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Loki saw the daughter of Thjazi long before she came to the gates of Asgard demanding weregild. The giantess on her skis, hair flowing and cheeks reddened by the wind, was a delight to watch. Approaching her was another matter. Loki was unpredictable, but he was not a fool; he didn’t gamble unless he rigged the game first. And it was said Skadi’s heart was impossible to reach; many claimed no one ever saw her smile.
Accidentally stopping for the night while travelling should have been a perfect opportunity to learn more. Unfortunately, the lady was out and he ended up having a hand in her father’s death instead.
He was not too disappointed that his feet did not prove good enough; bonds of any sort were against his nature, no matter how pretty they looked.
The other challenge proved more intriguing, for he was able to test if the rumours he heard were true. For it was whispered in the dark corners that the huntress enjoyed nothing as much as unmanning.
He chuckled into her lap as she laughed at his pain and proved them right.
She came to him that very night under the pretense of seeing to the damage.
She seemed to seek to increase it instead, smiling as she twisted his abused balls.
He wondered how she would handle them if she knew about the part he played in her father’s death. He almost whispered the truth in her ear as he spilled, but stopped just before words started tumbling.
He knew well how to balance precariously so that the punishment is never too much. She was still not known to him well enough to take that risk.
Yet while his sense of self-preservation stood firm in the face of carnal delights, it could not bear his pride and intoxication of verbal victory. And just as he expected, the consequences were too great.
But, contrary to the popular opinion, not irreparable.
He knows she’s waiting for him to beg.
He doesn’t feel like playing along.