Author's Note: What you are about to read will have unknown side-effects on you…try not to die. It was Midnight/1:00 when I wrote this story, so I don't know how it happened, other than getting a random inspiration watching Thor. So much for a GOOD first Marvel fic. :D
Second Author's note: So I wrote this little silly story in about 2014, but it's been waiting in my documents to be tweaked until now, and I've just tweaked it, so here ya go.
A Throne for Loki
Summary: Loki is having a grand time being King of Asgard, but what happens when his magic backfires and the royal throne gets permanently stuck to him?
Far away in the land of Asgard where the mighty and the not so mighty dwell together, and have lovely arguments of all sorts that you never hear about, there sits Odin in his palace, on his throne, legs spread wide in the most comfortable position one can achieve in the horrid thing. One arm is on the edge of the golden chair, and the other is holding the scepter possessively, but laid back. Of course you have figured out by now that this isn't Odin at all we're talking about, but is in fact Loki trying his darndest to make you think he's Odin.
And he's doing a fairly good job, considering no-one except you and I have found him out yet, and that of course is because we cheated. He's having just the loveliest time being King, sitting on his lovely golden chair and thinking lovely thoughts about all the things he can make Sif, Hogan, and Volstagg do that they definitely would not enjoy. His disguise isn't the very first you would likely think of if you were going to create one, for, most people, -if having the opportunity to change their appearance- would make themselves younger instead of older, but if by chance you are Loki, and would like to appear as the aged King of Asgard, then it's the perfect complexion. Not that he didn't wish he could sit there in his own, attractive form.
Magic isn't everything though I'll have you know, in fact he was using quite a bit of it just keeping his throne intact. During the attack on Asgard, Malekith had almost completely demolished it, and seeing as there was no time to have it fixed, Loki just had to patch it up with his tricks, so that it looked quite solid and intact, but if one not controlling it were to sit on it, they would find themselves promptly on the floor without warning, and sitting in it. It was indeed taking quite a bit of concentration to keep himself from falling through, and at the same time keep his "outfit" on, so as you can imagine no-one got a pleasant audience with the King that day.
That particular day was dragging on, and Loki was beginning to get very tired of his disguise, and very hungry, for he didn't dare eat with the fake self on for fear of changing the form somehow. Someone had already given him a strange look that day when he scratched his forehead and took off all the Odin wrinkles accidentally. Right now no one was present in the room, whereas they had been hanging around all day long waiting for orders, and he's highly debating whether or not to get up and go steal some food to eat in his private chambers where no one would be able to bother him or see him. Finally the rumbling in his stomach decided for him, and he began to stand, but before you could blink he was back in the throne again like a flash of lightning. What happened was this; in the very moment that he stood from the false throne, it joined to the back of his false form, and so as you can painfully imagine, almost the entirety of the golden seat came up with his rear-end. The size of the object in mention being particularly large, he not unreasonably noticed it right away. He sat astonished in his chair, blinking at the sheer strangeness of the situation: what was he supposed to do now, sneak across the palace with half a throne on his butt? Exactly. He couldn't risk taking the whole thing off and going around as his real self, it would be more dangerous to be seen as a Loki who wasn't supposed to be alive as opposed to an Odin with a chair stuck to him. With that thought he got up again, but sat back down just as fast. Someone was passing in the corridor in front of him! He almost started to whistle "inconspicuously" but caught himself. As soon as they were gone he was up again, and halfway across the large room before another person came down the hall. He made a break for it and got his back half behind a pillar just before they could round the corner.
"Oh, hello my lord!" The man said cheerfully, surprised to see Odin out of his throne. Loki laughed shakily;
"Greetings." He nodded at the guard warily.
"Do you require help with something?"
"Uh, no, I was just heading to my chambers." He gave a half-hearted grin.
"Oh, may I escort you?"
"That-won't be necessary, thank you."
"But are you sure-" Suddenly, the guard's eye twitched, and he cocked his head like someone who's seen something for a split second, something that vanished so fast you weren't sure if you saw it at all, which is more or less what happened.
Loki-Odin cocked his head right back, following the guard's eyeline, and then froze like a deer in the headlights, all but holding his breath and hoping the exposed bit of throne would blend in with the wallpaper.
"Something behind you, sire?"
"'Course not! I mean, why would there be?" He scooted angrily away from the guard's questioning glance, further behind the pillar.
The guard took a step forward anyway, intending to question the King further about his odd position when the King had a brilliant idea.
"Eh, what?" He cried, pointing suddenly, "Someone absconding with the milly-squidjets?!"
"Hmm?" Said the guard, failing to look where Odin pointed.
"Hmm?" Said Odin right back, getting reading to make a run for it.
"Oh, and it looks like a dark elf!" He shouted, gasping for effect.
"Dark Elf? Where?" the guard cried, taking off at a run in the direction pointed out. Eager to win renown, he practically slid around the corner in pursuit of the alledged milly-squidjet thief. Thankfully, he didn't look back over his shoulder to mark Odin's speedy exit from the room. Once in the next room, Loki breathed a sigh of relief, and quickly made his way from pillar to pillar, not waiting long enough for the guard to wonder what a milly-squidjet was. As he moved he attempted to remove the throne the whole time, but with no avail; it was stubbornly stuck to him. Walking with it was hard, running even harder, for the thing had still in it some substance and weight, as if it were real, and a throne of course is hard to carry. Making his way to the royal kitchens, he began to walk right in without thinking, and found three wide-eyed cooks standing around a table full of food staring at him.
"Dang." He was stuck in the door.
Not only that, but his break in concentration accidentally removed part of his illusion, so that what the astonished cooks saw was Loki's head, wearing Odin's armour with matching hands, stuck in the door with half a throne glued to him.
"Hello ladies." *Thud*
The sound that you just heard, of course, was the three cooks passing out in unison. Loki, with much difficulty, managed to get unstuck from the door, and turning sideways he made his way into the room, denting the door-frame just a little bit with his entry. Daintily stepping over the cooks on the floor, he walked up to the table and gathered as many grapes as he could carry, then got out of the room as fast as possible.
After denting quite a good bit of the things in the palace, especially his grapes, (and his pride) and only a minimal amount of falling on his back like a helpless turtle with a shell that's too heavy, and only a few stares, (one of which belonged to Fandral, who promptly fainted from shock) he finally made it to his room... and got stuck in the door again.
"Ugh." He couldn't flick his hand to turn himself back to normal, because his hands were full of grapes, so thinking of nothing else to do he dumped them on the floor, and released the Odin form, throne and all, falling into his room with a thud and slamming the door at the same time.
"I am sogetting that throne fixed."
The End
Poor Loki.
And thus we have poor, bruised, dejected Loki, eating his sad, dented grapes on his bed with half of the royal throne parked outside of his bedroom door.
A/N: Are you dead yet?