Chapter 58
When I opened my eyes again, I saw a familiar room. It was the one Loki and I had been sharing. There was a small fire burning, and I was lying in bed. I looked around, but I couldn’t see Loki. I tried to sit up but was restricted by something heavy. When I looked down at what was pinning me, I grinned—Loki’s arms were wrapped tightly around me from behind.
I tried to shift so I could turn, but his grip only tightened, pulling me in closer. I relaxed again, realizing he was still asleep. I was actually feeling much better than when I passed out. The pounding headache was gone, and I figured Loki had healed me when I was brought back. A wave of nausea fluttered through my stomach, and I quietly reached into my void storage to pull out one of the potions I’d taken from Lady Eir. I propped myself up on one elbow and drank it quickly.
“How are you feeling?” Loki’s sleepy voice came from behind me.
This time when I turned, his arms loosened, and I was able to roll over to face him.
“I’m okay. A little tired and nauseated from the drain, but I just took a potion—it’ll kick in soon.”
I felt the rush of relief through him.
“You were very drained,” he said softly, frowning.
“I know, but she didn’t take anything more than I could handle. You know my stamina—it’s not like yours.”
He gave a small nod, reading the look on my face. “While you were unconscious, I managed to send a message to Thor. It took a great deal out of me—without your Seiðr, I could not send a clone, and I could not reach far. But I managed to craft a condensed burst with a secure enchantment and push it through to the edge of the veil, where Hela might catch it. I explained that the message was for Thor and that we had found the Skull. That I needed more time—just a little longer—to destroy it, but that Thor and his army should begin to move. Quietly. So they’ll be close when the time comes.”
He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I also asked him to make a ruckus when he arrived—to feign a siege, or begin one if necessary. Enough noise, enough chaos, to pull attention away from the inner chambers and give me cover to reach the Skull. The more noise he makes, the more her forces will scramble. That’s our window.”
His thumb grazed my jaw.
“I did not leave a message for Hela directly,” he added. “She was only meant to deliver it to Thor—but through doing so, she now knows everything. That we found the Skull. That we needed more time. That Thor and his army should move quietly and be ready when the moment comes.”
He exhaled slowly. “The surge of souls in Niflheim should be mostly handled by now. So she will be fully aware. And when the Skull is destroyed—or when our oath is complete—she will be ready to do her part.”
His hand found mine and gave it a squeeze. “We are almost there, my love.”
I nodded slowly, trying to picture it. “So… Thor should be nearby?”
Loki’s mouth pulled into a thoughtful line. “Yes. And I hope—with Hela. When the Skull is destroyed, there will be a flood of souls released into Niflheim. She’ll be pulled away, forced to respond. Beyond the veil, in the realm of the dead, she holds absolute power—she can be in multiple places at once, and no soul escapes her grasp. But to tear Angrboda from Yrissa… that she must do in her corporeal form. She will need to be here in the flesh, with her skeletal arm, to break the tether. It may take time—but we only need to hold on until she arrives to claim the soul and drag it back where it belongs.”
A small chill crept down my spine, but I reached for him and kissed him gently. “Then we hope the rest plays out in our favor.”
He smiled against my lips. “We can only hope.”
His expression shifted, growing more serious. “Do you remember what happened last night? With Angrboda? Is there anything you can tell me that might help?”
I shook my head, overwhelmed. “It’s a blur. I think it’s better if you just see it. I don’t know what might be important.”
I felt his hand rise to cradle my cheek.
“Relax, my love. And thank you for your trust.”
His magic flowed into me as I met his gaze. I let the memories rise—what I’d seen, felt, endured. He followed them, feeling what I had, step by step. The channeling. The heat. The cold. The pressure in my Seiðr. The fatigue. The strange voice. The light.
I felt his emotions spike when the voice spoke. When Angrboda responded. When the soul made its decision.
He finally pulled back, thoughtful and tense.
“Do you know who it was?” I asked quietly.
He shook his head. “No. But the fact that she called her Aumlig Norn worries me. You know how names work—no one shares a royal name, and ‘Norn’... well.”
I nodded slowly. “You think she summoned an actual Norn?”
“I don’t know. I want to say no. Norns don’t die. Their lives aren’t governed like ours. But the skull… it’s tied to Niflheim. And if Angrboda summoned a soul from there, it shouldn’t be a Norn. Then again, the voice… the way it spoke… it didn’t sound like any soul I’ve ever encountered.”
His shoulders were tense as he raked a hand through his hair. I snuggled in closer, laying my head against his chest. Instantly, his arms closed around me like they were built to.
He was in his sleep tunic, and the neckline dipped just enough for me to see a bit of his chest. I leaned forward to press a kiss there. He tightened his grip around me instinctively. I smiled and shifted to kiss the side of his neck, lingering just long enough to feel the slight hitch in his breath.
When he didn’t move, I nudged further—brushing my leg against him under the sheets, letting my fingers trail into the back of his hair. I felt the tension wind tighter.
A low growl rumbled from his chest as he cupped my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his.
“You’re exhausted,” he said, voice low and thick. “You’re supposed to rest.”
I smiled up at him, not the least bit apologetic. “I’ll rest after,” I whispered, running my fingers slowly down his chest. “Right now, I want you.”
His breath hitched, just barely—but I noticed. So did the way his grip on me tightened, his hips pressing against mine with the slightest pressure, teasing. Testing.
I arched up beneath him, brushing deliberately against the heat I could already feel growing between us. “Loki…”
His name was a plea, a promise, a challenge all in one.
And that was all it took.
With a slow, deliberate growl, he shifted over me, his body heavy and warm and impossibly close. His mouth claimed mine in a kiss that stole my breath and replaced it with fire. One hand cradled my jaw, the other sliding down my body, grounding me even as my thoughts began to spiral into need. His cock pressed between my thighs, gliding through my wetness without entering, and the friction against my clit made me gasp.
I could only moan in response as he gently slid between my folds. He wasn’t entering me—just rubbing himself against me, each slow movement grazing my clit in a maddening tease that had me squirming. He was lubricating himself with me, and every stroke made me ache for more.
While I loved his teasing, I was quickly growing impatient. I needed him. Desperately. And I knew he could feel that through our bond, because his lust spiked with mine—rising, coiling, ready to snap.
I tried to rock my hips to force him inside, but he held me in a vice-like grip. Completely in control. I couldn’t move, couldn’t shift him. He had me right where he wanted me. It was torture… and it was everything I craved.
He continued brushing against my entrance, dragging out the anticipation while his mouth kissed and sucked at my neck. One hand squeezed my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers, while the other arm locked me in place.
“Loki, please,” I whispered, breathless.
He paused, lifting his head just enough for our eyes to meet. His gaze burned, pupils blown wide with desire. Mischief sparkled behind it—my tormentor, my lover, my match.
“What do you need, my love?” he asked, his voice low and teasing, his grin pure sin.
“Please,” I gasped. “I need you inside me.”
He didn’t make me beg again.
His mouth crashed onto mine in a feral kiss, and in the same moment, his hips surged forward. One hard, perfect thrust—and he was buried inside me, filling me completely. My breath left my lungs in a broken gasp, and I heard him mutter a string of curses into my mouth as he sank deep.
He held still, letting me adjust, and his eyes were locked on mine—full of love, heat, and something raw that made my heart twist. The moment he began to move, slow and deep, I felt everything else melt away. The world disappeared. There was only us—our bodies, our bond, our rhythm.
My fingers dug into his back, urging him closer, harder. My other hand tangled in his hair, desperate to anchor myself as he thrust into me. His growls in my ear, the way he moved inside me—it was all too much, too perfect.
I nipped at his earlobe and was rewarded with a rough growl. Then he shifted again, sitting up on his knees and pulling me with him until I was straddling his lap.
“I want to see you,” he murmured, holding me tight as I leaned back in his arms, arching slightly. He never stopped moving—his cock plunging deep with every thrust as he held me just high enough to bounce in his lap.
His gaze devoured me, roaming from my face to my breasts, then to the point where we were joined. One arm cradled my neck, the other cupped my hips, guiding me, controlling every movement.
I gave him a little show—leaning back and massaging my breasts, fingers pinching lightly as I moaned his name. The sound he made was almost feral. He leaned forward to suck one nipple into his mouth, then the other, driving his hips harder into me. Every motion sent jolts of pleasure straight through my core.
Then, with a flash of magic, another body appeared behind me. A clone.
I didn’t need to look—I felt him, his familiar presence sliding behind me, his strong arms lifting my upper body and holding me as I arched between them. The Loki behind me nipped at my neck, hands replacing mine on my breasts, teasing me while the real Loki kept fucking up into me with dizzying force.
Suspended between them, I was lost. My arms flew back to wrap around the neck of the clone behind me, my eyes locked with my Loki’s as I moaned shamelessly.
The Loki at my back moved one hand down between us. He found where we were joined and gathered my wetness with his fingers, then rubbed slow circles against my clit.
It was too much.
The pleasure built fast and sharp, rushing up like fire. I shattered with a cry of Loki’s name, my body clenching hard around him as I came with a force that left me shaking.
I felt both of them grunt—felt the way my orgasm pulled Loki over the edge. His body slammed into mine one last time as he spilled inside me, and I felt the wave of his ecstasy hit me just as hard as my own.
For a moment, I floated—lost in it, suspended in bliss.
When I came back to myself, I was in their arms. The clone behind me held my upper body, steady and strong. My Loki had his arms wrapped around me tightly, his chest pressed to mine, his face buried in my neck.
I reached for him, cradling his jaw and lifting his face until I could kiss him. Long and soft.
He pulled back with a smile, slowly slipping out of me and guiding me down onto the bed. The cool air hit my skin, still damp with sweat. Loki pulled the blankets over us and drew me into his arms.
I thought the clone would vanish, but instead, he lay down behind me, spooning me in perfect tandem. One Loki in front. One at my back. Their warmth surrounded me.
I felt the clone gently stroke my hair, and a whisper brushed against my ear.
“Sleep, my love. We still have some time.”
I smiled and closed my eyes, safe in their arms.
I didn’t know how long I’d slept, but when I woke, there was only one Loki holding me—and to my surprise, it was the one behind me. I turned in his arms and looked up at him, only to find him already watching me.
“Loki… where are you?” I asked softly, frowning. I could feel the subtle difference between this version of him and the real one. He’d done this on purpose—I knew he could make a perfect replica if he wanted to. But this one had just enough of a difference for me to recognize it.
A tingle flared at the back of my neck—our bond activating.
“Do not worry. I am scouting. There has been a lot of noise outside, and I am checking it out.”
There was a brief pause, and something about the way his presence quieted made me nervous. Then suddenly, his emotions surged through the bond—an electrifying mix of anxiety, tension… and delight.
“It seems my brother has arrived,” Loki said, his voice edged with a grin.
The moment the words left him, a deafening crash shook the mountain—thunder cracked through the stone like a hammer to glass. I swear the whole place shuddered.
“There goes the main gate.”
His voice held far too much satisfaction, like he was genuinely enjoying himself.
“Aurora, I am teleporting back to the room—do not alert anyone.”
Before the thought had even finished forming in my mind, he appeared in the room. The clone vanished in a shimmer of magic as the real Loki strode toward me. He helped me up with gentle hands, looking me over carefully.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
I nodded and quickly summoned my leather armor and weapons with a wave of my hand. I could still feel the lingering weakness from the spell earlier, so I pulled a potion from my void storage and drank it.
Loki raised an eyebrow, smirking. “How many did you steal from her?”
I flushed. “Uhm… all of them.”
He laughed—loud, sharp, wicked. “She is going to kill you when we get back. Those potions are not easy to make. Eir guards them like treasure—only a few of us are ever allowed to use them.”
I shrugged and tried not to feel too guilty. “You want some?” I offered sheepishly, handing him half of what I had left.
He grinned. “You really are a menace.”
“Loki… what do we do now?” I asked feeling nervous all of a sudden.
Mischief sparkled in his eyes like starlight. “Now, my love… now we get ourselves a skull.”
I couldn’t help but smile. The excitement coming off him was infectious—he radiated the kind of energy a child might have just before breaking into a candy store. And I was right there with him.
We moved quickly through the corridors. Between the path I remembered and the route Loki had seen in my memories, we didn’t need much more than a few confirming glances to stay on track. Before long, we were standing outside the familiar door.
Loki raised a hand, his magic already gathering. With a few precise movements and a whisper of power, the door unlocked with a soft click, and we slipped inside.
“Look out for the ward,” he murmured.
I nodded and stayed well back. I still remembered the blast from the first time—my head had met the wall, and I had no desire to repeat that experience.
Loki crouched near the edge of the ward, scanning the space with magic. His brows furrowed slightly.
“Can you see the barrier?” he asked.
I shifted my vision, tapping into the same sight he had taught me to use back in the vault. The ward shimmered into view like a dome—a perfect circle over the pedestal and the Skull. But unlike before, it wasn’t stable. The edges flickered and rippled, like static, thin and fraying.
“It’s flickering,” I said, stepping closer. “Like the wards in the vault before you repaired them.”
Loki smiled. “Let’s just say Angrboda is not exactly in peak condition.”
“You mean I drained her that much?”
He nodded. “You depleted part of the ward when you walked into it. And she likely did not have enough strength left to restore it properly.”
“So… this is good?” I asked, hope rising in my voice.
“This is very good.” Loki’s smile widened. “At full power, this ward wouldn’t just repel—it would alert its creator if anyone tried to tamper with it.”
“And now?”
“Now,” he said, eyes gleaming, “it is like a door with a broken lock. The barrier is still here, but it’s weak. And if we are careful… I believe we can slip inside without setting off an alarm.”
I glanced at the Skull—the same diamond skull with glowing ruby eyes, still sitting calmly at the pedestal’s center. So close. Finally within reach.
“What is the plan?” I whispered.
Loki’s grin deepened. “We take it.”
“Now, I believe I shall be able to place an even stronger ward around it,” Loki said with a grin. “With the original ward weakened—and Angrboda clearly occupied—I believe mine will block the signal. She shall not know I am attempting to break hers.”
I smiled. His plan actually seemed solid.
“Is there anything I can do?” I asked.
Loki shook his head. “Not for this part. Remain back, outside the second ward I am creating. If and when I break hers, mine will fall. Then, if needed, you may assist.”
Something about the way he said it made me suspicious. But before I could press him, I saw him already at work.
“Loki… what are you not telling me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.
He flashed me a dazzling smile. “You shall see soon enough. Do not worry, my love. Everything shall be well.” He grinned and lowered himself to sit in the narrow space between the two wards.
I watched while he worked, focused and precise. After ten minutes, he stood and let out a breath, visibly relaxing.
“My ward is done. As strong as I could make it. Now for removing the other one.”
“Loki?” I said, feeling the tension rise in him.
He met my eyes. “I know what I am doing, love. But just… know that I am sorry for frightening you.”
Before I could reply, he moved his hand—clearly casting a spell—and just like that, I could not feel him anymore. His emotions, his presence… gone. It was like half my soul had vanished, even though he was still standing there on the other side of the ward, looking so apologetic it made my stomach twist.
And then it clicked.
He had blocked everything—just like before, when he had hidden his love from me. But this time, it was not just one feeling. It was all of it. Which could only mean one thing.
He was about to do something truly painful.
“No—Loki!” I screamed.
It was too late. I watched in horror as he flung himself straight into Angrboda’s ward. There was a massive flash as his body collided with the invisible barrier, and then he was blasted backward—slamming into his own ward. It flashed too, flinging him right back toward the first one. He ricocheted between the two like a ragdoll, five full times.
Each impact seemed to drain the ward’s power, the glow dimming with every violent hit. And on the last rebound, his body dropped through Angrboda’s ward entirely and landed across the runes. The once-glowing lines were now dark.
His outer ward fell.
I was at his side in seconds, finding him face-down and barely breathing. I rolled him over as gently as I could. He groaned in pain.
My hands flew to his chest, connecting with my Seiðr as I whispered the words of one of Lady Eir’s more severe healing spells. I pushed the magic into him, feeling ribs reset and a collapsed lung reinflate. His bruised chest slowly began to heal—and with it, that stupid smile began to return to his face.
“How angry are you right now?” he asked, grin wide and unapologetic.
I glared at him. I did not answer—I just kept healing. Once I was finished, I smacked him hard across the chest.
He yelped in pain, laughing through it.
With a flick of his fingers, I felt our bond snap back into place. He was sore, but nothing serious—and I could feel the full weight of his mischief.
He sat up, took my hand, and gave it a squeeze.
“Love, I am truly sorry. But it had to be done. The fastest way through the ward was to fully drain it—and the only way to do that was like this. I knew you would try to stop me if I warned you. I also knew you would heal me, and that it would not be fatal. Just… unpleasant.” He winced slightly. “Painful.”
I could feel he truly was sorry, but also that he believed it had been the right choice.
“You are still in very deep trouble,” I growled.
He just laughed. “After this, you may punish me as you see fit.”
“You bastard,” I muttered, trying not to smile. “You are too damn sly—and too damn cute.”
We crossed to the pedestal. Loki carefully examined the Skull of Specters. After a moment, he touched it. Nothing happened.
He smiled and lifted it from its place.
“First part done,” he said proudly.
“Can we destroy it now?” I asked.
Loki’s smile faded slightly as he looked at me. “Yes and no. We could—but not while we are still bound by the oaths. It will require both magic and force. I can manage the magic, but we need someone not bound by the oaths to apply the force. Even you, with your elemental powers, could do it—but using them now might still be a risk.”
He held up the Skull, turning it carefully in his hands. “It is still just a diamond. Magical, yes—but still a physical object. So freezing it and then shattering it with enough force would do the trick. The magic will drain out of it upon impact.”
“So we give it to Thor,” I said, already seeing the plan unfold.
Loki nodded. “Exactly. We get it to him. I can enchant it to freeze, or you can do it with your bracers. But the final strike must come from Mjolnir. That way, it is him—not us—who destroys it. And we remain within the bounds of our oaths.”
He paused, turning the Skull slowly. “The oath never mentioned this object. It forbids us from harming Angrboda, Yrissa, or any soul sharing that body—not cursed relics. And preparing the Skull by freezing it is no different than sharpening a blade or setting a trap. The act itself does not cause harm—it simply enables the outcome.”
I blinked. “But breaking it… isn’t that technically still doing harm? To her plan?”
His eyes met mine, steady and sure. “It is about intent. If either of us struck the final blow, there is a chance the curse would interpret it as a breach—because we want to undo her power. Because it would hurt her, even if not physically. And the oaths… they are binding not just by words, but by the nature of purpose.”
“So Thor is the extra layer of safety,” I said slowly, understanding dawning.
“Yes,” he said. “He is not bound. His strike will be the decisive one. Even if the curse tries to twist intent, it would fall on him and outside of the oath. That is our shield. That is what makes this clean.”
I raised an eyebrow. “So… a loophole.”
Loki grinned. “A very clever one. Freezing the Skull is not harming it. It is preparing it. The final blow comes from someone not magically bound, not emotionally tied to the oath. That keeps us clear.”
A grin tugged at my lips. “You’re using so many loopholes we might as well be knitting.”
He chuckled, and something mischievous lit in his eyes. “It is not trickery if we play by her rules—and win.”
I let out a breath and nodded. “Then let’s do it.”
We were finally—finally—one step away from ending this.