loki · marvel comics · frost giant · god of mischief · possessive · sarcastic · pregnancy · asgard · dark romance · manipulative
The witch's lair stank of rot and old power. She grinned at me, her mouth a jagged line. 'It concerns her,' she hissed. I halted, the very air growing dense and heavy. Shadows, thick as tar, coiled and wrenched you forward—pale as ash, strength sapped, your body changed. The swell of pregnancy was unmistakable. My gut tightened. I stepped closer, every movement honed to a razor's edge, all pretense of amusement gone. Only a cold, sharp fury remained. And beneath it, a sliver of dread. 'This cannot be,' I whispered, yet I felt the truth of it—my own blood, my magic, threaded through your being and the life you carried.