You turned to look at him, surprised by the serious tenor in his voice. He seemed nervous, his dark red eyes wide as they searched yours for some hidden answer. His claws scraped the inside of his palm.

You placed a hand on his chest. “What is it, my love? You know that you can ask me anything.”

He gently grasped your hand, his fingers rubbing your skin. The gentleness of his touch always surprised you. It wasn't that he treated you as though you were made of delicate glass. It was that each soft touch was filled with wonder, as though he was experiencing you for the first time.

“Would you, that is to say-” He sighed and irritatedly huffed at his own hesitation. “I love you. I adore you little witch, please move into my home.”

“Oh Loki, this is so sudden, I don’t know what to say.” Your lips quirked. You chose not to mention that so many of your things were already here, sitting comfortably beside his.

“Say yes, elfchen. Your simple answer would soothe my anxious spirit.”

He looked so sincere that you couldn't help but chuckle, earning you a wounded look. “Of course, Loki, of course I will. How could I ever say no to you?”

He let out a delighted cry, hugging you as his tail thrashed and thumped in happiness. You nuzzled your noses together, sharing the same happy grin as your lips met. When you kissed, it was made all the sweeter that you would have countless mornings just like this one.

You pulled away, looking at him thoughtfully. Hooded eyes gazed back at you, ever patient. He intended to have you, to celebrate between your thighs. But he could wait.

"When shall I move in, my love?"

"I was hoping on Yule, once I have completed my, er, responsibilities with Saint Nicholas. I shall feel calmer then."

You nodded in understanding, running your hand across his sharp, ridged cheek. "I have a request for you, before our lives become one."

"Anything."

"My village made my entire life a misery. I'd like to repay them in kind before I leave."

Loki moved closer, raising a thick, dark eyebrow. This sounded promising. "Oh? And how shall we repay them, liebling?"

Your devious smile matched his own. He'd once offered to destroy your village, to harm the people who'd brought you to his cabin with tears in your eyes on so many occasions. How many times had he held you when you cried, his heart breaking with every shuddered sob? It was intolerable. Unforgivable.

You returned to his embrace, kissing away his murderous thoughts. "I'd like to play some Yuletide tricks on my neighbours. Something that they'll never forget. And I'll need your help for a most spectacular farewell, if you don't mind."

Loki's sharp teeth gleamed as his warm laugh filled the room, his eyes crinkling with mirth. The winter sunlight caressed the curves of his face, as a halo of light appeared around his curls. Your breath caught in your throat. He was beautiful.

He pressed his hand firmly on his chest. "My lovely witch, I'd be honoured to help you spread mischief. And I may know some other spirits who are only too happy to help."

Before you could respond, he was on top of you, pinning you to the large bed. You sank happily into the downy mattress as his weight pressed on top of you. With a satisfied smirk, he shifted downward. Cool breaths puffed over your breasts as Loki spoke, his low voice rumbling through you. It felt like the forest outside, deep, unmovable, and eternal. It grounded you when he spoke so intimately.

"Tell me of your trickery, my love. As you speak, I shall show you how happy you've made me, until you beg me to cease. And I will make sure that you beg."

As his tongue sought out the familiar bliss of your hardened nipples, you told him your plan amidst gasps, soft laughs, and cries of pleasure. You spoke until all ideas of future mischief floated away, forgotten, into the chilled morning air.

Loki was true to his word, despite the rising stress of the impending Krampusnacht. Creating mayhem helped him to feel like his old self, before his shameful defeat. He travelled to the land of the fair folk to request the help from kindred spirits, the Yule Lads. A strange, wild group of thirteen brothers, they were excited to spread chaos across a new land.

Loki's lack of detailed rules, delivered with a sharp smile and nonchalant drawl, filled the brothers' hearts with malicious glee. He was giving them permission to do whatever they wished, though he did have one important rule, one that couldn't be broken without lethal consequences. His eyes flashed when he told them, his dark mouth curling into a deep frown.

Loki's voice echoed around the trees, reminding all of who he used to be, who he remained, not just a spirit, but a god. No one in the village could be injured or killed, especially the children. He didn't particularly care about the adults' well-being, but knew that you would, despite everything. And in this land, his command remained everlasting law.

As the winter solstice neared, your village became beset with strange occurrences. The sheep's loud, panicked bleating as dawn drenched the sky was the first sign that something was wrong. Farmers leapt out of bed and ran half dressed to their pastures holding makeshift weapons. They were greeted by cowering sheep with rude symbols sheared into their wool.

When mothers and wives went to fetch milk for breakfast, they received a new shock. Their cows' udders were already spent, the milk vanished or sitting spoiled in a bucket. They went to their friends and neighbours, only to discover that every dairy farmer suffered the same mysterious loss. Breakfast became a sad affair as villagers ate only dried meats and bread, their disquiet growing. By the time the market opened, with some stalls conspicuously empty, the air was tense.

Whatever was happening was deeply unnatural.

It didn't take long for trouble to enter their homes. People returned from a hard day's work in the fields and mountains to find pots and pans missing from their fireplaces and tables. Forks and spoons soon followed, only for everything to reappear in strange places—barns, bushes, and under beds. You could hear the faint swears of villagers every time you went out for wood. You thought it sweet that Loki had saved you the trouble of using your magic for this level of trickery.

Food made for breakfast and dinner disappeared as soon as heads turned. Pies vanished from windows in the space of a blink. Children swore that they briefly saw the face of a strange being staring through their windows, only to vanish with a cheeky wave.

After a couple weeks of growing confusion and anger, the village slowly went dark. With dawning horror, the villagers realised that their candles were being stolen. For the first time, they felt vulnerable in the encroaching dark, a sudden, visceral reminder that they too were animals in the mountainous forest. Replacements couldn't be made fast enough.

Nights became a source of deep fear for everyone in the village. Everyone except you. For you were a witch, and comfortable in the long nights, with or without your dread companion.

Then amidst this strange haunting, the worst came. Doors began slamming in the dead of night, all across the village. Families were wrenched from deep slumber as the long claws of bitter cold welcomed winter in. Unable to make any light, they could only cower together in their beds as unnatural laughs filled the air. It was strange and cruel, a high barking laugh that was almost a roar. It grew louder and louder, filling each home, until it tumbled into the streets and the fields. The roar became a fearsome wailing shriek that made the villagers double over in pain, covering their ears, pleading to God to make it all stop.

But then it stopped instantly, leaving only the loud silence of the night.

They blamed you, as expected. You were used to their dark looks, their curses and insults. You were used to the collection of figures left outside your door that was meant to cast you out. Normally it wounded you in ways that wedged hurt into your muscle and bone. But not anymore. You were done with this village.

Their ire abated only slightly once you told them that your things were missing, that strange, frightful things happened in the night, a tremble making its way into each hushed word. They still glanced at you with suspicion, but at least you didn't have to worry about being stoned in the market while buying vegetables.

You waited until you were safely home before laughing with the wild delight of a naughty child, smiling uncontrollably between giggles. Loki's friends had done better than you'd dare hoped, with your assistance. You thought that your nocturnal screaming spell was a stroke of genius. For once, you took pleasure in being as wicked as they imagined you to be. Let them be as frightened as you had been for years. Let them understand the terror of feeling small. This wasn't simply revenge, this was a lesson.

The mischief lasted for three weeks, to the fear and aggravation of every villager. Normal Christmas traditions went ignored this year. There was no lighting of the church candles, no Pechtenlauf to chase away evil spirits. They were already here.

When Loki had time, he'd appear under the cover of night to collect more of your things and hear your latest wicked tale. On those nights, he appeared more like a man, though the low light revealed his ridged blue skin and bright red eyes. You missed his horns, but they would have destroyed the ceiling as they scraped along the wood. He cut an odd figure, but you couldn't help but hug and kiss him, speaking soft I love yous into his pointed ears.

Everything stopped a few days before Christmas, on Krampusnacht. Dread hung over the village, despite the sudden return to normalcy. The villagers worried for their children, and this felt like a brief respite before some new unknown horror. There were no cries of children playing outside or the normal sight of bundled up children doing their chores.

When you went outside, you only saw a few young children, all watched carefully by their parents. Any impropriety earned a swift slap and scolding, followed by a fearful glance around. They couldn't risk Krampus' wrath, not tonight of all nights.

That night, the village was silent. The moon sat bright and high in the sky, lighting the way. The last candles had all been blown out, save for one. You puttered around in your small cabin, finishing a small gift as you packed your last bundle. It was almost time.

You opened your door, leaving a small cauldron and a hearty slice of gingerbread in front of your door. It wasn't the customary schnapps, but a fortifying glühwein, Loki's favourite. Once you were done, you blew out your candles and waited in the dark.

Saint Nicholas marched out of the forest's shadows to the edges of the village. He was a large, burly man with a proud bearing and a worn, stern face. His curling, snow white beard and hair gleamed with an unearthly radiance. His long robes were a rich wine red and trimmed with thick fur. He held a tall, curved staff in one hand, and large, heavy chains in the other.

He jerked the chains sharply. Loki stumbled into view, glaring balefully at his captor. He straightened his shoulders and stood at his full height, attempting to regain his dignity. Nicholas gestured towards the village, urging Loki on. With a quiet exhale, Loki began to walk.

Loki stalked into the village, not as the impish spirit of the woods, but as the fearsome demon Krampus. His hooves made the earth tremble. A deep growl rose from his throat as his lips curled into a snarl. His inhuman tongue lolled out of his mouth, transforming his face into a dreadful mask. The night air was pierced by the discordant chorus of his chains rattling on the snowy ground behind him, coupled with the loud, steady drag of his rod. His unblinking eyes glowed a hellish red as his sharp claws flexed and cracked.

He was terrifying to behold.

Loki's head turned with eerie slowness as his magic sought out his victims for the night. He glanced at your cabin, as though compelled by some unseen force. His eyes widened when he noticed the items left on the step. He moved closer and picked up the mulled wine, looking into the window.

You waved at him, pressing your hand against the icy glass. Your lopsided smile was belied by your knotted brow and the tight line of your lips. You tried, and failed, not to grimace. How dare Nicholas treat him this way, like he was a common beast! You knew that this had to happen, but it was painful to see such a proud man forced into such misery.

Your voice was muffled, but he heard you clearly. "I love you, schatz. Eat, please keep your spirits up."

A clawed hand met yours. For only a moment, Loki looked like his normal self, his smile tender, his eyes once again soft and tired. Your beloved companion. But then he turned away, composing himself. He gulped down the wine and bread and vanished. You brought in your cauldron and plate, glimpsing St Nicholas as he walked by, his gaze remaining straight ahead. With one last look out the window, you sighed and went to bed.

Loki was in brighter spirits on Christmas Eve. He spent the day with you, clearing the last of your life in the cabin until all you were left with were wooden walls and a few things for dinner. He'd transformed once more, into a human. He wanted to celebrate your last night in this village, and your last trick, by making you a feast.

It was strange seeing him in human form. His skin, normally the muted blue of a wintry sky, had become smooth and oddly pale. His eyes, which had always captivated you, were emerald instead of ruby. He was still very tall, but not inhumanly so. He even had feet! All aspects of faerie had been disguised, including his manacles.

No longer did you see Loki the god. In his place was Loki in the finery of a nobleman, so markedly different from your small village.

"Do you enjoy this form, little witch?"

You took his arm in yours. "I'll always admire whatever form you choose. Though I prefer your horns and hooves. And how sweetly you wag your tail."

"Impudent mortal!" he huffed. He gathered you in a tight hug and kissed you until you were breathless with laughter.

He fetched your cloak and placed it around your shoulders. "Come, liebling. I will need your help procuring ingredients at your human market."

It was a wondrous day. For the first time since your youth, you weren't alone in your village. Shocked looks followed you and Loki throughout the day, but all words were halted by an imperious sidelong glance by Loki. You both walked hand in hand, with haughty smiles. You both knew that whatever the future held, you had won. You were together, and no hardship could change that.

Cooking with Loki was one of your favourite activities, and tonight was no different. Even though your cabin was now empty, his warm laughs and conversation made it finally feel like home. After your delicious feast, you and Loki continues to talk and drink through the night, until the right moment came.

In the dead of night, you both crept out to prepare for your final trick. You painted magical symbols on every door, including the church, and cast a spell. The veil was so thin on Christmas, and it was time for the spirits of the wood to join in on the fun. Once you finished, you kissed each other goodnight. Only a few hours more until the start of domestic bliss.

You woke up on Christmas Day to pandemonium.

You rushed to your window, your heart hammering in anticipation. Spirits ran riot around the village. House pucks raced goats down the streets, red capped gnomes pulled the hair of anyone unlucky enough to open their front door. Masked spirits played strange instruments while animal-headed spirits from the mountains merrily danced and sang. As the night sky retreated, a more surprises were revealed. Mistletoe, rowan, and holly were hung on every surface, with little offerings left everywhere for the spirits. In the centre of the village was a strange altar, covered in furs and more yuletide greenery.

Sharp raps sounded on the door. When you answered, spirit maidens poured in. You saw horrified villagers being pulled out of their homes and forced to dance in various states of dress.

"The king arrives, you must prepare!"

"Prepare? What do you mean?"

Your brow knotted in confusion. The plan was clear, Loki was meant to appear as apparition to curse the village, then you'd both sneak off amidst the panic.

The maidens ignored you, dragging you off with them. They bathed you and dressed you in sheer gossamer robes that revealed your body. They placed soft silk slippers on your feet and bells around your ankles. They styled your hair into two large braids. Your lips were stained with berries, and a gold mixture was spread on your eyelids. They finished with a holly crown and branches that resembled antlers.

What did that old goat have planned?

"She is ready!" the maidens said in unison, their voices shimmering around you. "The king arrives!" They pulled you out the door.

The village was now teeming with spirits and fae. Villagers that noticed you froze in shock at your pagan appearance. You should have been freezing, but it felt like a summer's day. You turned back to the maidens, but they urged you forward, towards the stone altar. Each step made the bells tinkle. Flowers and mushrooms sprouted around you as you walked. The villagers looked in horror as your crown twinkled with false starlight.

As you walked, you saw a mist gather on the ground around you. When you reached the altar, the mist shifted and changed. Loki emerged from it, resplendent. A golden holly crown rested on his dark head. His horns were adorned with golden ribbons, ivy and mistletoe, which extended into the waves of his hair. He was back to himself. His red eyes were highlighted in charcoal, his smile lazy and knowing. You laughed when you saw the bow tied on his tail. He wore a long, velvet robe in a deep forest green.

As he walked towards you, a woman behind you screamed and fainted. Parents rushed their children inside, covering their eyes. All around you were cries and curses.

Devil! The witch consorts with evil! We're doomed! Call the priest!

"Yes, call the priest!" Loki said sharply. "Let him join our celebrations! For I am the Lord of Misrule, and this will be a day of revelry! Give in to temptation, mortals, your lord demands it!"

Loki's voice was seductive as he stood on the altar. He extended an arm for you to join him.

"You're naked," you said with an amused smile.

"Utterly untrue, have you not seen my glorious robe?" he said with a smirk.

"I may have been too focused on something else that's rather glorious."

"Oh elfchen, thank you for noticing."

You both looked around as the merrymaking increased. The spirits were now carousing and becoming more lusty.

"This wasn't what we discussed, my love."

Loki looked at you, his eyes solemn. "Are you displeased?"

You kissed him, savouring the public display. "No, it's wonderful."

He smiled brightly, untying the bow from his tail and wrapping it around your wrists. "Amidst my fellows of the forest, as lord of this day, I name you mine, and I am yours."

He spoke loudly, his voice booming in every home and tree. "She is hereby protected by me and this forest. No harm shall befall her or any witch in this village hereafter! So it is spoken!"

"So it is spoken!" The spirits called out, cheering. They lifted some villagers and danced around, throwing them up into the air.

Tears welled in your eyes. "Loki, you didn't have to—this is all so lovely—I- I don't know what to say!"

He clasped your bound hands. "Say only that you love me. That is all that I ever need."

"I love you, darling. I want everyone to hear it!"

Loki kissed away your tears, laying you down amidst the furs. He gazed into your eyes, and all you saw was devotion. You were safe with him, always.

"Shall I finalise our union in the way of my people?"

Your smile was joyful. "Let's show them that we belong together."

Nothing else was said. Loki pushed your bound arms above your head. He pulled your trembling hips up, spreading your legs apart. The spirits cheered and called out lewd suggestions as you wrapped your legs around his waist. This was the final shedding of your past life.

You both grunted as his heavy, ridged cock slowly entered you. Even after two years, you still felt as though he might break you. He panted like an animal as your cunt guided him home. With one arm he held you against him, as the other arm grabbed the edge of the altar. This wasn't a show. He wanted both of you to experience bliss.

Loki fucked his feelings into you—his love, his excitement, his everlasting wonder. You took it all until your head fell back and your spend made his dick glisten. The spirits took his lead, their moans and cries filling the air above the ghostly music and songs. Yule was their time, and their king had returned with a queen. It was a joyous occasion.

He whispered magic into your ear, a spell to give you strength, because he intended to have you for the rest of the morning. That was his way. He couldn't let you go, not when you looked so beautiful, not when you loved him so freely.

And so he had you, again and again, until you felt as one, your hearts hammering in tandem, your breaths giving each other life. It felt special to share this intimacy between your two worlds. As your hands loosened from their bonds, you grabbed his horns, swallowing his whimpers with a searing kiss. His spend leaked from you, and still he continued to fill you up, pushing it back into you with every hard thrust.

"Taste me, my love," you commanded, and he obeyed instantly, as he had countless times before. He pulled out only to fill you once more with his tongue, his hazy eyes filled with a drunkenness only your body could cause. Loki's dick was still heavy with lust as it rutted against the altar. Your back arched as each deep, expert flick of his tongue stroked your spot. Pleasure raced down your spine, making your toes curl as you came.

Only then did the spirits and fair folk gather to feast on their king and queen, as the Day of Misrule demanded. You and Loki serviced them, as was custom. Some were sweetly hesitant, simply kissing and fondling, while others were rough and mischievous, making a game out of how many holes they could stuff at once. You held Loki's hands as you were pushed and stretched into new positions, laughing giddily at the outrageousness of it all.

You sighed with pleasure as the spirit maidens explored you with their tongues, and moaned in appreciation at the delicious heat of their cunts and cocks. You and Loki kissed as you were claimed by the spirits, sometimes by many creatures at once. For a day, the revellers all sought release indiscriminately, urging each other on with grunts, moans, cries, and pleas of yes, hurry, there- oh!

A deep stirring of something wild gathered within you as you watched Loki being fucked by spirits large and small. Unashamedly he let himself be used, his lids half closed as his tongue fell from panting lips, which were soon used by another. He was so unafraid to be witnessed. And so you let yourself be seen in return as you submitted to every primal desire.

You hadn't realised how different fae bodies could be, how strange and fascinating. You wanted to please them, just like Loki had done for you during your first Christmas together. So many humans feared them, considering them ugly or evil, but in this moment, all you could see was their beauty, the endurance of their spirits.

They were a part of the forest that had sustained this village, and now you wanted them to find nourishment in your body. As you gave into carnality, it felt ceremonial, something sacred and magical.

Only a short time ago, you had been so alone, with most paramours viewing you as a shameful secret or a means to an end, worse than a harlot. It had never occurred to you that things could be different, that life was waiting for you, one filled with so much possibility. You never thought that you were deserving of such a wild, grand Christmas gift, one that celebrated you.

As the afternoon waned, the forest folk left the village, carrying you and Loki above them. The procession moved through the forest, still celebrating as they took you to your new home. You became the Witch of the Woods, never again returning to that cruel village. And when anyone spoke of your fearful power, in the same breath they whispered that you were protected by the dread Yule Lord that stalked the woods. The unholy companions that had cursed their land with monsters.

You supposed, in a way, that you had been captured by Krampus after all. And it was marvellous.