A/N: Takes place a few years after the end of Family. (If you've read at least Rehabilitation you're probably okay for understanding this. If you haven't, and for some reason you still want to give this story a shot, there's a character in here you won't recognize. He works in a dungeon, where Loki was sent to be tortured because Odin was having trust issues after the end of the movie.).

It was New Year's Eve, and Odin was having a party.

He didn't do it often – once every hundred years or so. It was too big an affair to plan and organize in just one year, and it took far too long to clean up. The whole city sparkled, the palace was decorated in fire and ice and gold, with champagne fountains and edible chocolate sculptures and music and dancing and sparkles and lights.

Loki hated these parties, because he was expected to make nice to Very Important Persons from different realms and different kingdoms – which meant he had to sit down in advance and learn all their names, and their wives' names, and something clever to say to each of them. The studying alone could take months.

This time, though, when Odin handed him a stack of RSVPs he first pulled one out, with a frown, and Loki got suspicious. "Who's that?" he said.

"Not someone I would ask you to entertain," Odin answered shortly, and tore the card in half. "It doesn't matter; it's a large party, you can likely avoid one another entirely."

"Oh." Loki didn't ask any more questions – he didn't need to. He had been sent on diplomatic missions to everywhere, to meet everyone, and he could think of only one group of people Odin would not ask him to entertain. "I've never noticed them at your parties before," he said coolly. Why had the dungeon's denizens been invited this time? Because they had done such a good job with Odin's delicate assignment? The idea was disgusting.

Odin made a face. "I have always invited them. Until now they have always had the good sense to decline." He shook his head. "I cannot imagine why they think they are any more welcome now than usual. They must know how unpleasant I find their work."

Of course. Because everything is always about you. But Loki showed nothing but a mildly sarcastic smile, and swept into a bow. "Father, you need not worry. I promise I'll treat them no worse than I treat any of your other guests."

Perhaps remembering the last party, after which Loki had been confined to a tower on bread and water for an entire season while he wrote apology letters, Odin snorted. "If that is meant to reassure me..."

"Honestly – it's been years. Don't worry," Loki said again, allowing his smile to warm a little, and Odin was suitably reassured.

The Liesmith was getting better and better at his craft.

Loki made nice to party guests halfheartedly for the first few hours. (Drinking all the while.) He scanned the crowds constantly, his ears primed for those voices he remembered so well, because it was better to spot them first than to be caught by surprise.

He knew exactly who he was looking for. The Drones had probably been issued a pair of invitations, like all minor kingdoms with whom Odin had some business relationship, and though he had no idea who one attendee might be, Loki was willing to bet a great deal that the other was Drone Three. Good to see you, Loki, and you still have suds in your hair. The creature seemed to like him. And why would he not? Surely most of the spies and criminals he had charge of were not nearly so interesting as the God of Mischief. Surely few of them were so civil and so well-behaved.

It was going on midnight when he caught sight of someone, from behind, of about the right build and color. But the guest wore a decorative headpiece, and sparkling dress robes, and if there were boots they were hidden under the hem. Loki frowned and came a little closer, until he could hear it talking.

Drone Three – for it was – was entertaining an Elvish couple with some story about a failed attempt to cook Elvish food over a Midgard stove. They were giggling and adoring, which made Loki oddly annoyed, and he decided to interrupt.

He sidled closer, but then realized he had no name to call. "Ah... Ahem. Excuse me."

A hitch in Three's gesturing said that he had heard. After a moment he turned, smiling already. "Prince Loki!" With a perfectly correct, polite little bow. "I was hoping I would see you."

"Ah, yes." Loki returned the bow, and the smile, and raised his delicate champagne flute to sketch a toast. "It has been... some time."

"It has. It has indeed." Something in the angling of his body, the intensity of his stare, let his audience know that his attention was elsewhere now – and not returning. The woman touched his arm, the couple bid him farewell, and he returned the pleasantry without turning to look at them. His eyes flickered to the circlet on Loki's brow – not quite a crown, but clearly a sign of status. "You're looking well, Loki. Healthy and proud. I'm glad for you."

"Mm." Loki could feel people's attention – the rejected couple and a few other people besides. And Heimdall, of course, whose eyes missed nothing. Suddenly it felt very important to perform for them a little – not to be meek or docile. "And you: so popular! I caught a bit of you chatting with the elves a moment ago; I had no idea you were such a charmer." He dripped sarcasm.

Three ignored the tone. "Oh, I've been known to make friends in all sorts of places." He quirked an eyebrow, and then took a long slow sip of his drink.

Loki couldn't let that smugness slide. "You presume too much," he said, suddenly cold.

The Drone should have been falling all over himself to apologize, having offended a Prince in his own hall. Instead he just shrugged and flashed a theatrical pout. "Not friends? Tell me what we should call each other then. Surely I don't still haunt your nightmares?"

"I'm not afraid of you – I never was," Loki shot back. And then regretted it immediately, because it sounded like childish bravado... because itwas. But it was too late to back down now, so the least he could do was press on and live up to it. "Watch: I want you to ask me something, right now," he challenged. "Anything. You can't scare me."

Three heaved a sigh. "I don't want to scare you. But why bait me? You know I can trip you up if I try."

Suddenly it felt very important to know whether that was true. "Then try," he insisted. "I call you out." He hadn't had a serious episode of panic in months, even when he tested himself by remembering things or by sitting with his wrists bound.

Three tried a different tack. "Come on, Prince, this is hardly appropriate. Are you in the habit of issuing challenges to your father's party guests?"

"Actually I am, but that is not the point." Loki consciously relaxed his grip on his champagne flute because he realized he was very near to crushing it. He lowered his voice. "I mean no insult – consider it a challenge posed to me, if anyone. I would just like to know whether you can still freeze me up with a question. Any question. I want to find out."

Three rolled his eyes. "Fine. Listen to me and answer with honesty." The tone had shifted smoothly towards the cool distant drone Loki remembered, and he felt his heart stutter and breath catch, as he grew ready, physically ready to think fast and avoid disaster. "Would you rather do battle against one hundred duck-sized horses, or one horse-sized duck?"

Loki went blank.

"Well?"

He tried to process the words, couldn't, choked for a moment. He was trying to envision... a horse-sized duck? "I-I don't... What?" he managed.

The Drone reached out and closed a hand on Loki's upper arm a moment – a friendly gesture, it must look to everyone else, but there was power in the grip and Loki shivered under it. "Not an answer, Loki."

"I- but-..." Loki shook his head, trying to dissipate his sense of unease. He checked that he was breathing, he tried to remember that he was safe at Odin's party and this was only a test. He made himself laugh. "One hundred...? Really?"

"It's a good question," Three defended, tone light again, and drained his glass. "It will focus the attention of someone who's wandering, and it gives insight into his state of mind."

"Does it." His thoughts were flowing properly again now, so Loki considered. "I'd prefer a horse-sized duck," he decided at last. "Killing a lot of little furry things isn't very impressive, but the giant duck would make one hell of a trophy; even Thor would agree. We could put the head up on the wall by all his bilgesnipes and bears and what-have-you." He squared up. "Now: what does that say about my thinking? Explain it."

"Ooh, inquisitive little Loki wants some inside information. All right." Three allowed a passing servant to exchange his empty glass for a full one. "Two or three more of these and lords know what I'll be telling you," he laughed. "In a nutshell: it's good that you immediately envisioned slaughtering the creatures instead of thinking seriously about whether one might pose a threat to you. That's confidence. But I'm less happy that your first thought was for impressiveness and Thor's trophy wall, instead of for yourself. That's thinking I'd hoped you would grow out of."

Loki finished his own drink, to steal a moment for thought. Two could play at this game. "I see you analyzed that from the perspective of someone concerned for my well-being," he said, "Instead of noting how you could use it to break me." He put a hand over his heart and turned syrupy sweet. "Consider me touched."

Three laughed. "And consider me impressed – you are quick as ever." A servant appeared with more champagne. Loki was standing with arms crossed and didn't take one; Three did and offered it to him with a deep bow. He stayed, waiting, until Loki took the glass and gestured for him to straighten. "In all seriousness I would be honored if you would call me friend," he said. Then shrugged. "But if you won't, I'll still like you."

Loki looked him over, and there was nothing mocking in his manner now. "Very well: tonight, temporarily and provisionally, because I am drunk and because most of the party bores me, you can be my friend," he declared. "We'll see how I feel about it in the morning."

"Excellent. Your health." They clinked glasses, and Loki didn't dwell on the absurdity of the toast. "Happy new year, Loki."

"Happy new year."

The End.

Let me know what you think!

And, happy holidays everybody!