I don't own anything that belongs to MARVEL/The MCU.

Yep, I'm redoing this again. I wasn't happy with the tone and direction the first time etc etc etc... Such is the life of a perfectionist. Just so you know, this story will contain smut and violence and some foul language. Things start slow, but it gets juicier I promise...


Ten days. In all his centuries as Asgard's Gatekeeper, Heimdall had never known ten days so hushed and dismal. The city had not yet returned to its former state, before the Dark Elves attack, and the death of the queen and Thor's following abdication had left the realm in shock.

Heimdall feared they had not had the last shock yet.

He heard whispers. Odin, weary and grieving the loss of both wife and son - both sons, Heimdall amended, had retreated. Little was heard of his state, but his lack of action said enough. Only once had Heimdall dared to turn his sight to the king, but found him shielded.

Ten days.

His own mind weighed heavily with questions. What came next? Who would assume the throne? Who would be Asgard's leader, if not Thor?

In his heart, Heimdall knew he was disappointed. I'd rather be a good man than a great king. His prince had grown wise. But what of duty and honour? What of Asgard? As he mused, staring out at the vast stars, seeing all souls, anxiety tugged at the Gatekeeper's heart. Nothing had been resolved. What storm was yet to come?

Little did he know it was already upon them.

"Gatekeeper! Gatekeeper!" He turned to the sound of thunderous footfalls. "A message from the palace,"the young servant panted, "the King, he is- he-"

"He requests my presence?" He asked, straightening his shoulders. The servant nodded frantically. Heimdall pulled his greatsword from its place. "Then I shall obey."

Odin's chambers were dim, and to Heimdall's surprise, busy. Noble lords stood around the king's bed, speaking in hushed tones. When the Gate-keeper's golden eyes fell upon the form of the king, he understood why.

Gone was Asgard's great All-Father; in his place was a frail old man, crippled by grief. Heimdall's eyes widened momentarily before he regained his composure. With respectful movements, he reached up and took off his golden helmet and went to kneel at Odin's bedside. "My King," he spoke solemnly with eyes fixed to the floor.

"Gate-keeper." Odin's voice was rasping and faint but it held an edge of curtness still. "I fear-" He coughed gruffly. "The healers tell me I've not long left." He turned his head and breathed deeply.

Heimdall spoke. "All-father. Shall I send for Th-"

"No!" Odin's knuckles stretched tight as they clutched at the sheet, before loosening again. The lords around them stopped their murmuring and fell silent. Heimdall's brow crinkled. "No. Thor has no need nor want for the throne - I would not cast on him such a burden."

"But then," Heimdall's voice was low with confusion, "who?"

No sooner had he spoken then the doors swung open. "My King!" The guard's eyes were wide and shocked. The room fell silent.

"What?" The All-father asked hoarsely.

"There is- I cannot-"

Gasps and cries that filled the chamber as a tall shadowy figure appeared in the doorway.

Heimdall felt his stomach drop. "No..."

Unkempt hair, dirt and bloodied, face weary but still recognisable. One word came to Heimdall's mind. Impossible.

The members of the council were pressed back, away from the dark prince of Asgard and whatever seidhr he could throw at them - their expressions varying from shock, to outrage, to terror. They were right to be terrified, Heimdall thought grimly.

But Loki pays them no attention. His eyes rest on the bed of the mighty king. "Father?"

"Loki?" Moisture fills Odin's one good eye as his estranged son approaches him. "I thought you dead."

"And I very nearly was, the dark elves, their magic is strong..." Loki paused. "But-"

"How did you survive?" A councillor interrupted him, and Loki's features twist momentarily.

He gestured with his hands. "I know not. Only that I was lost for a time, barely surviving, but was fortunate to come across an Asgardian troop." His eyes, green and deceptively honest, lifted. "They have brought me home." A murmur of wonder ran through the courtiers and Heimdall notes Loki's lip quirk ever so slightly. No sooner had he thought it than Loki looks around the room. "But where is Thor?" he questioned, his voice filled with concern that the Gatekeeper is sure must be a pretense.

The All-father answers. "Your brother has given up the throne. He has returned to Midgard, to Jane Foster." Loki's narrow face is the picture of shock. It suits him too well, too easily, and uneasy thoughts creep to the fore of Heimdall's mind.

Loki leans close to Odin's ailing form, not touching, but hovering. "But All-father," his voice is serpentine, "who is to rule?"

His reply is a deep, rattling breath. The All-father stares at the raven haired man for a long moment before speaking. "I think it is evident what we must do," he says, looking to the courtiers. Heimdall freezes, unable to believe what is taking place. He continued. "We have all heard how Loki aided his brother in the defence of Asgard. Thor will not take the throne."

"In light of this, Loki is the evident successor. He has proven his worth and I do not doubt he will serve Asgard well. Do you agree to this?" They all nod and murmur agreement, although there are a few who look a little more disgusted than others. Heimdall is among them, although he keeps it well hidden. "Then it is done. This is my will." Odin turns to the figure at his bedside. "You have my blessing." He stretches out a feeble hands and pushes Gungnir towards him. It falls, and Loki's hand shoots out immediately and grasps it greedily. Odin falls back against his pillows with a weak sigh.

Loki's face is turned away and Heimdall cannot see him, but there is no doubt in his mind that the Trickster is smiling. His heart beats heavily, filled with dread. Loki is no longer a harmless prince who longs to be admired - he is a master of seidhr, a fallen conqueror, a traitor and a killer. The Gate-keeper thinks all of this as Loki straightens and turns to them.

"Leave me with my father, so that he may spend his last moments in peace," he says gracefully, suddenly composed and controlling.

None move.

Loki's face tightens, and all see his fingertips flex around the golden spear. His voice is insidious. "Now."

There is no pause this time as the councillors rush for the door - but Heimdall stands still. "You too, Gate-Keeper." His amber eyes lock with Loki's cold green gaze, and he can see nothing in them. The traitor raises a brow mockingly, "Haven't you a post to attend to?"

With difficulty, Heimdall manages to bow his head and turn his limbs. When the grand doors shut behind him, he stands immobile, his heart racing. Odin has given Loki the throne, in the presence of many. The corridor is silent, although in the distance he can hear chatter. It means nothing to him.

Loki is king, and none can deny it.


Alone in the darkness, Odin's eyelids lift, revealing green irises. Silently, a wave of magic combed over the figure lying on the bed. White hair turned black. Weathered flesh changed to smooth ivory skin. Lined hands peeled away to reveal dexterous fingers.

Loki grinned.


It never took much for Asgardians to throw a celebration. Deaths, births, achievements, losses, there was a feast for them all. The last banquet thrown for him had been to mark his first Millenium. Asgardians didn't celebrate yearly as the mortals did, it was pointless when they lived so long. Thor had arranged for lightning to burn against the night sky in the shape of his name until dawn, and also for a pretty girl clad in green to be sent to his rooms afterwards.

He smiled a little at the memory. He had enjoyed both his presents.

There were a number of people wearing green and gold, he realised. No doubt a small effort to make a good impression upon their new King. Volstagg even had a sprig of green tied into the end of his beard.

The huge warrior was sitting at a long bench, a few of his brood clustered around him, chattering happily. Loki was beginning to understand how to satisfy the people. Keep them safe and keep them merry. Easy. He averted his gaze from them, standing and moving over to the large stone windows. He'd never known quite what to do with himself around families.

Loki took a moment to enjoy the cool air. Asgard was in the middle of winter, and it was never more evident than in the night. Small flakes of snow drifted across the kingdom, lit up by the golden sheen thrown off the palace. He moved out onto the balcony, leaning forward against the frigid stone wall.

A minute movement caught his hearing. Loki turned, ready to greet whoever it was who had followed him. He almost sighed when he saw who it was.

"Sif." How very predictable.

She jerked her head down in a action that was only just brushing the boundaries between rudeness and respect. "My... King." Ill-concealed contempt dripped from every syllable. A bold move considering he had just freed her and the Warriors Three from the prisons, and then made her Captain of the Guard.

Loki raised a brow. "What is it?"

She straightened, determination clear in her every movement. "I was wondering - seeing as you are now ruler of the nine realms - is it not within your power to bring back Thor?" His jaw almost dropped. Sif had never been a fool; surely she did not really think he would bring back his brother now that the throne was his?

"Sif, I want him to be happy just as much as you do." There was a layer of velvet to his words. "You do wish for Thor to be happy, do you not?"

She looked and sounded indignant. "Of course I do!"

"As do I. Thor has chosen to give up the throne for Jane Foster. He is happy. The very last thing I would want to do would be to break that contentment that he has found, on Midgard - with the Midgardian. You see?" A curious range of emotions passed across the warrior's features but she did not falter. That was something he had always admired about Sif; her resilience.

He watched in amusement as she struggled to control her voice. "I see."

"So there we have it. It would be utterly selfish of me to summon him back." He did his best to contain his satisfaction as her shoulders lowered little by little. He was winning this fight. "My apologies Sif; I know you were close."

That was the final push. The woman bowed her head quickly again, muttered a curt goodbye, and strode back into the hall.

Loki blinked. Then he turned back to admire the scenery.


Loki strolled through the vast corridors of the palace alone. He passed nobles, servants, guards. None of them recognised his presence. He smiled to himself - he was indeed a master of magic. During his time in the prisons, left to his own devices, Loki had used his time to hone his magic. Now he was able to camouflage himself without his reflection being visible even in mirrors.

His way was abruptly blocked by a blonde soldier, his arms draped around two painted Asgardian women. He held a goblet of mead in one hand. "And then, I smite the beast, with naught but my bare hands," he boasted; the mead sloshing dangerously in the goblet. Loki pressed his lips together in disgust. Such inelegance was thoroughly unwelcome at his court.

And the idiot was still blocking his way.

The soldier laughed, his blonde hair falling over his shoulders as he threw his head back. Loki watched as the wine in his hand twisted out of the goblet and landed on the floor in front of him, turning into a frozen burgundy puddle. One which the man's foot pressed on and slid, sending the warrior and both his admirers into painful positions on the ground.

Loki stepped over an outstretched leg and continued his tread. Behind him he could hear cries of, "My leg! I think it's broken!" He suppressed a dry smirk.

The corridors grew quieter as he neared the council chamber. A large room with golden sconces and tall windows where he and Thor had once sat watching Odin discuss laws, taxes, crimes, and all of the duller things that came with ruling.

Thor had never sat through a whole session - he always stated it was "unbelievably boring, especially when there were much better things to be doing!" Better things usually involved fighting or drinking. Sometimes both. Loki however, had sat patiently, sometimes even rejecting his brother's invitations to observe the proceedings.

It was times like these, when Thor would leave the room to an array of bows and farewells, that Odin would see the black-haired child sitting there still and give him a small smile. When Loki was a boy he had thought that meant Odin was proud of him. Now all he saw was deception. And now it was he who sat at the head of the table.

He stepped inside the room to the buzz of chatter from the men sitting at the long, polished table. Snatches of conversation drifted to him as he crossed the room.

"...not much, but she still lost her temper..."

"That's it, well you can't hire anyone these days..."

"...definitely. He's not to be trusted."

The last sentence got his attention. He could count the councillors that trusted him on one hand. He tried not to let it irk him. He would show them.

"Well that's entirely a matter of opinion old chap. You may not trust him, but you can't deny Loki knows what he's about." That was Fandral.

It had been a slight surprise to Loki that the charmer was so at ease with his rule. Perhaps he was being smart; maybe he was grateful; even still saw him as a friend - Loki didn't know or particularly care. The fact was that Fandral - as much as he was somewhat of an annoyance to the King - held sway with members of the council for being a friend of Thor, and therefore they respected his judgement.

The councillor that had spoken - a wide, older noble with a neat beard, argued. "He's a traitor! Thor was the one destined for the throne, and Odin would never have allotted it to Loki!"

He was lucky he could not see the king at that moment.

"Well obviously, he did." Fandral replied in slight exasperation. "Look fellows; I'm not saying Loki is unstained as such; but look at what he's doing. Asgard is already nearly repaired, the people are content, and I don't see any executions so far." There were a few murmurs of agreement along the table. "And as for being a traitor - he saved Thor's life, or do you forget? I'm not entirely sure how that is an act of treason."

Loki let the magic slip away from him. "Thank you for that speech Fandral."

"My King!"

"Your Grace!"

He nodded, soaking in the surprised exclamations as the councillors hurried to greet him properly. He continued, "Such friends will be rewarded. As will those," he smiled at the other councillor, who sat with his mouth in a tight line, "who are not so amicable."

A heavy silence fell. Loki sat back, the only person in the room perfectly at ease.

After a few moment, they began to discuss matters. As the King of Asgard, Loki had to visit each of the realms at least once a year. He agreed without hesitation, knowing how important it was that each world understood his authority. "Not Midgard, however," Fandral amended. "That would be, ah, unwise."

"Certainly." What did he need Midgard for now? He had the real throne. "Besides, with Thor residing there I am sure Midgard is perfectly safe." Loki made sure to mention his brother every so often; it seemed to have an effect on some of the court. There had been a few minor uprisings on Vanaheim and Alfheim, advocating Thor's return. He crossed his legs beneath the table, shifting. "And I trust all the realms are at ease?"

"Lady Sif is dealing with the troublemakers, my liege."

"Good." He scanned the table, "Is that all?"

Fandral spoke, gesturing around him. "My King, some of us have been talking. We cannot afford be in this position again. The war took too much from us."

Almost immediately noise broke out. "We survived, did we not?"

Loki listened intently as Fandral continued to speak. "Barely. This war; it has shown all of us that even Asgard is not invulnerable. There are other worlds, other armies."

His former friend had a point. There were other worlds - with much crueller leaders than the Asgardians could imagine. A fleeting image of a red-skinned fiend entered his mind. Loki leaned back in his chair, his long fingers pressed together as he thought. "We need to ally ourselves with influential peoples, so that we are secure."

"Exactly!" Fandral nodded enthusiastically in his direction.

"And who would you recommend?" Loki questioned. His eyes narrowed, "I trust you have given thought to the matter?"

There was a pause, and Fandral did not respond. Another councillor inferred. "Why not the Olympians?"

Loki's tone was condescending. "Zeus? Olympus is strong, but they have always been too impulsive. Zeus and his brothers have not left the comfort of their own world in many millenia now. No - I think not." He frowned as the buzz of conversation continued, every so often a suggestion given. Suddenly an idea occurred to him. "Who was it," his tone was careful, "that the All-Father fought with? In the early days of his reign. Surely one of you must remember."

"Avalon." The councillor who had opposed him spoke.

Avalon. "Who is their King?"

"Arawn, I believe."

"Hm." He drummed his fingertips against the varnished table. "They must be strong, to fight against the All-Father and live."

"It was more a disagreement than a fight my Lord. But we had a treaty with them once."

Loki raised a brow. "Is that so? Invite the Avalonian ambassador to court."

Fandral protested, sounding a little apprehensive. "But how will they get here?"

"Can Heimdall see them?"

There was a slight murmuring, "They are not within Yggdrasil, I doubt it my King." He frowned; that was a fault. "However, I believe it is accessible through the Bifrost, although they may be hostile with no prior warning-"

"We'll use the Bifrost."

"But-"

Loki interrupted, his voice stern. "I said, use the Bifrost." His eyes flickered around the table, daring anyone to speak against him. Nobody did. He sighed, adjusting his sleeves as he spoke, "Send a messenger ahead - I'll write a letter. They are not to return without an answer." He glanced up. "Is business concluded?"

There were nods all round, and then the council was up and leaving. Loki could already imagine the gossip that would spread once the court heard that he had proposed a treaty. As he stood the chief architect bowed. "My lord I wanted to inform you that Queen Frigga's statue has been finished. Shall we mount it in the Hall?"

Loki had ordered a stone and gold likeness of his mother to be created, just as the dead kings before him. Odin had no such tribute. "No. Have it raised in the central gardens, facing east."

"Yes, your Grace." The architect left, mumbling instructions to himself.

Loki quickly strode out of the room. He went straight to his chambers and began to write a formal letter for the ambassador to take. It took him only a short time to pen; words flowed from the ink easily, persuasive and alluring. He sealed the letter with green wax. "Guard!"

The door swung open to reveal an armoured Asgardian. He passed the letter to him. "Take this to the royal ambassador - no one else is to touch it, do you understand?"

"Yes, my liege."

"Good. And tell him I want him in Avalon by tomorrow morning, he will be there to propose a treaty on my behalf." Loki dismissed him with a curt nod. The guard left, boots thudding along noisily.

Loki smiled, pouring himself a small glass of wine. With the reparations nearly completed and peace being negotiated, there could be no question left in his subjects minds that he would be a good king. Yet there were some still disquieted. He frowned as this came to mind, setting the glass down on the desk and looking towards the Bifrost.


"Heimdall."

The guardian inclined his head, "My King."

Loki pulled off the riding gloves that were covering his hands, stepping onto the dais to join the watcher as he stared at the stars. "All is well?"

"Some commotion on Vanaheim still. None to be feared, however."

"I do not fear," Loki was quick to correct him. The amber-eyed man looked at him and he tried to quash the urge to fidget. Heimdall was indeed an observer. He put a smile on his face, "I am actually here to notify you of something." He could see he had his attention, "I have decided to align Asgard with-"

"Avalon. I have heard."

The interruption irked him, but he brushed it off. News travelled fast. "What do you think?"

Heimdall's gaze did not move from the stars. "I neither judge nor condemn the King of Asgard's decisions."

Loki stared at him. So that was how it was going to be. A small smirk grew across his face, "Indeed. I have heard you cannot see Avalon?"

"I cannot."

"May I ask how they managed to travel using the Bifrost? I will need to know."

The guardian was silent for a long moment. Loki raised a brow, "I assume there is a specific way, or direction? I do not want to lose our ambassador to the vast reaches of space." Was it his imagination or did Heimdall look surprised? Loki almost laughed, "No need to appear shocked. Were you expecting a cruel King?"

"No."

Lies. The smile dropped from Loki's pale face. Heimdall turned the sword, sending the golden walls around them moving with jarring noises. The west was now open to them. "I believe it lies outside of Yggdrasil, to the north west." He gestured towards the worlds far off. "I would have to direct the Bifrost, first towards Vanaheim, but then turn it toward Midgard. The beam should travel between the worlds and out of Yggdrasil, until it reaches Avalon."

"And you can do this?" Loki questioned, his curiousity peaked.

Heimdall nodded hesitantly. "Although I have not for few millennia-"

"I'm sure you'll manage." Loki pulled his gloves back on as he turned the sword, reverting the walls back to their usual places. "Oh, and Heimdall? How is my brother?"

Heimdall looked. "Although he misses Asgard, he is content. Jane Foster makes him happy."

"That is indeed reassuring."

Loki turned, walking back to his horse. "He misses Asgard." He pulled the reins of his steed, urging it at a maniacal pace along the Bifrost and towards the shining city. The sooner this alliance the better.


The night was dark. The odd rustle from unseen animals came floating though the air every now and again, but nothing else broke the stillness. A heavy mist hung along the earthy ground, shrouding dense forests and high mountains.

With a grinding shriek, a jet of multi-coloured light pierced through the skies, screeching towards the ground with dizzying speed, sending a hubbub of noises in its wake. Its noisy disruption was brief, and after a few long seconds, the beam retreated back into space; leaving a group of three men heaving breathlessly on the ground.

"What in Valhalla!" One of them exclaimed, picking himself up unsteadily. "Was that?"

The other two, both Asgardian guards, moaned, still on the ground. "Ambassador," a sweating one gasped, reaching across the soft grass for his golden helmet, "Heimdall did warn that it would be-"

"Yes yes, I heard him!" The ambassador flapped his hands, looking around to get his bearings. He fought the wave of nausea that crashed over him when he moved forward a few paces. All he could see was trees swathed in grey fog, several paths clearly cut through them, but nothing was familiar. The guards stood, looking about cautiously. "He also said that we'd land in clear sight of the castle! Do you see any-"

His annoyed questions were cut off by the sound of galloping hooves. The guard instantly unsheathed their swords, looking around for the horses and their riders as the noise grew in volume. A flame, and then another, and more, came flying through the darkness, outlining four figures on horseback.

The guards dropped their visors, crouching down in front of the ambassador as the horses came closer, faster than they had thought possible.

The ambassador gasped, staggering back a little as the riders reined their steeds to a halt mere inches away from where the Asgardians stood. Four arrows were drawn, pointing directly at him.

"State your purpose!" The voice was imperious.

He took a deep breath, summoning his composure. Asgard had yet to see Loki's version of punishment and he definitely didn't want to be the first example. "Peace friends. We are but three - come on behalf of the King of Asgard."

"I don't care who you are - what do you want?" None of their bows lowered.

"Only to propose a treaty with your King, Arawn." They were silent, their faces shrouded due to the long hoods they wore. The ambassador felt a chill run up his ankles. He nudged the guards imperceptibly, and they put their swords away slowly.

All of the bows lowered. "Very well."


It became clear to the ambassador why the castle was not in sight - Heimdall had left them at the bottom of the mountain upon which the main city was built, only just in sight of the tall black walls that guarded their entrance. He cursed him sullenly in his head. Damn gatekeeper.

A few olive-skinned Avalonians stopped to watch them as they passed through the city, but the streets were mostly empty, the wind constant and cold.

Avalon's castle was more of a fortress; made of black stone walls and white marble floors. It towered over them as they approached. The heavy metal gate was pulled up to allow them into a vast courtyard. The guards motioned for them to dismount, and then they were taken into a warm entrance hall.

The guards walked them to the bottom of a shallow flight of steps. "Wait here." The ambassador sighed - it was not as though he were going anywhere else. He rubbed his numb hands together, soaking in the warmth from the torches that blazed on the walls. The halls of the palace were silent.

Suddenly, the doors set above them opened, and the same guard came out. "You may enter the throne room."

"About time too," the ambassador huffed. Adjusting his wet tunic as best as he could, he climbed the steps and walked into the room.

Opposite him was a raised platform, the centrepiece an ornate wooden throne, wound through with intricate patterns of silver and gems. A heavily cushioned silver couch sat beside it, currently occupied by a woman with long red curls and slender features. The ambassador averted his eyes from the immodest cut of her sheer gown.

The throne however, was sat upon by an older man, his face worn and dark hair threaded through with grey. He had a thin silver crown set around his brow, and wore a heavy velvet robe. The ambassador bowed, and opened his mouth to speak.

"Asgardians!" The King's voice was gravelly and loud. "That would explain the ridiculous hour you visit at. It's been a long time. Two thousand years to you." He chuckled, "Has Odin finally come to beg my forgiveness?"

The ambassador bristled, slightly confused. "The Allfather is dead almost a season now. The king of Asgard is his son, Loki."

The woman on the couch had reached out a hand and was tracing the King's leg. Arawn seemed distracted by her nails on his skin. "Well, what does this King want? I haven't got all night."

"King Loki wishes to form an alliance, as our respective nations once had. He-"

He was interrupted again. "Is that letter for me?"

"Ah this, yes. From Loki himself." The King leant down as he stepped forward, taking the parchment from his hands. He broke the green wax and read it slowly. "Loki wishes to invite you to court, so that he may mend-"

"Yes, yes!" Arawn rolled the letter back up again. "I agree."

The ambassador was shocked, "So- so soon?"

"Peace you want. No harm done, eh?" Arawn rose and took the woman's hand, smiling at her. They stepped down from the dais together/

"But, your majesty! When shall we expect you?"

"A week's time!" And the King of Avalon was gone.

The ambassador stood there, lost for words. One of the guard behind him snorted. He slapped him heavily, the blow glancing off the man's golden armour. "Shut up. When is Heimdall taking us home?"

"He said he'd give us a day."

"But I'm finished now."

The guard shrugged, "Like I said; a day."

"Damn gatekeeper!"


The night passed uneventfully, but the next day the Asgardian delegation saw the familiar light of the Bifrost break through the sky. The journey back was as nauseating as before, but this time at least they landed on their feet.

Heimdall raised a brow at the ambassador's pale face. "Well?"

"You left us at the bottom of a bloody mountain!"

"I was referring to the alliance Loki seeks. But, I could hardly project you to their courtyard; they would've killed you on sight."

"Well..." The ambassador huffed, "We'll be having visitors."

"Is that so? The king will be glad to hear it." The gatekeeper inclined his head, "You'd best be on your way, Ambassador." With a metallic screech, he pulled the sword, closing the Bifrost and turned back to gaze at the worlds around him.

It was late afternoon in Asgard, although they had left Avalon when the morning was new. "They must be half a day behind us," the ambassador muttered to himself as he pulled his squat body onto a saddle.

"What?"

"Nothing," he waved his hand at the guard impatiently. "Come on, let's get this over with."

The journey to Asgard's palace took only a little while; and the ambassador found himself wishing it took longer. He could not explain what it was about their new king that unsettled him - there was just an atmosphere about him that put a man on edge.

Rubbing his hands a little nervously, he stepped into the throne room. It was a long walk from the door to the foot of the throne, and he could feel Loki's eyes on him with every step. When he reached the throne at last, he knelt. Loki's voice was silky and a little bored. "Ambassador. Back so soon?"

"Yes my liege, the Avalonian king was quick to agree to negotiations."

Loki smiled like a cat, "Really? That is good news indeed. When are we expecting them?"

"A week's time, my King." The smile faded a little. Long fingers drummed against Gungnir, resting heavily in his hand.

"Tell me, ambassador, what am I to expect?"

The ambassador rushed to assure him. "Arawn does not hold grudges against Asgard; he seemed happy to-"

"Not like that. What type of king is he?"

He was lost for words. "Uh... Competent seeming my Lord. High spirited. If not a little dismissive."

Loki nodded. "I see." His eyes glinted, "You've done well Ambassador."

"Thank you, your majesty."

There was a long pause. Loki raised a brow at the man. "You can leave now."


Over the next week, Asgard was a flurry of preparations. Baking and decorating, children collecting flowers to scatter, the guards polished their armour. The palace was cleaned even more thoroughly than usual; the gold pristine and shining. Even Loki was looking forward to the coming event - for a different reason, of course.

Being king was not as exciting as he'd first thought. Yes there were politics; sometimes vicious, and matters to be discussed, but overall Asgard was at peace. He supposed the realm deserved a little peace after all the recent events. He wondered why Odin needed to sleep so much.

Loki made a point to visit Heimdall almost frequently to enquire after his brother. There were still some on other realms; Vanaheim in particular, who called for Thor to be seated upon the throne. It irked him, and made him look forward to the day this treaty was formed.

Soon that day arrived. It was warm, the air clear and crisp, and all the nobles had come to court. The palace was more full than he'd see it in the past century. Loki had noticed, with slight exasperation, that many more of the nobles were sending their unwed daughters to court these days.

"It's wonderful," Fandral had told him one day when he'd had enough of fathers advocating their children. "A little femininity about is hardly going to dull the place, is it? Don't tell me you don't indulge, those black locks of yours must be quite eye-catching."

"I do not indulge," Loki had replied frostily. Fandral had simply shrugged.

"The more the merrier," he'd stated,

Fandral was still as ridiculous as he had been; however, these days Loki had begun to find him tolerable. But he did still have to warn him before the Avalonians arrived, "If they bring women, under no circumstances are you to be... yourself."

"Righto. I'll be Ulric, shall I?"

Still as ridiculous.

The throne room was full of courtiers, all waiting to see the visitors. Loki sat high on the throne, above them all, waiting as impatiently as the rest of them. A rider entered the hall, fighting his way through the throng of richly clad, murmuring nobles. He knelt at the steps, "They are here, my King."

Loki nodded. "Good, bring them in."

The room quietened as the guards began separating a path through the crowds. By the time the rider reached the doors again, the loud chatter had lowered to whisperings. The sound of footsteps came before the party appeared.

Six olive-skinned guards flanked a woman in rich clothing, and Loki glared at the Ambassador before they reached the foot of the throne. That was not a man. The ambassador paled and disappeared into the crowd. He returned his focus to the party coming closer; eve aware of the whispering of the courtiers. "Your majesty may I present Andraste of Avalon, here on behalf of her father King Arawn."

The woman stepped forward, sinking into a graceful curtsy that afforded him a rather lovely view of the swell of her breasts, before raising her eyes to his. "Avalon is honoured by your invitation, King Loki." Her voice was clear and soft. "As is my father."

Loki spoke silkily, staring straight at her. "You are most welcome here. It is my greatest desire that relations between our realms will be repaired, and a stronger friendship formed. We are holding a feast tonight in honour of your arrival." He paused, eyes flickering over the silver-armoured guards. "And your father is?"

She didn't miss a beat. "Unfortunately, he's busy with matters of state. I'm sure you understand."

"Of course. Chambers have been made ready for you and your entourage."

She smiled. "Thank you for your hospitality, it is well appreciated."

He nodded, watching as she turned on her heel and left the hall.