*

As soon as she entered the throne room, Maeve sank into a curtsy. She kept her eyes to the ground, barely breathing. Everyone in their group followed her respectful approach, knowing just as well as she did that first impressions were everything. From her reading, the princess had learned how to present herself to the king of the Jotunheim. Even Bjarke bowed, an action she didn't quite expect.

"Rise," a deep, spine-chilling voice said. It echoed in the cavernous room. "Welcome to the Jotunheim, sons and daughters of Odin and Frey."

Laufey lounged on a stiff throne made entirely of gray stone. His mere presence intimidated Maeve, but she kept a straight face and walked forward. Loki kept a hand on the small of her back, a simple reminder that she wasn't alone.

"Greetings, Father," Bjarke said formally, moving ahead of the others.

"Welcome home, my son," Laufey replied. "I trust that your journey went well?"

Bjarke nodded. "The disputes in the mountain territories have been settled, at least temporarily."

"Good. It is a pleasure to have you all here with us," Laufey continued, his fingers tapping on the armrest of his throne. "I must say, I am surprised that you accepted my invitation. It has been many years since we have hosted foreigners, since before the majority of you were born."

"Curiosity led us here," Asmund said in a steady voice. "We are interested to hear what you have to say."

"And I am interested to speak to you. I wish for a private word with Loki Odison and Asmund Freyson."

Maeve blinked, surprised. That wasn't in the plan. Staying together was in the plan.

"Of- of course," Loki said, stammering over his words in a way very unlike him. Turning to Maeve, he gave her a gentle kiss on the forehead. "I'll see you soon, my love."

'Don't trust anyone here,' he said worriedly in her mind. 'And be careful.'

'Same to you.'

Asmund's expression didn't falter, but fear flickered in his dark blue eyes. He squeezed Gale's hand for a brief moment.

"Bjarke, please escort the ladies out, if you would."

"Certainly." If the prince was bothered by his dismissal, he didn't show it. He offered the princesses an arm each, and when they looked apprehensive, he shook his head. "I will not burn you, I promise."

Tentatively, Maeve took his arm and spared a final glance for Loki before being led out of the throne room.

"I feel as if I must apologize again," Bjarke said once the doors were shut. The trio walked slowly down dimly-lit halls. "I am sure you're not used to being pushed aside like this."

Maeve shrugged, her mind drifting to Odin's and her father's treatment of her. "It happens."

"That doesn't mean it should."

"Do you know how long they'll be?" Gale asked worriedly. She kept glancing backward, as if Asmund would appear behind her any minute.

"I do not, and I wish I did," Bjarke admitted. "I don't know much at all. I've been away in the mountain territories for over a month. I only arrived home late last night, and that was when I learned of your arrival from my father. He has plans that are beyond me."

"That is the way of kings," Maeve said distastefully. "Corruption is a common trait for them."

"Are you accusing my father of being corrupt?" A hint of amusement hung in his words.

"Mine was." Maeve ran a finger over her soul mark, letting Loki know that she was thinking of him. A flare of warmth answered back moments later, making her feel slightly better.

"If you don't mind, Your Highness," Gale started, "I would like to spend the afternoon in my room. I didn't sleep well last night, and I'm still a bit tired."

"I do not mind in the slightest," Bjarke said, chuckling. "If I am being completely honest, I am shocked that you even made this journey in your condition. I was certain that the Vanaheim princes would come in your stead. I imagine it would be rather rude to deny you rest. Please, have a relaxing afternoon."

Gale smiled slightly. "Thank you. You're welcome to join me, sister." 

Maeve froze. The offer was tempting. It certainly felt safer, but she wanted to learn as much about the Jotunheim as possible. Then, there would be more to report back to Odin, which might improve his opinion of her. Besides, while she didn't trust Prince Bjarke, not at all, she didn't think he'd try anything.

"No, thank you. I'll let you get some rest." Maeve squeezed her hand. "Have a good nap!"

Laughing, Gale ducked into her room and shut the door. The remaining pair stood silently in the hall for a moment.

"And how would you like to spend your afternoon, Princess?" Bjarke asked her, an eyebrow quirking up in amusement.

"I have no idea," she admitted. They began to walk slowly once again.

He tilted his head in thought and considered. "You are the goddess of nature, are you not?"

"Yes. I was originally named the goddess of joy, but I have since then acquired additional titles."

"I know a place that you might enjoy. but we would have to go outside. Would you be interested?"

Maeve hesitated, then nodded. "Yes, but I need to get my coat. I'll be right back."

As soon as she was in the solitude of her room, she let out a long, shaky breath. It's okay. I can do this. I can do this. The repetition did nothing for her nerves.

Her fluffy white coat fit her small figure quite well. She placed a hand on her stomach and closed her eyes.

Bjarke stood outside of the door, waiting patiently for her. His red eyes swept up and down her with something she thought was curiosity, but she couldn't tell.

"Shall we?"

She linked arms with his. "We shall."

"How old are you, Your Highness?" Bjarke asked as they walked. "I know you were crowned a goddess recently, but the years have been blending into each other. There's a reason that I'm usually traveling. My existence here is often quite dull."

"I'm one thousand," she answered.

"You are very young to be married, then. I will say, though, that Loki Odinson should consider himself lucky to have you at his side. You are, for lack of a better word, extraordinary."

A faint blush colored her cheeks. "Thank you. However, I do believe that my husband values me for my mind, not my looks."

"I wasn't speaking of your appearance, Highness, although you are very lovely. I was referring to your nature. You seem incredibly kind and loving."

"Oh. Thank you, I suppose." She didn't know how to take this comment and didn't understand why he kept complimenting her. None of it made sense. "Do you have any brothers or sisters?"

Bjarke ran a hand through his long black hair and shook his head. "I am my father's only heir. That makes matters simple for me, of course. One day, I will take the throne of Utgard, and no one will stand in my way."

"I can't imagine having no siblings. Growing up with six brothers was always loud and crazy, but l always had something to do." She smiled, reminiscing all of the scrapes she and her brothers got into over the years. "Do you expect to ascend the throne in the near future?"

"I don't believe so, no, but who knows what my father has in store?"

Maeve laughed quietly. "Not me."

"Nor do I, but I am young like you, Princess, too young to become a king anytime soon. Your husband is older than me, but not by many years." They turned and Bjarke led her down a smaller corridor. "When is your brother's coronation?"

"In a little less than two months," Maeve answered, her spirits lifting at the thought. "I missed the wedding, so I'm looking forward to it."

"You missed their wedding?" He asked. "Why?"

She bit her lip. "My father-in-law refused to let me go."

Bjarke looked genuinely confused. "Why would the Allfather not allow you to attend your own brother's wedding?"

It was a delicate gamble, how much to truly confide in him. Maeve knew that trust wasn't wise in her situation, but something about Bjarke kept her talking. All the same, she had to be careful with what she let slip. The prince of Utgard and princess of Asgard were playing the same game: gather as much information as possible without letting too much slip.

And they both were incredibly good at it.

"He was not pleased with me for my actions against my father," she finally said. Her throat felt tight as she remembered that horrible time when she had to relive her worst memories and Loki wouldn't talk to her. "It was a difficult time for everyone in our family."

Bjarke didn't pry as to the reasons why, which surprised her. Instead, he asked a question. "What happened to Frey? Clearly, Vanaheim is no longer his."

"I don't know. He disappeared right before Asmund's wedding." It wasn't the first time that Maeve had thought of this. In the weeks after the throne was taken from her father, Asmund's letters to her were paranoid about him. Frey hadn't been acting like himself, and his treatment of his sons was directly passive aggressive. Gale couldn't stand being in the same room as him. When he left, it was a relief to nearly everyone in the family, but both Maeve and Asmund worried nonetheless.

Maeve and Bjarke emerged from the stone palace and into the bitter cold. She pulled the hood up over her head and slid the gloves from her pockets onto her hands. This postponed the chill, but it was still present.

"Where are we going?" She asked, shivering. Snowflakes fell on her shoulders.

Bjarke glanced back at her. The change in temperature didn't seem to bother him in the slightest. "The stables. The place we're going is not far, but you don't need to be walking in the cold for a long period of time."

"Oh. Thank you."

She cast a quick glance back at the doors, wondering if she had made a mistake, but she didn't spare the time for regrets. Loki might not approve of her spending an afternoon outside with the prince of the Frost Giants instead of in the safe seclusion of their room, but he would no doubt be glad for any insight to this strange place that she could bring home. Staying in her room all day sounded boring, anyway. She was tired of being tugged around like a prize when she completed a picturesque painting. If no one wanted to include her in things, she would include herself.

What was that quote? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer? She thought it might be worth giving that notion a try.

Bjarke brought a horse out of the stables and firmly bolted the door, no doubt keeping it shut against the frigid winds. The steed was black as the night sky and definitely bigger than normal horses. Unlike the horses in Asgard, this one had a thin layer of fur, no doubt to keep it warm in these temperatures. He turned to her.

"I hope you don't mind, Your Highness, but I really don't think you're large enough to command one of these horses, so you'll just be riding with me."

"Alright," she said hesitantly, but secret gratefulness rushed through her mind. That horse could definitely do her some permanent damage if it tried.

Bjarke put his hands on her waist to help her up and she immediately flinched away, remembering the touch of Garmath and of her father. To her immense relief, the prince immediately apologized.

"I'm sorry, I should have asked."

"It's fine," she mumbled, mortified at her reaction. "You just caught me off guard."

"I'm sorry nonetheless. May I?" When she nodded, he lifted her onto the horse and mounted behind her. "There. Comfortable?"

"Not particularly. It's cold out and you're kind of close to me." She blushed beet red when she realized what she'd said. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

But Bjarke was already laughing. "It seems like you may be getting a bit more comfortable around me, Princess, and I'm glad for it. This morning, you would never have said such a thing."

"Perhaps." The truth was she didn't trust him, but she still felt like she could be honest with him. It was bizarre. "Where are we going, Your Highness?"

"You say you are the goddess of nature." He clicked his tongue and the horse set off at a gallop, causing Maeve to grip its mane tightly because she refused to hold onto Bjarke. "We don't exactly boast of tropical gardens here in the Jotunheim, but we still have one place that may be of interest to you."

They rode in silence. Once again, Maeve focused on staying warm and staying on the horse, which took up enough of her time that she didn't feel awkward about not speaking. Bjarke made occasional comments, pointing out certain landmarks and places, but he remained quiet as well.

Maeve was shivering head to toe when the horse finally slowed to a stop. She was shaking so much that when Bjarke helped her down, he frowned.

"Are you alright?" He questioned, a trace of worry in his voice.

The princess nodded and pulled her hood down further, although she felt absolutely nauseous. "Yes. What are we here to see."

Bjarke pointed to a spot about twenty feet away, and Maeve's blue eyes widened. Before she could stop her childish desires, she ran.

Snow-covered evergreen trees blew lazily in the wind. Their pointed tops tipping ever so slightly. Holly berries grew on trees, brightening the area with dots of candy red. Snow-drop flowers bloomed despite the frost. Glittering icicles hung from bare trees.

Maeve spun around, her discomfort momentarily forgotten. She just wanted to see it all. It felt like forever since she had seen a plant that wasn't dead, and now she was surrounded by them. 

"I suppose you like it, then."

Embarrassment colored her already-pink cheeks a deeper red. "I'm sorry," she said, laughing a little. "I couldn't help myself."

"Don't apologize for something you are passionate about. There aren't enough individuals who are passionate these days." Bjarke walked up next to her. Reaching for a branch, he picked a sprig of holly from a tree. "This place has been here for thousands of years. No one knows where it came from or how the plants have managed to survive. We believe it is a gift. A diamond in the rough, to borrow a common phrase."

Maeve ran her hand down the trunk of a holly tree, longing to feel a connection to the life inside of it. When she felt nothing, she removed a glove and placed her palm against the frost-covered bark. Sure enough, she felt a faint warmth surging from the heart of the tree.

"It's beautiful here," she whispered. Bjarke smiled and tucked the sprig of red berries behind her ear. She was too happy to mind.

"I come here to think. It's usually isolated. Most of my people believe that it is haunted. There is no logical reasons for the plants to grow, yet they do. It frightens them." He turned to her. "Is it true that you can manipulate plants to do your bidding?"

"Yes and no." She bent down to examine a bush of bloodred roses that were covered completely in ice. "Manipulate is the wrong word. I understand them. They're alive, too. My magic allows them to listen to me." She ran a finger down the frozen petal. "They're tired here. They're cold."

Bjarke chuckled and continued to make his rounds. "Unfortunately, they'll have to deal with that for all of their lives."

"Are you a sorcerer, Your Highness?"

"I may or may not be," he said lightly, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "Pardon me, but I'd prefer not to divulge all of my secrets in someone I cannot even consider an ally."

"Understandable." Maeve tried to open the petals of a rose with magic, but nothing happened. The cold was making her magic finicky. She couldn't use it in the same way as before, which made her feel significantly more vulnerable. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"You are very welcome." The winds had picked up, causing Bjarke's black cloak to whip around him. "Perhaps we should be heading back. I don't believe your husband would be particularly forgiving if I returned you to him frostbitten."

Maeve actually laughed. "He would not appreciate that."

"Well, although fighting Loki Odinson would certainly make for an interesting afternoon, I'm not feeling up to it today."

He grinned, but that smile faded quickly. It looked as though he was straining to hear something. Maeve frowned and glanced over his shoulder.

"What-"

"Quiet," he muttered, quickly moving in front of her and drawing his sword.

Fear fluttered through Maeve's chest. Some sort of danger was obviously approaching, and she had no magic to protect herself. Her only defense was the tiny dagger she'd been carrying around in her boot since they arrived in the Jotunheim, and that really wasn't bigger than a letter opener.

"I don't know what's-"

"Shh!" Bjarke's eyebrows moved closer together. "We need to go. Someone is close by. Multiple. Come on!"

Maeve's heart beat rapidly in her chest as she ran behind him towards the horse. Out of nowhere, he pushed her violently to the ground. She braced the fall with her arms.

"Ow!" Maeve groaned as her body hit the ice, already feeling the ache. She was about to tell the prince off when she saw the arrow in his shoulder and the pieces fit together. He took it for her. "Oh my goodness! Are you okay?"

"Yes," he said through gritted teeth. Despite his injury, he reached down to help her up. "It's not deep. We need to get out of here."

She took his hand, but saw something over his shoulder and pulled him down just as another arrow whizzed over them. A third and forth one shot the horse, which fell to the ground with a pained whinny.

Maeve retrieved the dagger from her boot, her fingers shaking so much that she could barely grip it.

"No, that's going to be useless," Bjarke snapped, pulling her back towards the trees. He made her hide behind an evergreen. "Stay low and out of sight. I'll be back for you."

"Will you be alright?" She questioned, both worried and confused. She couldn't understand why he wanted to keep her safe, although she suspected it had to do with the fact that he'd be facing death at the hands of her husband if he didn't. No other reason made sense.

Bjarke nodded. He still hadn't pulled the arrow out of his muscular shoulder, but he broke part of it off so that less protruded before running off. Not even a minute later, she heard the clash of swords.

Maeve wanted to go help him, but knew how stupid she would be if she did. For one, she had no real weapon. For another, that would be putting her children in danger, something she was unwilling to do. She would just be in the way.

Exhaling shakily, she watched her breath materialize in front of her face. It disappeared within seconds.

She got an idea and pulled up her sleeve. Ignoring the discomfort of the cold, she ran a thumb over her soul mark.

'Loki?'

He was there instantly. 'What's wrong? You sound scared, love.'

'I'm with Bjarke and there are these people trying to attack us and-'

'Slow down,' he begged. She could hear the worry in his voice, even in her mind. 'Where are you? I'll come find you.'

'I'm-'

A cold hand seized her by the neck and roughly pulled her up. She screamed in pain as burns began to form all over her skin. Loki continued to ask where she was in her mind, his voice growing more and more desperate, but she couldn't answer. She struggled against the Jotun man, who only smirked.

"So I've caught the little wretch that my employer wants dead. Lucky me. Hey boys, I've got her!" No one came, which seemed to bother him for a moment, but he turned back anyway. "I'll just kill you now and take the money for myself."

His grip on her neck tightened and black began to eat at the edges of Maeve's vision. She tried to thrash away, but he only laughed.

"Nice try, little princess. You think you're strong enough to escape me, but you will never be worth anything."

Something caused him to drop her. She fell to the ground. Right before she lost consciousness, she thought she saw blood drip onto the snow.

Bit of a darker chapter. Let me know what you thought!

FYI, Bjarke's face claim is Henry Cavill (obviously imagine him as an Jotun, but here's the idea)