Author's Note: Hope you enjoy! Thanks to Byron12 and DhampyrX2 for reviewing!

A Chance Encounter: Part II

We are on Earth for a grand total of one fortnight. During this time, I have met some formidable characters, including my beloved Loki's brother, the brutish Thor. I see them interact and I understand perfectly – I understand the conflict, the frustration, and the envy, for I have felt it all myself. My brother Ares is much admonished as a warrior hero, while I am the forgotten daughter of an unfaithful king and a bitchy queen. If only it weren't so, if only we were not spurned by our respective homelands. We only seek recognition. But we were blessed with a cunningness that these fools cannot begin to imagine.

There is one who comes close, one who I grow to admire. He calls himself Tony Stark. But alas, he is a mortal. His power is rooted solely in his intellect, which I respect, but he is still a mere human. His morality is tenuous. With the right push… Under the right circumstances… He could be great. We could make him great. Even the purest of souls can be contaminated, and his is far from pure. It would not take much to compromise his virtue, to send him to the brink. Her name is Pepper Potts, and she is the key.

There are others, as well. The Hulk. 'Tis a great and stupid beast, but its sheer size is power enough. Loki particularly dislikes this one.

Captain America. The name is ridiculous. His soul, unlike Tony's, appears to be unblemished as freshly fallen snow. He can be corrupted, but not quite yet. He must first develop a weakness, he must first find someone to love. And then we will rip her away from him.

There is one who shoots arrows and a woman in black leather, but they do not concern me.

Loki and I cause a delightful amount of damage. Metropolises become our playgrounds, and we reduce them to ashes. But we are not unopposed. No, the "Avengers" try to stop us.

And eventually, they do. It is a regrettable and unfortunate turn of events. Loki is angry, angry with me, angry with himself, angry with the fact that we have failed, that he has failed, again.

We are sent away, this time to Asgard. I do not know what these people will make of me. I am curious. I want to see what they will do with us, how they will punish our insolence. I am excited. This excites me, this drama. This is chaos. This is my lifeblood.

Because we have not failed, not really. The destruction we have wrought is unparalleled. I could never have dreamed of causing such torment – this all made the Trojan War look like child's play.

Loki does not see it this way. Rage burns deep within him, but it does not manifest itself. Not yet.

"My love," I try as we are roughly thrust through the gates of Asgard, "You mustn't think of this as a failure. This is merely the start. We will try again. We will exhaust them. They are mortals. We have all the time in the world."

He accepts my words, but does not respond to them.

We are brought before Odin's throne, and I grin like a maniac just to disquiet him. He reminds me much of my own father, but he is older. Weaker. Something dawns on me then, something monumental.

Loki's time approaches. He does not know it yet. No one does. But soon, it will come down to him and Thor. And Loki will prevail.

Our hands are bound behind our backs and we are shoved to our knees before the throne.

"Hello, father," Loki sneers.

"Silence!" Thor booms, cuffing the back of his head forcefully.

"It is alright, my son, you may let him speak. What do you have to say for yourself, Loki?"

"Not much," he baits.

"Then I shall begin – how did you escape from Olympus?"

"Must I really answer?" he retorts acidly, motioning to me with a cock of his head.

"Ah, I see. And who are you, vile woman?"

"They call me Eris," I respond with a pervading air of boredom.

"You are the princess? You are the daughter of Zeus and Hera?"

"That would be correct."

"Why would you aid such a fiend? He was sent to your home to be punished, and yet deliberately defy your parents' wishes and release him – why?"

"Why not?" I counter with a smirk and a quirked eyebrow.

"I see," he says gravely, "You are much like my son."

"So I'm your son now, am I?" Loki spits.

Odin's expression softens, but his tone remains unwaveringly firm. "You were always my son, Loki. I may have difficulty with you, but you will always be my son."

Instead of quelling Loki's fury, this seems only to provoke it. His nostrils flare and his eyes hold a glint of unadulterated hatred. I step in.

"To be fair," I start slyly, "I didn't even come close to reaching my true potential before I met your son. He really has a gift."

In one look, Odin clearly conveys that he despises me. I almost shudder, almost. But I must save face for Loki. "The two of you obviously comprise a toxic union," he begins, "I wonder what your loving wife Sigyn would have to say about this, Loki."

The man in question raises his eyebrows, but more in amusement than surprise.

"Wife?" I hiss. I did not know that Loki had a wife. However, I suppose it doesn't matter. This knowledge wouldn't have affected my conduct in any way whatsoever.

"Are you jealous, my love?" he asks. This time, he does indeed sound genuinely surprised.

I only scoff, not willing to grace his absurdity with a reply. Or is it just denial? I can never be sure…

Soon, a proud-looking woman steps forth from behind Odin's throne. She has flowing raven hair and skin the color of ice. Her eyes are sapphires. She is beautiful, but no more beautiful than I. We are both goddesses; choosing which is more attractive is entirely a matter of preference.

The only problem is, I do not know which Loki prefers. I wait for their interaction with baited breath.

"Hello, husband," she says coolly. Her tone is morose. I immediately realize that she and I are nothing alike, and Loki and I are exactly alike… I feel almost relieved... Loki is a narcissist, after all...

"Hello, dear," he replies condescendingly.

The tension is clear. Odin grins and says, "Thor, perhaps we ought to leave these three alone for several minutes?"

"But father – the prisoners might escape," he protests.

"Ah, Thor, I am quite sure that they will not be going anywhere. Surely we can spare them several minutes." Begrudgingly, Thor gives in and follows his father like a loyal dog. Fitting, they are of equal intelligence, I muse.

"Who is this?" Sigyn questions tersely. She is asking her husband, but she is referring to me.

"Eris," I snap. "Ever so pleased to make your acquaintance. I would shake your hand, but… Well, you know." I give her a mocking smile that quite indelicately signifies, I'm sleeping with your husband and I feel no remorse.

She sniffs self-righteously and turns to her husband with sad eyes. "What is this, Loki?" Her voice is so pleading it's pathetic. Loki thinks the same, and winces.

"What do you think, Sigyn?"

"Why?"

He lets out a bark of genuine laughter. "You can't be serious – you thought – you think – surely not?" he chokes between laughs, "You can't actually believe that I loved you?"

She clutches her hand to her heart as if he has physically wounded her. Crystal tears begin to form in the corners of her eyes. "Do you love her?" She still has not mustered the fortitude to address me directly.

I turn to Loki with my eyebrows raised. "This should be good," I mutter.

I can see that the God of Mischief and Lies is torn between driving the dagger deeper and possibly hurting me. Always one to be unpredictable, he chooses neither. "Would it matter?"

"I suppose not," she answers softly. "I will always love you, Loki." Finally, she turns to me. "He always returns. Always."

I give her a malicious smirk. "I don't think you've ever met anyone quite like me, honey," I start evilly, "I'm not trying to take him from you – I have no intention of ever becoming the doting wife. But know this – I am immortal, just as you are. And I don't plan on going anywhere, so long as your husband stays interesting. And if I've learned anything in the past few days, it's that, with Loki, there's never a dull moment." I try to say the last sentence as suggestively as possible, and, from Sigyn's horrified expression, I succeed.

To my surprise, she delivers a hard slap to my left cheekbone. Loki appears borderline impressed and I fall into a fit of giggles, which seems to unnerve her.

I throw my head back, my giggles giving way to sidesplitting laughter. "Do you like it, Loki?" I manage.

"Like what?" he indulges me. He's wearing that catlike smirk that I find simply delectable.

"That she's willing to fight for you – would you like it if I fought for you, too? If you had women fighting over you?"

His smirk breaks out into a predatory grin. "I think I would like it very much."

I stop laughing abruptly. "Too bad," I deadpan. "Look, sister," I address Sigyn, "there's nothing you can do about it. It is what it is. Just let it happen."

On that note, Odin and Thor return before Sigyn has the opportunity to respond.

"Were the three of you able to work out your differences?" Odin asks as if he is speaking to quarreling children.

"Not exactly," I mumble.

"Pity. However, I'm afraid that's all the time we will be able to dedicate to the subject. Thor, my son, I believe it's time for these two traitors to pay their dues."

A ghost of a smirk crosses Thor's rugged lips and I am pleasantly surprised to see that he has a wicked side. "Yes, father," he answers.

Break…

In the cave, the dark chamber of tortures, screams, and evil, I am bound. Bound with the one I call my beloved. With Loki. Against a stone, a circular stone, and we are on either side.

Above us, the double-headed serpent.

Above us, the creature of nightmares.

Laughter cannot save me here.

Tricks cannot save me here.

There is darkness.

There is pain.

And there is the poison.

It drips on me, on my face, relentless. Ceaseless.

But it does not touch Loki.

For Sigyn is there, catching the liquid fire before it burns him. His doting wife. The one I mocked is the one who delivers his salvation. Ever loyal, ever in love. Constant, stable, and forgiving.

But she cannot forever prevent his punishment, for she must empty the bowl. And when she does, he howls in agony. He curses her to the deepest depths of hell, calls her useless, calls her wretched, calls her stupid.

Eventually his wrath erodes into simple anguish. Bony fingers entwine themselves with my own, and I realize that Loki, the God of Mischief and Lies, the harbinger of destruction, the ultimate agent of chaos, is holding my hand.

I want to laugh, I want to scoff, I want to ridicule him. But I cannot, because I am in too much pain.

He is not doing it for himself. He is doing it for me. Because soon, Sigyn will return.

And I realize then, he needs us both.

Author's Note: Please review and let me know what you think!