Chapter 32
The room was dark, but I knew it was different. Smaller. Unfamiliar.
I could feel Yrissa—sleepy, but something had woken her. A soft knock echoed through her quarters. She stirred, rising to open the door just a crack. Loki stood before her, looking young and impossibly handsome.
"Hello, Yrissa," he said as she opened the door a little wider.
“What are you doing here?” she whispered, glancing into the corridor. “These are my private quarters. You know Muriel’s rule—play only happens in his rooms or yours.”
Loki's lips curled into a charming, almost dangerous smile. "Who says I want to play?" He stepped closer, his voice dipping into something rich and velvety. "Tonight, I do not wish to play. I wish to enjoy you. Just you. Without Muriel."
The way he said it was intoxicating, dripping with seduction. A warmth spread through Yrissa—I could feel it. She liked Loki. Liked his attention. The way he spoke made her feel special.
"I do not think Muriel would like that," she said hesitantly, uncertain.
Loki moved closer, stepping inside the room. He shut the door behind him and took Yrissa into his arms. His lips brushed against her neck, placing feather-light kisses along her skin.
"This is not about him," he murmured. "This is about you and me." He smirked, his breath warm against her skin. "I will not tell him if you do not. That is, if you will have me?"
Gods, he was the perfect mix of a bad boy and a gentleman, and somehow, he made it work. If I had been Yrissa, I would have melted into a puddle right then and there.
She smiled up at him, and that was all the invitation he needed. His lips claimed hers, and I felt my body react.
For the love of all that was holy, did he really need to be that good a kisser? These dreams had to stop. Tomorrow morning was going to be torture, trying to look him in the eye with the memory of his lips lingering in my head.
I fought to keep my distance, to stay separate from their sensations. But, just like the other times, the line between me and Yrissa blurred. My body responded to hers, the connection overwhelming.
Loki guided Yrissa backward toward the bed, his touch deliberate. By the time they reached it he waived his hand in in a instant she was bare before him, her breath unsteady. He did not stop at the edge. He kept kissing her, making her crawl backwards on the bed. Moving and moving until she was pressed against the headboard with nowhere left to go. She reached for his clothing, and with a flick of his hand and a pulse of magic, his garments vanished.
"Lay back and look at me," he whispered, his voice thick with command.
He moved to the foot of the bed, reclining against the carved wood. One hand drifted down to his crotch, fingers teasing himself lazily. His cock stirred under his touch, and within moments, he was fully hard, stroking himself with deliberate, slow movements.
Yrissa held his gaze, unwavering. I had no idea how she stayed so calm under his stare. I, on the other hand, would have been a mess, hell I was a mess inside her head, squirming under the weight of that intensity. But she was composed—relaxed, confident, completely sure of herself and the situation.
"Do you ever think of me when you are alone?" Loki asked, his voice husky.
Yrissa nodded.
Loki grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes. "And what am I doing to you when you think of me?"
She swallowed. "I think about your hands on my body. Your manhood inside of me," she admitted in a soft, demure tone.
His strokes remained slow, measured. The flicker of satisfaction in his gaze sent a new wave of heat through Yrissa. He got up and crawled towards her with the predatory grace of a panther.
"Tell me, Yrissa," he murmured, "do you imagine me taking you slowly... or fucking you hard?"
She shivered, and I held my breath.
"I imagine you taking me however you see fit," she said, her voice sultry.
Loki smirked, lowering himself over her, their skin meeting in a heated press. His hardness nestled against her, a silent promise of what was to come.
And then—
Something shifted. A flicker of something I could not place. But Loki's hand distracted me, his fingers tracing a path down Yrissa’s body, teasing, coaxing. When he reached between her legs, stroking her with skillful precision, she moaned softly.
I moaned too.
The pleasure pulled me under, but that strange feeling remained. An extra layer of sensation that did not belong. A dissonance. Nagging. Persistent.
And entirely out of place.
I tried to ignore the feeling and lose myself in what Loki was doing to Yrissa, but my mind kept focusing back on those other sensations. It became harder and harder to focus on Yrissa as the other sensation grew more dominant. It slowly took over my senses, and I noticed the images of Loki and Yrissa blurring. When I closed my eyes, I was surrounded by darkness.
I still had zero control over my body other than the ability to close my eyes and block out the visual of Loki and Yrissa. But whenever I did, the other layer of feelings became stronger—deep passion, longing, and raw desire. I couldn't help but be intrigued by the depth of the emotions. I closed my eyes as much as possible, focusing on this new feeling, pushing Yrissa and Loki to the back of my mind.
In the darkness, a sudden sensation bloomed—a hand roaming freely over my body. I felt the pressure of another presence beside me, and then, lips met mine. The world nearly blacked out from the sheer intensity of the kiss. I let myself drift into it, kissing back with everything I had while those hands explored my body. I moaned as fingers traced over my most sensitive places, and a soft chuckle followed. The sound was familiar yet foreign at the same time.
I tried to move, and to my shock, I felt a slight response from my arms and legs. But every time I opened my eyes, the images of Yrissa and Loki came rushing back, along with their emotions.
It was refreshing to have even the smallest amount of control. I chose the darkness over the memories, finding that shutting out sight only heightened my senses. When the hands caressing me stopped, I nearly whimpered at the loss. Then, the kiss broke, and goosebumps erupted on my skin as a cool breeze ghosted over my naked body. I shivered, but before I could react further, I felt movement—a warm body pressing against me. Strong arms wrapped around me, and as I let my hands roam freely, I traced the shape of broad, well-defined shoulders.
Soft lips found the side of my neck, kissing and nibbling their way down. A hand cupped my breast, kneading it gently as those lips ventured lower, wrapping around my nipple. A warm tongue flicked over the peak, making me arch into the sensation. My fingers reached up, tangling in long, silky hair, pulling the strands between my fingers.
The weight above me shifted. The lips released my nipple and trailed back up, only for me to become aware of something pressing against me—hard and undeniable. Whoever was on top of me was most definitely male. His lips captured mine again, slow and deliberate, as he ground against me. The friction sent jolts of pleasure through me, and I moaned into his mouth. My hips bucked, desperate for more, but he denied me, one hand gripping my hair, the other locking my hips in place. His teasing was maddening—his movements precise, making his erection barely brush against my clit with each slow grind.
I spread my legs wider, hoping to create more friction, but he stilled, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me flush against his body. His kisses deepened, his tongue claiming mine, and then I felt him at my entrance—thick, hard, and teasing me with the barest press. I was already slick with need, every fiber of me desperate for him.
Finally, he moved. A slow, torturous thrust that had me breaking the kiss to gasp for air. The sensation was so different—intense, overwhelming. He wasn't even halfway inside, and I already felt stretched beyond what I thought possible. My mind flashed to all the times Yrissa had been with someone, but nothing had ever felt like this. Maybe it was because she hadn't been with Loki or Muriel in days? Or maybe because I had never been able to move in these dreams—never experienced two separate realities layered over each other.
I loved how he gave me time to adjust, but the shallow thrusts were driving me insane. I was grateful for even this small amount of mobility. Desperate for more, I angled my hips and pushed back against him, sinking him deeper inside me. My breath hitched at the stretch—almost too much, but in the best possible way. It was a delicious torment.
He was gentle, keeping his movements slow, giving me time to accommodate his size. I focused on relaxing around him, my fingers playing with his hair, tracing the muscles along his arms and shoulders. With each careful thrust, he buried himself deeper and deeper, until at last, he was fully inside me, filling me completely
“Fuck, you are so tight,” he said in a rough, husky voice when he was fully sheathed.
A shiver ran through me at his words. His voice was so familiar, yet my overwhelmed mind couldn’t quite connect the dots. Butterflies erupted in my stomach as he picked up his pace, each thrust hitting spots that sent stars exploding behind my eyes.
“You feel so good. So much better than I remembered,” he grunted, quickening his rhythm.
Not only was he moving faster, but the force of his thrusts grew, pushing me further into a haze of pleasure. His passion, his lust, surrounded me, consuming us both. We were lost in each other, our breathing ragged, our bodies slick with sweat. His lips sought out any exposed skin, kissing, nibbling, worshipping. I felt him shift his weight, freeing one arm, and then his hand was between us, fingers finding my clit and stroking with expert precision. A moan escaped me, only to be swallowed by his demanding kiss. His tongue teased and battled mine, neither of us willing to surrender dominance. But there was no victor; we had to break apart to gasp for air.
I clung to him, one hand fisting in his hair, the other gripping the muscles of his back. His cock drove so deep, his fingers tormenting me with maddening precision. His pace grew frenzied, his need just as desperate as mine. He buried his face in the crook of my neck, his lips trailing heat across my shoulder. Every thrust, every touch, was an overwhelming assault on my senses. I tightened my grip in his hair, my nails sinking into his back, desperate to hold on to something—anything—as I unraveled beneath him. His sharp intake of breath sent a thrill through me, and suddenly, he pounded into me even harder.
I was so close. So incredibly close.
My body hovered on the edge, trembling, aching for release. I tried to shift my hips, to buck against him, anything to push myself over, but he held me firm. A deep, smug chuckle rumbled from his chest, and frustration flared within me. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing, deliberately keeping me on the brink, savoring my desperation. I clawed at his shoulders, my whimpers turning into growls of frustration. He was in complete control, and he was loving it.
With a desperate moan, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pressed myself closer, my lips finding the crook of his neck. I kissed, licked, nipped, doing everything I could to break his control. A moan escaped him, but still, he denied me. My frustration boiled over, and in an act of pure desperation, I scraped my teeth against his skin.
That earned a reaction.
He growled, his fingers pressing harder against my clit, but still, he held me just shy of the edge. Another infuriating chuckle, another denial. My blood burned with need, with defiance. Without thinking, I bit down on his neck in retaliation.
His response was instant.
With a rough snarl, he gripped my body tightly and slammed into me with full force. His fingers worked my clit roughly, and it was too much—far too much. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, my entire body clamping down around him as I shattered beneath him.
“Fuck, Loki!” I screamed as pleasure consumed me.
His grip became nearly bruising, his thrusts erratic. I could feel him following me over the edge, his moan vibrating against my skin. Through the haze of my release, I swore I heard him moan my name.
Not Yrissa’s.
Mine.
Aurora.
The realization barely registered through the haze of pleasure and exhaustion. His body trembled above mine, our movements slowing as we rode out the last waves of bliss. Then, with a final shuddering breath, he rolled over, keeping me wrapped securely in his arms. My cheek rested against his chest, his heartbeat a steady, grounding rhythm beneath me. My limbs felt heavy, boneless, my body completely spent.
Sleep pulled at me, and I let it win. With my eyes still closed, I melted against him, surrendering to the darkness as exhaustion claimed me once more.
When I came to my senses again, I was back in Yrissa’s room. I was still in bed, and as the room flickered, I realized Yrissa was blinking her eyes. She looked up and was greeted by the face of female Loki, who had her arms wrapped around her.
I frowned—or at least tried to—because I couldn’t remember Loki changing forms during sex. He had most definitely been male from what I could recall. He had given her the most incredible orgasm, and then I had fallen asleep. Clearly, I had missed certain things, but to be honest, I didn’t care. She could do what she wanted with female Loki. I was still basking in the afterglow of the most intense sexual encounter I had ever experienced. Second hand or not, It had been the best orgasm of my life—not that I could remember them all. I grinned inwardly.
Suddenly, I was pulled from my reverie by Yrissa’s voice.
“Do you care for me?” she asked, looking up at female Loki. Loki pulled back slightly as she contemplated her response.
“Yes, I care,” Loki answered. “I am not in love with you, but I could not share these intimate moments with you and not care.” She spoke gently, pulling Yrissa closer.
I could feel Yrissa’s pleasure at her words. “I think I could very easily fall in love with you if I am not careful,” she confessed, a hint of shyness in her emotions.
Loki studied her. “With the male or female me?” she asked, clearly bewildered by the confession.
Yrissa laughed. “You are both the same, just with different parts,” she giggled. “Although, while I like your man parts, I must admit you are most beautiful like this.” She pulled Loki in for a kiss.
Suddenly, the door flew open with a loud bang. If I could have moved, I would have jumped off the bed. Within seconds, Loki had tucked Yrissa behind her, shielding her from whatever had entered.
Yrissa was scared shitless, and as she looked over Loki’s shoulder, I saw Muriel storm inside, his expression ice-cold. I felt a rage unlike anything I had ever sensed from him. He was not just jealous—he was murderously jealous.
“What the hell does this mean?” His voice was unnervingly calm. The contrast between his tone and the raw emotions radiating from him made me question if I was reading him right. I had never been this afraid of him before.
Yrissa glanced between him and Loki, but they ignored her.
“I wanted some alone time with Yrissa,” Loki explained, his own voice just as cold. “The question is, what the hell does your presence here mean?”
Muriel nearly lost control as his gaze flickered between Loki’s naked female body and Yrissa’s.
“I do not have to explain myself,” he hissed angrily. “You are in my house, under my rules. Those rules clearly state that we only initiate playtime with the three of us. Always in one of our bedchambers. Never in hers, to avoid gossip. So I will ask again—what the hell is this?”
“This is me and Yrissa enjoying a normal moment together. Not ‘playing,’ as you put it,” Loki said, trying to keep his emotions in check, though I could feel his struggle. “I asked you this morning if you wanted to do something together tonight. You said you were not in the mood. So yes, I came to her room—perhaps I should have invited her to mine—but it was just sex. Normal, simple sex. We were not doing anything remotely close to what we do when all three of us are together.”
The jealousy and betrayal radiating off Muriel were astonishing. They had shared Yrissa before, so why did this offend him so deeply? I couldn’t make sense of it.
Muriel’s hand twitched, his fingers balling into fists. Loki braced himself for the worst. In a flash, he shifted back into his male form. Another flick of his fingers, and he was fully clothed.
“I do not get why you are this upset about me spending time with Yrissa,” Loki growled. “Just know that I came to her and not the other way around. So if you are angry, take it out on me and not on her.” He slowly moved off the bed.
Muriel gave him some space. “And you just decided to fuck her in your female form because you wanted to?” he sneered.
“No, Muriel, I decided to fuck her in my female form because she asked me to,” Loki spat, his anger getting the best of him. “Who am I to say no? She seems to like me better that way. So sorry if it is something you cannot provide for her.”
Muriel’s eyes nearly doubled in size as he looked between Loki and Yrissa.
“Get out. Get out of this room and get out of this palace while you have the chance to do so without incident. Because I swear, if I ever see anyone touch what is mine without my consent again, I will kill them,” Muriel growled.
I saw Loki tense, weighing Muriel's words, but it was Yrissa who intervened.
“Please, Loki, leave,” Yrissa begged. She was so very scared Muriel would make good on his threat and kill Loki where he stood. “Please, I do not want to see you hurt. Please go and sort this out later.” She pleaded with desperation.
Loki looked at her, and I could feel him warring with himself. He was so reluctant to leave her with Muriel, but the longer he stayed, the more violent the look in Muriel’s eyes became. He gave her a wry, apologetic smile, then turned to Muriel, his eyes blazing with fire. Without a word, he left and closed the door behind him.
The room felt very cold the second Loki had left. Muriel paced back and forth, occasionally glancing at Yrissa. The murderous glare he gave her was the scariest thing I had ever seen. She sat frozen, waiting, hoping he would calm down, all the while feeling so very, very scared. Twenty minutes passed before she finally found a bit of courage.
“Why are you so angry?” she managed to ask. “I know I promised to abide by a few rules when this dominant-submissive relationship with you and Loki started. I promised not to have anyone else in my bed apart from the two of you. I do not understand why me and Loki having sex angers you so much. If it were another man in my bed, I would understand your jealousy. But this is Loki, and the rules only stated that we could only play when all three of us were involved. Tonight with Loki was not about us playing without you. It was casual sex. I am still noble-born, not some lowly servant. I am not your property or your sex toy that you can boss around as you see fit.”
I was amazed at the venom in her words. She seemed so submissive in the bedroom, yet it was clear that outside of it, she was far more assertive. Muriel just stood there, his back to her, his shoulders rigid.
“Are your feelings for me that strong that you resent Loki and I having sex?” she asked, calmer now. “Because if that is the case, I can understand. I would have hoped you would approach the matter a bit differently, though.”
Muriel spun around, his eyes flaring with anger. “You lowly whore,” he shouted. “Do not ever presume to know how I feel. Do you think a prince like myself could love a fucking whore like you?” he spat.
I felt her shock, and I was shocked myself because I could feel the honesty behind his words.
“You are here for my comfort and my relief, not for your own. I will take you whenever I want, and you will do as I please. Do not ever forget your position here at court,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.
She started crying, and I felt some of the fight leave her.
“I do not understand,” she sobbed. “What was that about nobody touching what is yours and you killing to protect it? Who the hell would you be talking about if not me?”
It was then that Muriel snapped, backhanding her across the face. A sharp sting shot through the air, and we both saw stars. The pain was unbearable as she toppled off the bed, crashing to the floor. I wished I had control over her body, wished I could retaliate, hurt him just as much as he’d hurt her.
I tried to summon my magic, but then I realized—I couldn’t. This was a dream, a memory, and I couldn’t help her.
I felt Yrissa’s will to fight slipping away, like sand through my fingers. She crumpled into a pile of tears on the floor, sobbing, the weight of her pain taking over. I focused on Muriel instead, trying to understand him through his emotions.
Her words had struck a nerve. I’d felt the deep passion, the overwhelming jealousy when he’d found her with Loki earlier. You couldn’t feel jealousy like that without love. But now, as I honed in on his feelings for Yrissa, it was clear. All he felt was contempt and an all-consuming anger toward her.
He was speaking, but Yrissa’s sobs drowned out his words. Suddenly, a harsh grip seized the back of her neck, yanking her to her feet, spinning her to face him. She tried to shy away from his burning gaze, but he yanked her hair hard, forcing her to look at him.
“I’m going to fuck you so hard tonight, you won’t be able to walk for weeks,” he growled, his voice dark and cold. “I will show you once and for all who you belong to.”
She struggled, trying to escape his grasp, but it was useless. He gripped her hair tighter, holding her in place.
“This will be your punishment. Do you understand? If you ever touch what is mine again, you’ll wish you were never born. What I’m about to do to you will be nothing compared to what I’ll do if I ever find you with her again.” His voice was a venomous hiss. “Do you understand me? Do you accept this punishment?”
I could feel her confusion, her terror. She had no idea what he truly meant, but she was too scared to refuse. She nodded, trembling, accepting the punishment, terrified of what he might do next.
And then, it clicked. The pieces fell into place, and the realization hit me like a cold wave. It wasn’t Yrissa he loved or was jealous over. It was Loki. More specifically, he was in love with the female Loki. This entire “punishment” was his way of lashing out because she had dared to sleep with Loki in his female form—without him there.
The thought shook me to my core.
There was a sudden flash, and when I focused again, I saw Muriel—now unclothed—grab Yrissa by the neck, his grip tight enough to choke.
Without hesitation, he threw her face-down onto the bed. He climbed on top of her, and without warning or care, forced his cock into her from behind. There was no preparation, no kindness—only pain. The burn of it was unbearable, tearing through her body like fire. She was in pure agony, every breath caught between shock and torment.
He kept slamming into her, his hand wrapped tightly around her throat. The pressure wasn’t enough to knock her out, but it left her gasping—every breath ragged and shallow. Between the sobbing, the pain, and the crushing weight of what was happening, she could barely breathe. Her head swam with dizziness, her body trembling under the strain. A small part of her wished for unconsciousness, anything to escape the unbearable torment of the moment.
I could feel myself tipping into hysteria. I wanted to scream, to fight—but Yrissa’s body wouldn’t respond. She just lay there, limp and hollow, letting Muriel do whatever he wanted. The pain was unbearable, but she didn’t even cry anymore. It was like something inside her had snapped. She wasn’t present—just a broken, discarded ragdoll.
I wanted to get away from this—all of it. I could feel myself starting to cry inside, silently breaking apart. Every incident with Muriel, every moment he’d hurt me, began resurfacing in my mind. My own helplessness washed over me like a tidal wave, drowning any shred of strength I had left.
Not being able to fight him, not being able to make him stop—it was pushing me to the brink of insanity. Yrissa’s pain was overwhelming. It felt like there was nothing left in the world but pain.
Then, somewhere deep in the fog, there was a tingle—small and faint at first, like the echo of a thought. I clung to it desperately, focusing with everything I had just to hold on. Anything to pull my mind away from what was happening.
And slowly, it became clearer.
It was my bond with Loki.
Suddenly, I could hear his voice through the chaos of Yrissa’s torment. Distant, but there. Real.
“Aurora, wake up! Please—wake up! Please, what the hell is wrong?” His panic cut through the noise, his desperation searing through the bond like a blade of light.
I could feel his fear, his anguish. And for a second… I had something else to hold on to besides the pain.
I did my best to focus—on him, on our connection, anything to pull me out.
“Loki!” I screamed into the bond. “It hurts so bad. The dream… Yrissa, Muriel. I can’t stop it—I’m trapped. Please, I can’t take it, please do something!” My voice cracked, desperate and broken.
I was sobbing now, barely holding on. Hysteria clawed at the edges of my mind.
Muriel had flipped Yrissa onto her back. She was forced to face him now, to stare into those furious, burning eyes as he continued his assault. The rage on his face, the violence in every movement—it made me sick. Her pain bled into mine until I couldn’t tell where she ended and I began.
Then came the wetness between her legs.
And as she looked down…
Blood.
I choked on a sob, horror threatening to suffocate me.
Then—a tingle of magic.
A warm sensation spread through my body like the whisper of a healing breeze, dulling the agony only slightly. Just enough to pull me back from the brink.
“Aurora, can you hear me? Is this helping?” His panicked voice echoed through our bond.
“Only a little.” I gasped between sobs. “Is there any way you can make it stronger?”
“Fuck, Aurora— not like this!” he shouted. “It’s nearly impossible to reach you inside the dream, let alone use magic. It is blocking me. I might be able to do more if I’m inside the dream too. Remember when I first checked your memories after you woke? I can enter your mind like that—maybe I can help with the pain.”
I almost said yes right away, desperate for anything to dull this torment—until something stopped me cold.
“Loki… if you’re in my mind… would you feel it too? Would you feel all this?” I tried not to sound weak, even as I sobbed inside Yrissa’s skin.
I felt his anger flare instantly, fierce and protective.
“Aurora, let me do this,” he growled. “Yes, I will feel it. I will see everything. Believe me—I can take it.” His voice was sharp with frustration, not at me, but at the situation, at my pain.
“I won’t let you trade places with me just so I don’t have to feel it.” I shouted back. “I won’t put this on you.”
That was when Muriel’s assault escalated. Something in him shifted—he seemed to grow tired of Yrissa’s silence. His strikes became more vicious, cruelly calculated to make her scream.
And it worked.
She cried out—and I cried with her. The pain, raw and jagged, tore through me. I felt her forced, no tortured, to be fully aware, fully present. He wanted her to feel everything. And she did.
And so did I.
The agony blurred the edges of my awareness. I could feel myself slipping—nearly blacking out inside my own mind.
I cried out with her—Yrissa’s scream merging with mine—when suddenly I felt Loki's presence slam into my mind. He was forcing his way in, and I instinctively tried to push him out.
"Aurora, please—" his voice trembled with desperation. “I swear to you, I will not t feel much pain if you let me in. I have used a spell to numb my senses. But I can still feel your pain through the bond, and it is killing me. Please… let me help you.”
His words rang with truth, and I stopped fighting. I let him in.
There was a warm pressure—gentle but insistent—pushing deeper into my mind until suddenly, he was there. Not just beside me, but everywhere. Inside my head. Around me. With me.
And the pain—it faded. Not completely, but enough. The raw torment was tucked into the back of my mind like a terrible noise behind a closed door. Distant. Manageable.
We could still see Muriel and his onslaught. Still hear it. Yrissa’s suffering continued, but I no longer felt like I was dying from it. I tried to calm my breathing, to stop sobbing, but the scene unfolding before me was still unbearable.
I felt Loki’s fury rise inside me, sharp and blinding as he took in what I had been witnessing.
"Aurora… is this what you have been enduring?" he hissed, his voice trembling with rage. "You have been feeling all of this?"
The heat of his fury overwhelmed me. I wanted to scream—not from pain, but from his pain.
“Yes,” I choked out, “but Loki… I can’t handle your anger right now. I can’t stop this—I can’t move, I can’t fight. I’m just stuck, watching it happen. Your anger only makes it worse—it makes me feel more helpless. Please… please don’t make this harder. Thank you for dulling the pain, but I need you to help me get through this. Help me focus on anything else.”
I felt his grief slam into me like a wave.
"I’m so sorry, little one." His voice cracked, quieter now. "I had no idea. Focus on me. Just… focus on my voice."
I did.
I clung to his presence like a lifeline—his magic, his warmth, his steady voice grounding me. I pushed the sounds around me away, latched onto his energy and buried myself in the safety of his mind.
And still, just beyond the veil of that safety, I could hear it—Muriel’s grunts, Yrissa’s strangled cries, the echo of something monstrous and cruel. But I wasn’t alone anymore. And I wasn't breaking.
Not while he held me.
I was relieved to see his thrusts turning erratic, knowing this torment was finally coming to an end. I saw his face twist as he came.
Yrissa closed her eyes.
For a blissful few seconds, there was nothing but black.
Then she opened them again—and a fresh wave of terror surged through her.
Muriel was still there, his hands pressing down onto her stomach. He murmured an Elvish spell, quiet and cold. Yrissa jolted, trying to twist away from his touch, but he just grabbed her, holding her down with ease.
She screamed, fought, clawed—but he didn’t stop.
It struck me as strange… she hadn’t fought him then, through all that pain, all that violence. But she was fighting now—desperate and broken. Whatever he was doing, it terrified her in a way nothing else had.
When it was over, she collapsed into sobs, and I could feel Loki’s rage blaze again like fire under my skin. I didn’t blame him.
Muriel looked down at her with a twisted smile. “Now everyone will know you for the whore you are,” he spat. “I expect you to be silent and obedient. You know what will happen if I make this public.”
She sobbed harder, saying nothing.
He grabbed her chin and forced her face up. “Do you understand?” he growled.
Tears streaming down her cheeks, she gave a tiny nod.
“Clean me,” he snapped.
My stomach churned as I watched her rise from the bed like a ghost—empty, broken. She walked to the corner of the room, retrieved a bowl of water and a cloth, and knelt beside him. The sense of defeat pouring from her was suffocating as she wiped the blood, her blood from his skin in silence.
He dressed without a word. Then he left.
As soon as the door closed, Yrissa collapsed into the bed. Too exhausted to cry. Too shattered to think.
Darkness took her.
I pushed up from the bed, heart racing, breath short.
Arms wrapped around me instantly—too tight, too strong.
I fought them with everything I had… until a voice broke through the fog.
Loki.
It was over. It was over. I repeated it like a chant in my head as I let myself collapse into his arms. I clung to him and cried—harder than I ever had—until the tears simply wouldn’t come anymore. Then I just lay there, hollow and shaking, curled against him while he whispered soft reassurances into my hair.
He didn’t say much—just that everything would be alright. That I was safe. That he was there.
I don't know how long we stayed like that. An hour maybe. Maybe more. My sobbing calmed, but the shaking never left. I felt empty, scraped clean, like there was nothing left inside.
But even in that void, I had to ask.
“Loki… what did Muriel do at the end? Why did she try to fight that and not… the rest?”
He didn’t answer.
When I looked up, I saw his face—tearstained. His eyes red and glassy, cheeks still wet. He’d cried too. Hard.
I tried to reach for his emotions through the bond, but I couldn’t feel anything. I was too numb.
“I need to know,” I said, voice flat, void of emotion.
He swallowed hard and met my gaze. “He performed Elven magic. A fertility spell,” he said quietly. “He ensured what he did to her would… result in a pregnancy. Then he warded the child, bound it with magic so she could not end it. Not without his consent.”
I gasped as realization struck me, finally understanding what Muriel had meant when he said, “Now everyone will know you for the whore you are.”
Loki saw the realization on my face and gave a solemn nod.
“Now I understand why her family pretended she didn’t exist. And why King Merinor might have had her killed. At the time, there were only vague rumors in the palace about the three of us—nothing more. I don’t know what exactly became public, but it was enough to send me back to Asgard.”
His voice dropped. “I never knew about any of this. I swear it.”
Tears rolled down his cheeks, and I launched into another crying fit at the sight of them. He reached up to wipe my tears, but I flinched—panic flooding me as I instinctively recoiled from the gesture. It reminded me too much of Muriel raising his hand to strike.
I shoved him back with all the strength I had and nearly fell off the bed.
He pulled away instantly, and my sobbing only worsened.
“Loki, I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to,” I choked out between sobs.
I felt his arms wrap gently around me. “Shhh, Aurora. I know. It hurts me to see you like this.” His voice was soft, steady. “If you want… I can take the memories away. You do not have to remember any of it.”
I looked up at him, searching his face. I knew he wouldn’t lie, but right now I didn’t know what to believe—about anything.
“You would remember it,” I said quietly. “I won’t let you carry this burden alone. I—”
He cut me off, voice thick with emotion. “But it is not the same. The second I entered your mind, I numbed the pain. You endured all of it, Aurora. For far too long. Please let me do this. Let me carry it for you. I should have protected Yrissa… and I failed. Please, let me protect you now.”
I stared at him, eyes stinging again, and slowly shook my head. “No. I need these memories. I need to remember how dangerous Muriel really is.”
Understanding dawned in Loki’s eyes, and he nodded slowly.
“There is a middle ground,” he offered gently. “I will not erase the memories—but I can disconnect them from the pain. I can take the emotions. You would remember everything that happened, be able to think and process it rationally, but without the trauma and pain tied to each moment. It is a delicate spell—but I know your mind, and I am confident I can do it without side effects.”
His eyes searched mine again, waiting for permission. I could feel his need to help, to do something—anything—to ease what I’d gone through. And honestly, I didn’t have the strength to fight him. Not this time.
I gave a small nod.
It was all he needed.
He gently helped me lie back down, then laid beside me. I met his gaze as he placed his hands softly over my temples. I felt the familiar warmth of his Seiðr flow through me, calm and steady, laced with his own presence.
“I will need to take the whole evening,” he whispered. “Just to be sure I do not miss anything.”
I nodded again.
There was a tugging sensation—something pulling deep inside my mind—and then, something snapped.
It didn’t hurt. It felt more like a heavy theatre curtain dropping all at once.
My body stilled. My thoughts cleared.
The storm inside me began to settle.
Loki removed his hands and helped me sit up.
“How do you feel?” he asked gently.
I sat still for a moment, sorting through my thoughts. I could remember what Muriel had done. I could remember every detail of the evening. But the agony, the filth, the humiliation—it was gone. I knew it had happened, but I didn’t feel it anymore. Not viscerally. It was as if the sting of each moment had been tucked away in another room I no longer had to enter.
“I think it worked,” I said softly, a small smile tugging at my lips. “What would I ever do without you?”
I all but threw myself into his arms.
“You will never have to find out, Aurora. I promise,” he murmured as he laid me back down on the bed. “But you do need to be careful. You may not feel it now, but your body i still recovering. I helped your mind—but you’ve been through a lot. Do not push yourself tonight.”
I nodded, too exhausted to argue, and snuggled close. I focused on the comforting sound of his heartbeat, steady beneath my cheek. And soon, I drifted off to sleep.