out of everyone and then sit back to sip from a glass of a nice Chianti (hold up - isn't that from another film?!). An Army Of Me GTFO 

Laterz, #Loki fans
The Magic Within
This is my New Year's gift to everyone who has ever clicked to see what I am all about. May 2017 be a wonderful year for you!

I was fortunate enough this time last year to become the proud owner of a portrait of Loki as painted by my daughter. This is only a tiny portion of that portrait, which was done in acrylic on canvas. I have photographed it, smoothed out the canvas markings on his face quite a lot, added more eyebrow and lashes for definition and I have completely "repainted" the eye to make it green rather than blue and to define the magic he holds inside.


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samahami Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
thank you for the llama!! :D:D:D:D
palefire73 Featured By Owner Jun 8, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome! 😊
samahami Featured By Owner Jun 9, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
ColdForDeath Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Congratulations for your birthday! ^O^
palefire73 Featured By Owner Mar 15, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you - it's been a nice one so far :happybounce: 
Pauline-Shatalova Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2016  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much for the fav!!<3
palefire73 Featured By Owner Mar 4, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You're very welcome :D
missizelisting Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2016  Hobbyist
thanks for the Llama!
palefire73 Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2016  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome :D
missizelisting Featured By Owner Feb 13, 2016  Hobbyist
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