Hostage to Love

Illusions

The hand maidens that came to help her prepare for bed had given her a swift introduction to his known likes and dislikes, trying to make life easier for her.  At the time, she'd dismissed their tittle tattle as palace gossip. Nothing she was either interested in or would use.

Now, as she lay weeping in the dark, she realised perhaps they were they key to all this.

She'd lain in bed, tossing and turning. Their conversation replaying over and over. The more she thought about it, the less the thought of lying with a complete stranger, who had a reputation for appetites she could only shudder at, appealed.

It wasn't the sex, no. She may be technically a virgin, but she was no blushing ingenue. She knew what to expect and what to do. Peggi had made sure she would have no fear on that score.

No, it was the thought that  the only... Man? Creature? What WAS he exactly... to bed her and give her a child would be Loki Laufeyson. And it would be as soon as possible according to both him AND his father. Once she'd produced that? Condemned to a life without affection, emotional or physical.

On a basic level, she felt cheated. She felt... frustrated. She was ashamed to admit there was one thing she craved. Him. 

From the moment he'd put his arms around her and she'd smelt the heady mix of his aftershave and his body, she craved him. Had he enchanted her? She didn't care. The sheer fabric of her nightdress pressed against her sensitive and flushed body, and she shivered. 

"Mother Freya, help me." She closed her eyes and prayed."I must do my duty by my father and my kingdom. Give me strength to endure?"

As always, there were no answers to her confused and distracted prayers.

With a deep sigh, she threw back the covers and padded barefoot to the door. Peeking out into the hallway, all was silent.  She slipped out and away, unaware she was being watched from the shadows.

Deciding that she had to meet him at least half way and apologise, if only to try and convince him to be at least gentle with her, she'd come to the one place she now knew he would be.  The library.

She saw the torchlight flicker under the door and paused.  Undoing another ribbon on her shift, she flicked her hair over to one side, baring her neck.  What was she trying to achieve?  Acting like a wanton slut?  No. She was trying to show him she was a woman.  A flesh and blood woman with needs.  She may, as yet, be a virgin Princess - a rarity it seemed - but she still had desires that only a man's touch would satisfy. Only he could satisfy. She would be his and his alone. Surely even he would value that?

Much as they had decided this marriage would be a business arrangement, she wanted more.  Despite who - and what - he was, what he'd said.  There was still that special something about him that made her desperate for his touch.  Love?  No, that was for children, their children, but touch?  That was for adults and she knew now she wanted him in a VERY adult way.

All her animosity had melted when he walked away. There was no reason they couldn't be friends. She just had to make him see that empathy didnt equal pity. That needing to feel something, anything, didnt come at the cost of dignity.

Pushing the door open silently, she became aware of a murmuring.  His voice.  Deep, soft, encouraging. For a moment, she waited, adjusting to the gloom.  There were very few torches burning at this time of night, the main glow coming from the fireplace.  As she waited, feeling the heat on her skin, the sheer nightdress covering only the minimum of her modesty, she saw him.

Lying on a couch, reclining on the furs, books discarded along with his green silken shirt on the floor at his side.  Head tipped back, hair streaming over the arm. His cheekbones sharp as razors in the light of the fire, teeth that she longed to feel nipping her skin, bared as he groaned. She could see his hands, fingers buried in the hair of a servant currently servicing him on her knees.  Another kissed his neck and chest as he writhed and bucked under the tongue of the first.

"Yes, yes just... take it... there... good girl..." his voice was heavy with lust and Ari felt an uncomfortable warmth seep into her core.  This was wrong.  She shouldn't be looking.  But then, he was her betrothed. He shouldn't be doing this either. There was an unexpected war between her jealousy and her desire to watch. See him, quite literally, in a new light.

The girl on her knees paused and looked up at him, wiping her mouth, seemingly unaware of her audience.  Loki opened his eyes and looked down at her. He dismissed the other maid who melted into the shadows.  "Come here" he commanded the remaining girl, offering his hand.  She stood and for the first time, Ari noticed something. 

The girl was not only barefoot and wearing a similar night shift to her, she resembled her in every other respect too.  Dark hair, petite in height, pale skin, curvy figure.  Was... was this a coincidence?  She wanted to believe so.  She also wanted to believe not.  That in some way, he craved her. The girl approached and straddled Loki where he lay.  Ari couldn't see her face, it didn't matter. She knew, deep down the girl would have Hazel eyes and pale pink lips.

Putting a hand down between them, she undid his breeches and shifted, lowering herself into place with a small cry of what seemed like pain.  Loki groaned. "So tight. Am I your first?"  

She nodded slowly and he smiled, eyes closed. "Good girl.  I will ruin you for other men.  You will only ever be mine." For a moment, they were completely still as she adjusted to him.  Ari could only imagine the feeling of fullness.  She couldn't deny the longing to know.

"Yesssssss" the girl breathed, eyes covered by her hair, head hanging forward before she flipped that hair back and started to move.  Then, as she began to grind down on him, he raised his hands and undid the remaining ribbons on her shift, letting the sheer  linen pool at her waist.  His long fingers caressed her breasts, making her tip her head back and moan loudly. "Oh yes my Prince..."

"Shhhh little one.  No words." he spoke but Ari couldn't see his lips move. Was he in her head?  As Ari watched, the girl moved faster, ground deeper onto his lap and Loki began to pant and bare his teeth in a grimace of pure desire. 

Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, a sheen on his chest where the light covering of hair did not obscure it.  She knew it was so wrong, but she wanted to see it all.  Her own arousal began to take over, and she slipped a hand between her legs, gripping tightly to try and alleviate the throbbing desire.

As the anonymous girl moaned her climax, Loki thrust up sharply, making them both cry out.  Ari bit down on her lip, muffling her own arousal.

"Like what you see?"

She opened her eyes in fright, and he was next to her, dressed in the same breeches, the same green shirt, open to reveal his muscular chest. He mov3d to behind her, pressing himself against her body.  His hand now covered her mouth, and his fingers were strong and intoxicating. Her eyes flitted back to the couch, and he was... still there?  What in the Gods' name?

"Duplication casting.  Has it's benefits, as you can see." he smiled and snuffled her neck, his lips ghosting her.  "So, not as pure as you'd have us all believe then, eh Princess?  Or is this just the desire to be ready for our wedding night? For your sacrifice? So I am pleased with my little breeding mare?" he was mocking her, taking her virginity and throwing it back in her face.  She pulled out of his embrace, suddenly angry and ashamed. All her good intentions destroyed.

"Fuck you Laufeyson, fuck you." she fled into the cover of the darkness, back to her rooms. Loki watched her go with an amused look that faded as soon as she disappeared.  

"All in good time my dear Ariadne, all in good time." 

He turned to the room and clicked his fingers.  The images faded in a shimmer of green.  Nothing real.  Not one bit.  He had been right, she wanted him every bit as much as he wanted her.  Strangely, there was no satisfaction in this discovery.  For the first time, Loki realised that there was more to a relationship than how many times he could make a girl scream. 

He'd tried to hide his vulnerability, his need to be wanted with his usual cruel sarcasm. He'd done the exact opposite of everything he really thought he'd wanted.

Why was he like this? He didn't actually enjoy hurting her. He did it because he was afraid. It was the image he projected to protect himself. But now? He wanted more than fear.  He wanted.... love.  

Dear Gods in Valhalla.  He was getting as soft as that oaf Thor.  He turned and closed the door behind him, picking up a book and sitting on the fur covered couch.  He sighed.  Was that such a bad thing?  He was just so confused. And lonely, so very, very lonely.