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smolvenger · 7 months ago

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The Little Princess (Henry V x fem! Reader Oneshot)

Summary: As queen of the nation and wife to Henry the Fifth, all rejoice to discover you are pregnant with your first child with your beloved husband. Only to discover, the child is not the long awaited son, but a girl...

Word Count: 5K

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr @jijilaufeyson

@anukulee @herdetectivetheorist (from your request!)

A/N: hehehehe uploading this while listening to "The Man" by Taylor Swift

Warnings: Pregnancy and childbirth in the beginning, which I try to portray as realistically as I can. I changed up what would have happened in history per the request I was given for this. No way is it accurate. But also this is fanfic world and irl Henry V wouldn't have had the luscious curls and ass of Tom Hiddleston. Mentions of sex but no smut. Baby stuff. Some angst, but lots of fluff. Grammar and spelling mistakes that missed my radar.

“Her Majesty, the Queen of England, is with child, Your Highness,” the messenger announced.

Henry had slouched, relaxed on his wooden throne. He then shot up straight. The dominant grace he held cracked for a second. His blue eyes blinked, doing his best not to stagger in his posture.

“She…she is?” he asked, almost incredulously.

The messenger nodded his head.

“Yes. The physician just examined her. He asked me to inform you of these happy tidings. And we shall pray you shall soon be blessed with an heir apparent,” he reported with a smile.

Henry found a small half laugh escape him. He smiled so wide it showed his teeth. He lowered his head, feeling a little dizzy for a second. But he knew how to regain himself quickly after his time as the ruler of England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales.

“Tell the physician we thank him for his swift and happy news,” he replied.

The messenger bowed his head and exited through the wooden doors.

Henry did his best to remain focused throughout the meetings today. But he found his head swam. You- his precious wife, beloved consort-was going to have a child- have his child. He was going to be a father, and you were going to be a mother. His entire world had changed in just a minute and he was supposed to act as normal.

Once they were declared finished, he shot up.

“I would like to visit her Majesty at once,” he declared.

“She is in her chambers, my lord,” one servant confirmed.

He hurried to where you were, the attendants right behind him. The hallways nearly spun as he walked with such a quick bounce. Not caring even if his crown was knocked out of his head.

Meanwhile, you were sitting down. Your stomach was already churning- for you had become more aware of it since this morning. You could only sit and embroider with your ladies in waiting- it was only a matter of time until-

“His majesty, the king,” a male attendant announced at the door.

You shot up and curtsied as Henry the Fifth of Lancaster bounded in. The other ladies followed suit.

“My lord, and husband,” you replied dutifully, raising back up to face him.

Henry looked flushed, scattered even. He walked up to you and held both of your hands in his.

“My lady, do you confirm that what I heard was true? Are you…are you with child?” he asked softly. As if you were in private and not with a dozen eyes on you.

You nodded, smiling. You leaned in closer, your voice matching his quiet tone.

“Yes. Yes, I am. I know it in my heart, Harry. I’ve had no courses for months. The physician’s tests confirmed my suspicions….” you replied.

You took his hand and moved it to your stomach. Even if it appeared normal, even if the baby was now small- it seemed even the king himself sensed the presence inside.

“Our first child is inside me now,” you said finally.

He picked you up and spun you around and kissed you. Bursting into laughter, you clutched him. He held your face and kissed you again. You, his wife, his queen, his beloved, now about to be mother to his child. Who cared if these people saw this intimacy from their lord? He was the maker of what was formal, not they.

“We’ve prayed so long for this, my lord. You know how long we have asked God to bless us someday… and someday has arrived!!” you replied.

He held your face again, his eyes shining.

“I’ve never loved you more than this moment, Y/N,” he confessed.

“I love you too, Harry,” you responded.

As the pregnancy passed, you dealt with each symptom with as much grace as you could. For you knew once you had a son, all would see you as more than just Henry’s pretty accessory and broodmare. You would be the mother to the next king. All would respect you and revere you far more. That brought you through the mornings of nausea and sudden, intense cravings for certain foods.

What was best was the nighttime before sleep. Henry defied court tradition and insisted he wanted to join you in your chambers. Even though there was the advice that he avoid his marital duties until after the baby arrived, to risk any lustful acts harming the child inside you. To have a misteress to pleasure him as you carried the child was out of the question for Harry of England. He would prefer to fall on his sword instead.

The truth was, you didn’t need to perform any act of lust with your husband to be with him. You both could sit in silence. Read books and play chess or little games. Discuss anything and everything. Even to lay in bed and to hold each other. And how your heart burst with love as you felt his hand on his stomach and heard him talk to the child. Even placing little kisses on there. When the baby first kicked, you put his hand there to feel. You both grinned and kissed each other. That was as intimate as anything with your bodies entwining. Whispering names and hopes for the little child. Said little prayers for a safe delivery for you. For the baby in your stomach to survive past infancy. To survive to an adult. One that would always know how much their mother and father wanted and loved them.

When the time came for confinement, the time when you would stay only in your private chambers in the ninth month away from the court, including Henry, to help guarantee a safe delivery. Your heart beat fast. Your stomach was so large that you could only waddle rather than walk. Henry only kissed you, gently tracing your face. Promising that only if there was a crisis would he break down the doors and run to your side.

For days you sat in your rooms. It became stuffy and dark as they closed the curtains, the priests carrying incense throughout and blessing what was going to be the birthing bed. You sat there, sweating, and feeling both the immense fear of your death and the fear of the pain.

At last, one early morning, your water broke. Hyperventilating and crying, you awoke a lady in waiting to run to get the midwife. You were shaking, pain scorching as the baby was starting to get ready to emerge. You knew what would happen, and yet when it began, you felt thrown into the unknown. You were so frightened, you let out screams as the contractions began. They fetched the birthingThere was the delivery, you cried your way through the pain.

“Harry- where is Harry? Where is my husband? I’m so frightened! Please! Where is he!?” you cried, your vision blurry with tears.

“This is not the place for your husband to be, your Majesty. The Lords thought it best he be kept away for now. But how proud he would be of you now- you’re doing well- the baby’s coming out fine!” the midwife encouraged you. “Keep pushing, my lady! I see the head!”

You were sweaty and disgusting and at your most primal, far from the elegant and regal woman they all saw in public. Blood and fluids, including some embarrassing ones, had come out during the labor which was all being cleaned up after it was spilled.

The hours dragged on in torture. The midwife yelling encouragements through your hot face full of tears. You felt sick, even faint, as you pushed the child out from between your legs. Sitting on the stool with the midwife over, every lady in waiting dabbed your burning forehead and squeezed your hand through each push.

Then, finally, a cry came out. But not from your voice. A baby’s cry. You let out a shaky breath of relief.

Alive. The child was alive. As were you.

You caught your breath, panting hard. One lady in waiting grinned at you-

“Well done, Your Majesty!” she praised.

You let out a gasp as the afterbirth crawled out. But it was easy and painless compared to a child and slipped easily into the below pot placed for it. A maid grimaced but took it away. You heard the click of a knife as the cord on the child was cut. Another warm cloth went over the tiny, wrinkled newborn as it wailed and wailed. You felt dizzy, the red curtains of your chambers swimming around. Then you came to.

The heir. The heir apparent. Henry’s heir- Henry’s heir was here. The one purpose for which you were made wife to the king was now fulfilled-

“It’s a girl,” the midwife announced.

The child was in the midwife’s arms. your eyes noticed the lower half of the baby’s body. She was correct.

For a second, your heart stopped. The world stopped.

There was a slight silence in the room. It wasn’t like the eruptious joy that would have followed had it been the opposite.

The baby still cried heartily. They swaddled her- not the long-awaited him, her. For that was what the baby that was your constant companion inside you for months was. Not the long-awaited male heir for the Lancaster line. No- a daughter. And what is a daughter, but a disappointment?

In those seconds, your mind reeled. Your belly was empty now for the first time in over a year. You had disappointed the nation- there would be no heir to the Lancaster throne. Not yet. You had let down the court. Mothering a son brought special respect and privilege.

And, most of all, worst of all, you let down Henry. The one person you loved most of all. And that hurt the worst.

The baby wailed. A high, piercing, harsh cry. Ladies in waiting gathered around and fussed. The midwife cleared out the mucus and fluids covering the newborn. Still, the crying rang through the room like harsh bells.

You wondered briefly if it would have been better if you didn’t recover and died from this than face the humiliation.

Wrapping some swaddling over the crying newborn, they handed her over to you.

“Here, hold her, your majesty. She seems a healthy, beautiful little girl,” the midwife announced.

The tiny, wrinkled babe at first didn’t seem beautiful.

Then the bundle was placed in your arms and the baby stopped crying at once.

You looked down at her.

Something inside you broke.

She was….small. So small for your great pain. Her tiny face, the tiniest little hands, and hte tiniest head. She was fragile. Could you remember when you were brought to court to marry the king? You were just as fragile, as naive, as alone without protection- who knows what would have happened if Henry had been so gentle and patient with you, if you hadn’t grown to fall in love with him and he with you.

She nestled to you, her crying ceasing. Clinging to you. She didn’t know so many things…but she knew you were her mother.

And she trusted you to protect her.

A new feeling burst on you. You were not afraid of facing humiliation from the men of court…you were afraid of failing her. She reached a hand and began to coo. Making tiny little noises like that of a mouse. You held up your hand and she held onto your finger- settling close to you.

“Hello, my dear…hello…” you murmured. The pain seemed even more distant.

Tears came down you again and you felt yourself smile. You loved her. This tiny, beautiful, and unwanted girl.

One lady in waiting reached for you and you barked at them.

“Get away from her! Don’t touch her!” you yelled out, the tears running down your face, your breasts heavy with milk that was not going to be used, and the hotness in your body flushing to anger. You held the bundle closer to yourself.

You understood the instincts of bears, how they would rip men into pieces if they dared tread near the den of their cubs. If anyone- anyone- haughty courtiers that were so stuck in their ways that they had nothing better to do with their time other than harm an innocent child- incapable of fighting, of proper speech, of defending herself- you would have murdered them. And you would have enjoyed it.

She cried only a little, startled by your voice. You rocked her and shushed her, kissing her forehead.

“Hello, hello- I’m your mother, don’t be frightened, my dear, I’ve waited a while to meet you, shhhh. Mother is here, you’ll be safe. I’m sorry I surprised you, shhh,” you whispered.

The midwife approached you cautiously.

“Your majesty…the baby must be cleaned further. Do not worry- she will be safe…” she assured you. And your good sense one- for the midwife had delivered hundreds of babes and you knew the girl was in good hands.

You looked down again at your baby, still somewhat patched and bloody. For that, you handed her over.

Henry was tending to his stallion in the stables. The white one was his personal favorite. He often enjoyed being the one to hand the horse hay and feel it nibble form his hand. His attendants just beside him to see to anything, wanting to do anything to distract their lord and sovereign as he anxiously awaited news of his beloved wife.

A lady in waiting arrived inside and their heads turned like deer. She took a few steps forward and curtsied low. Henry gestured for her to rise.

“How is the queen? It was early morn when the birthing began. Tell me- Does she live?” he asked anxiously.

“Her majesty lives. She is delivered of a…a princess,” reported the lady.

There was a slight silence. A greyness washed over the faces of the lords. Frowns remained on their faces, but their eyes were kept on Henry.

Henry took a moment. He was still, his face unreadable. He then replied.

“The babe is fine?”

“Yes, the babe is fine, born healthy,” she answered.

He broke into a relieved half laugh and smile.

“May- may I see my them?” he asked.

The lady nodded. “Yes, the midwife said you may.”

Henry gave the lady a nod.

“We most heartily accept these joyous tidings, sweet lady. I shall see her anon,” he said.

At once, he broke into a jaunty walk. He burst from the stables, and up the stone steps, through the hallways into his wife’s chambers. He was far faster than some of the stuffier, older lords could keep up with They had a hand on their heads for their hats and puffed as their legs attempted to keep up with their lord.

Confinement seemed like his sweet angel was torn from him to another world and not another part of the castle. But he bounced up the steps. The sweet temptation to burst through those doors for weeks was finally relieved.

He at once raised a knuckle and knocked on the doors. There were feminine gasps and murmurs on the other side.

And another sound, something light, a little voice- that of a baby. And his heart picked up.

There were no servants or lords, so he announced.

“It is his majesty, the king of England.”

One lady opened and they all bowed low. Even the few ladies in the corner trying to get rid of sheets full of blood discreetly. But Henry was a man who had seen battles and once killed the famed Hotspur himself- what was more blood to him?

You laid in your bed, holding the little babe. Your heart racing hard, fighting not to break and cry and yet you found yourself smiling at him. His curls swept back from the wind of his rush and his blue eyes wide as he saw you.

He came forward and knelt next to the bed in a few short strides. He took your hand in his and kissed it.

“How is my lady?” he asked.

“I’m…I’m fine,” you replied in a choking voice. Glad to see him again, glad you were alive to experience all this.

You looked down at the swaddled child.

“Here is…here is your daughter, my lord…” you presented.

You waited for the stormy look on his face, hoping your smile would relieve it. But Henry the Fifth merely loosened his shoulders. His jaw dropped then broke into a smile as he saw her.

“May I hold her?” he asked.

You brought her into his arms. She seemed ot know her father, for she settled easily. He rocked her, and kissed her forehead. Happiness beaming everywhere on his face.

“Mary…that is what we agreed, my lady, if it was a girl…would you still like that to be her name?” he said sofly.

You nodded.

He looked around the crowd. The lord and attendants finally arrived inside, staring with wide eyes.

“Today is a special day- for we celebrate the birth of the Princess Mary. Named in memory of my mother. And we are all going to celebrate. I would like there to be a joust and a feast as well when she is christened, all for the safe arrival of Her Highness, the Princess of Wales- And please note, I want a portrait of the joust commissioned-”

Henry looked back at you sitting up on the bed.

“I want my queen in the center, on a seat- beautiful as she is and shining bright, as a testament of my love for her…”

Folding your hands, you smiled back up at him. Exhaustion and love warming your insides. Joy seeping through to where you thought you would float.

“And I ask for a second portrait be of all of us- for we are now the royal family,” Henry finished.

The courtiers nodded solemnly with plenty of “yes, my lord” repeating from their lips. For none would dare cross the king.

They departed, leaving you both alone for the first time in weeks. Mary wiggled a little in her father’s arms. He sat on the bed and smiled at you. You laid a hand on his arm.

“Harry, all of this fuss! Should you save such grand celebrations for when we have a son?” you asked.

“No, sweetling. Our child is born alive and healthy- and with her in my arms, I’m too overjoyed, that her sex does not matter right now,” he responded.

“But…your heir!�� you cried.

He smiled and his eyes lowered to his baby.

“ I have three brothers. There’s more than enough heirs. There’s no need to panic…”

He leaned close.

“And with my lovely wife naked in my bed again… once she is better…how can I resist a night where we can create another beautiful child? Wouldn’t our little Mary be happy having a brother to play with and tease and scold over?”

You playfully shook your head with laughter and swatted his arm lightly.

“My lord, you are unappeasable!” you teased.

“And I have missed you too, my lady,” he replied.

Both of you kissed as May began to cry again.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

How incredible a nursery they had built for her. The rockers- two people set up to stay awake all night to rock the baby to sleep- curtsied low. It seemed that despite the disappointment, they were charmed with the sweet little baby. Her little noises that cackled about. Her adorable squeaks that made won people over. How you loved to call her “my little mouse!” when you visited to hold and rock her. For Mary would always nestle and wish to be held. She had no thoughts of being a great Princess of the Sacred Isle yet. She was an infant who only wanted to be cared for and loved.

The joust came and went. The artists got right to work for their commissions. The christening was a holiday throughout the nation. Bells rang as the Bishop blessed Mary in the church with all the nation watching.

At the feast afterward, many gathered around to glimpse at their new princess, cloaks and hats and long skirts crowding around the official cradle made for state events. It was decorated with the arms of the Lancaster house. Plush red fabrics draped the inside- the colors considered traditional for her father. It measured seven and a half feet long and two and a half feet wide. The guests invited could look at the infant from a safe distance. You couldn’t help but awe at the creation- all for one tiny baby inside! How small she looked compared to the great size of the thing! They must have thought her a giant child, not a human one!

There was no better, no more doting father than Henry the Fifth. It seemed that the only concern about a male heir came from his courtiers. And their protests and reminders fell deaf on his majesty’s ears. Even in public events where she was placed in the state cradle, Henry would stay to stand guard near it. He was not too much of a man that he was beneath wishing to hold her. He would bend up and use one arm to hold her crimson swaddling.

“I am the Father of the Nation. Of my subjects, as much as she.” he would declare, one hand up to gently touch his little daughter.

How often you stayed in that nursery, amazed at her. The nursemaids tell you everything about what a baby did and why they did it. For even if she was not yours to raise, your curiosity would get to you- and how much every day she would grow and change! Just a month later and she was big enough you wondered how she got out of you!

One night later at dinner, Henry wished to have her cradle nearby so you could eat with her. Little Mary let out a hearty cry out of nowhere.

You jumped- for it was loud and sharp. She did not wail often in her father’s presence. But Henry merely tilted his head.

“Now, what is the matter, lambkin?” he asked the baby.

She continued to cry. He picked her up. A hand over her head and her bum, placing her on his arm.

“What troubles you so, Fair little chuck-hm? Would you like a kiss from your father? Would it cheer you?”

He gave her a kiss on her warm cheek. She calmed down a little. Then she began to cry again. Your husband shot up his eyebrows in confusion. But you listened carefully to the quality of the sound of her wailing- this one was low-pitched, repeating its rhythms.

“My lord, the nurses tell me that kind of cry means she is hungry.”

With a smile on your face, you asked a servant to send for the wet nurse. Henry only widened his eyes in awe.

“Well, my lady, tell me…what have you learned from them about the crying of babes?” he asked in curiosity.

One day- after certain parliament sessions, you returned to the nursery. You heard her crying again- the sort she did when fussing. For you only wished to…to be with her, see her- for her childhood to be as good a one as you could afford for her.

Once inside, you saw one maid trying to ring her rattle. The other maid held her up to see it. But it was doing no good for little Mary who kept crying.

You walked inside and the little girl paused. She began to smile and kick her feet, her crying ceasing. She was even reaching two chubby arms towards you.

How could you have hated that she wasn’t a son when she was born? What were you even thinking with such joy and such love this little girl had for you?

Reaching over, you brought her up.

“Hello, my lovely girl, how are you?” you asked. You brought her up to yourself.

Smelling how well they bathed her. How she was indeed a sweet girl who only wished to be held and loved! You kissed her forehead.

The maids smiled.

“She does that when she misses you,” one reported.

But you never forgot the day you heard her laugh for the first time. It was the fourth month after the birth. Returning inside after strolling the gardens with the ladies, his majesty not being present. You assumed he was discussing something with the Prussian ambassador or shooting his arrows. You passed by the hallway with the nursery. You heard a small sound. Like the tinkling of bells-

It was Mary- her first laugh- you felt a gasp. And another followed- a masculine one right after- a certain laugh you knew like your hand.

Could it be… was it…?

Curiosity overcame you and you opened the door, Henry was sitting on the floor, holding her up above him and she was laughing, clapping her chubby hands. He laughed too.

You burst with love and put a hand over your mouth. The servants watching were flabbergasted. Seeing the sovereign himself playing with her, lifting her in the air and moving her about as she wriggled. You walked in and Henry still held her and leaned up.

“I believe you are enjoying yourself, my lord?” you asked.

“Mary loves it when her father makes her fly like a bird, I discovered,” he said. “You should have seen her with the ambassador's son. So used is she to men with beards, that when the shaven youth stepped forward, she stared at him like a wonder of the world!” he recalled. “Oh, and the little dear is rolling over. She can roll over to one side, but cannot roll back. And when she does, she can only cry in frustration!” he reported excitedly.

You grinned and kissed his cheek. Both of you admiring the new gown on the princess. When there was money left over in the budget, Henry would find ways to spoil her with toys and dresses.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Months passed. You and Henry waited until the time was right, when you were ready for his bed, for acts that would put his seed inside you... But…you were having trouble conceiving again.

You took advice from the physician, recalling every embarrassing martial act out loud to the old man. You devoured certain herbs prescribed to you like a rabbit. Even mixing them into drinks when you could.

Yet…your courses returned as normal.

But you began to wonder…perhaps Mary was the only child you would have. And part of you mourned. Wishing for the large, happy family you both whispered to each other at night early on in your marriage. Secretly envious of women who boasted of their broods so easily conceived.

One evening, you sat by the fire with your husband and child after dinner. Mary was asleep in the cradle in your private room. You rocked it gently, hoping she would stay asleep when the servants would come to fetch her to her nursery. Already she was big and big, more fussy from the teeth she grew.

Henry walked by you and placed an arm around you.

“What ails you, darling?” he asked.

You looked up at him.

“I am just worried, Harry… if…what if…what if she is the only one I will have…” you mourned.

Henry looked into it and said. “I think it would be wise if Mary was made my heir.”

You blinked, your jaw dropped.

“What- but husband-I have not a problem with it, but others will! But the parliament, the lords…they will refuse. They will hate her…even hurt her!” you replied.

He remained still, resolute. But his voice was soft.

“I am their king. My word is law and final. The lords, no matter what they think, must follow as I say…and if she is the one of my line, she is the one of my line…Mary will be queen. A good queen. A queen who will lead England to prosperity.”

The fire cracked more. Both of you looked at the peaceful, sleeping baby. So lovingly tucked into her soft nightdress and snuggled into blankets.

“She can barely talk yet.”

He smiled.

“She has your blood. And if that is the case, then there is no one I trust more than her…”

There was a grand announcement. Shock ran like a storm through the country. Though yes, the lords all complained and bemoaned a female heir, Henry made sure the ceremony was grand. It didn’t matter if they liked it or not, England had its heir.

There was a grand ceremony. The stony throne room decorated with grand emblems. A crowd gathered as you and Henry dressed in red velvets. Though she was getting a little heavier, you still held her high. Your face raised as every icon of another Mary with Her Child, and just as dignified, perhaps as important.

“I now announce her grace, The Princess Mary of Wales, is the heir to the throne. She shall succeed me- and all of you must honor my wife, Her Majesty, as the mother to your next ruler and honor her highness as the queen to follow,” Henry announced, his beard neatly trimmed and his golden crown beaming on his head.

“Her majesty-Princess Mary. And one day, Queen Mary of England. Long live the queen!” he declared.

“Long live the queen.” the crowd repeated.

It was the day the artist said he would show the works he painted. The small, dark-haired, bearded man went up to the first one, covered in a cloth. He pulled it off with a flourish as all took it in.

The first in the joust showed you sitting on your throne as Henry rode his white stallion to defeat his opponent. You seemed to be glowing. In bright colors that shone when light caught it. Placed in the center where all would see, decorated and beautiful.

The artist went to a second painting covered in a cloth. He removed it.

There stood the three of you standing in the church in bright, The child in your arms and Henry by your side. The three of you appeared just as grand, even Immortal.

You had not failed your husband. You had not failed the nation. You had provided an heir after all. And all would be well.

You looked over little Mary, leaning close to press a kiss to her temple and whisper to her.

“Long may you reign, my little dove.”

#henry v #the hollow crown #henry v fanfic #hollow crown henry v #henry v x reader #william shakespere #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston x reader #henry v x you #henry v x fem! reader #henry v x y/n #henry v x fem! y/n

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mischievoushiddleston · 13 days ago

Text

Golden Cage

Masterlist here

Warnings: Manipulative Loki, stepfather x stepdaughter, Smut

Y/N tore her gaze from the pages of her book, which had her completely mesmerized, when a muffled sound caught her attention. Footsteps. They were approaching her hiding place. The blood rushed in her ears as she wished desperately that the person would just pass by. All she wanted was peace and quiet.

Her gaze slid involuntarily to the window, through which she saw one of the Chitauri fly by. She hated these creatures, these intruders, more than she could ever have expressed. They seemed to be inexorably increasing in number ever since Loki had defeated the Avengers. No one knew what had happened to the heroes. They had disappeared without a trace.

"Y/N?"

The velvety voice cut through the silence like a sharp knife. Her breath hitched as goose bumps spread over her body like a wave. She bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from making a sound, no matter how strong the urge.

Finally, after seemingly endless seconds, she heard the footsteps moving away. Relieved, she let out the breath she had been unconsciously holding. Carefully, she pushed the curtain aside a little and took a look outside. The air was clear.

She rose from the windowsill with renewed determination. She wanted to return to her room as quickly as possible. But before she left, she turned back to the window and drew the curtains to hide any trace of her presence.

"I knew you'd be here."

The words were breathed softly, almost like a promise, and yet they seemed to ring like thunder in the silence. Y/N flinched, her breath catching. Slowly, almost reluctantly, she turned around.

"Your Majesty," she murmured with a forced calm as she bowed slightly.

Loki stepped closer, his steps soundless, his mischievous grin treacherous. "So formal ... Yet we are family, aren't we?" He gestured casually with his hands between them, as if the connection was natural.

Y/N's eyes narrowed, her voice cutting. "Nothing makes you my family just because my mother was forced to marry you."

"She seemed quite willing when she was in my bed last night," Loki said with a self-satisfied smirk that emphasized his arrogance.

Y/N's eyes narrowed in anger, her voice icy cold as she retorted, "You're disgusting." Without another glance, she turned to leave. But before she could take a single step, she felt Loki's hand grab her. With a relentless tug, he pulled her against him, her back pressed against his hard chest.

"Don't pretend you don't want it too..." he whispered against her ear, his voice a dark, silky promise. He paused, his breath warm on her skin. "If it helps you: I would have taken you as my wife if I'd known you existed."

His lips touched her neck, little more than a gentle graze, but the effect was like an electric shock. An uncontrollable tremor ran through her body as she desperately tried to maintain control of her breathing.

"Who said I would want you?" Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper, but her words carried a brash challenge that betrayed her trembling resolve.

Loki's grin deepened, his eyes sparkling with sinister amusement. Without a word, he pushed his body closer to hers until she could feel the immovable hardness of his chest. His fingers slid slowly, like a snake, around her neck. He exerted no pressure - he didn't need to. The mere gesture was enough to demonstrate his absolute control.

His lips drew close to her ear, his every movement deliberately slow, as if to force her to endure every moment of his nearness. "You can lie, little mortal," he whispered, his voice a dangerous, velvety promise, "but your body betrays you. The way you moan my name ... in the darkness of your room ... when you think you're alone."

His words burned like fire on her skin. She gasped for air, unable to quell the flood of shame and anger that raged inside her. His breath brushed across her neck, warm and seductive as he deliberately kept the distance between his lips and her skin agonizingly small.

"You can deny it all you want," he continued, his fingers a touch firmer but still controlled, "but I hear it. I see it." A dangerous smile played around his lips as he paused to savor her reaction. "And deep down, you know you're mine."

Her heart was racing, every instinct inside her was screaming to flee - and yet she stood frozen. Her voice failed, her words caught in her throat.

His free hand slid slowly over her stomach, each movement deliberate and agonizingly gentle. She paused there for a moment before it moved on, its fingertips brushing over her skin almost mockingly. Finally, he placed them on her hips and pulled her relentlessly closer until her ass pressed firmly against his pelvis.

A soundless, barely audible moan escaped her lips, which she could not suppress despite her best efforts. Her thoughts were a mess, but the unmistakable hardness of his desire pressing against her made her control falter.

"Why don't you take what you want, princess?" His voice was a dangerous whisper, low yet piercing, like a hunter challenging his prey.

The words seeped into her consciousness like a poison, sweet and fatal. His breath brushed warmly over her neck as his hand paused on her hip, firm enough to feel her skin but not firm enough to actually hold her - as if inviting her to take the next step.

Y/N bit her lower lip, struggling to control her breathing, which was getting heavier by the moment. She hated him. She hated his arrogance, his matter-of-factness - and yet there was something about him that threw her off balance every time.

"Maybe..." she began softly, her voice just a breath, but she forced herself not to let him get the upper hand. "...Because I don't want something that's already tainted."

A shadow flitted across Loki's face before his usual smug grin returned. His hand on her hip pulled her even closer until not even a breath could fit between them.

"Spoiled?" He let the word hang in the air, almost tasting it before repeating it as if it amused him. "If that's the case, then I wonder why you're trembling, princess."

His hand on her neck moved slightly, barely noticeably, and yet his every touch seemed like a blow to her self-control. His thumb stroked gently over the sensitive skin on the side of her neck, a mixture of threat and enticement.

"Go ahead and lie to yourself," he murmured, his lips so close to her ear that she could feel the tickle of his breath. "But your body speaks a language I understand very well."

His grip loosened for a moment, as if to give her space - only to pull her against him again, his movement slower this time, more pleasurable. There was no haste in his actions, just an absolute awareness of his power over her.

"So?" he whispered, his voice low and velvety. "Are you going to keep playing, Princess, or are you finally going to be honest?"

Y/N pressed her lips together, her hands clenched into fists. She wanted to say something back, wanted to push him back, laugh at him - but none of that happened. Instead, she cursed the traitorous trembling that ran through her body.

Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding like a drumbeat in her chest. The warmth of his body still burned against her skin, but she forced herself to regain control. Her fingers lifted slowly, gently, and settled over his, still resting loosely around her neck. Her touch was unexpected, almost tender, and a small spark of amusement flickered in his eyes.

"Maybe you're right," she whispered, her voice soft, almost a breath, but with an undertone that captured his attention. Her fingers stroked his, her movements careful, almost like a game. "My body does speak a language, Loki."

For a moment, she let the tension between them grow, making him believe that he had broken it. Then, with a deft movement, she twisted his hand and took a quick step out of his grasp. Surprise flickered briefly in his eyes, but before he could react, she pushed him against the wall.

Their bodies were still dangerously close, her chest brushing his torso as she leaned forward. Her eyes sparkled, a dangerous mix of anger and something she hardly dared admit to herself. "But you made a mistake, Loki," she said softly, her voice firmer now, but not without a hint of challenging sensuality.

He laughed softly, a dark, vibrating sound that seemed to echo through her whole body. "A mistake?" His lips twisted into an amused smirk, though she noticed his breathing was a little heavier. "I'm curious, princess. Enlighten me."

Instead of flinching, she leaned even closer to him, her lips inches from his. Her hand pressed against his chest, feeling the warmth and quiet strength that lay beneath. "You think you can control me," she whispered, her voice now a seductive hiss, "but I'm not like the others."

Loki lowered his head slightly until his lips almost touched hers. "Oh, I know you're not like the others," he murmured, his voice low and velvety as his hand slowly sought out her hip and lingered there. "That's exactly why you're so ... fascinating."

Her chest heaved as she took a deep breath, her breathing heavy and uneven. She wanted to back away, to push him, to ridicule him - but her body betrayed her again. Her knees felt weak as his touch chased a cursed heat through her.

He noticed, of course. His grin widened, darkened. "Look," he whispered, his voice like a sensual promise as his thumb stroked the sensitive curve of her waist. "You fight me so much, princess. But here -" He slid his hand over her hip, just firmly enough to set her nerves on fire, "- your body has long been mine."

But this time she didn't let him get away with it. With a sudden jerk, she pressed him harder against the wall, her thigh pressed lightly against his, a gesture that radiated as much self-confidence as defiance.

"And yet here I am," she whispered, her lips against his ear, her voice now infused with honeyed hardness. "Still myself. Still free. And if anyone here is mesmerized, Loki, it's you."

Y/N felt the crackle in the air between them, a dangerous mixture of anger, defiance and something she didn't dare name. Her heart raced, but she forced herself to keep her composure, her voice clear and firm.

"Maybe you should find someone easier to control," she said with a sarcastic smile, her eyes sparkling defiantly. She straightened up, wanting to turn away, wanting to show him that she was stronger, that she wouldn't be part of his game.

But she didn't get far.

Before she could take a step, she felt his hand grab her hip, strong and demanding. He pulled her back, with an effortless strength that took her breath away. In one fluid, unrelenting moment, she was pressed against him again, her hands on his chest to keep him at a distance - but this time he gave her no room.

"And yet," Loki murmured, his voice a low, raspy whisper, "you're not leaving. Not really."

His words barely hung in the air before he acted. With a speed that caught her off guard, he lowered his head and captured her lips with his. The kiss wasn't a cautious one, not a hesitant one-it was demanding, raw, engaging. His lips moved over hers, soft and relentless at the same time, as if he wanted to take a piece of her that she wasn't ready to give.

A soft, surprised sound escaped her and she wanted to fight back, wanted to push him away - but her body did not obey her. Instead, her hands buried themselves in the fabric of his tunic, as if she was looking for support while heat shot through her.

He felt it. Of course he did. His grip on her hip tightened, his other hand traveled to her neck in a slow, seductive motion, his fingers sliding through her hair, holding her where he wanted her.

When he released the kiss for a moment to catch his breath, time seemed to stand still. His eyes searched hers, full of triumph, but also something darker - a desire that went deeper than she had expected.

"Tell me, princess," he murmured, his voice little more than a raspy whisper as his thumbs stroked gently over her skin, "why are you fighting so hard against something you want as much as I do?"

Y/N's chest rose and fell violently, her breath coming in short bursts. She opened her mouth to say something, to hold something out to him that would shatter all his arrogance - but her words stuck. His grip, his closeness, the taste of his lips on hers - everything seemed to paralyze her.

"I ... I don't want anything from you," she finally pressed out, her voice weak, almost believable. But her trembling hands, still on his chest, betrayed her.

Loki smiled. It wasn't the smug grin she had seen so often, but something deeper, darker, that made her knees go weak again. "Go ahead and lie, little princess," he said softly as he brushed her cheek with a gentle, unexpectedly tender touch. "But don't forget - I see you. And I'm going to take what's been mine for a long time."

She wanted to say something back, wanted to curse him for his words, but he didn't give her a chance. He kissed her again, this time more slowly, more intensely, his lips playing with hers like a musician plucking the strings of an instrument. The world around them disappeared, and for a moment all she could feel was him - his heat, his strength, the way he made every one of her walls crumble.

Loki deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding against her lips, and then flipped her over in one swift, fluid motion so that she was now pressed back against the cold wall. Her breathing was rapid as her hands clutched desperately at him, as if she could hold on to them to keep from losing herself in the heat of the moment. A voice screamed inside her, urging her to stop, but that voice grew fainter and fainter until it finally faded into the background. As his hands stroked her thighs slowly and firmly and he slid one leg between her trembling legs to spread them wider, the stream of sensations blotted out everything else. Nothing else mattered, only the fire he kindled in her.

Her mother's shrill, panicked voice brutally snapped her out of her trance, and in a jerky reflex she pushed Loki away from her. Her heart hammered in her chest as she turned quickly in the direction the call had come from, her senses still dazed by the moment. "Tonight you are mine," Loki whispered in her ear in an almost inaudible, seductive tone, just as her mother turned the corner. The words faded into the air, a final, dangerous breath. Y/N turned back to him with a thud, but he was gone, as if he had stolen away with the wind.

For the rest of the day, she tried desperately to distract herself, to escape her thoughts of him, but she couldn't do it. His words kept returning to her head like an incessant echo. His promise echoed inside her, and although she told herself to ignore it, she could not deny that the thought of him - of what he had said - awakened a strange but seductive impulse in her. At the same time, she realized that she must never act around him. She couldn't.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself and slowly lowered herself into the soothingly warm tub. The hot water enveloped her like a protective embrace, hoping to calm her confused thoughts and nervous shivers. But deep down, she knew that the god had already forgotten everything. It was just another of his countless games, to which he attached no importance whatsoever.

Suddenly, the atmosphere around her changed and Y/N opened her eyes, startled. Her breathing stopped when she saw Loki near her - on the edge of the tub, right next to her. Without warning, without a sound, he was there as if he had never been away.

"That's a delicious sight..." he said with a mischievous grin and scrutinized her with that dangerously tempting look that always gave the feeling that he knew exactly what he was doing. "Even though I was expecting you naked in bed."

Y/N pulled herself together, hastily trying to cover herself with the foam as she felt her cheeks heat up and an uncomfortably shy feeling rise inside her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked quietly, her voice trembling, but it was not a dismissive question, but one tinged with a mixture of curiosity and an inexplicable desire. Her gaze followed him as he rolled up his sleeve with almost casual elegance.

"What are you doing?" she repeated, her breathing quickening as she sensed the moment his hand disappeared into the water. A shiver ran over her body and she held her breath as his fingertips slid over her thigh. A soft, sighing sound escaped her as the warmth of his touch passed through her, a feeling she could no longer suppress.

Loki leaned closer and the sound of his breath on her ear made her body tremble involuntarily. "I always keep my promises," he whispered with a mixture of seduction and certainty. The words echoed in her head as his hand continued to move upwards, her self-control beginning to slip away. She knew she couldn't go back, that she wanted more, that there was no stopping her.

But then, hesitantly, she lifted her hand and closed her fingers around his wrist to stop him. Her touch was gentle but firm, and for a moment he paused, his eyes searching hers. "I don't want to be a game of yours..." she whispered, her voice soft, but the vulnerability and emphasis in it were unmistakable.

An amused but gentle smile played around his lips before he replied. "You would never be a game for your daddy," he replied in a low, confident tone that made her heart beat faster. His words carried an unspoken promise that made her shiver. Before she could say anything in reply, he leaned forward and let his lips move gently over the sensitive skin on her neck.

A shiver ran through her body as she felt his breath tickle her skin. She should have pushed him back, but the soft, demanding whisper of her body made her pause. She liked - more than she wanted to admit - what he called himself. Her daddy. Her grip on his wrist loosened involuntarily until her fingers finally slipped from him completely.

Loki, sensing the moment, let his hand slide further, his touch gentle, almost agonizingly slow. A tremor ran through her body as his fingertips finally brushed over her damp folds. The sensation made her moan softly, her head tilted back and she bit her lips to keep from speaking louder.

"My daddy..." it finally escaped her, a whispered, honest confession that surprised even herself.

"Princess," he breathed against her neck with a mixture of seduction and possessiveness, his warm voice a velvety promise. At that moment, he slid his finger resolutely inside her, a slow, demanding movement that made her arch her back reflexively. An uncontrolled moan escaped her lips, which she could no longer press together. The sweet sound of her pleasure caused a satisfied, dangerously seductive smile to appear on his lips.

Loki did not hesitate to seize the opportunity. He lowered his head and closed his lips around her sensitive nipple as his tongue gently circled it. The heat of his touch burned into her skin, and the combination of the deft movement of his fingers and the tender but demanding treatment of her breast made her tremble. Her head fell back, her senses dazed with desire.

His name formed silently on her lips as each stroke of his fingers and touch of his tongue drew her deeper into a maelstrom of sensations she could no longer escape.

Loki added a second finger in one fluid motion, the intensity of his touch making her gasp involuntarily. He skillfully curled his fingers inside her, searching for and finding the exact spot that made her tremble. Her thighs tensed, a quivering sound escaping her throat as the waves of desire rolled through her body.

As he continued to work her with skillful precision, he lowered his head again and his teeth brushed lightly over her hard, sensitive nipple. It was a delightful contrast of gentle pain and intense pleasure that drew her deeper into the moment. A rough, throaty sound escaped her and almost instinctively her hand shot up. Her fingers snaked into his dark, silky hair, holding him there as if to prevent him from breaking the contact.

Loki lifted his gaze briefly, his emerald eyes sparkling with amusement and triumph, before returning to his work. His name was unspoken on her lips as her body surrendered to him completely.

His thumb began to rub over her clit in a circular motion while his fingers thrust into her in a rougher, more demanding rhythm. The dual stimulation took Y/N's breath away, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations. Her fingers clutched at the edges of the tub, her knees trembling slightly as she felt the familiar pressure building deep inside her. She was so close, so damn close...

But it was precisely at this moment that Loki paused. Without warning, he withdrew his hand, leaving her gasping quietly for air as the pent-up heat inside her throbbed painfully.

"What-" she began, her voice quivering with confusion and unquenched desire.

He grinned at her, that dangerously confident, slightly mocking expression that was so much his trademark. "It's time to show how much you want me," he said in a harsh, almost amused tone. His words left no room for doubt as he indicated his crotch with a short nod. The clear bulge in his trousers spoke a clear language and her stomach tightened with a mixture of nervousness and anticipation at the sight.

With trembling hands, she obeyed, her fingers sliding to the laces of his trousers. She undid them slowly, uncertainly, while her eyes wandered back and forth between his face and her task. Loki watched her every move with an intense gaze that almost pierced her, and a faint, amused smile twitched around his lips as she finally undid the last string.

"Show your daddy how good you can be," he murmured softly, his voice a husky whisper full of anticipation and seduction. His gaze was fixed on her, penetrating and unrelenting, as he slowly slid his pants down. With a smooth movement, he released his erection, and the sight made Y/N swallow involuntarily.

A quiet tremor ran through her body as she turned to face him. Her breathing was shallow, her hands rested unsteadily on her thighs, but the heat in his gaze melted her restraint. With a barely perceptible twitch of her lips, she slowly licked her lower lip, more out of instinctive reflex than calculation, but the satisfied look in his eyes told her that he noticed.

Slowly, she leaned forward, her movements cautious but full of determination. Her lips encircled the tip of his erection and a hot, salty taste spread across her tongue. She felt his muscles tense under her touch and a soft, guttural sound escaped him - a sign that she was having the right effect.

Y/N slowly let her lips slide further over him, taking more of him into her mouth as she struggled to keep control of her movements. Her tongue stroked his length, probing and exploring, and she felt his breathing sharpen, a soft, throaty sound escaping his chest. The knowledge that she was upsetting him like this stirred something in her, a desire to tease him even more.

Her hands found purchase on his hips, her fingers clawing lightly into his skin as she leaned deeper, taking in his rhythm. With each slow, rhythmic pull of her mouth, she could feel his tension growing, his muscles hardening under her touch.

"Good girl," Loki murmured in a husky voice, his hand moving to her head, his fingers gently burying themselves in her hair. He did not guide her, but the light pressure of his hand was a silent cue, encouraging her to continue. His words, so quiet and yet full of power, made her cheeks glow and her courage grow.

She intensified her efforts, letting her tongue linger on his most sensitive spot before picking up the rhythm again. Every pull of her lips, every touch of her tongue seemed to set off a wave of lust in him, and she felt his grip on her hair tighten. His breathing quickened and a soft, harsh laugh escaped him as he looked at her.

"You're exceptional..." he murmured, his tone a mixture of praise and possessiveness that made her want to try harder.

Y/N took a deep breath, gathered her courage and let her lips slide lower against him. She felt her throat tighten as she tried to take in more of him. His size filled her, and the slight burn of the unfamiliar was overridden by the overwhelming need to please him.

Loki watched her with a mixture of triumph and dark lust in his emerald eyes. His grip in her hair tightened slightly, a silent hint, and she followed him. Her movements became bolder, and she took him deeper until her lips almost touched the base of his erection.

"That's right, princess," he murmured in a rough voice as his fingers gripped her hair tighter. "Take everything from your daddy."

His words burned in her mind, stirring a desire that drove her onward. She pulled back slowly, letting her tongue glide over his length before taking him deep again, deeper this time. Her breathing became heavier, her eyes watered slightly, but she did not pause. The soft moan that escaped him was like praise, spurring her on.

Loki threw his head back slightly, his chest rising and falling faster as he seemed to lose control of his breathing. "You're a fast learner," he murmured with a dangerously satisfied smile.

With each pull of her lips, her pace became more confident, more rhythmic, and the slight trembling of his body revealed that she was pushing him to the edge of self-control. The heat between them was overwhelming, the connection between them electrifying as she drew him deeper into madness with every movement.

Y/N kept up the pace, her lips and tongue working in sync to give him more and more pleasure. Loki moaned deeply, a rough, guttural sound that unintentionally gave him away. His grip in her hair tightened, his movements more demanding as he gently guided her to do exactly what would drive him over the edge.

"That's it... that's it, my princess," he panted, his voice rough and laced with lust. His breathing quickened further, and Y/N could feel his body tense beneath her, his every muscle taut with anticipation.

With a final, hoarse sound, he lost control. His whole body shook as he climaxed deep inside her mouth. Y/N remained motionless, letting him experience it all without pulling back. Slowly, she pulled away from him, her lips sliding back carefully as she felt the taste on her tongue.

Loki leaned against the edge of the tub for a moment, his chest rising and falling heavily, a satisfied smile on his lips. But this moment did not last long. As soon as he had collected himself, he looked at her with an intense gaze, his eyes glowing with undisguised lust.

"You are incredible, my princess," he said softly, his tone a mixture of praise and demand. Then he began to undress slowly and deliberately. Piece by piece, he dropped the remaining layers of his clothing until his well-toned, flawless body was completely exposed.

Y/N's eyes followed his every movement, and she couldn't help but feel the heat growing inside her as he joined her in the tub. The warm water lapped at his skin as he approached her. His hands slid under the water to her hips, pulling her gently but firmly towards him.

"Now it's your turn, my love," he whispered, leaning forward to seal her lips in a demanding kiss. His hands roamed, exploring her body as the water began to splash around them as he moved to continue the pleasure that had just begun.

Loki pulled Y/N closer to him, his hands sliding over her curves under the water, demanding and gentle at the same time, as if he wanted to explore every inch of her body. His lips broke away from hers and traveled down to her neck, leaving hot, demanding kisses on her skin as the water lapped around them in gentle waves.

"I will take you, princess," he murmured hoarsely at her ear, his voice steeped in desire and possessiveness. "And this time, every part of you is mine."

Before she could reply, he lifted her in one fluid motion, the water easing the gesture, and positioned her above him. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips while her hands sought support on his shoulders. The look he gave her - a mixture of dominance, lust and something that almost seemed like worship - made her shiver.

Slowly, he lowered her, and she felt him slide into her, inch by inch, until he filled her completely. Y/N gasped, her head falling back slightly as a deep moan left her throat. Loki paused for a moment, letting her get used to the sensation before he began to move.

His rhythm was slow at first, almost agonizing as he drove her closer to madness with each movement. His hands held her hips, guiding her as he moved deeper into her. Y/N could no longer hold back, her moans grew louder and her nails dug into his shoulders as the intensity increased.

"This is what it feels like when you belong to your daddy," he whispered harshly as his grip on her waist tightened and his thrusts gained strength and speed. The water splashed around her, each of his movements made her sink deeper until the world around her disappeared and only the feeling and the moment mattered.

Her hands moved into his hair, pulling him in for a demanding kiss as her body began to match his rhythm. Her breathing was intermittent, her senses overwhelmed as a wave of ecstasy rolled through her body, only making her pull him closer.

Loki watched her, savoring her every reaction, his eyes glowing with satisfaction and desire. "Give yourself to me, princess," he commanded, his voice like a dark promise as he brought her closer to the abyss with each stroke.

Her fingers tightened tightly in his back, her nails pressing into his skin as the intensity of his thrusts increased. The water splashed over the edge of the tub as he pulled her deeper into the vortex of pleasure with every movement. His presence inside her was unstoppable, each of his powerful thrusts making her feel him more intensely and deeply than ever before.

"My daddy..." she moaned breathlessly, the sound of her voice laced with pure desire. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breathing a hoarse hiss that mingled with the sounds of moving bodies and rippling water. Her hips responded to him unconsciously, registering with his movements, while her inner heat increased in an almost painful rhythm.

"My perfect girl... completely mine," he whispered in a raspy voice as he changed his angle. With a slight movement, he rose up and thrust into her at a new, deeper angle, only increasing the intensity of their connection. "If your mother only knew how willingly you give yourself to me..."

She opened her lips to say something, but he interrupted her by engulfing her in a passionate kiss. Loki rolled his hips with each thrust, and she felt the pressure growing inside her, bringing her closer and closer to him. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably as his movements became deeper and more demanding. Suddenly, she climaxed, an intense rush gripping her and sending her body into a rigid frenzy as she gave herself completely to him.

She trembled beneath him as he moved into her again and again until he finally filled her with his lust. Her fingers clawed deep into his shoulders and a dark haze settled over her vision as she surrendered completely to the moment. The next time she came to, she felt the velvety softness of dark green sheets draped over her naked body like a second skin.

Slowly, she pulled the sheets closer to her and sat up. Her eyes fell on Loki, who was leaning casually against the headboard of the bed and looking at her with a meaningful smile.

"What am I doing here?" she whispered in an uncertain voice, her eyes darting carefully over him.

He grinned broadly and didn't take his eyes off her for a second. "You were pretty exhausted after our... little adventure."

A weak nod was all she gave him in reply before turning her head away. Heat rose to her face as she realized he was just as naked as she was. "I should probably get back to my room..." she muttered hastily, trying to extricate herself from the situation.

But Loki moved quickly. With an energetic grip, he forced her to look at him. His slender fingers closed gently but firmly around her ankles and a cheeky glint flashed in his eyes.

"You're not going anywhere," he said with a rough determination that brooked no argument. With a firm tug, he pulled her closer to him. "Your daddy's not satisfied yet..."

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