Endlessly

Hilund

You're unsure how long you've been bobbing in and out of consciousness when you become aware that Loki is trying to wake you up.

"Astín mín, we're here."

"Hm?" You sit up, peeling your cheek from the leather of his tunic.

Oh gods, was I drooling?

It takes you several moments to take in your surroundings. It's dark- far darker than should be possible, even if you had slept for several hours. There is a bite in the air unlike anything you've ever felt before, the wind absolutely deafening as it cuts through Aster's cloak and rips past your ears, leaving them, and the rest of your body, with a horrific burning sensation.

"Loki... where are we?" You're quite sure you already know the answer.

"Jotunheim." He tugs on the hood of your cloak, bundling it tighter around your head. "An old friend of mine lives in this cabin." He raps on the door, tucking your head back against his chest with his other hand. You would fight, but he's unbelievably warm compared to the bitter air.

You hear the heavy wooden door of the cabin drag open, a low, feminine voice answering. "Farðu í rassgat, Guð Lyga." You cannot understand what she's said, but her tone is colder than the wind.

"Please, Hilund. Vinsamlegast, hún er ólétt." Loki squeezes you tighter against him as he responds to her in a language foreign to you.

The woman lets out a low growl, and you shift in Loki's arms, forcing him to loosen his grip so you may look up at her; and look up, you do. The woman is easily twice Loki's height, her bare, muscular arms propped defensively against the door frame. The thick, brown fur of her dress ends just above her knees, exposing most of her viridian legs and bare feet. A leather belt rests low across her hips with various tools, pouches, and the skull of some type of tusked animal hanging off of it. You slowly work your gaze up her massive body, taking in her unkempt, brunette hair, your breath catching in your throat when you finally meet her magenta eyes. She stares down at you with a look you could only describe as pity, before speaking again. "Hvað hefur þú gert... koma henni inn úr kuldanum."

She steps back from the doorway, allowing Loki to move past. He carries you to a nearby armchair, which could easily serve as a very adequate bed for someone your size, carefully laying you down on your side. Your tense muscles immediately relax in the warmth radiating from the nearby fire.

"I can walk, you know."

He chooses not to respond, rather, he leans down, placing a gentle, lingering kiss on your forehead, causing a charged swarm of butterflies, ones you'd long thought dead, to erupt in your core. He brushes his thumb across your bottom lip before stepping aside, so the giantess may approach you.

"Afhverju eru það alltaf fallegu sem eru svona heimskir?" She clicks her tongue as she glares down at your stomach.

You feel your face flush at her attention, completely oblivious to what she's saying about you.

Her and Loki proceed to have what doesn't seem to be the most pleasant of conversations as she examines you.

She lifts your dress above your waist despite your feeble protests and proceeds to scoop some very strange smelling gray mud out of one of the pouches on her belt, smearing it all over your stomach.

In an attempt at distracting yourself from the invasion of privacy, and your rising fear for your baby's well-being, you decide to keep your eyes locked onto Loki. He paces the room with his arms resting behind his back, only removing them to occasionally gesture or fling them up into the air when he seems to be overly exasperated by the conversation. He's far more attractive than anyone has the right to be when they're upset, his raven hair always seeming to find its way exactly back into place, no matter how much it gets tossed around. He is still noticeably thinner and paler than he had been before you'd left Asgard, but it seems that what you assume to be a fairly heated conversation, has brought some color back into his cheeks.