Loki and Sigyn, His Glorious Purpose

Chapter Nineteen

SIGYN'S POINT OF VIEW
Was I excited to become a mother? God yes. But oh how pregnancy tested me.

In the coming months I felt like a balloon, swelling larger and larger with each passing day. Life had become increasingly difficult with a bump in my way at all times.

High heels and form fitting gowns were now entirely out of the question.  No longer did I care for any ounce of vanity, I just longed to be comfortable. Loki had been quite a help in this endeavor as he had new dresses made for me almost weekly to accommodate my size. They were all still gorgeous but much more appropriately sized and even lined with fleece to ensure I'd be warm. I knew he was trying his hardest to make sure I was well taken care of and I truly was more than appreciative. I could ask for a better man to take care of me. But, as the weeks went on I felt awfully sensitive and touchy about every little thing.

Loki had sweetly offered me a small cake he had stolen from the kitchen. It was vanilla with raspberry jam. Usually, my sweet tooth would be satisfied by such a treat. However, because it hadn't been the chocolate cake I had been craving I had a full meltdown. Emotionally, I was quite the ride.

My poor husband was at the brunt end of it all. He truly had to play a guessing game with my mood every time he was in my presence. In some instances, I wanted nothing more than for him to love me, touch me, and for lack of a better word fuck me. But just as quickly as I would beg for his touch I couldn't help but shove him away, upset at how cold his touch was or annoyed with him for some stupid reason. Loki was luckily more than understanding and took it all like a champ.

He continued to worry over ever move I made but had thankfully loosened his grip on my actions. Rarely did I feel up for feasts and gathering but the invitation was always extended to me. Loki made sure to let me know I was included and wanted.

However, he did have one condition behind all his sweetness. He was now practically forcing me to meet with a team of nurses and healers almost weekly. Loki insisted I do this to make sure that my health was monitored as well as our child's. He often attempted to join me at visits, casting illusions to hide his presence or blending in amongst the staff.

Now nearly 20 weeks along, I found myself in the infirmary wing yet again. My fifth visit in one month. As always, they greeted me warmly and fussed over the fact that I, a poor widow, Qqqwas graciously carrying the heir of the Asgardian throne. Being that Thor was far from ever having children, if he were to ever have them, a large pressure was now out on me to deliver a healthy successor to the throne. No biggie.

"Right this way dear," they chimed cheerfully, pulling open a curtain to a private exam room.

I followed and was soon stripped to my shift. The nurses here paid no attention to modesty or pleasantries. It wasn't in their interest, rather my health was.

Loki followed close behind me, casting an illusion to all present in order to keep his whereabouts hidden. All that mattered was that I knew he was present.

"Up on the scale, please," a nurse asked, holding a piece of parchment as to record every measurement.

Doing as told, I stepped on the scale.

"One fifteen, down from last week," she noted before measuring around the circumference of my bump, "Yet your bump has grown nearly five centimeters. Have you been eating?"

"Yes," I assured her, "I feel as if I can barely eat enough to satisfy myself. Have I really not gained an ounce?"

She shook her head, "Not one. Third week in row your weight has dipped."