Title: while the king was looking down, the jester stole his thorny crown

Fandom: Highlander/Avengers movieverse

Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Don McLean

Warnings: a smidge of language; Methos being mysterious; inaccurate Norse mythology

Pairings: none

Rating: PG

Wordcount: 580

Point of view: third

Prompt: Highlander/Thor, Methos + Loki, learning to love the frost

"Well now," the stranger says, sheathing his sword with a smile. "Aren't you the littlest frost giant who could."

Loki glares at him, clenching his hands into fists, his fingernails lengthening into weapons. Damned SHIELD, damned Avengers, damned humans in the first place. Damned 'allies' with machines that simulate below-freezing weather, and damned Odin Allfather for ever taking him from damned Jötunheimr.

"Come, godling," the stranger says, turning and heading towards – a door that hadn't been there before. Loki blinks, shaking his head to dislodge the frost growing on his eyelashes. He doesn't feel the cold, not like he imagines the Avengers do, but it's so annoying.

And in hindsight, he never has reacted normally to the cold.

The stranger pauses by the door, glancing over his shoulder. "Well?"

Loki looks around, at the ice still growing on the buildings. He feels nothing for all the little mortals trapped, about to die of cold – but Thor is in that mess somewhere.

The stranger rolls his eyes. "Oh, fine," he mutters. "Even the kidnapped children of warlords are boy scouts these days." He holds up at hand, whispers something in a language Loki doesn't even recognize, and flicks his fingers towards the middle of the ice.

Loki gasps as he feels the warmth, and he shudders, and his skin lightens back to what he still thinks of as normal.

"Will you come now?" the stranger demands. "I don't have all day, and I'd rather not be here when Fury pulls his head out of his ass."

"Frightened of a mortal?" Loki asks, straining for a semblance of control. It has been so long since any sorcerer was his better.

The stranger scoffs. "If Fury is a mortal, I'm just a ladybug dancing on a leaf."

Loki raises an eyebrow, and the stranger rolls his eyes. "Yes, I know, that made no sense. I'll explain on the other side of the door."

Glancing back at the defrosting town, Loki nods. He hurries over to the stranger and isn't at all surprised when he's shoved through the door, landing in a desert with a scorching sun.

"Walk with me," the stranger says.

"What is your name?" Loki asks.

The stranger shrugs. "You can call me Adam, if you like. Or Hel."

Loki blinks. "Hel was one of Odin's allies, long ago. And, I thought, a woman."

Laughing, the stranger says, "And can you not change your shape at will, little jötunn? I've kept up with the humans' stories – I'm also supposedly your daughter, never mind the fact that I'm far older than you, and Odin, and even Asgard."

As they crested a sand dune, Hel waves a hand to the palace towering over the desert. "Change it however you like," Hel says. "Stay as long as you like. We'll talk in a bit."

"What?" Loki demands, turning to face him, but Hel smiles and vanishes. Loki lunges for the last spot he'd been and falls back down the dune. "Damnit," he growls. He just lays there for a moment before heaving a great sigh and getting back to his feet.

Hel wants him to go the palace in the middle of the desert. He needs to get out of the heat, anyway.

And he's tired. Even if the palace is unfurnished, there is a roof and shadows.

Just inside the door is a banner, with Welcome scrawled in melting frost. Loki rolls his eyes and goes to find a bedroom.