*

"What... what are you doing here?" Maeve whispered, breathless. Of all the people she was hoping or expecting to see, it wasn't him.

Bjarke raised his eyebrows, the hint of a smirk on his handsome face. "Paying a friendly visit, You Highness. Your home isn't quite what I expected."

He looked different. The last time she saw him, it was mainly in the presence of the court. Now, his black curls had grown longer, messy around his sharply angular face. There was a certain excitement in him that was lacking the first time they'd met. It made her wonder how much she truly knew about Bjarke Laufeyson.

"I'm serious - what's going on?"

"I'll explain soon enough. For now, I don't think you need to be holed up in a dark, frigid, and rather damp closet, unless you'd prefer that."

He moved aside, allowing her to timidly step back into the main room. The sight that awaited her made her gasp all over again. Styrmir and Petrof's bodies were strewn across the floor, blood trickling from multiple wounds.

"Are they-?"

"Yes. They weren't complying with the orders of their prince, so they paid the price." Bjarke bent down, making sure daggers were clutched in his victims' hands. "We're leaving now. With luck, the owners will think that they killed each other in the night."

Maeve stared down at the corpses of her captors and found that she wasn't all that sorry for them. Not after weeks of mistreatment and neglect.

By the time she'd looked back up, Bjarke was already standing by the door, his expression questioning. "Is something the matter?" He asked innocently.

"Yes. I don't trust you," she said, folding her arms. Deep down, she knew that even though she was trying her hardest to be strong, a short, shivering, pregnant princess didn't look all that intimidating.

The prince actually laughed. "I'd think you foolish if you did."

"Then why do you expect me to go with you?"

"Because I killed both of your captors?" He smirked and casually leaned on the doorframe, using a scrap of fabric from Styrmir's cloak to clean the blood off of his sword. "The way I see it, you have two options. One, stay here with two dead Jotuns and see what becomes of you once a curious soul comes snooping. Or two, take the risk and come with me. Your choice, of course. I'd never force you into it."

Maeve frowned. "Who are you working for?"

"No one."

"Then... then why are you helping me?"

"My own reasons," he said evenly.

Selfish reasons, more like it. And yet, she believed him. Besides, if saving her really would help him in his future, then he was more likely to keep her safe. Slowly, she nodded, walking across the room to follow him out.

Bjarke finished cleaning his weapon. A small crease appeared between his eyebrows. "As a matter of interest, do you know who these two were working for? It wasn't us."

"They said it was someone named Thanos." Maeve watched his skin pale to a lighter blue and his red eyes dilate in fear. Worry coursed through her. "I didn't know who it was, but-"

"Shh. Don't talk. We need to be far away from here. My horse is outside." Bjarke pushed open the door and stepped out into the storm, the snowdrifts already a foot deep. He looked back at her, discerning something, then wrapped his thick fur cloak around her shoulders. With quick motions, he lifted her onto the horse and mounted behind. Maeve barely had a second to hold onto the horse's mane before it ran.

"What's the matter?" She half-whispered, half-screamed. She pulled the hood over her curls and did her best to shield her face from the bitter snowy gusts. "Who's Thanos? What's wrong?"

"If it's really Thanos who is after you, we cannot be near when he discovers the deaths of his children. That would be a death sentence."

"Children?"

"I swear to you that I will explain later." His voice was harsh, sharp and cold like ice. "For now, Your Highness, hush."

Instead of arguing, Maeve kept her mouth shut, referring to her earlier rule: comply to stay alive. Still, she felt like Bjarke had no interest in hurting her.

If he wanted to kill her, he could have easily done it already.

At least, that was what she hoped.

The princess did her best not to shiver, but it was the coldest weather she'd ever experienced, and she couldn't stop sneezing. Instead of the cold keeping her awake, she wanted to sleep more than ever. If talking was an option, that might have helped, but Bjarke seemed determined to keep the silence.

After a while, the horse slowed to a stop. Maeve frowned in confusion as Bjarke got off. Their surroundings were bleaker than ever.

"Where are we?" She asked carefully.

"Absolutely nowhere." He gestured, offering to help her down. While she didn't particularly like him, she appreciated that he asked for permission. "However, in weather like this, you're likely to freeze within the next hour, a half an hour if you fall asleep. It's just better to stop for the night."

Bjarke began to lead her towards a cave, but Maeve found it hard to keep up with him. The cold cut through to the bone, and the snow was rapidly growing deeper.

A few tears slipped down her cheeks. She hated this, feeling so tired, so sick, so helpless. She missed home and she was standing in drifts of snow in the middle of a hostile realm. She remembered the fear of her father on a drunk rampage with an ache, because it was not even close to this terror.

Bjarke turned around when he realized she wasn't following. With a slightly exasperated quirk of an eyebrow, he quickly tromped his way back through the snow and scooped her up bridal-style, never saying a word.

Maeve started crying harder at this. Maybe it was the hormones, but picking her up was such a Loki thing to do, and Bjarke's simple action made her miss her husband more than ever. He didn't comment on her tears.

Carefully, he set her down on the ground inside of a cave. It was cold, but at least they were out of the wind. Within minutes, he'd started a small fire and given her a blanket that had been on his horse. Only then did he sit, and it was across the fire from her.

Finally, Maeve spoke. "Doesn't the fire hurt you?"

"Not particularly. Heat isn't harmful to Jotuns unless it's excessive." He stared at the flames, the firelight flickering on his face and casting shadows along the cave walls. "I believe that there are many things you don't know about the Jotunheim and its people, Your Highness."

"I think you're right," she admitted, snuggling further into the blanket. For the first time in weeks, she felt warm. "My father kept knowledge from all realms hidden from us, and Odin - my father-in-law, I mean - is just as bad."

A dark shadow crossed his face at Odin's name, but it was gone as quickly as it came. "I suppose."

"Is now a bad time to ask how and why you found me?"

"No," Bjarke replied, his red eyes still not meeting hers. "I do quite a bit of traveling, Princess. I'm not home at Utgard often because my father sends me to settle disputes throughout the realm. I caught wind of your capture, but I had no real desire to do anything about it until I heard that you were nearby and that you were with child. That seemed too horrible to leave alone."

Maeve tilted her head. After living with Loki for so long, she knew how to detect lies, and something about his story didn't quite line up.

"What's the real reason?" She whispered, looking up at him with curiosity. Her arms curled around her stomach. "Why did you save me from them?"

Bjarke studied her face, an unreadable expression on his. She could practically feel his hesitation hanging in the air.

"Because you are my litla systir," He said softly, finally meeting her eyes, which widened in confusion.

"You're... you're mistaken," she said, shaking her head. "You're not my older brother. Thor is. If you were, that would make Loki-"

Bjarke raised his eyebrows.

"That's not... no, this is ridiculous. You're just trying to trick me, or you're insane, or - I don't know. It's ridiculous."

Maeve stood up, but, feeling an immediate head rush, leaned against the stone walls and shut her eyes. Stay awake, stay awake, stay awake. She felt rough hands cupping her face, cool but not freezing, and slowly, he helped lower her back to the ground. His scarlet eyes flickered momentarily with concern.

"Breathe. The last thing you need is to faint. I need you to be calm for the sake of your children."

Maeve closed her eyes and nodded, taking several deep breaths until the dizziness in her head went away.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you," he said slowly. "Loki is my half-brother. Whether you choose to believe that or not, it is the truth. Since your trip here, I've been investigating. I didn't understand why my father treated him the way he did. After a few months, I finally learned that he was my father's firstborn, but he was a bastard child, a runt left to die. Odin must have saved him and taken him to Asgard."

Maeve opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. As shocking as the information was, it made sense. The cold never irritated him. He could read those runes the first time they traveled to the Jotunheim. He didn't look like either of his parents. No wonder she'd been so uncomfortable and freezing throughout the last few months.

Now that the realization has sunk in, she saw many similarities between Loki and Bjarke. Their sharp jawlines. How they smirked when they knew something. The way they genuinely enjoyed messing with others.

"You look terrible. You aren't getting the rest you need."

"It hasn't exactly been easy, you know," she snapped, "with two idiots dragging me across this barren wasteland and not giving me anything to eat!"

"You're carrying two half-Jotun children, Your Highness. That would be taxing even on a giantess, and you, my dear, are no giantess. On the contrary, you're quite small."

My husband is an Jotun. My children are half-Jotun. Maeve rubbed a hand across her forehead. "This is a lot to take in," she mumbled. A new thought had entered her mind, one that plagued her with fear.

I'm going to have to give birth to two half-Frost Giants.

Sensing her shock, Bjarke didn't push her any further. "I know," he murmured. "What happened to your arm?"

"They cut up my soul mark. They took away my magic." Her eyes filled with tears all over again.

"They did?" He questioned sharply, although his expression softened when he looked at her. "I can help with that."

He walked out of the cave and fished something out of the horse's saddle bags, returning with a small pack of medical equipment.

"I'm not a healer. We don't have them here, but I can at least clean out your wound."

"You don't have healers?"

He shook his head. "One of Odin's lovely spells."

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"It was not your fault." Bjarke knelt beside her. With gentle hands, he unwrapped her bandage and began to clean out her cut. She tried to hold back the tears, but it was agony. A gasp escaped her gritted teeth, and Bjarke looked up. "You don't need to be brave. There's no one here but me, and I think you've been strong for long enough today."

Maeve nodded as tears streamed down her face. "Tell me something."

"Hm?"

"Distract me. Tell me something. Have you heard anything about my family?" She let out a pained groan as some sort of cleansing liquid soaked into her infected gash.

"The Allfather has woken again. Your husband is relentlessly searching for you."

"Is he okay? Is Loki okay?

"As far as I know. The only member of your family who was injured in the attack on Asgard was Frey's eldest son."

She glanced up fearfully. "Asmund? Is he okay?"

"Considering he was crowned king a few weeks ago, I would think so." Bjarke started to wrap her arm in a clean bandage, keeping his gaze on his work. "You have a nephew."

A warm feeling flitted through her. "Gale had the baby?"

"Shortly after the coronation. I apologize, but I don't know the name."

"That's okay," she whispered, a small smile spreading across his face. "He's going to be an amazing father. I can't believe I missed it."

Bjarke stood and reclaimed his position on the other side of the fire, giving her plenty of space. "You should get some rest, Your Highness. We'll be traveling all day tomorrow, and heaven knows you could use the rest."

"Where are we going?" Maeve asked sleepily as she laid down, using his cloak as a pillow. "Home?"

"No, no. Even if I wanted to or had a feasible way to do so, Odin would kill me for setting foot in Asgard simply because I'm an Jotun. We're going to Utgard."

She opened her eyes a crack. "But we are in Utgard."

"Utgard is our capital, Princess. We are currently in the Jotunheim. The castle is in Utgard."

"We can't go there!" She protested worriedly. "Your father will kill me!"

"Not if I have anything to say about it. I have a plan, I assure you. However, I do think you need some sleep. Rest. We'll talk again in the morning."

Maeve felt herself fading quickly. The fire and the warm layers were so comforting, and for the first time since she'd been taken from Asgard, she felt almost safe. She wrapped her arms around her stomach, longing for Loki's protective embrace as she fell asleep.

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