I woke up the next morning back in the bed, curled up in a ball, and completely alone. The room was empty, but… I knew I hadn't fallen asleep in here. I didn't even remember falling asleep in the first place.

I scanned my head; only to discover that Loki was busy and trying to stay out of my thoughts. He did, however, allow me to see his memories of the night previous; in which he had waited for me to fall asleep an hour or so after our 'fight', then retrieved me, carrying me back to the bed and placing me there while he sat up for the rest of the night. He stayed next to me, keeping out the nightmares… but he otherwise did nothing. Didn't sleep. Didn't lie down next to me. Didn't curl up next to me as he always did. He just sat there, staring into the glow-lit darkness.

I sighed deeply, rubbing my eyes and sitting upright, checking the battery-powered clock next to the bed. My one class for the day was at a later time, so I had a few hours to kill before I had to be there. I got out of the bed and did a normal daily routine- my normal, anyway- going to the mirror and pulling off the thick shirt and pants. The cold air was freezing, as usual, but it made my skin paler, made the red of my scars easier to see. I exhaled in relief; they were healing nicely. Most of them didn't even hurt anymore. The shadow infection beneath my skin was wearing away. The Jotun Healers were surprisingly talented; even Fera, the grey-eyed Healer on Asgard, had been impressed, the last time I went there.

It was normal, to see which ones had completely recovered, which needed a few more days, which needed a few more weeks. I was getting better at guessing; the little one on my lower back had vanished, as I thought it would when I'd checked on it yesterday. A majority of them still had a while to go, but the smaller ones were fading fast. Not fast enough, but fast.

I took a bath- a surprisingly difficult feat, here, as the water was warm but the air freezing as frick- and changed into my daily clothes, adding an extra sweater that I would not be wearing on Earth, and thick boots that I would be changing for sneakers when I left. I also slid a throwing knife in my belt, though I knew that would have to go as well. Still, it was a pretty common thing, here.

It was a normal human reaction, to look in the mirror as you passed by. But Loki and I had both harbored unnatural fears of mirrors for a long time, though for different reasons. He did it because he didn't know who would look back: Would his reflection show Loki Odinson, Loki Laufeyson, or Natalie Frost?

Besides. He'd had a bad experience with mirrors during those four months I'd been gone. He still hated them.

I, on the other hand, hated them because I knew exactly who would stare back. I just didn't like her. She was an Avenger, she was the Future Queen of Jotunheim, she was Inhuman and she was Powerful and she was Dangerous. She was even somewhat beautiful, in a predatory sort of way. And the problem with her was that her skin fit too well on my body, because she wasn't human, she was a monster. She was the thing that my father always feared. She was the thing that Loki had tried to create in his eyes, and that Fraye had succeeded in creating in everyone else's eyes. She could, would, and had already killed. She knew a lot about pain and, if push came to shove, she could teach someone else.

It was terrifying, to know that she was me.

I walked down the hall, stopping only when I saw a familiar face meandering down the hallway. The way my heart leapt when I saw him, the way that immediate joy flooded me, made me feel very, very suspicious.

Still, that suspicion didn't stop me from grinning and waving to the slave. "Hey, Puck!"

He froze at the sound of my voice. When he saw me, he smiled, but he bowed deeply to cover it. "Lady Frost."

"Walk with me?"

He looked behind him nervously. "I was meant to…"

"Well, tell your 'owner' that I had to borrow you for a bit." The word 'owner' made me so sick to my stomach that I had to say it sarcastically or end up retching mid-word. "He'll understand, I'm sure."

"No offense meant, Lady Frost, but 'he' is in fact a 'she'."

I lifted an eyebrow. Puck didn't continue. I walked next to him, his head lowered as we did so. "Huh," I said, nodding a few times. "I'll remember that."

And I would.

Trying to pry my fingers out of the fists they were clenched in, I smiled again at the half-breed slave. I noticed then, the nervousness in his every footstep, the way his eyes darted. I lowered my voice a little. "Hey, kid… I'm not gonna hurt you. Relax a little."

He glanced to me. For a brief second, I saw that same, unexplainable but undeniable trust in his eyes that I knew lurked in mine. Our gazes met in mutual accordance, assurance of the other's integrity, no matter how bizarre or sudden that assurance might have been. I liked that the kid trusted me. I didn't like that I trusted the kid. Because I don't trust anyone. These emotions reeked of magic and I didn't like it in the slightest.

But it can't be magic, I thought to myself. Loki would have sensed it. And the link would have stopped it.

Fat chance, a darker part of myself snarled. The link didn't stop it last time.

That was true enough; though Loki and I hadn't exactly been on great terms the last time. The more in agreement we were, the stronger our mental connection. That was the way it was. That was the way it always was.

I pushed the thoughts out of my head as Puck, still giving me that weird trusting look, said quietly, "It is not you that I worry about, my lady. But there are others who would not take our interaction so well."

'Others'. I clamped onto the word. "Like who?" I asked, immediately on the defensive. But not for my own defense. The protective instinct, in me, was normal; but now it was going into overdrive, and I wasn't sure why. More importantly, I wasn't sure how to stop it.

Puck gave me a sideways, wry smile, looking at me out of the corner of his eye as he kept his face downwards. It was an oddly twisted, crooked gesture. "Enough men that anyone, even the betrothed of a king, could not possibly hope to stop every one of them."

"You haven't seen me on a bad day."

He fought a laugh. I could see him trying to restrain it. The glint in his eye was strangely sarcastic, and he looked forwards again, to the ground again, as we continued forwards.

He mulled over the question for a long moment, then came up with a second response. "Your stance on slavery is fairly well known, my lady. But, on seeing us speaking together, I am afraid that my position would not be in question so much as my blood." He glanced to me. "Your blood, my lady."

The words were simple and quick, but convoluted. Still, it was easy for me, another dancer of words, to grasp their meaning. I rolled my eyes and nodded slowly, sighing a sigh that came from somewhere deep inside of me. "They think that, because I'm human, I'll have a soft spot for others who are part human."

"Don't you?"

"I do," I admitted, "But not because I'm human. If I cared anything about the difference between species, I probably wouldn't have bothered to warn Jotunheim about Fraye in the first place." I bit my lip to keep from growling out the obvious: that people had no problem with my morals when it assisted them, but realms spare you if they ever helped anyone else. My irritation was such that I didn't even completely notice that Puck did not flinch at the mention of Fraye's name, as most every other Jotun did. Some part of me noted it, though, in the corner of my mind.

"I have a soft spot for half-breeds because they're the downtrodden," I went on. "The ones who basically just told the world, 'screw you, I'm surviving', and then followed through with it." Puck again fought with himself, this time barely managing to win the struggle against his grin. I continued as though I hadn't seen it. "You said that you wouldn't be ashamed of your human heritage; and that's what I like about you, kid. Because no matter how often people try to beat it out of you- and I'm sure they've done so multiple times- you're not ashamed of who you are. It's a trait that not a lot of people share."

He seemed to cotton on to the fact that I only barely managed to keep from adding, 'myself included' at the end of that statement. I doubted that there was a person on any of our planets who was more ashamed of who they were than I was. No, wait, that wasn't entirely true. Maybe Loki. Maybe.

But then… that was why his guilt was so damn toxic.

"Thank you, Lady Frost," Puck said quietly. "I am… honored, that you think so highly of me."

The words were genuine; not the typical sniveling you'd expect from one of the many thousands of snakes and weasels that roamed the palace courts, nor the words of silent wrath spoken from a slave, doing lip service to those who held the power of life and death over them at all times. No, these words rang with truth. He wasn't lying; and believe me, I would have known if he was.

You'd know because of your instinct. So trust your instinct for once, some inner part of me grumbled. You haven't known this kid long enough to trust him like you do. He's bad news. Easy enough to see.

How desperately I wanted to trust someone so unconditionally again. But no, that had never been a trait of mine. Unconditional trust? Impossible, from one who has been burnt and broken and bruised by all of those she's meant to place her confidence in: My father. The voice in my head. The little girl who came asking for help.

The half-breed slave who sticks up for who he is…

"Well, here's hoping you live up to it, kiddo," I said, nudging him in the arm.

He smiled weakly. "Aye, m'lady," he answered quietly.

We were silent for a long time, just walking there together. It wasn't the uncomfortable silence I thought it'd be. Even Puck didn't look discomfited by the situation. Indeed, he seemed to thrive in it, and I could see his eyes whirring in thought as he concentrated inside of the silence.

It was a few moments before we were passed by a member of the palace court; one whom I had not seen frequently, on the younger side. Her eyes widened when she saw me, and she immediately bowed low, entirely ignoring the slave at my side. As was frequently the way; I stifled the sigh of disappointment. She had been raised to believe that this was right; naturally, she still thought that way.

"G-Greetings, Lady Shadowslayer," she said quietly. I smiled at her and nodded, though the name sent me on edge, as it tended to do. She did her best not to run off, still buzzing with energy, trying to contain her excitement. Not all of the palace court had seen me, talked to me, even noticed me yet. Loki kept me pretty much cooped up in one room; and, with the way my mental state had been, I'd been all right with that. Until college came along, of course. But it was only natural for her to be excited: I was a living legend. The powerful mortal who warned their world of Fraye's return, the Child of Frost who allied them with the Asgardians, their foes, and the Shadowslayer, who had killed their worst nightmare, destroyed her once and for all…

It was only after I noticed Puck's eyes on me that this strain of lonely melancholy died off. "What?" I asked him.

He looked away quickly. "It's nothing, my lady."

"It's something," I corrected, nudging him again. "G'on. Spit it out."

He hesitated for a long moment, but I waited him out patiently. Nervously, edgily, he asked, "Why… why do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked.

"Allow them to call you that," he answered, looking up to me. As my eyebrows furrowed, he explained, "Shadowslayer." I winced again. His forehead creased in concentration, the way Loki's sometimes did. "It obviously upsets you."

"No it doesn't," I said, a little too quickly, laughing it off lightly. "It's a title of honor. Of respect."

There was a quiet moment, and I thought the matter had been dropped. But then Puck said, "It originates from your darkest moment."

I looked to him. Looked away. I didn't have an answer for that.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to impose. Only…" he sighed, a soft, gentle sound. "I was raised on Earth, my lady. Battle and killing… they are not victories there. Your first kill is not a milestone to be celebrated. It is blood on your hands."

His voice lowered considerably further, making me strain to hear. "And after what she did to you… you probably just want to forget it. Forget the shadows. Let them lie where she died."

I swallowed against the hard, immovable lump in my throat. And then I forced cheer back into my tone. "You're right. I want to forget her. But it's still a title of honor; and if they honor me with it, I shall honor it in return; and do what I can to live up to it."

He considered that for a long time. I turned to him. "And you don't act like a slave," I told him. It was part warning, part accusation. "No matter how friendly someone is, most slaves wouldn't talk about deeper issues like that. I don't think any of them would."

He hid a smirk. "As I said, my lady," he answered, "I was raised on Earth."

I grinned. It felt plastic and false but I did it anyway. And then I turned, waving him off. "I'll see you later, Puck."

"Aye, m'lady." He bowed deeply. The gesture still rankled me, no matter who from, but from him it seemed a lot worse.

"Also, if you bow to me one more time, I'm gonna punch you in the throat."

He lifted an eyebrow, but stopped himself before he could bow again. He seemed uncomfortable, stripped of the gesture to show respect and soften any words, to make them seem more… courteous. "A-Aye… m'lady," he said, partly disconcerted, though his eyes showed no sign of surprise on this latest action.

I smiled sadly to myself as I left. I did like the kid. Whatever he said, I liked him.

It wasn't long until I had to be on earth, so I did a fast double-check on everything that I had to take with me. When that went by too quickly, I did a slower double-check. Finally, I pulled off the boots, the knife, and the sweater, putting on sneakers and my typical elbow-length, black, fingerless glove to cover the scars. As I waited for Tony to open the portal from his end, my mind drifted to Loki again, as it invariably did. He hadn't spoken to me since I'd gotten up that morning, and he had no intent to speak now, which just made me… flustered. I was mad at him and he wasn't-exactly-mad at me, but he wasn't-exactly-making-things-better-either, so my madness just got a little more mad. I sighed heavily when I finally stepped through the portal; relationships were… complicated.

Tony saw the look on my face and spoke to me for the first time in three weeks; and he did so with a look of undisguised glee. "Trouble in paradise?" he asked, his voice sugary.

"Bite me." Something caught my eye at the window, and a little frown twitched on my lip. "Everything okay?" I asked, turning to Stark. When he lifted an innocent eyebrow, I threw a thumb over my shoulder to the window, rephrasing the question. "What's Thor doing back on Earth? Isn't he supposed to be with his father?"

Tony glanced to the window to see what I'd seen. I sighed heavily, realizing that I'd have to explain the obvious. "Freak weather patterns, thunderstorm in the middle of summer, any of this ringing bells?"

"Oh," Tony said, then relaxed. "Nah," he answered after a moment. There was a wicked little grin on his face as he said, "S.H.I.E.L.D. is trying to get him to do a bit of paperwork, is all."

"Paperwork? They're making the Norse god of Thunder do paperwork?"

"S'not going so well," Tony added with much innocence, glancing to the sky as it began to rumble.

"Tell her the truth, Stark," A mildly exasperated voice said from the other end of the room. "We've hid it long enough."

I turned. "Natasha!" I said, genuinely pleased to see the spy. Surprisingly. But it had been a while; she, her partner, and Steve had been cleaning up the Earth for a long time now. But her words gave me pause. "Hid what?" I asked warily.

Both of them were silent for a moment. When Natasha saw that Stark wasn't going to answer, she said, "S.H.I.E.L.D. is concerned about a growing threat."

Another one? "Sheesh, don't these guys take coffee breaks?" I asked exhaustedly. "What is it? Another alien? Maybe a radioactive mutant crocodile from the sewers? Or some lost creature at the bottom of the sea?"

"The threat, my dear Pizza Girl," Tony said- but I cut him off before he could say more.

"Stark, it has been three, maybe four years since I last delivered a pizza. You think you can drop the nickname now?"

"Never. And the threat is you, my dear, and all your cheesy, pepperoni goodness."

My eyebrows shot straight up. "Moi?" I demanded in mock-outrage. Natasha correctly read the sarcasm in my eyes, though Stark did not.

"Well, you and Loki," he went on, seeming partially in agreement with S.H.I.E.L.D. as he said the words. "Granted, they see the advantage here, uniting the worlds and blah, blah, blah, like you do. But the fact stands, Natalie: with you marrying him and being shipped off-planet, there is not a lot that keeps him from turning around and blowing it up the first chance he gets."

I opened my mouth. Stark immediately raised his hands, as though to stop the onslaught of insults that I was about to throw out. "I know, I know, they're the ultimate of idiots, the pinnacle of all things moron. Honestly, we don't think they're really this stupid; and heck, they seem pretty certain that Loki isn't going to do anything anymore, either. They're just covering their asses to make sure of it, whether or not they're marrying you off to him."

I liked that. 'Marrying me off'. I sighed with great theatricality. "Well, that's the difference between you and I, Stark. I don't underestimate the sheer, raw, terrible power of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s stupidity." I nodded to Natasha. "Present company excluded."

She smirked. "You saw this." It wasn't a question.

"No shit, I saw this. I knew S.H.I.E.L.D. was gonna stir crap before S.H.I.E.L.D. knew S.H.I.E.L.D. was gonna stir crap." I rolled my eyes. "Look, they know as well as anyone that this 'marriage' thing is really just a political play. Loki and I don't need to get married- we don't even want to get married- for a long time. It was just a move to make amends, unite the kingdoms, blah de blah de blah. And they get that. Like you said: they just need to cover themselves in case this all blows up in their faces. They're risking the fate of their world, here; and no matter how 'unquestionable' my loyalty to this planet may be, these aren't people who grew up with magic. They're not going to understand my connection with Loki like we do. So, naturally, they're gonna want a little bit of a backup plan." I glanced to the sky again. "I guess that plan was Thunder-boy. Even for the Council, that was a dumb move."

Natasha snorted dryly. "They wanted to strengthen relationships with Asgard. Asked him to keep an eye on the 'new Jotun King', and said that they would do the same with you." Lightning flashed outside, lighting up her eyes. "Things didn't go so well."

I rolled my own eyes. I could imagine Thor's reaction to that, to Loki's honor being questioned, my honor being questioned, again. After all this time and everything we'd done… But I had another question. "What about Fury? What does he say about all this?"

"Wants no part in it," Natasha answered flatly. "Basically, he said that if Loki wanted Earth dead that badly, he would have left you for dead; and if you wanted to betray your planet, you wouldn't have handed yourself over on a silver platter for it." I stiffened, and Natasha's cold gaze locked on me again. "Of course we know about that, Natalie," she said, before I could open my mouth to speak. "Clint said that you were planning this with Loki after Fraye offered her 'deal'. That you weighed in the numbers and made the call that saved the most; even at the cost of your own planet, your own life. And, quite frankly, we know that Loki couldn't have made that decision if you didn't let him; and that you could have just told us to throw him in prison if you didn't want him planning for it."

I swallowed tightly. "Well, way to let me know that the biggest secret of my life was, in fact, common knowledge. Thank you, Natasha. I needed that on my second day of school."

I walked towards her, as she was standing by the door. Just before I exited, she stopped me, placing a hand in front of me. "It's all right, Natalie," She said with a low voice. "If there's one thing the Council understands, it's numbers. And sacrificing the lesser number for the greater whole." Her voice was very dark as she added the last part, and whisper quiet.

"Yeah," I said, tightening the straps of my backpack. "But normal people don't. The other Avengers, the non-spies? The people who died in Loki's conquest? Their families?"

Natasha's eyes softened into a look I hated. A look of pity.

I threw off her hand and walked away in silence.

Loki was waiting for me when I came home from school that day. I wasn't sure if it was the missed-you-while-you-were-gone kind of waiting or the crouching-for-the-perfect-ambush kind. The chessboard in front of him indicated that it was a mixture of both.

I studied him, glancing to the black pieces that were set up on what would be 'my' side of the board, if I sat down in the chair opposite him, the chair closest to me as I exited the portal. The black pieces. He had the white pieces, because white always made the first move; and here he was. Making his.

I studied him for a moment, and saw him studying me. His face was apologetic enough for me to pull my arms through the straps of my pack, and determined enough that I sat myself in the chair and set the bag next to it. I pulled up to the table as he moved a pawn up a square.

Chess, we had discovered in the past few weeks, was our best way of talking things out; or really, any game that required actual thought or logic, any game that required that your opponent to not know what you would do next. It forced us to separate our minds as completely as we could: to not only keep ourselves from letting our minds slip, but also to keep each other from letting anything slip as well. Strengthening each other's walls, as it were. It was a state of mind we could only keep up for short amounts of time without feeling physically ill, but it helped us work out problems. And, realms knew, we certainly had our fair share of those.

I flicked a pawn forwards. Being the logically-minded, pattern seeker he was, Loki always beat me at chess. He was also known to cheat regardless of how easy the win would be, just to see if he could make the win a little bit more humiliating for me. But it was obvious that today was not going to be one of those days where he could do that and keep his limbs, so I was sure he wouldn't try anything of the sort.

We moved a few pieces out onto the board before I spoke. "I stand by what I said."

He glanced up at me, then back to the board. "I know you do." He slid a white marble knight across the board, onto a black square. "As do I."

"So what are we even doing here?" I brought a rook up into check. It was defeated easily and smoothly by the next move.

"We are here," Loki replied coolly and calmly, seeming to embody the crystal ice walls around him as he glanced up at me with brilliant red eyes. "Because you and I are engaged to be married. And if we cannot handle a simple disagreement like adults, then it may be more difficult than expected."

It was almost an attempt at humor, and I snorted. The pieces clinked against the board, marble against marble, though a majority of the damage to the stone by the pieces was softened by the soft, black material that had been attached to the base of each piece for just such a purpose.

It was quiet for another few moves. I fended off a check valiantly, but Loki's residual memories in the part of my brain that I was currently trying to stave off were telling me that I was fighting a rapidly losing battle. I sighed and fought it out; bitter to the end. He might beat me, he might do so in a humiliating fashion, but I was going to make him take the time to do it properly.

"I cannot stop myself from feeling as I do, Miss Frost," Loki said at last, breaking the silence. "There is blame for those atrocities against you on my shoulders. I gave you to Fraye. I traded you for a crown. It is my name in your skin, not hers." He sighed heavily. "But… I never intended to make you feel… inhuman." He looked up at me. "In truth, I shall never intend to hurt you again."

The look in his eyes- truth, honesty, sincerity- made my harder side soften just a little. Loki put me in checkmate. There was a moment of silence before we began setting up the pieces again, the game over, lost to me and won for him.

"I'm not glass," I told him quietly as he again made the first move. "I'm not this… brittle, frail thing that you need to feel guilty for. And neither of us can handle you… self-flagellating all the time. I just…" A sigh slipped out of my lips. "I need things to be a little more normal. I'm not expecting all of your problems to go away overnight; I'm not expecting any of our problems to go away that quickly." I looked up at him. "I just want you to try and forget the guilt. Just try a little harder." I sighed heavily. "I just need… normal."

"Why ask what cannot be given?" Loki inquired quietly, moving his king into castle. As I looked to him, eyebrow raised in a your-next-statement-better-involve-some-serious-explanation-or-copious-amounts-of-flowers expression, he sighed quietly. "I am the adopted son of an Asgardian King: the current King of Jotunheim. By your standards, by the standards of earth, I am an alien being; an alien king of an alien world with alien politics. There is no 'normal' involved." He looked up to me, his red eyes searching. "And you…"

I sighed deeply and before he could go on, filled in, "I'm the broken little wreck of a once-human Avenger, a torture victim who fell in love with a Trickster."

His eyes held a silent admonishment as he went on, correcting me with smooth and flowing tones. "You are the hero of nine realms. The Shadowslayer and the will-be Queen of Jotunheim. By earth standards, perhaps, you no longer qualify as 'normal'." His head tilted to the side in puzzled curiosity. "But since when has Earth defined what is 'normal'? Since when is 'normal' an attainable and achieved goal on any realm?" he sighed and shook his head. "I understand that you wish to retain a part of your past life, Natalie, and by all means, retain it. It is you. But the woman sitting before me, the Avenger and Shadowslayer… is also you. Whoever you are tomorrow or five years from now will similarly be you. And you exist quite perfectly in my 'normal'." He leaned across the table, the pieces forgotten as he placed a gentle, cold hand on my own. "Why can it not be yours as well?"

I studied him with narrowed eyes for a moment. "You make it awfully hard to stay mad at you."

He smiled weakly. I didn't smile back. I leaned forwards as well, so that our faces were a little closer. "Fine," I said firmly. "Tell you what. I'll try not to freak out too badly about being 'normal', if you try to cut yourself a little slack." I pulled my hand out from under his so that I could offer it in a handshake. "Deal?'

He surveyed it momentarily, almost reproachfully; but it was in that sly, devious way, where his eyes did their little tap-dance of sneakiness. And then he breeched the few inches between our faces, brushing his lips just lightly against mine. "Deal," he whispered there, then stood, leaving me reeling momentarily. I sorted my brain in time to see his long, thin fingers delicately clasp the white queen and slide it into place. "And checkmate," he added, almost conversationally, as he turned and walked away.

When I found myself alone in the room, I rolled my eyes. Well, that was one thing about being engaged to the Trickster: there was never a dull moment.

"Tell me that Natalie Frost is not the reason you are here."

Puck froze in the doorway, stunned just briefly into immobility by the accusation. And then he sighed quietly, closing the door behind him as he did so. "And why would you ask me that, m'lady?"

"Do not call me that!" The giantess snarled. "We all know who the real 'owner' here is, so please, have the courtesy to spare me the act!"

Puck turned his steady, unwavering red eyes towards the giantess in the room. She was a nervous-looking thing, but had grown even more so of late. He wished it hadn't been her. He wished that it could have been someone else. She was far too jumpy, too nervous, and above all, too clever. She could oust him. It was very difficult keeping her from doing so as it was.

He sighed quietly and sat down across from her. "You are free to end this arrangement whenever you so choose," he reminded her quietly.

She gave him a distasteful, disdainful look. "So it is the Lady Frost." The words were growled out with anger, but Puck could easily see the fear in her eyes. She was scared. Terrified.

He shrugged very mildly. "I would never harm her, or our King, if that is your concern."

"Tuh!" She shouted in disbelief, turning her head to the side. Puck waited as slowly, the anger died out of her face, to be replaced with… not terror, as he expected, but exhaustion. She ran her hands down her face. "This is treason," she breathed.

"This is no such thing," Puck answered coldly. "As I said, I have no intent to harm the Lady Frost: or King Laufeyson. I intend to harm no being in this palace, or on this world."

The giantess looked up to him- her eyes traveling from the false shackles on his wrists and up to his face- and sneered. "No being except my son?"

The word sent an odd little twist of pain through him; and that pain leant fire to his eyes as he said, quite clearly, "I never harmed him. I have not even seen him, let alone hurt him."

"So you say," the giantess grumbled. Puck felt ever more stirrings of anger. He leaned forwards, closer to the giantess, somehow looming above her.

"Your son disappeared eight years ago. And, if you recall, I was not here at that time. I am only here to help you find him."

"By withholding his location until you get what you want," The giantess snarled. "Which you still have not specified. You are a liar and a spy, half-breed; why should any word from your mouth be considered truth?"

"I have already given you the proof you needed that he is alive-"

"I'm not speaking of him!" the giantess screeched, leaping to her feet. Puck, though startled, did not show any emotion on his face other than raising a calculating eyebrow. "I am speaking of the Shadowslayers! If you are plotting against them and I am assisting you…" her words trailed off, and she began to tremble.

"They are, as you mentioned, Shadowslayers," Puck noted smoothly, with no real noticeable hesitation. His tone was calm and soothing, as though he were speaking to a child. In many ways, he felt as though he was. "They can most certainly handle themselves, would you not agree?"

As the woman stared at him for a long moment, Puck sighed and stood up. "The decision is, of course, yours. And I will not deny that Natalie Frost is my reason for being here. But you have my word-whether you believe in it or not- that I will not harm her; or her betrothed." He smirked just carefully. "To do so would not be entirely self-serving, after all."

And then he breezed from the room; and for a brief second, before he was outside in the world and stooping once again, the slave stood as tall as a King.

Natasha casually flipped the page of her book, fingers running delicately across the thin parchment, down the row of inkblot letters. "You're here after Natalie, and not immediately raising the alarm. Which means that this is not an emergency on Jotunheim, or that you wish to speak to her. It means you have a problem and you don't particularly want her knowing about this conversation yet." She glanced up from the book binding and up to the empty doorframe. "Is that right?"

A moment's pause after the words had been said, and then Loki breezed into sight of the doorway, a wry smile on his face. "You know, she often wonders if you simply spout statements such as this into empty rooms: just in case someone is lurking."

"I'm sure she does the same," Natasha answered coolly, slipping a bookmark between the pages and setting the book aside. She took the Trickster in at a glance, noting his Asgardian form and clothing carefully. He was attempting to look more 'human'. Which meant that he at least intended to stay on Earth for a while. "Seeing as this is the first time that you've come to Earth since your coronation, and that it's within the first few days of me being at the Tower since then, I assume your questions are for me."

Loki nodded once. Natasha gestured with one hand to the seat across from her. Though her arm had been broken only a month ago, the Asgardian Healers had done wonders; and now there was only the slightest bit of shakiness to her hand as she moved it. Loki lowered himself into his seat carefully, but said nothing. Natasha waited for a moment, then, seeing that he was unable to voice his questions, sighed and voiced them for him. Or rather, voiced one of her own, knowing that it would lead down the path to answer his. "How many?"

Loki looked up to her. Despite those four months, despite everything they had been through, the innocence in his eyes whenever he spoke of me still managed to surprise her on occasion. He sighed deeply. "Three," he answered. "Three episodes in the past five days alone." He ran his hand over his face. "They are getting worse, not better."

Natasha nodded, taking that in as she studied him, her mind naturally keeping tabs on everything; body language, gestures, the tone and volume of his words.

"She asked me to leave her be when they occur," Loki said, "And I have. Repeatedly. But they continue to get worse, and with her back at college, in the world… I have concerns."

"Understandable," Natasha answered simply. "And she of course refused to speak with anyone outside of the 'family'."

"No one, save for the Avengers," Loki confirmed. "She wouldn't even speak of it with her true family, given the opportunity."

"And she never asked for help from a therapist." At Loki's nigh-reproachful look, Natasha added, "She can't be her own."

"Speaking to any mental health facilitator outside of S.H.I.E.L.D. would spill a great many secrets, Agent Romanoff. And she certainly wouldn't trust anyone inside of S.H.I.E.L.D."

"I did," Natasha said quietly.

"Barton is not a viable option."

Natasha quirked a smile. "But you think I might be."

"You've assisted her before."

"I'm not a shrink."

"But you are her friend." Loki's forehead creased as his hands folded in his lap and he leaned forwards just slightly. His voice lowered. "Your opinion, your words all mean a great deal to her. She will not say as such only because she knows that you are aware of it already; but she values you highly."

"And I've done everything that I can as a friend," Natasha answered shortly. As Loki exhaled- it wasn't quite a sigh- she went on, "I can't be for her what Barton was for me; because Barton pulled me out of a bad situation. I, and the other Avengers, have all dragged her into one." She shook her head, her short, red, wavy hair bouncing just slightly around her features. "I can give you advice, answer questions. But I can't pull her out of all of this. She has to do that for herself, or find someone else who can."

Loki's body posture immediately, if subtly, closed. His hands, still folded in his lap, drew closer to his body. His feet shifted, closer together. And his eyes went down.

Natasha caught it. Her eyes lit up in understanding, and she sat back, settling a little more into her chair. "Unless she already has."

Loki turned his head to the side, avoiding her eyes. It was almost as though he had screamed 'yes'. "And you don't approve," Natasha went on, her voice sounding every bit like a spider should, if a spider were given voice.

Loki swallowed as he turned back. "We do not entirely… trust him."

"Him?" Natasha asked, eyebrows lifting as her eyes danced and her lips fought a war with a smile. Loki immediately latched on to the deeper meaning suggested behind her words and shook his head quickly.

"He's far too young for that, Agent Romanoff," he told her, though his tone had grown a shade darker. "The equivalent of a teenager."

Natasha still looked much too amused for his liking. "Which is what she was, not too long ago; and before this life took her in and made her into what she is." She tilted her head just once, swiftly, a quirk of a gesture. "There is an appeal there."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "The idea never occurred to her. And if it had, I'm certain it would… disgust her."

"You think that highly of yourself, do you?"

Just briefly, Loki wished that the two were still enemies. It would have given him an excuse to try and throw her out of the nearest window. But the thought was errant and soon under tight control. Instead of taking violent action, he tightened his folded hands, shifting them just slightly. "He is, in her eyes, more of a child to be protected than he is anything else."

Natasha noted that, her eyes on him… and then she settled back a touch. "Fair enough," She answered quietly. "But you said that you didn't trust him; and it would not be the first time that your jealousies got the better of you."

The curt, no-nonsense flow of her words cut to the quick, and Loki flinched against their sting. This much was true. But until Natasha had mentioned it, there hadn't been even the slightest hint of envy towards Puck, and there was none now. What he had said was the truth. "I said that we do not trust him," Loki corrected the spy smoothly. "I myself have never met him, never laid eyes on him. It is Natalie who holds reservations."

At this, Natasha's eyebrows furrowed. Her posture became just the slightest bit tenser. "And yet he's helping her with what has happened. How can he help her if she doesn't trust him?"

Loki turned away again. This time, however, Natasha did not seem able to read the answer from this avoidance, and so he was forced to reply. "It is because he helps her that she does not trust him." He looked back to Natasha. For once, the spy looked confused. No, not confused… curious. This was a puzzle. She wanted to fit the pieces into place. "She walks with him before she leaves for college. She has done so almost every day for a week, and intends to continue doing so. They talk. He occasionally probes deeper questions; and whenever he does, she holds no reservations until after she has spoken with him." His eyes hardened. "This was much the way in which Fraye manipulated her emotions. It was only after she lost sight of the child that Natalie began to doubt her motives."

Realization dawned in Natasha's eyes, and she nodded a few times, signifying her recognition of the pattern. "And that was how she knew that you weren't everything you seemed," She filled in. "Because you said things that were too like her own past history."

"Precisely," Loki nodded. There was less of a wince with these words; that was a past so long ago forgiven by me that it was almost difficult for him to hold onto his self-hatred for it; and in the new spirit of 'cutting himself some slack', he had done what he could to let go of it.

"So she's afraid to trust this guy because she already trusts him too much," Natasha added.

"Indeed."

"So you're both being careful of him," she went on. "But at the same time, he's helping. At least, when he's around, he helps. And you don't want to lose that."

Loki considered. "I suppose it would be easiest to say that I wish for her to have something to fall back on, should this turn out… badly." He paused, then thought of something else and carried on. "I am a King now; and a King will have plots against him. It is a part of the claim of royalty; and we must see those plots everywhere." His eyes met Natasha's. "Even if she were not to hold such a position of high royalty herself in the future, it is still not unfeasible that someone may try and harm me through her; and with our minds intertwined as they are, that would not be such an altogether difficult task."

"So you want to know whether or not she should maybe try to trust him anyway."

"I cannot ask that of you. You do not know him."

"You're right. I don't. And I don't know a whole lot about this emotion-manipulating, magical BS that she's had pumped into her life for about three years now." She leaned forwards. "What I can tell you is this: if it works out, if he's copasetic, then he will become the single most invaluable friend she has."

Loki blinked. "And if not…?" He asked, wary.

Natasha leaned back. "Then get yourself a fallout shelter. Because nothing on Jotunheim will survive."

Loki rolled his eyes. "There was no need or call for theatrics, Agent Romanoff."

"You think I'm being dramatic?" Natasha's eyes sharpened abruptly. She leaned forwards. "Don't you recall your own plans, Loki?"

His eyebrows furrowed, perplexed. There was a much harder undertone in her voice now, an abrupt change. "I'll spell it out for you: A-P-R-I-L."

Loki paled.

"The last time Natalie lost something that important to her, she, and that Bubble of Death, almost took out New York. If her connection to you and the Tesseract hadn't been separated when Fraye had her, I doubt that even she could have gotten through. She probably could've wiped out any life on-planet, if there had been any life on that planet." Her entire body posture was now stern and serious. "However you play this, play it carefully. Or you might just lose that kingdom you now rule: and she might just lose you."

Loki swallowed. The words hit hard, because they were true. And they were a factor he hadn't even truly considered. There was a threat to his kingdom.

And it was me.

The biggest threat that Jotunheim had might just be the woman who would one day be seated on its throne… and how would history remember us then?

He nodded a few times. "Of course," he said. And then, a little stiffer, "But 'playing things carefully' was always a high priority, Agent Romanoff. She is, after all, my fiancée."

That seemed to soothe a few ruffled feathers. Natasha sat back a little, lowering her voice and softening her eyes. "I know," she said, in quiet agreement.

There was a brief pause. And then Loki stood. "For the record," he said, not even entirely aware that he was using a human phrase, showing off my influence in his head, "She would not lose me. Our last battle with Fraye fused us in more ways than one: her shield now recognizes me as a part of her. It would protect me alongside her." He sighed briefly. "Not that it would matter a great deal. But it may be something useful to remember, should we ever be forced to battle beside one another again."

Natasha smirked. "We're Avengers," she reminded him. "It's all but inevitable."

He chuckled quietly and walked out the door.

"He truly said that?"

"He did!" I nodded fiercely, grinning. Puck barked out a laugh, shaking his head back and forth. "Bar none, he is the single most arrogant shit that I have ever met, and I don't care what planet you're from."

We weren't in the public eye currently, but rather tucked away in one of the palace's many niches that I'd been exploring of late. So Puck was actually brave enough to look me in the face as we talked. "He sounds like an interesting character," he admitted, albeit with a sprinkling more kindness than I'd put on my words.

"I do so sincerely hope that I am not the brunt of this particular conversation," a cool, collected voice said from the other side of the room. I knew that he was there- and that he was aware that he was not the aforementioned arrogant shit- but Puck seemed mildly startled; and then even more surprised by the fact that he had been startled. Maybe he was used to hearing people enter the room behind him.

Loki leaned in the doorway. It was a position that would have been most un-king-like on anyone but him; but he made the relaxed look regal. As though his casual attitude was simply his way of showing that he did not fear anyone around him; and not that he did not care what they did. It just didn't seem to matter if someone tried anything or not; it was a bit of a conceited grace and regality, but damn if he hadn't earned the right to it. He acted like he didn't feel threatened by anyone for the simple reason that he didn't. Any threat to him was a cakewalk after Fraye.

"You're not," I promised my fiancée sweetly. "I was actually talking about Stark."

That seemed to spark a little more of a good mood, though we both knew it was false, for we both knew that he was already aware of this as well. "Well then, by all means, talk away."

Puck's eyes had lowered to the ground again, and again he was shaking. It was the first time Loki and he had met; and that was because it was the first time that Loki had decided that they should. Loki didn't bother with the formality of introducing himself or of asking the slave's name.

"And you are Puck."

Puck swallowed tightly. I could see the gesture in his face as his hands clenched at his sides. He did not seem particularly afraid, nor particularly angry; the same way he had seemed when we had first met. He bowed, low and deep, and looked upset that he was in a bad position to kneel; otherwise he might have been on one knee. "Aye, your majesty."

I wanted to roll my eyes-in fact, Loki did too- but it was the proper 'respectful' gesture to the king; and he, like me, had given up on chastising people for it. The only person I still threatened with physical injury whenever they bowed was Puck; everyone else merely carried on. Well, everyone but Sigil and Avalon, who only bowed whilst in the public eye or when they were saying something particularly offensive. Loki had quickly learned, within his first day of ruling, just how invaluable and indispensable the twins had made themselves to the king. If they wanted, they could parade around the palace in their underwear, holding up signs that said "Die Loki Die," and he probably couldn't touch them. It made them into powerful enemies, if we ever got on their bad side. And we invariably would; the twins didn't have much of a 'good' side. Though I liked them. They were fun to have around. Like a cobra; keep it behind some inch-thick glass, and we're completely copasetic.

Puck, on the other hand… well, I still wasn't sure what to make of him. Loki didn't seem entirely certain either; but when I poked at his head to see what he was feeling, he threw up a wall to keep me out. It was flimsy- all of our walls were these days- and another poke could have broken it down, but I didn't bother. Clearly he wanted to figure things out for himself right now.

Loki didn't say anything particularly friendly in response. In fact, his only reply was a cold, hard, "Interesting."

He settled back a bit, again leaning on the wall as he appraised the half-breed. "Raised on Earth?"

"Aye, your majesty."

"And your mother was the human, correct?"

"Aye, your majesty."

This was unnecessary. He knew as much; and I suspected that Puck knew that he knew. But it was opening the path to other questions; ones that I had never asked. "Your mortality."

For the first time, Puck looked up. It was in surprise, and he glanced down soon afterwards. "My m-mortality, your majesty?"

"Aye."

"What… what of it, your majesty?"

"Simply put, do you share your mother's mortality, or your father's immortality?"

That was something that I hadn't even considered. My stomach twisted. This kid could actually be a human-aged teen, not a Jotun one. His mother could have not died of old age, as I'd suspected, but rather in an accident, or something grimmer. I swallowed tightly.

But Puck answered a moment later. "I would assume my father's, sir."

"You 'assume'?"

"It appears as such," Puck answered. "But there is no way to be certain. There are few other Half-Breeds as reference."

I felt the worry stirring inside of Loki's chest and, for the first time, realized why he was traveling down this line of questioning. My heart stuttered once; even if we solved the issue of my own mortality, what about my child? If I had any. It was now a consideration that perhaps I should not.

It made my throat feel thick. Loki changed subjects smoothly. "Because few other Half-Breeds survive."

"Aye, your majesty."

"And you only did so because your mother kept you on Earth, correct?"

"Aye, your majesty."

Puck was still in his bow. I nudged Loki in the arm with my elbow, pointing it out in our minds. He nodded, and I said, "Kid, straighten up. You're gonna throw out your back."

The slave looked up warily. When Loki made no mention of disapproval, he slowly straightened, but he kept his eyes on the ground. Loki's questioning resumed mere seconds later.

"So you have a human form? Something that made you seem like another Midgardian, kept your true nature out of sight?"

"Aye, your majesty."

"And it concealed your height, I assume." Loki glanced at Puck. He was far taller than the Trickster. At his current height, he could never have passed for human.

"Aye, your majesty." Sheesh, the kid was a broken record.

"Mere illusion?"

"N-No, your majesty." Okay, maybe not.

Loki arched a perfect eyebrow. "Oh?"

Puck kept his eyes on the ground. "I… Neither form is illusion. I can now adopt one or the other at will, but, as a child… I had no control. Either one was… me."

He seemed very reluctant to pass on this piece of information-and I could see why, it was one of those 'touchy' subjects that could get him killed- but what could he do? Refuse to answer his king?

Again, after a few nods, Loki's only response was, "Interesting."

And then he turned to me. I blinked as he switched languages, falling into Spanish: it was our usual language of choice when we wished to hide things from Asgardian or Jotun ears. "There is something…" He glanced at Puck and sighed. "Be cautious," he warned at last. "And we shall speak of this later."

I nodded. His hand wrapped around mine, a gesture unseen by the slave, and he squeezed it once before nodding a farewell to Puck and exiting the room.

Puck only managed to peer up a minute or so after Loki had gone. And then he relaxed, letting out a breath that I'm sure he wasn't aware he was holding. I grinned. "He grows on you."

"I'm certain, my lady," he said, as kindly as he could manage in his worried and wearied state. I just grinned again.

Loki was quiet. He'd been quiet for a long time now. He'd returned from his duties and I hadn't had school (it was a weekend) and so we had been spending time with each other for a while now. But he still hadn't brought up the elephant in the room: Puck.

I was working on a sketch-one of the bazillion outfits that I occasionally toyed with, in the hopes that one day, maybe, I might be brave (or stupid) enough to suit up and charge around the streets with the other superheroes- when the wait finally became intolerable. I slammed my pencil down on the table and looked up to Loki. "You aren't jealous, are you?" I asked, exasperatedly. I'd learned of his conversation with Natasha quite quickly; and her worry had soon escalated into a worry of mine.

Loki gave me a sharp look. "Of course not," he answered with a blatant, brusque sincerity that made me feel a little warmer inside. I pulled back a little on the hostility.

"So what's your problem with him?"

"My problem, my dear," Loki answered, his tone flat and smooth, the still surface of a pond. "Is that you have a problem." His eyes flicked up from the open tome in front of him. He was off the throne but still at work, some days studying the law of his new world, some days focusing on magic; more specifically, trying to learn the nature of the magical 'attack' we'd had a few days earlier. The circle of empty devastation. He preferred studying this, though other magical strains frequently distracted him.

"And…?" I prodded as his eyes went back to the pages. Because if there wasn't something else wrong, he would have discussed it with me by now.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a resigned sigh. "And there is something intensely wrong with that slave."

I knew it. I knew that this was true. I knew that something was horribly off about him.

But that didn't stop it from hurting nonetheless.

The idea that there was something 'wrong' with Puck, that he was anything more or less then what he said he was, did not fit into my perception of the universe. It stung. It hurt way more than it should, and it made me even more nervous: because not even Fraye had made me feel that strongly. Not when she wasn't around. When I'd found out that Fraye was the 'bad guy', I'd forgotten pretty quickly that we had ever been friends. At the time, I'd put it down to the fact that I'd always been suspicious of her, even from the second I'd met her; but I'd always been suspicious of Puck, too. And this hurt. There was nothing wrong with Puck. How could there be?

But Loki's appraisement of the half-breed was brutal, ruthless, and relentless. Because I'd wanted it to be. I'd wanted it to be honest. "Even if there was not an incredible excess of power inside of him, there is still something horrifically vile about him; something that simply… rebels against his surroundings." Loki met my gaze evenly. "You've sensed it without realizing it; a core, animal instinct that warns you away. But some other instinct, something stronger, has been pulling you towards him." He sighed, shaking his head. "But I cannot begin to fathom how. There is no magical manipulation; something that strong would leave traces. I would have sensed it. Sigil, Avalon: they would have sensed it. He is not manipulating your emotions through magic; at least, not as far as I can tell. But you were right to be wary. In many ways, you would be more right to fear him."

"Fear him?" I asked, abruptly aghast. But Loki simply nodded once.

"As I said; magically, there is something very… wrong, with him. I wish there were a better, more accurate term, but there simply isn't. He doesn't…"

"Feel right," I filled in. Loki sighed.

"By all magical senses, no. It is almost as though…"

"As though what?" I asked, my words more scathing than I'd intended. Loki, however, did not flinch away from them. Instead, he met my eyes. And, after a moment's pause, he answered, "As though he should not exist, Frost."

I gritted my teeth, looking down. It took me a long while to process that. My hands clenched. And when my words came out, they had inhaled the entire icy realm of Jotunheim, the very shadowed heart of Fraye; for they were darker and colder than glaciers and darkness combined. "Because he's a half-breed." My eyes glinted as I looked at Loki from under my eyebrows. "Is that it?"

Loki gave me a withering, reproachful glare in response. "You know that is not the case, Frost."

"Isn't it?" I growled.

The Trickster rolled his red eyes. "Don't be childish, Natalie. It does not become you." At the mulish look on my face, he leaned forwards, his face set in a stern expression. "After all this time, do you truly think so little of me? After what you've done and all that you've shown me and all that you have proven about mortals and immortals alike, I am hardly going to hold it against him that he was born with half-human heritage. By realms, Frost, my children would be the same, would they not?"

The words 'my children' shivered through me and suddenly, unexpectedly, split the air between us. They were said in the heat of the moment, with nothing to temper or restrain them, with no thought given to how they would sound until they were said. We hadn't even discussed kids, though it seemed that everyone around us always did. For crying out loud, we weren't even married yet: and we were already doing that more quickly than a sane, rational being would. I looked down. A moment later, so did Loki. I felt my face began to burn. But the problem was, I couldn't help but imagine it. Couldn't help but imagine being a mother. Couldn't help but imagine Loki being a father. My face burned even redder, and my cheeks began to twitch as I did everything I could to keep from smiling. It wasn't exactly a bad imagining.

But the world was too hectic and crazy to even consider having kids yet. Granted, I was living life for every second since Fraye, because I felt that, at every second, I could be swept away from life for good. That was (in part) why I'd gotten engaged so quickly. It was why I wasn't holding a lot of my old grudges; like with my father. But I still wanted a little more stability in my life before I turned it upside down and backwards once again. And kids… even thinking about kids, would do just that.

Loki most certainly sensed the awkwardness that his statement had put into the air; and he was feeling it too, I was certain. He looked down, and might have blushed under the blue skin. After a long, very weighted silence, he attempted to cover his tracks with a few hasty words. "If… If we were to ever… if we decided to…"

"I'm game." I cut in, slapping my hands against the table that separated us. The words were abrupt and sudden and startled Loki a bit. And then he looked at me, mystified. "What?" I asked, leaning back a touch in my chair. "You know my stance on family life, you know that's what I've always wanted. Someday, in the future- the far future, mind- I'd like to have kids. There, I said it. Not taking it back, either."

As usual, my bluntness- though it made it worse for a brief second- eased the tension between us. It was something that Loki used to hate about me, but it had slowly grown into one of his favorite things about me. Because there was no lie to it, no guile, no underhanded dealings and no ulterior motives. I said what I meant.

A little half-smile made an appearance on his face; and I took that as a cue to continue. "It's not like we don't think far ahead into the future anyway. I mean, we're already planning about what to do to keep me from dying: and I'm only twenty-two. So yeah: you're a king, and people are going to expect you to have an heir someday. I'm not going to disillusion myself of that. And regardless of them and their opinions, I'd like to have kids. So if you do, too… then okay."

Loki watched me for a moment with that old, bemused, half-sad-half-smiling look of his. "And what I would not give to let you have them. To let you be happy." He sighed quietly, looking down. "But do you think that they would thank us, Frost? The children of two monsters, born into a world where many secretly hate them? Where even more shall continually plot against them?" he looked to me, his eyes suddenly very tired. "You have seen what damage this political world can cause, the constant struggle for a throne. I would not wish that on an enemy, let alone my own son."

"Or daughter." I had to put in. He shot me a look, and I sighed deeply. "Understandable," I acknowledged. "But that doesn't mean that we shouldn't give them a chance."

"I would agree," Loki said, but his voice was still very quiet, and he was still not looking at me. "However, there are other matters to consider."

And just like that, we were really talking about kids. I felt shaky; this was the sort of thing that smart people discussed before marriage, it was true, but it still felt… odd to do so. Again with the whole 'we'd-only-really-been-an-official-couple-for-a-little-more-than-a-month-now' thing. It made everything complicated and weird. "Like what?" I asked Loki, doing everything I could to keep my mind open and on-task. We had to discuss this rationally. Reasonably. Not to let our emotions get in the way.

He looked at me for a long, difficult moment, struggling with his words. Finally, however, he had them. "There is the matter of whether or not it's… possible."

My eyebrows shot straight up. Was he just trying to find reasons, here? "Of course it is. I mean, Puck…"

Loki held up a hand, stopping me. "That is not what I meant."

I blinked. We so rarely misunderstood each other; most of the time our thoughts followed the same path, traveled along the same routes. Loki sighed, pressing his fingertips together and looking down at his hands. "It is not a concern of whether or not a human and a giant could have a child. It is a concern of whether your particular… gifts would allow it."

It took me a moment. Then I got it; and I went pale. "The nanos."

He sighed quietly and gave a few shallow nods. "They are programmed to keep you healthy, well. To heal whatever injuries are in their capacity to heal, and to… eradicate any foreign elements."

"Which they might view a pregnancy as, because they're prototypes, and because Tony was expecting them to work with spies and not pregnant women." The sigh I sighed came from somewhere deep inside of me, at the base of my stomach and somewhere in the bleaker parts of my heart. It was heavy, pressing a great deal of weight onto my shoulders, and I slumped, resting my elbows on the desk and my forehead against my palm heels. "Because I had to get whatever superpowers I have at a cost, didn't I?" I asked bitterly. "It couldn't be simple. Couldn't be easy."

"You have more than paid any price that those abilities might have cost, Natalie," Loki said, amazingly gently, reaching forwards and taking my hand as though it were made of glass. And though I usually got pissed for that, right now I needed it. Because right now, for the first time, I felt like glass. I looked up at him exhaustedly. "It is still only a theory. It is possible that we are wrong. That Stark took it into account."

"Stark doesn't usually take the needs of others into account," I reminded him with a trace of acid. Loki smirked.

"True enough. But technology is one thing that he knows."

I slouched onto one hand, moving it down from my forehead so that I could lean against it. "But you have other concerns."

It was an even longer silence then before, which made my stomach twist with anxiety. He'd obviously given this more thought than I had; and he had all the reasons why this was a bad idea. And if the next one was even worse, then I wasn't sure I could take it. But I had to. I had to know; so that we could fix it if possible and accept it if not.

"What if they are mortal, Frost?"

The words were quiet and filled with silent dread. As I looked up at Loki, he did not look back, and I realized that his hand in mine was shaking just slightly. "It is one thing that I will be forced to lose you; and I can barely abide by that. I cannot abide by that." His expression grew more pained, and he closed his eyes tightly, screwing them shut. "But would you sentence me to that? Sentence me to watching my children, possibly my grandchildren, die, again and again, whilst I live on? If I was forced to see every last trace and remnant of you obliterated, time and time again, all with that silence still in my mind… And who knows what kind of telepathic link they might share, what parts of my mind they might carve out when they went…!"

"Loki!" I cut him off sharply. His eyes opened, looking to me, pained and childlike. I took the hand that I still held and leaned across the table a little so that I could press his palm against my cheek without stretching his arm past its limit. For a long time, I held his gaze with mine, not bothering to search his eyes but letting him search mine, letting him remember that I was still here, that his mind was still whole, that everything was still all right.

He trembled a little longer, but, gradually, that slowed. I looked him in the eye and I said things as sincerely as I possibly could.

"Okay," I promised in a soft tone, as reassuring as I could make it. Many years as an official-and-unofficial 'shrink' had helped me in that regard. "Okay. All right. Unless we can be absolutely certain that they'd be immortal… we won't have kids." I kissed his palm gently. "All right?"

He watched me for a long time. And then, sighing deeply, he nodded. I smiled weakly and was about to release his hand when he promised in a soft voice, "I would." There could be no doubting the honesty in his tone, the sincerity in his features. "If we could be certain… then I would."

I smiled softly, even as the brilliant, vividly colored images of Loki as a father and myself as a mother faded into grey in my mind. Even as the dream became whitewashed and watered down to its barest dregs of hope. "I know," I told him, closing my eyes. I didn't bother to let go of his hand as I'd intended, but rather rested my face against it a little more. "We'll figure it out, Loki. I mean, we got this far."

He chuckled ruefully at the raw truth of that statement. After all, we had far from started out the way we were. Somehow, down our travels as enemies, disagreeing on everything, on every core belief, we had ended as this. It was a long, hard road and we had both gained much and lost more: gained friends and family and abilities we never had before… but lost friends as well, lost parts of ourselves and parts of our sanity and we'd twisted and changed and contorted, but we always managed to figure out a way to make those contortions fit with the other person. We got where we were and we got there together and so everything would be okay. We could figure things out.

After a long time, I let his hand slip away, and for a while we returned to what we were doing before. My sketch became more detailed and Loki once again returned to his studies of magic. It was a long time before conversation began again; and when it did, it was back on-topic.

"So…" I said slowly. "About Puck…"

Loki sighed quietly, lifting his head up. He studied me. "You truly care for him."

"The only reason he's given me not to trust him is that I do trust him," I pointed out.

"That was the only reason I gave. The only reason Fraye gave. It was enough at the time."

I sighed through my nose. "So… what? Magically, he feels… off. Other than that, what's the problem?" It was, again, a rational question. Carefully reasonable, with no emotional influence whatsoever. "You said something about… power."

Loki lifted his eyebrows. Then he straightened entirely, no longer hunched over his book, pressing his spine against the chair. "I did," he agreed. "It appears that his human heritage did not dilute the magical ability he held from his father's bloodline. If anything, it strengthened it. With proper time and training, Puck could easily become the most powerful mage in Jotunheim."

He said this with such an even tone and flat affect that I blinked at him. I would have expected more… envy, to be honest.

"Are you surprised?" Loki inquired.

"A little. I wouldn't have expected…"

"Of course not. He is a slave. That time and training are not things that he shall ever be entitled to, unless his master should decide to give it to him, and that is unlikely." He sighed heavily. "It is rather unfortunate. Power such as that should not be wasted."

It was then that it clicked; the reason why he wasn't jealous of Puck's magical talent. Not because he was a slave and thus could never use it anyway, that would be petty: but because, "You admire him. You admire that kind of power."

"Magic is an art, and he has the talent for it," Loki agreed, a trace wistfully. "But even the most skilled painter cannot create a masterpiece without the proper tools." He shook his head, sighing contemplatively. "Regardless of whatever is wrong with him, whatever magic that has been placed on him to make him seem so out of place with the rest of the universe, he could have been great, if this world only valued magical strength over the physical." He rolled his eyes. "But brute force will always be valued over cunning; and Puck will always been seen for stature and for blood; not for power."

I blinked. And then my head tilted to the side. "You liked him, too, didn't you?"

Loki's teeth glinted as they showed at the corner of his lip, a smile that looked almost fanged.

I snickered. "It's not just about power. You thought he was a good kid."

"It seems that a part of me may well be entrapped by the same influence you are: whatever it is that draws you to the half-breed… it is possible that it may have affected me as well." He frowned. "Which is why I worry. If it were magic, and it were being used against me, I should have detected it." He sighed deeply. "But, as I said, he is very powerful… and for all we know, fully trained in that power."

"If he was," I pointed out, "Wouldn't he have been able to cover that? To make sure that you couldn't tell how powerful he was?"

"Which is why none of it makes sense," Loki answered with a heavy sigh, running a hand down his face. "Nothing about the half-breed makes sense. He is powerful to a fault but bound in chains. He should not exist, and yet he is before my very eyes. He should not be trained and yet he has managed to fool my magical senses and wreak havoc on your emotions. I do not trust him, Frost; but it is not for these reasons. It is for yours. Because he made you trust him far too quickly." He draped his arm over the table. "Be cautious, Frost. I know that you cannot separate entirely from him at this time, but show restraint. Watch your words around him, and do not let him take hold of your life. If he begins to, step away. That is all I can say. The only advice I can give."

We were quiet. And then I looked down, picking at my nails. "That makes sense," I muttered. The words 'I guess' were not said, but they were heavily implied.

Loki tried not to say more. He really did. But the miserable look on my face made him speak. Reaching forward again, he took my hand. "His is not Fraye, Natalie."

I looked to him. His eyes were kind and filled with understanding. Because of course he understood me, he understood everything about me: because I was him, and he was me. He knew that all of these things that were wrong with Puck had me thinking about what had happened with Fraye; and I could not handle another Fraye in my life. Not anymore. Not after last time.

"He may be very powerful. He may be a mage of high caliber. He may even be lying to you, a traitor to you. But that is the worst he can do to you: lie. He is still naught but another Jotun; half-breed or not, he will never hold Fraye's power. He will never hold her strength. And I greatly doubt that he will hold her twisted viewpoint of the world, her degree of sadism. If he is a liar, then he will be found out and imprisoned. If he tries to harm you or I, then he will soon learn that 'Shadowslayer' is more than a name; and that we have faced far worse than he." He smiled at me gently. "I am a Jotun, Frost, and a powerful mage besides: and you managed to render me helpless without assistance from the Avengers. And now you and I are together. Should he ever turn on you… the worst he can do is threaten."

I smiled at him. It was a little smile, but it was heartfelt and unreserved. Then I leaned forwards on my arms, across the table, so that I was a little closer to him. "You know, I actually think I love you from time to time. I must be coming down with something." I grinned swiftly, standing, closing my sketchbook. The picture would have to wait until tomorrow: I kissed Loki goodbye on the cheek and headed out of the room, to the bed. I knew it would be a while before he could tear himself away from his studies and go to sleep himself, but that was all right. I still curled up in the darkness, flaring my glow, and slept soundly.

"Please?"

"No."

"Pretty please?"

"No."

"Pretty, pretty please?" I batted my eyelashes at Loki. He frowned.

"No."

I jutted my lower lip out and adopted my best baby voice, adding just the slightest, barest, little itty-bittiest hint of a whine. "But I wanna."

That might have earned a smile on a better day. Not today. "No."

"Pweeese, Woki?"

"Frost, if you ask one more time, I swear I will throw you in the nearest dungeon."

I blinked, kicking my legs back and forth as I held my hands braced on the counter I sat on. "Well that's not really conducive to a healthy relationship," I noted, still in my kiddy voice. When he did not respond, but instead carried on packing-weapons, mostly, quick and fairly 'trivial' stuff- I went on, "Besides, you couldn't throw me in a dungeon."

He paused long enough to lean over me, placing his hand on the wall nearby so that he held me trapped as he loomed over me. Sitting on the counter like I was, I actually reached his height, but did not surpass it. Loki moved in a few inches, almost threateningly. "I am a king. I do as I like."

I gave him my best fanged smile. I was getting rather good at it, and, playful or not, it actually creeped Loki out a little bit (not that he'd admit it for even a second). "And I am your girlfriend. Which means that I can do worse."

His eyes narrowed. I held his gaze with innocent eyes but a dangerous smile.

"You aren't going to let this go, are you?" He asked, his voice still hard-edged.

"Not in this century, no. Problem with that?"

He considered, his eyes still thin slits as he watched me. "You have two minutes to be ready, or we leave without you."

"Yay!" I said, mostly ironically, and bounced off the counter, almost landing on his toes. Instead, I deftly avoided his feet and ducked under his arm with ease when he tried to catch me. I started towards where I kept my boots and cape. Because I looked badass in a cape, and it was surprisingly warm (which was always an advantage on Jotunheim). Loki sighed in exasperation.

"It will not be altogether exciting, Frost," he warned me. "It is little more than an over-glorified patrol. Trivial enough that the king himself should not be there; let alone his betrothed."

I rolled my eyes, bounding up to him. It had taken me a total of thirty seconds to get ready, as we'd both known it would. I'd had most everything ready as it was. "But you want to be there, because things seem off to you, and thus, I want to be there."

"It may not be taken well," he warned. "That the planet's greatest defenders seem so overly concerned over…"

"Border patrol?" I filled in, blinking wide eyes. He scowled and ruffled my hair just before I pulled it into its usual business-style ponytail.

"In essence, yes."

"But come on, Loki, I've been cooped up for days. Here and college, here and college, here and college: it's all very monotonous." As he gave me a look, I leaned against him and said, with all the emphasis that I could manage, "I'm bored, Loki. This is your new planet, and I haven't even had a chance to explore it yet!" I pulled back to place my hands on my hips, giving a little pout. "S'not really fair, is it?"

"You are entirely without hope. I give up on you and your kind for the rest of eternity."

I grinned, walking past him, "Come on, then. Time to butcher whatever's left of that hope by totally humiliating you in front of everyone you know." My tone was light and chipper, and I took his hand as I walked, intending to pull him along. He, however, refused to be pulled; and merely pulled back, carefully twirling me around to face him again and tugging a little harder than strictly necessary, so that, when I stopped moving, I was a little closer to him than strictly necessary.

"There is one condition to your release from this room," he warned me.

"Too late! No take-backs!"

"It is one that you will approve of," he told me delicately, but with much self-confidence.

"Oh?"

"Aye." He turned away from me- trailing his hand down my arm as he did so, giving me goose bumps- and walked towards the other end of the room. "It involves two of your favorite things," he said, pleasantly as ever, but I knew the jab was coming, that he was just setting it up. He pulled something out from behind a shelf near the counter that I'd been sitting on; a very large object, wrapped up in cloth and string. "Gifts…" he said, setting the object down and pulling the string back, opening the cloth carefully as I walked up next to him to see it. "And shiny objects," he added with an overly-sweet little smile in my direction. I would have slugged him in the arm… but damn, the thing was shiny. And it utterly took my breath away.

I reached forwards, gently running my fingers across the metalwork. The armor was intricate yet simple. Mostly functional, with a pattern of the Celtic-like knots that I'd found so beautiful since the very first time I'd come to Asgard. But the patterns were not strictly Asgardian, and there was a very heavy Jotun influence everywhere else. I swallowed.

"Loki…" I said slowly, breathlessly. "Are you serious?" I looked at him. It was a simple silver shoulder plate, meant for the upper arm only, as I'd seen many Jotuns wearing; but more often those of high status.

Loki refused to smile at the expression on my face, no matter how much his lips rebelled. He cleared his throat and made a serious effort to make his features expressionless again; and even rolled his eyes a little to cover it. "Come along, Frost," he said, carefully unfastening my cape so that he could attach the metal armor to my shoulder. It fit perfectly. Of course it did. "I cannot allow my subjects to think that their will-be Queen is some delicate creature, meant to be locked away in this room until her mortality slips past. You would kill everyone who thought as much; and then I would be left without a kingdom."

I grinned slyly at him as he finished helping me to fasten it. It was certainly a bold fashion statement; and took me all of a few seconds to recognize where the pattern of knots along its edges had come from. I carefully took Loki's hand, pulling his sleeve back to reveal the Key on his wrist. Though it was now useless, and mine had been removed, it was Loki's one willing scar: Odin had intended to remove it on Loki's return to prison, before he had been offered the crown, and Loki had politely refused. The Key would never restrain him again; but he still kept it, in case he needed it to do so regardless of whether it still had the power to. The armor's borderline was ever-so-clearly patterned after it. He raised both eyebrows, clearly noting that I had recognized it, and I released his hand with a casual smirk.

"It's a little on the worthless side though, isn't it?" I asked, rolling my shoulder. For armor, it was light. For a tank, it was heavy. "No real point to it, really; if I do fight, I'm not going to be fighting with more… ah, conventional weaponry now, am I?"

"True," he agreed. "But it makes a statement."

He brushed past me. I rolled my eyes, still smiling slyly. "Oh, it tells me something quite clearly." I turned to him, even though I was only facing his back. "It tells me that you, in fact, wanted me with you on this little excursion of yours."

He turned back to me and gave me a fanged grin to match my earlier one. "That was ever in doubt?"

I skipped up to him and linked my hand in his. "Not really, no," I answered. He chuckled softly and pulled me into his side just briefly before we moved on.

We met the rest of our party- consisting of only Steprin and four other members of the king's guard- at the designated area. They were all armed and clearly ready to go; and while there were a few curious glances in my direction, no one questioned the king. The Shadowslayers were a dual package; we had most of our strengths only with each other. And it was high time everyone who didn't already know that now learned.

Loki immediately paired me with the scout- a somewhat wiry Jotun named Sile, who said little- knowing that I would want to take a lead on all this. Everyone but Steprin seemed to wish to question this choice; scouts, after all, were the first into any battle, and could easily be killed. But Loki knew that I was nothing if not careful, that our link would ensure that we had eyes with both groups, and that if he hadn't paired me with the scout, I would've just run ahead of everyone anyway.

Our task was, as we'd already established, mostly an over-glorified border patrol. The last group had reported minor signs that may have pointed to an intruder in this area of the planet, and may have not. Loki, however, had found it worth checking out, and so, after a brief journey through the city-in which we all got a number of stares and I did my best to proudly flaunt my new look without seeming overly conceited and shallow- we were out in the ice and snow.

Sile, like every giant, was big. But I gave him this: he was a lot more silent in the snow than I managed to be. I tried to follow his footsteps, even going to far as to step in his footprints, and though it helped a little, I quickly learned that he simply had a talent for being quiet. But, after the first tense half an hour of scouting, he quickly relaxed, falling into an easy pattern; and while his footsteps remained utterly silent, I knew that he'd be a little more open to talking; if we kept it to whispers. I knew, of course, because he talked.

Loki and the other four giants were far behind us-bare specks in the snow- when Sile abruptly halted. He froze, holding up a hand to indicate that I should do the same. Maybe a proper queenly figure would have been insulted by the gesture, but I knew better than that. In the field, in a battle, the difference between a commanding hand gesture and a polite, smooth-toned suggestion could get you killed; and I wasn't stupid enough to care about smooth-toned suggestions in normal life, either. So I halted behind him, making sure that I was in his peripheral vision as I did so, so that he'd be aware that I had done as he'd instructed. We fell into a battle pattern easily; as only those who have actually been in battle can do.

He listened carefully for a moment, and I did the same… and then he took a hesitant step forward. Another step.

And then his dark blue hand flashed towards the snow, quick as lightning, striking the white beneath our feet at its uphill slant. I barely had time to register it before he pulled his hand back and relaxed a great deal, holding something small, pale white, and moving in his hand.

He turned, holding it out to me. I recognized the creature immediately, though neither Loki nor I had ever seen one up close: only in the pages of books. An animal of Jotunheim, as every world has its own. It was white, so as to blend in with the snow around it, but had eyes as bright and vivid red as any Jotun's. The white skin and red eyes gave it the appearance of some of Earth's albino rodents- rats, mice, hamsters, and the like- and indeed, it appeared to be some kind of rodent… a rodent about as big as my hand. It fit perfectly on the Giant's palm, but if I were to hold it, it might have just taken both hands. It made little ritt noises of protest at the strange hand it now sat on. It was hairless, but it had skin like thick leather; almost like an elephant's. I blinked a few times.

"A tilth," Sile informed me quietly, his watchful red eyes scanning the horizon. "There will be more."

"Travel with the family, right?" I recited what I knew, taking it gently from his hand and onto mine. It immediately burrowed inside of my long sleeve and crawled up my arm. It started to tickle when it reached the crook of my elbow, and I pushed it down a bit. It dragged thin little nail-claws down my arms that weren't thick or sharp enough to leave scratches. It stayed at my forearm following my push down, burrowing where it was warm. "Groups of ten to twelve?"

Sile glanced back, looking mildly impressed but not a great deal. "Fifteen, more often," He answered simply. "Keep an ear out; we don't want them raising a false alarm."

I nodded; that was why he'd pointed out the creature in the first place. We didn't want to freak out over something so small, so pointless and normal. Save the freak outs for when we had something to freak out over. I pulled the tilth out of my sleeve and tried to set it back in the snow; it had none of that. It climbed up my sleeve-not under it this time- and was at my shoulder before I could stop it, burrowing next to my neck. Sile was concealing a smile.

"It seems attached to you, Lady Shadowslayer," he said, not without a hint of irony. At least he was bold enough to be ironic. I rolled my eyes.

"It likes being warm," I corrected, tapping the little creature on the nose and almost getting my finger bitten. But I had a dog at home and cat with a particularly nasty temper. I was used to animal bites.

"It will leave you soon," Sile concluded, then turned around. He was right. The tilth's 'family' group showed up a while later, and it dropped off my shoulder, landing almost gracefully in the snow. The air was more relaxed between Sile and I from that point on, my nerves less taut.

We carried on for a while, waving Loki and his group forwards on occasion; or I would inform him through our heads. The silence was comfortable and clear as crystal, and it felt wonderful. The snow muffled everything, and ruined though the planet may have been by the war that had happened so long ago, it still held a frosted-over beauty that I couldn't help but drink in. Beauty, I found, was a rare commodity in life. Take it in while you can. It may vanish before your eyes; but it may be all that sustains you in the biter ugliness that follows.

There were other creatures on Jotunheim, outside of all palace and city walls, that Sile occasionally pointed out to me. Once or twice, I saw them first; and that was when I truly began to impress him. Not many could do that, I presumed. But you spend four months with Fraye, having your sight cut off through the darkness and not knowing where the next attack will come from, and you learn to use your other senses pretty well; and you have a pretty iron-clad grip on your surroundings at all times.

We had just waved the others forwards again when I said, "To your left."

Sile immediately stiffened. No matter how many false alarms we'd had, he still seemed alert and tensed for every one of them. It was no great surprise to me when he said, "Nothing," but neither of us relaxed for a moment.

When we finally did, he half-smiled at me. "You have quite a talent for this, Lady Shadowslayer: you occasionally even see things which are not ther-"

He was cut off when something large, furry, and with enormous teeth barreled straight towards us.

We immediately fell into defensive, ducking to the side as gleaming white teeth snapped at my ear. It moved so quickly that it got close enough to cut a few strands of hair with that particular bite, and as I danced to the side, my heart began to pound. Loki was immediately running forwards to our aid, the others close behind though many tried to surpass him. I flared my shield, forced it into life, and tried to survey the creature before me. It wasn't possible; it moved too quickly. I caught sight of an almost-canine muzzle that seemed more like a Shadow Hound than a real one, but that was all. It was too light-coated to be a Shadow Hound, though; its fur not made from shadows. The similarities, however, were there, and I could not shake the image from my mind as I brought a blow to its sides.

It was away from my reaching shield in a few quick steps, growling and snarling. Sile emerged on the other side, brandishing an ice mace and bringing it down to plunge against the creature's head. It turned to snap at him as I went for its legs, causing enough pain to distract it whilst Sile got his blow in. The ice shattered around its skull, but it seemed only mildly affected, stumbling back on four legs and whimpering just slightly.

It was a fast battle; the thing definitely had a knack for speed. I couldn't get a read on it, couldn't quite tell what it was. It was only a few moments later, when Loki crested the hill that separated us and saw everything from a better angle, that I could catch sight of the full creature that was working so hard to kill me.

Loki paused when his breath caught. Fenrir?

The word sent a flood of old memories through me; Loki's memories, things that I remembered because of him, but couldn't have remembered without seeing the full creature. Immediately, Loki told me, Frost, don't kill him! He's a friend!

Tell him that! I snapped in return, but I moved my aim from the throat to his chest and pulled back on my blow. I probably shouldn't have; the animal gripped my shield at my head, lifting me bodily off the ground. I had to expand the shield to force him to release me; though on a better day I would have simply sharpened it and sent a point straight through his throat.

I kept my eye on Sile as the creature- Fenrir- whirled around to drag enormous claws down his back. I stopped him by ducking beneath his stomach and bringing a sharp edge of my force field across his stomach. It might not have been a Shadow Hound, and was not quite so big, but there were ways in which they were precisely the same. And that was always one of my favorite tactics on them; though there was not quite so much room to fight beneath him. I had to roll out of the way before he sat on me and crushed the life out of me. Teeth clacked near my ear and I rolled again, getting to my feet a short distance away.

The creature charged, its eyes gleaming in hate. It had amber eyes, a simple gleaming iris in a pool of black; where his eyes should have been white, there was naught but more blackness, so the brilliant yellow-amber was all that could be distinguished between them. The charge was brutal, ruthless, but Loki was abruptly in front of the animal, holding his hands up, in his old, Asgardian form.

"Fenrir!" he shouted. "Enough!"

Fenrir pulled back just briefly, halting and sliding in the snow. He barely stopped himself from falling or continuing his charge, and Loki's spear materialized in his hand as the creature got closer. Thankfully, it managed to halt completely at a spot a bare few inches from Loki's face. Lips pulled back from its teeth threateningly as Steprin and the other three giants arrived beside Loki and I; and Sile regrouped around us seconds later.

Fenrir assessed this new development, this new threat. Loki stayed standing in front of me, his eyes hard, and I walked up behind him, eyes narrowed on the creature. I had a better look at it with my own eyes now, and I took the time to observe it closely. His entire shape was vaguely wolf-like, vaguely canine, particularly its face and muzzle… but the rest of it looked more like a Hound at its most muscular (as Hounds fluctuated between gaunt and brawny). It was very powerfully built, with claws that looked as though they could do more damage than a wolf's or dog's. Its teeth gleamed yellow-white, and it was entirely covered in brown fur. There were a few black tips at his shoulder blades, and on his tail, and one paw was white, but the rest of him was a solid, earthy brown.

I considered him briefly; yes, I could see how he would gain a title as a 'wolf' in Norse mythology; easily. The wolf that was tied up and restrained until Ragnarok itself…

But the creature before me was certainly not restrained. That was probably the human myth they made up to make them feel better when they saw this bigass 'wolf' wandering around the planet. His amber eyes gleamed at us, taking us in, then landed and locked on Loki. His lips closed over his teeth, and though he retained his defensive stance, he tilted his head to the side almost curiously.

After a long, tense moment in which every Jotun still held their weapons close and I did not relinquish my shield, Fenrir took a careful step back. He sat in the snow and hunched his head, curling in on himself as a brilliant, orange-yellow light began to build at the center of his chest. He was almost in an animalistic bow as the light built, as I heard the crackling and snapping of bones and muscles reasserting themselves. I winced; I'd heard similar sounds in movies and stuff, but it still wasn't altogether pleasant in real life. Loki continued watching with a hard, stern expression as the light became too much for my eyes, and I turned away.

When it died down, and the sounds vanished, I looked back; a man stood in a crouch, one hand in a fist on the ground and both legs bent at the knee. He straightened slowly, looking momentarily weakened, but after a few moments, blinking eyes that remained amber-black as before, he seemed to regain that strength back.

I blinked. Well, hell, big surprise, even after all this time: Fenrir was a looker. Because everyone was, in my life. That used to be a problem, and maybe some old part of me noted it, but that part of me was too deadened to care much. Well-built with insanely thick muscles, Fenrir stood over me at maybe six foot, only a few inches shorter than Loki. His brown hair matched the color of his fur prior to whatever transformation I'd just witnessed and, thankfully, despite all myth and legend about werewolves (which had pretty much been the only thing going through my head since he'd started the transformation) he was fully clothed. Granted, the clothes were simple, but at least he was wearing them. He had bronzed skin and sharp features that were ruggedly handsome, and I could see a lot of other girls falling head-over-heels for him. I saw it, I recognized that it was there, but I felt none of that attraction. Maybe it had to do with the fact that he was not my type, or that I was almost a happily married woman. Personally I think it had more to do with the fact that he'd just tried to take my head off.

"Loki, by all the realms, have you lost your Asgardian mind?" Fenrir demanded as he stalked towards us, getting very close to Loki. He had a nice voice, even when shouting. The other Jotuns tensed, ready to strike against him as he got closer to their king (whether he currently looked like a Jotun or not) but Loki held them back with one hand, giving Fenrir a cold smirk. "I could have killed you!" the other man shouted again.

"Well, I am afraid that you rather forced my hand," Loki said icily, as I stepped up to him and he pulled me against his side in a very poignant gesture. Fenrir noted it, as he was meant to note it. His eyes narrowed on the two of us, then focused more on me. I didn't like those eyes. It wasn't the weirdness of them, with the absence of whites, but rather the darkness they held, the scheming look… but I'd met many a schemer. I was, in fact, engaged to one. And it wasn't really all that surprising that Loki had an old friend who was one.

"This mortal yours?" Fenrir asked, shooting a piercing glare in my direction, using it to indicate who he was speaking about before looking back to Loki. The Jotuns behind me did not relax, but rather grew tenser at the harsh and disrespectful tone in his voice as he referenced me. Hands tightened on weaponry, and Sile even fell into a threatening battle stance, preparing to strike. I was genuinely touched by the sincerity in these defenses for my honor, and wondered what I had done to deserve it. As I wondered, part of me answered: Well duh! You killed Fraye! You're the Shadowslayer! Of course they want to defend you!

But another part of me whispered back: Is that how I make people respect me? By killing?

"She is," Loki's voice pulled me back to the conversation at hand as he held me a little closer. His words were hard, but in an odd way. A more friendly way. If that made any sense (it didn't make any sense to me at the time).

"And how, exactly, am I supposed to be aware of that?" Fenrir asked. "She's a human on Jotunheim! Anyone would suspect a trespasser!"

"Yes," Loki agreed, "But if you had bothered to use your nose-which is where you skills lie- instead of trying to use your brain- where they do not- then you and I would not be having this conversation."

The way that Fenrir did not immediately launch himself at him made it easy for me to understand that this was just 'guy talk', and through all of those insults, they'd basically just said to each other, "Hey, old pal, it's nice to see you again!" "Oh, and you! We should totally do lunch sometime!"

Men, I swear… I fought to keep from rolling my eyes as Fenrir hesitated and carefully sniffed the air. I knew from Loki's memories that his senses were far more acute than any of ours, so I knew what he was doing. Loki and I had been together for a very long time; we spent time together, we sat close together, we slept in the same bed together… so it was only natural that Fenrir could smell Loki's scent on me, and mine on him. Still, the whole thing was pretty weird and made me feel like I should probably take a very long shower.

Fenrir's eyebrows lifted. He looked at me, his eyes a little wider and less threatening. "You're attached to this one, aren't you?" He mused.

That was it. My pride had taken a few licks with this conversation, and now I was done. "'This one'," I told Fenrir coldly. "Has a name."

Fenrir smiled. "And a temper, I see," he said with a flat gaze and shadowed smile. But then he glanced at Loki- whose eyes were now more hard than friendly- and chuckled softly. "My apologies, my lady. I suppose proper introductions are in order."

"Indeed," Loki agreed. "Fenrir, this is my fiancée; Natalie Frost." He looked to me. "Natalie, Fenrir."

As though I hadn't known that already, but best to appear polite. Fenrir's eyebrows went up again. "Natalie Frost?" he asked, sounding startled. "As in the Shadowslayer, Natalie Frost?" he looked to Loki. "Your fellow Shadowslayer?" At Loki's nod, he breathed something in another language that sounded like a swear. "There were rumors that she was mortal, but I never thought… After all, how could she be?"

"Oh, so you've heard of me," I said, with a bite of sarcasm that Loki detected but Fenrir did not appear to. "That's nice."

Though Loki silently chided me for the sardonic words, he smiled ever-so-slightly nonetheless, before turning once again to Fenrir. "I'm surprised you've heard of the Shadowslayers at all," Loki noted to his old friend. "You have been outside of the realms for a very long time."

"Outside of the realms?" Fenrir asked, mildly incredulous. "Great stars, Loki, do you think that even matters anymore? Fraye was not a problem of the realms alone; she was the bane of the universe! The creature of the dark! And now that she is dead, there is not a planet out there that has not heard the term 'Shadowslayer', and there are a great many who know your names, if not your species." His eyes hardened abruptly. "And there are even more who would try to prove their worth by slaying those who slay the shadows themselves. You would be wise to keep your eyes open."

"Duly noted," Loki replied easily, but still with the barest hint of sharpness in his tone. The Jotuns behind us had finally relaxed and, after a quiet moment, Fenrir seemed to notice them. He glanced back to Loki, his eyes narrowing.

"Never mind the mortal, Loki: what is your business on Jotunheim?" the way he called me 'mortal' made the hair on my arms stand on edge. I knew I wasn't the only one.

Loki glanced to me, and I to him. Fenrir had already referred to Loki by asking if he was 'out of his Asgardian mind'. Having not been in the realms for so long, he would not have known- could not have known- about Loki's true nature. That was why Loki had appeared in front of him as he was, instead of in his Jotun form.

(However, it sparked suspicion in me briefly; if he could tell that Loki and I were 'involved' by our scent, then why could he not tell that Loki was a Frost Giant when they were younger? But I brushed the thought aside; it was possible that Odin asked him not to tell, or, if not, then he had simply not trusted his senses enough to be certain and thus had assumed he was wrong.)

Loki paused. Then, "Perhaps you should return with us. There is… much to discuss."

But Fenrir looked… amazed. He breathed out another curse that was foreign to us, in some unknown dialect from some unknown world across the stars… "Is that also true?" he asked quietly. "Are you now Jotunheim's…" he paused, then looked torn between fear of being laughed at for his next word, and fear that no one would laugh. "King?"

Loki considered the term, then glanced to me. I lifted my eyebrows and took a metaphorical step back: Fenrir was his friend. How he told him, when he told him, was his decision. Loki looked back to the shape shifter and, slowly, a flush of blue began to cross his skin. It took over, his Jotun form taking hold, and he stood tall as he looked Fenrir in the eye.

"Aye," he answered. "It is true."

Fenrir looked at him for a long time. It was a long, terse moment, and I knew that Loki was wary about how it would turn out. He had not truly seen how his friends had reacted to learning of his true nature; he had not even seen Thor's reaction to that. And now, a friend from his past, who could easily see him as the monster that they always thought Jotuns were as children…

And then he laughed quietly. "Well congratulations," he half-bowed; the glint in his eye suggested that it was a sarcastic gesture. "Your majesty."

Now don't get me wrong. I hang out with sarcastic little weasels all the time. Again: I'm engaged to one. Hell, I am one. But something about this guy made me want to correct him with 'your majesties', regardless of the fact that I wasn't even anywhere near being Queen yet. I put it down to power going to my head and a bit of jealousy: after all, this was a man who had known Loki for a long time, and would-if he was staying- likely be monopolizing his time for a while. 'Hanging out with the guys', as it were, which meant less time to spend with me. But I wasn't clingy enough for that to matter too badly, so I pushed the worries aside.

As Fenrir straightened, he smiled a smile with some very sharp teeth. They reminded me a little of Fraye's; though hers were only abnormally sharp at the canines. His were like a friggin' shark's. Except without the multiple rows of teeth. No, you know what? The rows wouldn't have surprised me.

"I always thought something smelled off about you," he said, with the tones and cadence that an old friend would easily adopt. It was informal, but as Loki did not appear to mind, the Jotuns did not mind, either.

"You should have trusted your senses," Loki said, in almost a whisper.

"Well, you learn as you grow older," Fenrir responded easily.

"I'm certain," Loki agreed.

There was another silent moment. I rolled my eyes. "Well, this has all been lovely, but why don't I just do what he'll-" at this, I jabbed a thumb towards Loki, "Take five hours to do and just invite you to dinner?"

Fenrir looked at me curiously. The expression on his face suggested that he hadn't entirely expected me to speak. I was just the little-if-odd decoration on Loki's arm. The mortal of no consequence, Shadowslayer or not. I tried not to take too much offense to that- it was a commonly held belief, and I was used to the treatment- as I leaned my weight onto to one foot, breaking away from Loki's arm. "You are, technically, a trespasser on Jotunheim," I pointed out, smiling brilliantly, with all of my teeth. "We'd like to take you back to the palace anyway; and better guest than prisoner, correct?"

The shape shifter's eyes studied me for a very long moment. And then he smiled. "Humanity has certainly come along way," he said pleasantly. "After all, your predecessors somehow managed to find a family resemblance here," he added wryly, gesturing between himself and Loki. I knew what he was referring to: in mythology, Fenrir had been labeled as Loki's 'son'. Don't ask how an 'Asgardian' managed to have a son who was supposed to be a giant wolf.

"I'm afraid that rather unfortunate biography of us has made me somewhat biased against your kind," Fenrir admitted. He seemed pretty apologetic about it. I thought about cutting him a little slack. But he'd opened himself up to a shot, and I couldn't help but take it.

Grinning quite sweetly at Fenrir, I said, "Well, maybe if you hadn't spent so much time screwing with their heads, you'd have a better life story on our world, eh?"

Instead of being offended, Fenrir laughed. Loudly. It was a bark of a sound, ironically enough. "Loki, whatever did you tell her about us? I hope you spared her some of the gory details!"

"I'm afraid I was helpless to do so," Loki answered amiably, holding out his hands, palms up. A gesture of surrender, of 'what-can-you-do?' "As I said, she is my fiancée, and she has ensured that there can be no secrets between us."

"Ah, the wiles of women," Fenrir agreed, half-wistful, half-mocking, with a few quick little nods. I hid a snicker; if he even knew half of what Loki was really referring to… but I knew that he wished to keep a majority of that confidential… for now. "Though I admit to being surprised that you decided upon one outside of your species."

"Well you yourself once had an Asgardian lover, did you not?" Loki asked with a mild shrug. "It is not entirely unheard of."

Loki would not have seen the tightening around Fenrir's eyes if I had not been there; but I read people even better than he did, because I read them for different reasons. He was far too used to reading them for purposes of manipulation; and I for purposes of healing. And it was very clear that, whatever had happened to Fenrir's Asgardian lover, it was still a very raw and painful wound.

"Aye," Fenrir agreed, still smiling despite the pain in his eyes. It had been a brief flicker, though I was certain it had been there. He looked to me. "And this one is indeed…special," he gave me a deep nod. "Lady Shadowslayer."

I nodded in turn. He straightened again. "And I shall indeed accompany you on your return, if that is what you wish," he said, nodding to us both.

"We insist," Loki said, and there was that old, cunning smile on his face. I knew he liked it, liked being back with this old friend who made him feel like the Trickster again, whom he traded old and familiar words with, when after all this time, he had become used to tamer, less edged conversations.

There were a few more words traded before Fenrir turned and walked with us. Sile and I again scouted ahead, though more for my own need to get away from the newcomer than any real need to do so. We had found the supposed 'intruder'. There was not a great deal more to worry about.

There was a long silence. Then, Sile asked me, "Lady Shadowslayer?"

I looked to him. He again spoke in quiet tones, just to be certain. "Aye?"

He looked to me, somewhat concerned. "Fenrir is an old friend of the King's, correct?"

"Aye."

His eyes were very stern and serious as he said, "Of the king as he was in days of old, before he became king, before he learned of his true nature?"

I halted, looking to him. Loki, Fenrir, and the others were still specks in the distance. Loki and Fenrir were engaged in conversation and friendly banter. It had been pretty immediate.

"Where is this going, Sile?"

The Jotun scout looked away. "Forgive me, my lady, but the Loki of old was not always as he is today."

No arguments here. "And any friend of the man he was," Sile said slowly, "May no longer be such a friend to Jotunheim now."

I straightened a little, looking up to him. My neck was starting to hurt from looking up at all of these Giants. "You don't trust him."

"Neither do you," Sile said, and though his eyes touched mine when he said it, he did not outright meet my gaze.

He was right. I didn't. And for the exact same reasons. I nodded a few times. "Have him tailed for the duration of his stay here," I ordered. "But be careful. His senses are far more acute than any Giant's." I paused, then turned and kept walking. "I'll inform the king."

Sile relaxed a great deal. "As you command, Lady Shadowslayer."

We arrived at the palace a while later, and I immediately headed up to get changed. Loki arrived a while later, so I had time to get out of my snow-soaked clothes and into something a little more dinner appropriate. It had to be something that was warmer, but I wanted to be a little fancy-pants; after all, it was 'dinner with an old friend', and the occasion we were making it into did call for a little more formality.

While I did this, Loki entered the palace, Fenrir beside him. The other Jotuns dispersed, for the most part, and the two talked in relative privacy.

"Of all the thrones, friend, this is the one I expected to see you on the least," Fenrir mused. "But it does suit you."

Loki rolled his eyes. "It never once occurred to you that I would have a throne at all."

"Well, there was Thor to consider."

Ice stabbed through Loki's veins. He pushed it away quickly. "My brother will make a fine king." He said quietly.

"Undoubtedly."

More ice. Loki put on a bitter smile. "But the Asgardian throne is better suited to him and, as you say: this suits me quite well."

Fenrir laughed. He was still laughing when a blue figure passed by, wearing the shackles of a slave… Fenrir halted abruptly. He sniffed the air. Twice.

Loki frowned, looking to the slave, and was all at once surprised and entirely unsurprised to see Puck's face. "The half-breed," he said quietly. Fenrir looked to him. His eyes were wide with shock. "His heritage is known," Loki promised, walking on.

Fenrir hesitated, then trailed after him. "Yeah…" he said slowly. "Yeah, I thought he was somewhat…" He frowned. The two were quiet for a long time, and then Fenrir changed the subject. They talked for a few more minutes before Loki lead the shape shifter towards a vacant room.

"I assume whatever journey you've had has wearied you," Loki said politely. "You are welcome to rest here for whatever time it takes."

Fenrir gave him a toothy smile. "Good to know your friends are there when you need them, isn't it?"

Loki responded with an icy smile in turn. "It is indeed."

And then he breezed away, leaving the shape shifter behind. Fenrir's smile dropped almost immediately, and he went into his room for a long moment, waiting for the sound of Loki's footsteps to trail off into the distance. He heard others soon afterwards, however. And then the knock on the door.

Fenrir took a long, deep breath through his nose, sorting through the scents in the room… and then his eyes snapped open, and he smiled a terrible smile. He stalked to the door and yanked it open violently. Puck stood there, holding his stare dangerously; and in his hands were a change of clothes, more suited to Jotun formality. He'd taken the duty off of the hands of another servant of the palace, who had been all too happy to give it to him.

Fenrir didn't even blink at the sight of the clothes. Instead, he gripped Puck by the iron collar around his neck and yanked him inside, throwing him to the ground. Puck cried out but not too loudly, suggesting that he'd been ready for such an attack, and he recovered in the space of time it took for Fenrir to close the door and turn to him. Puck placed the clothes in his hands on the bed nearby and whirled to Fenrir.

"It's a cute little game you're playing here, kid," Fenrir said with a smile that could only be described as malicious. "Dangerous, but cute." He tapped the side of his nose with his index finger. "But I've learned to trust this in days of late. And it has already exposed you for everything that you are."

"You think that is an advantage?" Puck asked, his eyes equally as malicious as Fenrir's. "You think that I am ignorant of you? That I do not know everything that you are?"

"Good to know I make that much of an impression," Fenrir said, eyes gleaming almost hungrily. Without even thinking about it, the two had begun to circle each other, with the slow, casual steps of two predators, sizing each other up to fight over a kill. They were glaring silently just long enough for Fenrir to ask, "Well? Aren't you going to tell me not to try anything? That the Shadowslayers are yours?"

Puck didn't answer, but his lips mashed into a hard, thin line. Fenrir barked out a cruel laugh. "Oh, that's right. You can't. Because I'm supposed to do this, because you have too many rules…" he laughed again, shaking his head a few times. "How disappointing. And here I actually thought that you might be a threat. You can't get anywhere in life with rules, kid. Take it from someone who knows."

Puck took a threatening step forwards, his eyes harder than the iciest, coldest heart of Jotunheim. He kept moving forwards, until he was naught but an inch from Fenrir's face. "The Shadowslayers are under my protection," he threatened in a dark, ominous tone. "If you harm them, if you lay a hand on them… I will kill you." He could smell Fenrir's breath, the two were so close. "Make no mistake. If you travel down this road… you will lose."

"Oh, but I'm supposed to travel down this road, aren't I?" Fenrir asked, trying to sound innocent… but the spite in his words would not be denied or suppressed long enough for him to do so. "This is what I'm supposed to do. You can't warn me off."

"No," Puck answered. "But I can kill you."

"Some other day, some other time," Fenrir replied airily, stepping away from him so that the two were no longer so close together. "But as it now stands, you can't even tell them who you are, can you?" He laughed, leaning on a shelf that he had walked behind and placed between them. "What kind of torment must that be, to know who they are… and to be unable to say a word to them? What kind of hell did they sentence you to?"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Oh, enough, Fenrir. Nothing you say can turn me against them. Nothing you say can turn me away from you."

"No," Fenrir conceded with a particularly nasty grin. "I suppose not. Because if they die, then so do you, right?"

Puck did not respond. Fenrir laughed a twisted laugh and straightened, meandering casually around the room. "I'm gonna let you keep this little secret of yours. I'm going to let you live in this hell. And I'm gonna let you watch them die before you. Just to see the look on your face when everything burns before your eyes."

The slave rolled his eyes again, walking to the doors. "You're a madman, Fenrir. You always have been." He walked out, adding, "And I haven't the time for you."

He closed the door behind him. Well, 'slammed' was perhaps the more accurate term. Fenrir waited until he heard his footsteps fade down the hall. And then he laughed a tiny laugh, looking down.

"No, kid," he said quietly, speaking at the stone floors. "Not always."

"Well?" I asked, stepping into the room a bit nervously. "What do you think?"

Loki turned to face me. His heart did a weird little stuttery thing behind mine, and walls immediately surrounded his thoughts. He swallowed, taking me in for a long moment. The dress was clearly Midgardian, as I'd yet to get a Jotun-style dress that was not too cold for me. The sleeves came down to my wrists and the hemline went down to my ankles, covering me up pretty nicely, keeping me decently warm. It was solidly black, hugging the few curves I had (and unfortunately emphasizing those that I did not) and it shimmered just softly. A silver necklace, along with the silver band on my wrist that looked like jewelry but really wasn't, gave a little bit more of a formal touch to the outfit; and the royal blue cloak on my back completed that attempt. I'd done up my hair quickly, in a style that looked fancy but really wasn't, and I was-gasp!- wearing earrings for the first time since… probably since third grade. There were a few touches of makeup, but nothing too fancy. Regardless of how pretty it felt, I still despised the dress and had made certain that it was of a fabric that could be very easily torn if I got into a sudden fight. I was also not wearing high heels, another smart move, and the earrings were studs; so they didn't dangle down as an advantage to an opponent. The cape could be taken off easily as well. I left little to chance (though the necklace still worried me somewhat).

Loki surveyed me for a long moment. And then, he said, "Quite honestly, I am confused." He looked to me. "You choose to dress this way for Fenrir, but not your own fiancée? I'm injured."

I rolled my eyes and socked his arm; he chuckled, rubbing out the mild pain as he corrected, "You look beautiful, Frost."

I nodded primly, as though this was only expected and it was just what he was supposed to say… but it sent a heated flush through my cheeks nonetheless. It took me a long moment to remember that it was, quite possibly, the first time he'd ever said that to me. It reminded me of just how long it had really been since Loki and I got together: not nearly long enough. Sometimes it felt like forever. Sometimes, it felt like no time at all. This was one of those times.

I looked Loki up and down before rolling my eyes again, sighing with much gusto. "And you, of course, look amazing, as usual," I said, waving a hand about. "No surprise there."

He chuckled lightly. Despite the formality of the rest of his clothes, he still wasn't wearing a freaking shirt, which kinda ticked me off a little. It's like Jotuns just like to flaunt off their inability to feel cold at all times, so they just don't wear anything unnecessary. It's kinda weird. And it makes things pretty difficult for the one and only human in this place. But still, I rocked what clothes I had, because I acted like I owned the place (and I almost did) and carried myself with more authority than half of the planet. I'd once wondered why immortals all seemed to carry themselves with perfect regality; and not just the royals. But now… well, now I saw the difference between that and true authority, true power, true royal grace. Because the true power isn't trying. True power doesn't care enough to try. Those who have it just do as they do; and it shows on them very clearly, regardless of whether they're trying to show it.

I shook the musings out of my head, wondering where the tangent had come from but deciding that I didn't care.

"Shall we, then?" Loki asked, pulling me even further from my thoughts and extending an arm towards me as his eyes glinted. I took his arm.

"We shall," I said, nodding once, and the two of us left the room.

We arrived in the dining hall; it was large enough to be packed with people, and to be pretty imposing when it wasn't. And, since currently, there was only myself and Loki, I knew that it might be a little intimidating to Fenrir when he arrived. Though, he was used to royals. He and Loki had been friends when they were younger, after all. So he might have been used to royal halls, as well.

Fenrir arrived a few moments later, escorted into the hall by a pair of Jotuns. He, too, looked pretty good in Jotun formality, though he had kept his shirt, and his pants were a little longer than the usual style. I supposed, not being a Jotun himself, he would get cold as well. Which, in turn, warmed me up to him a little. He was Loki's old friend and he was a bit pompous, but he was still just a guy with normal concerns and a life that, to him, would be 'normal.' He was just an ordinary person, shape shifter or no.

He smiled genially at Loki, then at me. "Never shall it be said that Jotunheim did not reward its champions," he noted, glancing around the hall, taking in the impressive display. "They truly value you, Shadowslayers."

Loki chuckled lightly. "They value a deed done."

"But the deeds make the man," Fenrir countered.

"I should hope not," Loki re-countered. "Otherwise you and I would have a few most unsavory characteristics, from deeds of old."

Fenrir laughed as we all sat. "The deeds of boys do not translate into the later deeds of men."

"Quite," Loki agreed, indicating the other man with the goblet that he had picked up after sitting down…

And on it went. The two caught up on their time spent apart, with Loki revealing as little as he could and Fenrir seeming to open up while I sat, mostly quiet, asking questions on occasion but otherwise keeping my mouth shut. Fenrir never seemed overly hostile towards me, but he was never overly friendly, either, which in turn made me stay silent. Not that I really minded; it gave me time to zone out, to think. But it also gave me a great opportunity to listen. People don't always pay attention to the quiet ones. That's what we count on.

I listened as Fenrir attempted to regale us with stories of the battles he'd been in, during his life as a rogue. We had known for a while that Fenrir had all but abandoned his home world; and now he told us the wonders of the universe. Loki and I had seen a great deal of the universe, but I still found it fascinating, to learn more. That was something I could never get enough of, and so Loki occasionally prodded more deeply into Fenrir's stories of other worlds and other species, for my benefit.

All of these stories boiled down to the reason Fenrir was here; because he had heard myths and legends about Fraye, whispers that he had thought best avoided; but when he'd learned that the Shadowslayer was his old friend Loki Odinson (and Loki was quick to correct him on that little flaw; he was the son of Laufey here, as he had always been), Fenrir had decided to pay a visit. It had been many centuries, and he was concerned: as he had said, there were many who would make a name for themselves by slaying the Shadowslayers.

"And, quite frankly, Loki…" Fenrir sighed deeply. "The life of a rogue is less glamorous than one would hope. Moving from place to place without roots… one makes do with all manner of unsavory places to rest their heads."

Loki offered before he could ask: "You are more than welcome to stay here, Fenrir." He promised the words with a gentle voice. "I'm certain Jotunheim would welcome any warrior of your worth; and you are, after all, one of my oldest friends."

Fenrir gave him a little, almost self-deprecatory smile. His eyes went down, almost humbly. For some reason, that triggered my shrink senses and triggered them big. There was a great deal of meekness in the gesture, but no humility whatsoever. "That would be most appreciated," he said, with a trace of exhaustion, and a soft exhale of relief. "I would not impede upon your hospitality long." His smile grew ever more wry. "I find that I cannot be tethered to one world for any great length of time."

"Oh?" Loki asked, taking a sip of his drink. When he set the cup down again, his eyebrows had furrowed in curiosity. "You were rather a permanent fixture in Asgard, as I recall. Before you made your decision to leave your world, that is."

That was when I saw it. I took a hasty bite of food-I'd long ago stopped identifying it; I just knew that it tasted like perfection and that I'd probably eaten too much of it because my stomach was starting to ache- and looked down to my plate to hide my interest. It had definitely been there, that look on Fenrir's face. That intense, insane grief. It had been temporary. Quick. But it was there, it was undeniably there, and it was there whenever Asgard was mentioned. I scanned through Loki's memories, trying to piece together what had happened to Fenrir there, knowing that it must have been something…

No, I knew what it was. I sighed to myself, hiding it by taking a drink at the same time. Loki had said it himself; Fenrir had once had an Asgardian lover. Once. Not anymore.

So where was she now?

The grief said it all. I had no more questions, spoken or unspoken. Fenrir was clicking into place in my mind. Everyone has a past, and here was his; the raw, gaping wound that stung and tormented him so badly, best left alone unless one has the proper tools and bandaging and salves to repair it. Given my current state, I hardly had those tools. A fact which I was reminded of whole-heartedly when my stomach suddenly wrenched with pain, and I looked down at my plate, at how much I'd eaten…

I cursed in my head, standing abruptly. Fenrir's eyes went to me, more attentive than before, but only so because of how startled he was by the sudden movement. I didn't say anything to him, nor to Loki, as I raced from the room, running as fast as my legs could carry me, my stomach twisting and wrenching…

"This way, Lady Shadowslayer," a harried palace servant said quickly, navigating me aside. I allowed the giantess to guide me away from the room and into the nearest restroom. She handed me a bucket (an extra feature in the room, and not their excuse for a toilet, thankfully) and I clasped my arms around it, fingers shaking as my stomach heaved, and I vomited straight into the metal bucket.

It took me a long time to recover, feeling shaky and weak, and I cursed my own stupidity in my head as I did so. The giantess remained beside me, setting aside my toothbrush and toothpaste for when I was finished. This was, after all, a fairly standard procedure by now.

Once I had recovered -some- I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. There was a few droplets of sweat on my forehead, despite the cold, and the dress that I'd felt so 'beautiful' in earlier was nothing more than a cumbrance now. I gave the giantess a wry, twisted smile, feeling weak.

"Almost made it this time, eh?" I said, with as much cheer as I could manage. She smiled back in turn, almost as weak as mine was.

"Aye, my lady," she agreed without agreeing. I dismissed her after a moment, and though she was reluctant, she left. I sighed to myself as I brushed my teeth; I'd been doing pretty well. But Fenrir had distracted me; my focus hadn't been on what I was eating, or how much of it. I did that so frequently these days, overeating until the point where I became sick… Fraye's little gift to me, one of many. Loki reassured Fenrir back at the dinner table that my little outburst was nothing to be concerned over while I informed him that I wouldn't be coming back. Better to get away from all that food, with all those food smells that were just so great and wonderful and perfect, all that food that I could never take for granted again…

Loki agreed, asking if he was needed… I blew him off and told him to enjoy his dinner with Fenrir before I headed back to our chambers and collapsed onto the bed. My stomach was still a little queasy, but much better now. It always got better afterwards. And then the hunger started again.

I snatched a pack of fruit-flavored gum and started chewing. The flavors were artificial and false but that didn't matter; regardless of artificiality, they exploded over my tongue and swirled between my teeth and they settled my stomach. And that made them perfect.

I stayed lying in my room until a knock came at the door; I was dozing, but I suspected that it was Loki, until a swift check in my head informed me that he and Fenrir were with the Twins, discussing magic, as usual. I frowned and stood, realizing that I was still in my dress and feeling a little self-conscious about it. I went to the door and opened it to reveal…

Puck.

I blinked at him. His eyes were on the ground, his entire body half-bowed. "A thousand apologies, my lady," he said in a hushed whisper, glancing around to every side. "But I'm afraid that what I must say cannot be left unsaid until tomorrow."

I blinked again, then leaned against the doorframe. "What is it, kiddo?"

He looked around worriedly. "Fenrir, my lady," he said, looking up at me at last. His eyes were filled with… was that fear? Hate? I wasn't certain. "I know that it is not my place, but please." His hand was suddenly on mine. The gesture was unexpected and with anyone else, I would have flinched away. Perhaps not if Loki had done so, but that was different, Loki couldn't startle me, it was nigh impossible. But, startling as this movement had been, it hadn't seemed to shock me in the slightest. Puck's hands tightened around both of mine as he pleaded. "Please, Lady Shadowslayer. If you ever valued my words, value them now. Do not trust Fenrir. Do not go near him." His voice lowered. "He is no friend to the crown."

And then, suddenly, he had released my hands. And, with jumpy movements and darting eyes, he was gone down the hallway, vanishing. I watched him go, stunned; too stunned to go after him, but clearly he did not wish for me to, and that kind of urgency usually got what it wanted.

I closed the door, my throat tight, and pondered the slave's words. Trusting Fenrir hadn't been big on my list of priorities; but then again, neither was trusting Puck. The kid wasn't exactly making things easier with this crap, either.

One of them was a liar. They had to be, if the other was telling the truth. And every instinct screamed to trust Puck…

It was too much. I shook my head out; in any case, if one of them turned on me, I would be worth jack shit in this outfit. I tore off the dress and necklace and earrings and all jewelry and fancy shoes and hairstyle and the fancy, formal Natalie went with it. I stuffed it all away and pulled on something a little more practical; long-sleeved black turtleneck, black pants, silent shoes.

And then I went out the door and started a wolf hunt.

"I do hope that you're entirely satisfied."

"Oh, stop being a crybaby. I kept downwind, didn't I?"

"Fenrir is a guest," Loki said exasperatedly, leaning against the bed that separated us, leaning on his fists and knuckles. "And you have him watched like a common enemy? You, the Shadowslayer herself, deigned it necessary to spy on him?"

"There's something wrong with him, Loki."

"There is something wrong with that half-breed slave of yours, and you have yet to follow him."

The words sliced the air, as did the disgust that tainted the words 'half-breed slave'. They sent a barrier of crackling ice and fire between Loki and I, and my eyes narrowed on him. He hesitated for a long moment, then sighed and straightened.

"My apologies," Loki said quietly. "That was uncalled for."

"Just 'cause he's a slave, and a half-breed," I said frostily, "Does not mean that he's any less of a person." I looked away. "And I think that Fenrir might cause you to forget that from time to time."

Loki looked ready to protest. And then he clamped his mouth shut. Sighing again, more heavily this time, he asked, "What would you have me do, Frost? I trust your judgment, but he is an old friend. We grew up together, in some ways and others. I would trust him with my life, and have done so, frequently. He has never given me cause to think ill of him."

I frowned. "I know that," I said, turning away. "I just… wanted to double-check for myself, is all."

There was a long silence. Then, Loki asked, "And what did you find?"

I turned back to him. He raised his eyebrows, still standing at the other end of the bed. I sighed and sat down on my end while he sat down on his. "Nothing," I answered blandly. "Nothing worthwhile, not yet." I frowned at Loki. "But I still don't like the effect he has on you. I know it's a common belief, that mortals are your lesser and they have fewer brains n'shit, but he seems to believe it a lot more than most. And the more you're with him, the more I think that maybe you'll start to remember that you believed that once, too."

There was a long silence as Loki closed his eyes, taking a deep breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. Taking another breath through his nose, letting it out through his mouth. And then he muttered, "Imbecile." He rolled his eyes as he opened them again. "It may very well be your own stupidity that makes me remember that belief." He glanced to me, his features sharp but his eyes kind. He gripped my arm and pulled me into his side, and I placed my head on his chest, my usual spot. He sighed deeply, and I could feel it inside of his rib cage, his lungs vibrating beneath me as his heart beat in time with the shadow beat behind my own.

"Whatever I may remember about my past beliefs, I can still never forget present ones," he said firmly. "And if mortals were truly lesser, than you, my dear, would not be where you are now."

The 'my dear' was half-endearing, half-mocking. He tended to do that with all terms of endearment. That was the thing about Loki: he could say and do nice things, but he had to remind you that he was a smarmy little jerk at the same time. I scowled… then sighed and let it go.

"Puck said he didn't trust him," I said quietly.

"And you do not trust Puck," he reminded me.

"Not entirely," my eyes went distant, phasing out, my vision blurring as they did so. "But I don't trust Fenrir, either." I sighed deeply and buried my face in his chest as I admitted, "I guess I really just don't trust anyone anymore."

Loki's features softened. He ran a gentle hand down my arm, lifting up the scarred inside of my forearm and running cold fingers delicately across his name. "I suppose," he said quietly, "That is reasonable."

"I still hate it," I muttered, not looking up, keeping my face buried.

"It'll pass. In time."

Time. I sighed deeply; we had all the time in the world to figure this stuff out, but I still felt as though, at any second, everything would change. As though everything would fall apart and I just had such short amounts of 'time' to fix it, to repair my life temporarily before it went topsy-turvy again. If I ever could. If I could escape the fact that every time I woke up I thought that I was still on Fraye's dead home world with her smile infecting my mind and her laughter filling my hollow ears and everything that was not numb being exposed to pain at all times…

I pushed it aside. We were quiet for a very long time, neither of us saying a word, following our own trains of thought that occasionally joined along the same tracks, but split before long. Loki absently, but gently, ran his fingers along the scars on my arm, tracing and re-tracing them with his freezing fingertips. I dozed for a while, but didn't quite fall asleep before one of Loki's more errant thoughts startled me back into full consciousness.

"Hey," I said, sitting upright so that I could face him. "Hey…" I said, half chastising, half gentle, moving in close to him. "Don't even think that. Of course I trust you. Of course I do. I wouldn't love you if I didn't trust you."

Loki gave me a sad smile. "As you trust Puck?" he asked, his words light and airy. My eyes narrowed.

"Don't even compare yourself to that. D'you understand me? Don't even think about it. You're my other half, you're my fiancée, you're not even remotely close to Puck. You're one of the few- the only- that I do trust, okay, so don't even… don't even think that way."

"I betrayed you once, Frost."

I leaned closer, pressing up against him, hand closing into a fist on his chest. My eyes were inches from his as I said, "And I know that you're nowhere near stupid enough to do so again. I trust you, Loki. In a lot of ways… I trust you more than I trust myself." I tilted my head to the side. "Okay?"

He studied me for a long moment. And then he leaned forward a few inches, closing the gap between us, kissing me swiftly. "Very well," he answered quietly, then gently navigated me so that I was lying down again. His eyes had gone distant, and I knew he was placating, letting the issue die for now. I sighed deeply; it was as good as I would get for the moment.

"Get some rest, Frost," he ordered in a quiet tone; and I closed my eyes and obeyed, knowing that he would sleep soon afterwards…

Together, we drifted, until we fell asleep.