*

The first thing Maeve registered was pain. Pain coursed through her entire body, specifically her arm, but she had no energy to move. Instead, she opened her eyes a fraction, trying to gather at much information as she could with her limited view.

She was lying sideways on some sort of board, wooden and uncomfortable. A thin, ratty sheet had been draped over her in a pathetic attempt to keep her warm, an attempt that was failing miserably. The cramped room utilized a few feeble torches for light, the walls were made of stone, and it smelled like a dead animal. She took a few deep breaths to banish nausea, then a few more to muster up the courage to sit up.

As she put weight on her arm, a gasp escaped her lips and she nearly fell back down due to the unbearable agony. She waited until the throbbing had ceased before placing weight on her other arm and sitting up to examine it.

A dirty cloth had been wrapped around her arm as a makeshift bandage. Carefully, she began peeling it away, ignoring the stinging pain.

"I'd be careful, if I were you."

Maeve screamed. She couldn't help it, and after everything she'd been through recently, she thought she had a right to be scared.

The voice belonged to a Jotun woman with gray-black hair who continuously rummaged through shelves. She was smaller than the other Frost Giants Maeve had met on her second trip to the Jotunheim, although still several inches taller than the princess herself.

Maeve knew just how desperate the situation was. Her connection with Loki wasn't strong enough to reach across realms, and her own magic had been faulty. She was tired, injured, pregnant, and confused. Not a good combination.

"W-who are you?" She ventured nervously. "And where am I?"

"You are in the mountain territories of Jotunheim, and I am Bera." The woman retrieved a wooden bowl from the shelf and ambled over to the fire, where a pot of sorts hung. "I saved your life. I will explain everything in a moment. Here." Bera shoved the bowl, which was now filled with some sort of stew, into Maeve's hands. When the princess eyed it doubtfully, she sighed. "You need to eat, Princess. You were unconscious for nearly a day. I promise you, I myself have no intentions to harm you."

Maeve hesitated. She wanted to trust her, this woman who supposedly saved her life, but she also knew that it was unwise to trust anyone. However, starving didn't sound like a good idea, either, so she chanced a spoonful. It didn't taste good, but it didn't taste bad. And it was warm.

"What happened to me?" Maeve asked, keeping her voice as even as possible. She didn't want to let anyone know how truly frightened she was.

"You were taken from Asgard. You were brought to me half-dead, unconscious, your arm bleeding freely. Two men demanded that I save you, that you were worth nothing but trouble dead. They told me that if you died, they would kill me. It was difficult, but you and your children are all right. I've never seen the effects of the enchantments they've used on you: they're quite ancient and despicable."

"Enchantments? What did they do?"

"Any respectable sorcerer or sorceress in the Jotunheim would never do that to a fellow magic wielder, even their worst enemy. It's despicable, as I said, like cutting off a limb."

Maeve felt the color drain from her face. Her hands trembled. "What did they do to me?" She whispered.

Bera sighed sadly and motioned to Maeve's wrapped arm. Maeve found it odd that the woman actually seemed to feel sorry for her. "There is an old spell that can permanently take away one's magic. It is risky and dangerous. I've actually never seen one who survived, so you should consider yourself lucky."

"Lucky?" Maeve asked shakily. "What do you mean, they can take away magic? I was born with magic!"

"You no longer have your abilities, your soul mark has died, and you are no longer considered immortal. They've even taken away your strength as a Vanir. You're no better off then a human now."

Maeve's eyes widened in fear. Slowly, she peeled away the bandages. Her blood had soaked through the linen and dried, making it stick to her skin and sting as she moved, but she persevered with grim determination.

A gasp escaped her lips as she looked at her wrist. Someone had clearly taken a dagger to it, carving deep into her arm without care. The blood coated her skin so thickly that she couldn't see her soul mark. Panic filled her and she tried to wipe some of it away, desperate to see those familiar swirls of green and blue, desperate to see her connection to Loki.

"There's nothing there," she whispered, looking up with a panicked expression. Tears filled her eyes and her voice hitched in her throat. "It's gone!"

"Soul marks are a blessing for those with magic," Bera said quietly.

"But I'm... that's impossible... I can't... I need my magic!" Maeve mumbled, staring down at the blood on her wrist with terror.

Bera lowered her head. "My deepest condolences, Princess. If I had to guess, I suppose that your captors did not want your husband to be able to find you. There are spells that can be used to find the one you are bonded to through magic, so they have eliminated that possibility by taking your magic away."

Maeve slowly covered her wound back up. Wrapping her arms around her stomach for comfort, she asked, "what will this do to Loki?"

Despite her rather perilous situation, she still worried about him.

"Nothing detrimental. He might have experienced discomfort or magic loss when they took yours away and broke your bond, but he is still a sorcerer."

At least he's okay, she thought helplessly. Deep in her heart, she trusted Loki to find her, but with their connection gone, she wondered if it would be too late when he did.

The door wrenched open, startling both women. The two Jotun men who had kidnapped Maeve barged in, frantic expressions on their faces. Maeve immediately got to her feet and tried to back away, but the sudden movement made her dizzy and she fought to stay conscious, losing her time.

"We're leaving. Grab her."

One of the Jotuns shoved a wad of dirty cloth in her mouth as a gag and tied her wrists together with rope, letting the rest of it act almost as a leash. She struggled against him, but it was pointless.

"She's not strong enough for travel," Bera protested, her voice soft yet defiant. "She's only just woken up. She's weak, and hasn't grown accustomed to her mortal form. She needs rest-"

"And we need to leave," the taller Jotun growled, causing the old woman to shrink away. "That prince is coming through this town again to break up riots." Bjarke. "If the royals get wind of this, they'll take her before we can get her to our employer."

Our employer? Maeve struggled down more, trying to free herself, but the one who held the rope slapped her across the face.

"Listen well, princess. You're only alive because you're worth more that way. However, it doesn't matter what shape you're in when we deliver you to him. Take that to heart. I won't remind you again."

Maeve's eyes widened in fear and she froze. She wouldn't let her actions put her children in danger. Right now, she was their only protector. She couldn't afford to act rashly.

"Come on, we're leaving."

He dragged her out with the rope, her short legs struggling to navigate through the deep snow. The snowy air whipped around her, cutting through the thin fabric of her torn gown. Clearly, her outfit was not suited for the harsh climate of the Jotunheim, and clearly, her captors didn't care.

"Styrmir, soon it will be nighttime."

"All the better. It will be more difficult for anyone to find us. If we ride quickly, we can travel a great distance tonight."

"I was thinking more along the lines of the girl." The taller Jotun pointed to Maeve, who was shivering violently as she attempted to keep up with them. "Soon, the temperature will drop rapidly. She's weaker than usual. She'll freeze to death before daybreak."

"You think I haven't thought of that, Petrof?" Styrmir snapped. He retrieved a ragged blanket from his horse and draped it haphazardly around her shoulders. The fabric itched against her skin and did little to protect against the cold, but it was better than nothing. He beckoned to her. "Come. If you fight me, I have no qualms about laying a hand to you again."

Before she could even nod, Styrmir roughly hoisted her onto his horse, then mounted behind her. He was far too close, and Maeve's nose wrinkled. He smelled terrible, but the last thing she needed was to throw up with a gag in her mouth. Better to just ignore it as best as she could, but then he wrapped an arm around her waist to secure her, and she felt like vomiting all over again.

Just you wait. Loki's going to skin you alive.

They rode for hours. Maeve resisted drifting off, scared of what the Jotun men would do to her if she let her guard down. Besides, in the frigid cold, she worried that if she fell asleep, she'd never wake.

The hours turned into days. The days turned into weeks. Maeve lost track of time after that and focused on survival above all else. She quickly realized that the best way to do that was to obey. Eat when they gave her food. Rest when they told her to rest. Be as inconspicuous as possible, because fighting would get her killed.

Despite this, Maeve felt herself growing weaker. She'd come down with some sort of sickness, one that left her constantly shivering and vomiting. The two Jotuns only gave her enough food to sustain herself, and only enough rest so that she wouldn't be constantly dozing off. On top of that, the wound on her wrist never healed properly, and an infection had set in.

She was running out of time, and she knew it.

One night, Maeve had laid to sleep on the ground, her single blanket wrapped tightly around her shaking body. At least they were indoors. Often, they camped wherever they stopped, not bothering to search for a village. Tonight, though, they'd chosen to rent a room at an inn due to a raging blizzard. The two men were talking quietly, and instead of attempting to sleep, she decided to eavesdrop, catching pieces of the conversation when they weren't caught by the howling wind.

"We must be getting close, are we not?" This was Styrmir, the Jotun who enjoyed holding her as much as he enjoyed hitting her. She despised him. "It's been quite some time."

"I believe so. Perhaps another week." Petrof was the kinder of the two, but that wasn't saying much. He hesitated before voicing his thoughts. "I've heard rumors. They say that Loki Odinson is no longer in Asgard. Now that the Alllfather has retaken his place as king, they say that the second prince searches endlessly for her."

Maeve's ears perked up.

"Loki Odinson is nothing but a fitful child. Now that she is mortal, he cannot track her with magic."

"Maybe so, but his temper is unmatched. I believe it unwise to trifle with him."

"Yet Thanos does."

"Thanos is more powerful than any other being in the universe. We are not, and so we should proceed with caution."

Thanos. The name meant nothing to Maeve, but her heart skipped a beat as soon as she heard it.

"I think we should just kill her and go into hiding, just be done with the whole affair. Taking this job was a bad idea, reward aside. I shudder at the idea of facing the wrath of Loki Odinson if he discovers us. Considering their forced union, he seems to care for his little pet a great deal."

"No! We have our orders. She must be alive, and if she or his heirs are compromised, then we will answer to him."

"I suppose you're right." Silence ensued, leaving Maeve to fall prey to her own thoughts.

Loki was looking for her. She hadn't expected anything else, but it was still nice to hear that confirmation. And then there was this Thanos, a mad Titan after her husband...

"Do you think that-"

"Shhh." Silence fell once again. Maeve heard the creak of a window as her captors peered outside. Then Styrmir cursed colorfully and shut it. Maeve barely had time to pretend to be sleeping before he wrenched her up by the arm, a terrified expression on his face. He shoved her into an empty closet. "Stay silent. Some just don't know how to keep their noses out of our business."

He slammed the door, enclosing her in darkness. She trembled in the cold, hugging her bump. A small kick momentarily comforted her, something the twins had taken to doing recently. Maeve hated that Loki was missing out on such an incredible thing, but at least she had proof that they were still alive. She had to hold onto the hope that their little family would soon be reunited.

For a few minutes, Maeve heard nothing. Then, muffled conversation, then what sounded like some sort of fight. Then nothing again.

The door flew open suddenly, and Maeve's eyes widened.