Author's Note: Ok. I take full responsibility for any Loki feels in this chapter. Sorry. Thankyou for reading!
I still don't own any characters omg. Please review if you have anything to say :)

Chapter 2

The flat that Loki was sharing with Jim was cold; so cold, in fact, that Loki almost felt at home there. The sense of intermingled betrayal, guilt and loss he'd felt at the reveal of his true heritage had only hardened his heart and steeled his resolve. He was utterly determined to bring this punitive realm under his rule, no matter the cost in human blood. Thor knew he was here, and every second was soon to become valuable.

He sat down on the small sofa in the main room of the flat, resting his face in his hands. He somehow had guessed, long ago, that he was not of Odin's flesh and blood, but of another; he had often wondered whose and never dared imagine.

But now he knew. He knew for certain that Jotun blood flowed through his veins…the very thought was enough to make him feel sick.

Loki still remembered the look of disbelief intertwined with a kind of disgusted repulsion that Thor's face had assumed upon his discovery of Loki's legitimate parentage. After he had been brought back to Asgard for trial as a 'war criminal', Odin had coldly thrown him under lock and key in the palace, like a naughty puppy whose punishment was to be locked in a cage. He had forced Loki to reveal his true 'colouring' as he had called it, when Thor had protested against his imprisonment, claiming that it was all lies.

His stunned face at Loki's blue skin and piercingly red eyes had haunted Loki in his dreams for months, and he felt now that Thor would never love him. Who, after all, could love a monster who they had been brought up to hate?

For the real truth was that Loki, too, had grown up fearing the Jotuns, and to discover that he was one, he hated himself. From all that he knew, his life was a lie; his very existence a falsehood.

"When I am king, I'll hunt the monsters down and slay them all!"

Thor's childish voice rang in his ears as Loki massaged his fingertips into his temples.

Did that mean that Thor viewed him, too, as a monster, only to be killed in hatred, hiding under the guise of protecting Asgard?

He couldn't bear the thought, for he loved Thor, more than he cared to admit.

It was his only weakness, he believed, a kind of childish loyalty, which had long harboured feelings of much more than mere brotherly love.

He stamped his foot impatiently on the floor, the thud ringing through the small flat. He could no longer spare thought for sentimentality if he was to conquer this realm. Best be over with and accept your fate, Loki. Rule or be ruled.

Jim had carried the bag of takeaway Chinese food up the stairs and now placed it on the ground in order to open the door. The keys jangled as he dropped them back into his pocket and made his way into the apartment. It was so cold inside, although why, he had no idea. It had been Loki's suggestion, and he had merely obliged.
James Moriarty was not an easily swayed or controlled man; in fact he prided himself on his lack of sentimentality. Sebastian had been gone for a few months when he'd first met Loki; the tall, coldly smiling eyes and firm handshake had made an impression on the criminal mastermind.

Loki, he knew, was not of this 'realm' as he called it, he was from a place called Asgard, although it seemed that he may not have even been from there.

Jim didn't care where he was from, only that he was on his side and he remained so. It was impossible to control Loki, he had found that, and for the first time he was working with somebody who had the upper hand in terms of their relationship's power balance.

He could see Loki sitting silently on the sofa. He hadn't seemed to register Jim's entry into their flat, but as the smell of Chinese food wafted over his clear green eyes flicked in Jim's direction.

"Food's here," he said, by way of explanation. "You might not like it but nothing else was open this late at night."

Loki shrugged. Food held no real importance to him, a meal would not give him the satisfaction of revenge that he was craving. He made his way over to the bench and took a plastic container at Jim's invitation.

Cracking open the lid, he found it to be full of stringy-grain based…things with vegetables, meat and some kind of sauce. Jim handed him a pair of 'chopsticks', long wooden skewers he presumed were used to eat with.

The food wasn't bad, but Loki simply wasn't interested.

Jim chattered aimlessly about his plans for that week, and Loki thought about what his next move was going to be.

Cutting Jim off mid-sentence he asked softly "Do you think then, that my brother and this Holmes man are allied against us?"

Jim's dark eyes snapped onto Loki's as he nodded, moving his head in a snakelike fashion. "They quite literally ran into each other, Loki. Sherlock's weakness is his interest in unravelling all the little problems, proving himself. He will have your brother on his side, I can promise you."

Jim's voice was menacingly soft.

Later that night, as the two of them lay in bed; Jim rolled up like a caterpillar in a cocoon of blankets and Loki facing the window; he stared into the inky-black sky. It was tinted with soft pinks and blues as the sun got ready to rise on a new day. The faintly glimmering stars were beginning to go out and he could hear the city waking up.

As he lay there, thinking, Loki remembered Jim's comments about Sherlock and his brother. Working together, he had said.

Loki smiled, the sides of his thin lips curling upwards. There could perhaps be some advantage in using this small mortal, after all.