The Jotuns, it seemed, were not as poorly off as Natasha and her battalion had been led to believe. For months they'd been planning the attack, the infiltration of Thor's coronation having been the kindling that fueled a hatred bubbling just beneath the public eye for so long that for the first time since the first war with Jotunheim they armories had been bled dry of metal, that enlistments within Asgard's armies had risen, and as they made preparations for the siege of the wasteland known as a realm talk of not just putting the Jotuns in their place but of destroying them-defeating them and wiping them out for good, as it was said Odin ought to have done centuries ago-ran rampant across the training fields and within the barracks. For after all, what good was a race who sought only to cause chaos and sneak around, nowhere near the bold and courageous Aesir, when they came to a new realm?

Perhaps, Natasha thought as she was forced to her knees before their king, they'd been overestimating their own abilities. Her wrists were stinging from the freezing shackles around them, locking her hands behind her back, and she was certain that her kneecaps would shatter if the guard above her pressed any harder on her shoulder to keep her firmly in place. Teeth gritting together, she blinked rapidly to keep the tears of pain from spilling as the Jotun's cold, blue fingers pressed hard into one of her shoulder wounds, barely healed and forcing her to suck in a quick breath from the spirals of pain sending sparks across her vision.

"Look at me, child," the soft, silken voice came from the one sitting in the throne before her, though she'd refused to look up. She'd gone to Jotunheim to kill every Jotun she met, not to kneel at his feet, a bitter, broken lieutenant sent to parlay and sue for whatever peace she could hope to get. 'Little,' she thought as she bit on her tongue until it bled. They ought to have simply killed her when they had the chance-she'd garner nothing of any use from this meeting, no matter how much trust or faith in her Thor had.

She didn't get the choice where her eyes were allowed to stay as her bright red hair, braided and hanging thickly down her back, was tugged at until her neck went lax, her head rose, and her eyes fell on the beast in front of her.

The runt was sitting wide legged and bright eyed on the throne, a crown of ice that gleamed like jewels resting between his two horns and wrapping around to frame his face, his red eyes keenly fixed on her. His black hair was so long it fell to his chest, feathered so he looked as though he had ravens wings for hair, and his cheekbones so sharp she wouldn't have been surprised if they were made of ice themselves.

Had he not been her enemy she might've said he was beautiful.

Knives were strapped across his chest and Nat tried not to salivate at the idea of taking one and ripping his eyes out for the way he was staring at her. She'd performed a similar deed when one of the men she'd trained with had gotten the wrong idea about what type of lady she was, and she had little hesitations about doing it again. As it was, however, she didn't think she'd be getting free of the damn shackles any time soon.

He was not what she was expecting as a Jotun king, and worse than that the gleam that sharpened his eyes and the corners of his grin told her that he knew it. Their informant, the dark haired, green eyed man had told that Farbauti still sat on the throne and that there was dissention among the Jotuns due to the claims made by the eldest son. They'd anticipated the Jotuns to be divided, had planned and trained based on this information. Hell, Natasha didn't even know of the runt until this very moment, assuming Helbindi and Loki would be the only two siblings to worry about. She'd personally dispatched the first, cleaving his head in two the first day when his paltry army had stood against her enormous one, but she wasn't sure where Loki had slipped off to when the second army came to lay waste to her men. The coward must've seen the destruction and fled.

Unless-.

But that couldn't be possible. No. Her eyes went wide as she surveyed the king, mouth tipping open slightly. Though, she had to remind herself that so far all of her previous information had been wrong, hadn't it? So why would it surprise her if that was wrong, too?

"Loki Laufeyson?" She asked after licking her dry, cracked lips, tasting blood and hesitation.

He inclined his head ever-so slightly, the smirk widening until it became mocking and got under her skin. As if she needed another reason to want to slit his throat and see if the blood of the Jotun royalty was as blue as they said. Her jaw clenched.

"Were you expecting my mother?" He asked, voice still holding that strange softness, though he couldn't have looked any more pleased at making a fool of her.

If she ever made it back home alive she would fillet the bastard who'd given them the wrong information herself. She gritted her teeth and lifted her chin, forcing her face to grow blank. If he wanted to play games well then he was arguing with the wrong person. She'd had more than enough of her fair share of them and was in no mood. Besides, the sooner she finished up here the sooner she could return to Asgard and coax some feeling back into her fingers. Hopefully.

"We were, your highness," she said. "And I am sad to not have been able to have met her. I have heard she is an incredible woman." She did her best to pull out the courtly airs she'd always hated and Sif had told her she was absolutely awful at using. Still, if he thought her capable of being not only a warrior but a diplomat then this ought to go better for her. At least she could only hope.

Loki looked as though he was doing his best not to laugh, sitting back in his seat with mirth etched into his face. Nat only wished she could say she felt the same, but her knees and head ached and she would've much rather put a sword through Farbauti than meet and discuss politics with her. Loki must've known that, too.

"How kind of you," he said, condescending as all get out, so much so that it very nearly made Natasha's skin crawl, goosebumps rising on her flesh. Though that could've also been due to the cold that was beginning to seep into her bones. Not that Loki cared, ignoring it as he pressed on. "You've been brought to me to discuss peace terms have you not? What could you possibly have to offer to me?" He asked with a flourish of his hands, the golden chains roped around his blue skin jingling as he moved. The noise reminded her only of the jangling of the other chains, the bonds she heard their servants wore, causing her tension and nerves to rise further.

"What else could you want but peace?" She asked. "We will leave if you agree to let us and never again storm your realm. What is more we'll open trade between the two realms," she offered, trying to gauge his expression. If he was offended, well, she wasn't too sure what would happen to her, only that she'd sooner fall on her sword before staying there any longer than she had to. "What other terms do you wish?"

Oh she didn't like the look he was giving her, the way his lips curled and his eyes narrowed, bringing to mind a cat surveying its prey. She refused to be that, though, tilting her head higher, eyes slitting. No. She would allow no man to make her feel inferior. King or not.

"Trade, yes. You all would think that is a valuable bargaining chip." He stood and moved towards her. The long fur coat draped across his shoulders dragged on the floor, his bare feet making no noise as the guard holding Natasha's head up released her to step back away from her. Her neck ached from the strain of having to keep looking so far up, yet now that he stood closer his crotch was on eye level, the thin, leather trousers he wore so tight that it left little to the imagination. She leaned backwards onto her heels, trying to ease the strain on her neck as she got a close look at the scars and markings that ran up his blue torso, dipping down past the waistband of his trousers, peeking out on the undersides of his arms, up near his forehead, everywhere imaginable. His eyes were watching her, as he reached out to caress the side of her face. He wore vambraces on his arms, the metal dark black steel that extended towards his fingertips, where he wore claws of the same material over each finger, as though he thought himself a dragon or shadowcat. The sharp undersides of the talons made her shudder as he cupped her cheek. She swallowed thickly and looked up at him with what she hoped seemed like bored indifference rather than the hate she felt attempting to warm the rest of her body.

"But I want you as well," he said without shame, taking a turn around her as she blinked rapidly. What?

"I'm not for bargain. Your highness," she added quickly, doing her best to keep her voice as level as possible when all she wanted to do was strangle the bastard with the chains around his throat, or the ones around her wrists. Whichever came first. Assuming she got feeling back into her arms, that was. They'd gone numb some time ago.

"Everything is for bargain when you need something," he reminded her, moving a hand towards the braid and pulling her hair free of it, his metal claws catching gently on her scalp and making her hiss with barely muted surprise and . . no, that wasn't pleasure. Nothing he could do, short of dropping dead, could please her. She pulled her head free from where he'd caught a handful of her hair, glaring up at him, and yet in her haste to pull away she misjudged her own balance and toppled over onto her back. Loki laughed quietly as her cheeks heated in her embarrassment.

"I will put a knife through your gut," she snarled up at him, the cold of the ice floors seeping through her thin clothing as she struggled to get her legs to move. She'd been sitting in one position for far too long, however, and found it difficult to even consider getting to her feet. The other guards had tensed as she found her feet, willing her knees to not weaken any further, "You, dead at my feet, will be bargain enough for me."

"I am eager to see you try," he murmured, gaze darkening as he stepped closer. "But if you want peace you will give me what I want. If not I will obliterate your entire race and take you for myself, compliant or not. You have your choice." Every word of his darkened his demeanor until he cast a shadow over her so large she thought she'd never find the end of it, and terror roared as it began to devour her heart and her courage. She backed up away from him, her eyes wide, and he lashed out to grab her by the shoulder and pull her closer, the points of his talons biting her skin as it pushed past the fabric of her tunic.

"You have a great deal of pride in your assumptions of what your armies can do," she growled, trying to find her footing and her courage as quick as possible. Neither was easy on the ice floors of the palace she'd been brought. What was worse she had to clench her jaw to keep her teeth from chattering as he backed her up, taking long strides for every three or so of her own. "We're offering peace. A peace you need as badly as we do. Refuse and we'll rip your damn world apart. Even if it kills all of us."

"Or you can simply save them all. You, dear, little Aesir warrior," the king said, the harsh lines of his displeasure disappearing as his gaze burned through her. He took her chin in hand to keep her from moving further, arm viper-quick as the steel of his fingers kissed her skin none too pleasantly. Her eyes watered.

"Natasha," she bit out.

"Natasha," he hummed. "You can save them all. Save your king, your country. Simply stay with me." He didn't release her, craning her neck. Norns she wished he'd just snap it and be done with it. At least her death would justify the fighting that would follow.

Her mind moved quickly. "If I say yes-and I'm not agreeing right now-I'll not stay with you for longer than a month. I have a family-."

"No, you don't," he smirked and his grip tightened. She could feel the blood bead and drip down her skin as his thumb tip punctured the skin. Fuck. "You're an orphan with nothing to lose. Like me."

"You have everything to lose," she said, attempting to pull away as she tucked the information about his being an orphan deep down, but the cold had seeped her strength from her bones. "And I will take it all."

"One year," he argued. "One year and I will release you."

"Two months."

"One year."

"Six."

"Years?" He grinned.

"Months."

"A year," he repeated. "Or the death of your whole race. As you said, you'll die fighting if you must, and as you've seen my armies are not the cowering wretches you thought they would be." He leaned down to her, tipping her head to the side and drawing his tongue over the dribble of blood that had slowly rolled down her skin, lips and tongue surprisingly warm. Warm enough to make her shudder in something not even close to disgust.

A year. Four seasons, even more months, however many days, all of which she'd have to stay with this son of a bitch, the man who sought to destroy everything she'd ever held dear.

More than that, a year in which she could try to pay him back.

She focused her gaze as stoically as she could on his as he pulled away, wiping the blood from his lips with the back of his other hand. "Fine," she spat. "I'll do it."

He released her and grinned as he pulled back to once more run a hand through her hair. This time, rather than the disgust that was fast becoming second nature every time he so much as looked at her, a warming sensation started from her very scalp, flooding her whole body. The pain came with it, ragged and reminding her that she'd tugged too hard on her manacles when she'd been brought in, the skin chafed and likely near bloody from where she'd struggled. Pain she could deal with, though. His eyes on her the way they were now, though, she wasn't so sure.

He mistook her calculating gaze on his features as curiosity. "I couldn't very well have you freezing to death. That would make things so much less interesting," he said. "Now. You will attend your prince for the rest of the day. You are to explain to him the stipulations as I explain them to you. Your people are allowed one week more in my realm to bury their dead and have their funeral rites. After that any other Aesir remaining without having a reason will be considered a spy and punished as such. This evening you will return to me, and in two days your king and I will meet to formalize the treaty." He said all this very clearly, as though he'd had it planned for some time, and she gritted her teeth and clenched her fists to think that he'd expected her to agree to stay with him.

"Anything else?" She asked, body tense and eyes narrowed as she watched him. Rather than find it vexing it almost seemed to soften his features.

"Oh I do so look forward to our time together," he purred as he stepped even closer, one hand on her back to keep her from backing up too far. His breath was warm on her cheek and ear as his claws working to slip the key into the lock of the handcuffs, and it was all Nat could do not to shiver underneath him. The moment that the shackles were pulled off from her skin she backed away, rubbing her tender wrists and regarding him with a guarded expression. He simply smiled. "Be here tonight, and if you consider disappearing back to your shining citadel I'll bring it crashing down around your head. You've seen what my armies can do, imagine what would become of your precious Asgard if we were to move from our own lands and settle into yours."

She pushed at the visuals he was all but spoonfeeding her, turning to walk briskly down the grand hall towards where she'd been led in. She didn't run, wouldn't run from him even as her mind screamed at her to escape, and his echoing laugh haunted her no matter how far away she got.

She found both Thor and Odin waiting for her in the planning tent, the rest of the war council having dispersed to run the numbers and probability of continuing their campaign if Natasha's treaty with the king wasn't favorable. Thor's eyes lit up with an odd concoction of what looked like relief and fury when he saw her, and she thought the latter might be from the marks around her wrists and chin from his claws. She hoped, at least, that she hadn't displeased him in battle so much so that he was angry to see that she still lived.

Judging by how tightly he embraced her upon her return she doubted that very much.

"What did the monstrous queen want?" He demanded before Odin could say anything, the pair offering her a seat which she took with a gracious smile. She wasn't sure how much longer her knees could hold her up, especially not when the gravity of what she'd just signed off on came back to hit her hard like a blow to the back of the head. Oh Norns. What the hell had she done?

"Farbauti isn't the queen, whether she's dead or not I could not discern," she said, accepting the goblet of wine Thor pushed into her hands when her voice cracked. By the nine, she was a warrior she tried to remind herself as she drank deeply. She was better than this. "Loki sits on the throne. He's a runt, but the men are loyal to him. To a fault," she murmured. She'd not been able to see any signs of distrust or disloyalty in the guards that had brought her to see him, nor in those whom she passed on her way back out. At first she'd assumed they'd simply been angry to see an Aesir in their midst, but now, considering it? "He said they will fight until the end if it comes to it."

"Will he not seek peace?" Odin asked, his voice gruff as he sat opposite Natasha, trying to take in her less than expressive reaction to his question. She swallowed the rest of her wine, gulping down the hot beverage until she thought she might burn alive from the inside.

"He will. He wishes to open trade, as you offered, but more than that he asked . . . he asked for me to stay with him for a year. Nothing was said about after that," she realized with a sinking gut. Fuck. What if he expected her to stay with him as long as she wanted peace? Had she doomed herself to a life with him, as his whore or wartrophy, or whatever his deranged mind could think of? She had began to shake, but not from the cold. Thor, at her side, was of the same thought.

"No. You cannot agree to that," he said forcefully.

"I already have."

He gave a shout of displeasure, his fist hitting the table so hard that it splintered beneath him, while Odin seemed hardly phased by the revelation, his gaze fixed solely on Natasha.

"If I had not, my prince," Natasha said, reminding her once lover of the presence of their king, his father. If he let his emotions get the best of him then it would be bound to give away the secret she'd worked her hardest to keep that way. Secret. "He'd have slaughtered us all before we could consider a second option. He'd have sent you my head, or else kept me at the castle and sent me yours as a reminder of what I'd brought you all to. It's better this way." She said, trying to convince herself of the same. "Cleaner. He wishes to treaty with you, Allfather, in two days time," she said as she looked at him. "And offered the rest of this week in order to bury and pay homage to our dead and see that our wounded were healed."

"And you?" Odin asked.

"I go back there this evening," she said, not proud of the way her voice shook at the end. Thor barely looked at her, his back turned to the both of them. As if that really helped to make her feel better. Was he so disgusted at what she'd done that he couldn't stand the sight of her? Then at least he wouldn't have long to suffer.

"Father, let us hit him now," Thor insisted.

"Silence."

"I will not stand for this!" Thor bellowed as he whirled on his father and sovereign, face red as his cape in his fury.

"Then I will bring you to your knees and drag you to Asgard if I must," Odin shouted, just as loudly, making Natasha wince. She'd never seen her king like this. "Natasha has made her choice and we can do nothing but stand by and support her. Will you belittle her sacrifice in getting yourself and others killed?" He demanded, standing to stare off against his son. "Your blood is too hot and your head too large for your shoulders. Our information was faulty and these are not the weak Jotuns, eager to throw off the yoke of their terrible queen that we had been led to believe they were. This was to be an easy conquest, Thor, and instead we have taken great losses because of your ignorance and ego. You will not dishonor Natasha's choice by continuing your poor choices. Understood?"

The silence was so thick Natasha thought she might choke on it, watching the two men hate one another in front of her face. Norns, so this was the rage that she'd been warned of when she was young. Above she heard the clouds rumble, the storm a clear sign of Thor's displeasure, but any time the weather had made to rain they'd gotten snow or sleet, the rain freezing their bones as it combined with the harsh winds of the terrain. She prayed that he wouldn't fall victim to his own power and bring the storms back.

"I am asking you, Thor Odinson if you understand the issues laid down for you by your king," Odin barked once more, and Thor's gaze darkened.

"Yes. Allfather, I understand," he gritted out before whirling away. Natasha winced as she heard the thunder rumble and saw the unforgiving strike of lightning as it touched down elsewhere. It was only a matter of time until the rest followed, and once he was gone she rested her forehead on the table, hands fisting on her knees as she struggled to keep herself together.

Odin's hand reached out to grasp her shoulder and squeezed it gently. "I appreciate your sacrifice for our cause, Lady Natasha," he said and she sat up straight as he spoke with her. "You may go. I will see this princeling in two days and will ensure that you are returned to us after the year is completed," he said. "Along with that you will receive full honors upon your return to Asgard."

She dipped her head in gratitude, that being about as much as she could consider showing at the moment, and he dismissed her to allow her to rest afterwards. She took a detour, finding Thor raging in his tent, the other warriors having abandoned him to his fury as the snow had begun to fall. Again. She cleared her throat as she stepped through the entrance, ignoring his personal guards' warnings about his mood. As if she couldn't see it.

He turned at the sound and the rage drained from his face. "It should be me staying behind. Not you." He said simply, crossing towards her and catching both sides of her face in his hands. "It was my decision to invade here in the first place. They weren't supposed to be this well prepared-I thought, at first, the first army-."

"That was Helbindi's," she murmured. "I think Loki was waiting for us to pick him off. Thor, the information, there's no way that that could have been truthful. We were led here for this reason." She said. "And the king. Loki. He knows it. I'm going to try and find who the informant was, and if you can, give them Hel from me." She said. He smiled as he stroked the side of her face, leaning in to kiss her. She allowed it, but didn't encourage it any further than that, even as he pulled her close to him. She shook her head and pulled away with some difficulty.

"Don't. Don't make this more difficult than it already is," she begged, voice raw. "Please don't. You'll be married by the time I get back and I don't-."

"Natasha, I love you," Thor said, and the rumbling that had intensified above them broke. "I need you. I don't care about the woman my father set me up with, I want you, and when you come back I want to be with you. Please," he begged, kissing her hard again. She melted against him, going limp in his arms as he carried her back to his bed. She'd done her damndest to make sure that none of the other soldiers had known about she and Thor, though their flirtations went back for as long as she could even remember, but she'd gotten to her position as lieutenant in the army of her own merit, not because of Thor playing favorites and she'd be damned if any of her credentials were questioned.

Now? Hel, she wasn't sure if she'd end up ever seeing him again, no matter how confident the other two were that she'd be returned to Asgard when the year was up. She was going to take the small pleasures afforded her while she still could.

That evening, as required of her, she returned to Loki's castle, her head held high, body sporting far more bruises than she had when she'd first been there in far less obvious places. If Loki did have perversions of his own on his mind then he'd see that she was already claimed, and . . . well, she could only hope it wouldn't redouble his efforts to take her for his own.

Granted that left her open for a great deal more problems, such as how he might take it out on her if he thought her spoiled goods, but she really didn't want to think about that right then. The king met her in the great hall, where his men were feasting and celebrating their victory, the atmosphere far more positive than Natasha thought she could stomach, even when the noise and cheers went silent as she entered. Loki's eyes shone with amusement as he beckoned her closer, and she followed with her chin up, not looking any of the other creatures in the eye. One of them reached out to grab at her backside, perhaps thinking her a toy to be tossed around to his men, and she snarled before driving a dagger into the man's wrist.

Loki laughed.

"You ought not to provoke her, Petyr," he teased as the Jotun howled, ripping the blade covered in blue blood out and tossing it to the ground, while the others snorted and teased him for being bested by an Aesir. The mood lightened, to Natasha's great surprise, though every muscle in her body was still tense as all get out as she strode towards the king. There was no seat by his side, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she tried not to feel sick at the idea of kneeling beside him at the table.

Instead he offered her his lap. She thought she'd rather take the floor, and was about to say such when he tugged her down onto it either way, firmly planting here there.

Piss.

She didn't dare relax, even as the king beneath her lounged back in his seat, drinking hot spiced wine and offering her pieces of spiced ox from his fingertips. When she first refused he'd dragged the same claws down her spine, beginning to shred the back of the clean shift she'd chosen after she and Thor had coupled.

"Refuse me again and I'll make a great deal of taking you for myself in front of everyone," he purred into her ear.

Her teeth hit the metal talons as she accepted the food past her lips, cheeks heating up at the appraising nature of his stare, and wished herself anywhere but there. Anywhere.

Save, perhaps, what awaited her after the king decided he was tired. She had been dozing off and practically falling asleep on his lap for the past hour or so, the Jotuns staying up far later than she'd intended, and though she'd been given wine from Loki's goblet it had done little to make her any more lively. So when he'd stood her up and proclaimed that he was going to bed, and taken her wrist in his own to the hooting and hollering of his men, she'd barely had the energy to raise her head at it, eyes drooping as he tugged her along.

The room she was led to was lavishly furnished, an enormous featherbed standing near the opposite side of the door covered in furs and pillows, and the space itself was lit by odd sconces on the walls that let off a strange green hue, changing the ice into the same color. An archway led into what would be the bathroom, she assumed, and trunks held books and clothes and maps.

She blamed it on the wine that it took her so long to grasp just where she would be staying, and by that time Loki had aleady shrugged his enormous coat from his shoulders. Though it took away some of his bulk his frame was still impressive, body well sculpted Nat hated to admit, and though nowhere near as wide as Thor's he still radiated a sort of subtle power.

Again, she blamed the wine for the way her thoughts were turning as she wrapped her arms around her waist while he stripped, unabashed to show her his naked form. She hated him for it, especially when he turned to her as though expecting the same thing.

"I sleep with my clothes on." She muttered.

"Really? Then how does Thor get to you if you remain covered up each night?" He snarked, stepping closer and bringing his fingers to the ties of her trousers. She tried to push his hands away, opening her mouth to tell him his information was wrong, and he stopped her fingers where they met the laces. "You do it or I will," he said, not interested in her false modesty. "I'll not have you hidden from me. You're mine for the year," he murmured, leaning closer to murmur the words in her ear, worrying at her earlobe with his teeth.

As if she'd ever forget it. Fingers sloppy and slow, she stripped herself down and turned away from him as she stepped towards the bed and promptly dove into it, covering herself up with one of the white furs left there. His quiet laugh echoed in her ears along with her furious heartbeat as he crawled into bed beside her and tugged her closer. One of his arms wrapped around her midsection and pulled her back against his chest, his skin cool enough to make her shiver, goosebumps covering her skin as the rest of her body went rigid. He wished her a good night with a soft kiss planted at the base of her neck before falling into a light sleep himself, Nat following slowly after, the emotional and physical exhaustion coupled with the liquor making it impossible to keep from molding her body against his as she relaxed, or at least she told herself that.

'Tomorrow, I'll kill him,' she swore before everything else faded out.

A/N: And so begins the second alternate universe! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, there'll be at least two more for this particular AU, and for those of us who're more visual, please look up Avali's rendition of Jotun Loki "Because I Was Born To Rule." I'm attempting to convey just how breathtaking that version of him as a Jotun King is, but I seriously don't think there are words to justify it, or at least if there are then I don't know them.

Either way-thanks again, and hope you enjoyed!