Loki was bored.

And when Loki was bored, the whole of Asgard trembled.

True, Loki had promised her brother that there would be no more lies – simple enough, when one was so skilled at manipulating the truth as she – and though she had said nothing about mischief, she thought it best that, in light of plans currently ripening, to try and keep a low profile.

But she was so bored.

She sighed, idly crossing her legs, and casting her gaze about the dining hall. Freya sat, chatting amiably with Kelda, who was currently aglow due to her dalliance with the mortal – Loki snorted. She'd had her fair share of mortals, but she'd never been quite so enamored with them as Kelda was with her pathetic little farm hand. She was a Goddess, after all, she should really act like it. Perhaps turning the boy into a pig might alleviate this crushing boredom she felt...

Ah, but there was Tyr, watching Loki from across the hall. His eyes narrowed suspiciously – he recognized the look in Loki's eyes. Loki flashed a small smile to him, chuckling softly as his eyes narrowed further – it seemed he was implying a threat. To her!

She was toying with idea of going ahead with her plans of turning the filthy little monkey boy into a pig and laying the blame on an accident caused by one of the apprentices - if only to spite Tyr – when he caught her eye.

She didn't know his name – some lower God, not even worth noticing – and she didn't care to. But the man had the gall to rove his eyes over Loki, like she was some lowly milk maid. And when he noticed Loki returning his gaze, he actually had the audacity to grin, like it was some sort of compliment. Didn't he know who she was?

Loki was contemplating turning him into some variety of baboon when the idea occurred to her.

A smile slowly spread across her face – the lowly warrior took this as encouragement, and started over, but Loki was no longer paying him any attention, with the idea slowly coming clearer in her mind.

Oh, this was going to be fun.


Thor was bored.

He understood that this was all part of being a ruler, and that it was just something he had to live with thanks to his decision to take Asgard to Midgard, but he was pretty sure his father had never had to deal with quite so much paperwork.

Invitations to parties. A letter from the mayor on the suggestion of plumbing. Noise complaints. Demands that a hunting license is needed before running off with boars.

He missed the days when he could solve all his problems with a hammer.

He heard the door to his study open, and glanced up – ah, here was a problem he could solve with his hammer.

"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown, brother?" His – her – lips twisted in a slight smile. Even now – or perhaps now more than ever – Thor could never be sure if it was sincere.

Thor grunted, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. Loki must have been preparing for bed, for Thor could think of no other reason as to why she would come to him in such a... sparse gown.

Loki, since her rebirth, had been fond of more modest gowns – certainly, she took advantage of her... assets, but Thor had never seen her in anything like this. It was much more akin to those that Kelda would wear: a gauzy white thing, only covering what was absolutely necessary and barely held together by a few well-placed brooches. She had a slight sheen of sweat – no doubt due to a combination of her Frost Giant blood and the abominable heat here, though he'd never known it to bother her before – just enough to make her almost glow in the moonlight.

Thor swallowed heavily. He hoped she would finish with her business and be off.

"What is it you want, Loki?" He grunted, forcing his eyes back to his work.

"Oh, nothing in particular." She replied, her smile still playing across her face. She made her way over to the desk – a suggestion from Blake and a gift from the townsfolk, since Asgardians weren't exactly known for their ability to sit down and do work – and pulled herself up onto it, displacing papers as she did so. She paid it no mind, however, simply smiled and crossed her legs. Thor tried to pay no attention to how it caused her gown to ride up her thigh.

"I just wanted to see how you were adjusting to your new role as king." Her smile widened, and she gently laid her hand – startling soft – over Thor's. "Sisterly concern. It is a lot of responsibility, after all." She squeezed slightly.

Thor cleared his throat, tearing his hand – a little too ferociously – from his... sister's. "I assure you, Loki, I can handle it." He said gruffly.

"Oh, I have no doubt that you can!" She exclaimed, her eyes widening, "I'm simply concerned for you. That you might be... overworking yourself." He watched as she licked her lips, apparently considering her next words. Coming to a decision, she leaned forward – Odin's eye, if that dress went just a little lower – and lowered her voice to a husky whisper. "If there were some way I could help you, brother – say, finding an outlet for all this stress and restlessness I've no doubt you have building up – you won't hesitate to let me know, will you?"

He gritted his teeth – Loki had played this game before, years before, with his shape-shifting abilities. But then, Loki had always been a man, masquerading as a woman. But now... there was something different about this body. And Thor would admit – though never out loud – that he needed an outlet. If only Sif were here...

"Thor?" She prompted. He tore his eyes away from her ample bosom (he hadn't even realized he'd been staring) to find Loki's face a scarce few inches from his own. Her eyes were dark, like a doe's, her lips slightly parted... "You see? You're obviously overworked. Let me help..." She purred. Shifting her weight onto her hands, she oozed across his desk, as her dress fell a little lower –

"Loki..." He managed to choke out – it was supposed to be in a warning tone, but it came out more akin to that of a prepubescent boy in his first encounter with a woman.

"Oh, come now, Thor..." She said, her eyes half-lidded, "We're not even blood brothers..."

Brothers... Brothers! This was his brother!

No matter what incredibly attractive shell he happened to be wearing at the moment.

Quick as his own lightning, Thor stood, sending the finely crafted wooden chair skidding across the stone. Setting his jaw – he didn't trust himself to say anything to her – him – at the moment, though he did flash him a glare – he quickly rounded the desk, storming out of the room and down the hall towards his private chambers.

Loki's laughter – melodious, now, though it remained cold and mocking as it had ever been – echoed through the halls.

It sent the mysterious baboon that had appeared in the main hall into a fit.

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End
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Loki's pronouns are really annoying.