I'm sorry this took so long to get up. The Council scene just really did not want to be written.

/

It is a long time before Loki pulls away from Fárbauti, his movements heavy with reluctance. "I must report to Father."

Fárbauti takes a deep breath as she stands back to her full height. "I hope you know what you are doing."

Loki smiles, a touch of bitterness seeping into it. "You have only ever said that to me once before."

"Do not think Odin will have forgotten about that. He will not underestimate you this time. Speaking of…" She looks out over the ice to the fresh graves of the victims of the Odinson's wrath. "She is there again. Go talk to her, she needs you right now. You have some time before the council meeting."

She walks off, leaving Loki no time to argue. Not that he would, he just hates to see Freya in pain. The Prince heads across the ice, his feet silent against the snow. It does not take him long to reach the graves and the figure cloaked in heavy furs. Freya, former goddess of love and beauty, now member of Laufey's court, has long been Loki's closest friend and confidant. He had forced Odin to honor part of his deal with the Builder after his brutal murder, and brought Freya to Jotunheim. She had given herself to Geirröd in order to save Loki after the Prince had carelessly let himself be captured while in the form of a hawk, and he had arranged for Freya's own escape once he was free. Loki had stayed by her side when she had birthed Geirröd's child, and through the battle afterwards over who would raise the boy. And now he will be there for her while she mourns the death of her son.

"Do you hate me for bringing you here?" he asks.

"It has been a long time since you last asked me that." Freya adjusts the white fox fur on her shoulders, clutching it tighter around her figure. "It makes me feel old, grasping at the memory of youth. But no, you are my cousin, my sibling, once a lover, always a friend. My heart could never hold hate for you, Loki."

Loki weaves his blue fingers with Freya's pale ones, raising them to his lips and placing affectionately soft kisses against each. "This will end, Freya."

"But not without more death." She looks back to the graves. "I am so tired of death."

"Which is why it pains me so to ask for your help." It is not a lie. Loki never seems to be able to lie to Freya.

"Nevertheless you shall have it." This time Freya lightly brushes her lips against each of Loki's fingers. "They will not take you from me."

Loki lets a soft smile cross his face. "Come, my old friend, we must not keep my father waiting any longer."

/

They are the last into the Council Room. Twenty-two chairs sit in a circle, their backs melding into tall, spiraling columns, leaving the floor, decorated with a depiction of Ymir, open. Opposite from the door is Laufey's throne, raised high by two steps to sit higher than the rest. Fárbauti and Helblindi sit on the step below him.

Loki sees Freya to her seat between Býleistr and Vafþrúðnir, Laufey's most trusted advisor. When he passes Helblindi he gives his brother a hard smile and a nod, which is returned, a silent sign that Loki is glad of his brother's swift recovery, before taking his own seat between Fárbauti and Thrym. Laufey's greatest rival has grown too powerful to give him any lower position. Geirröd also claims a place in the circle, brought as Thrym's council. The only other player present Loki considers of remote importance is Hrungnir, Captain of the general army.

"It seems my son has met with some success," Laufey begins. The Jotun King does enjoy allowing vagueness to creep into his words.

"Nornheim and Vanaheim will stand with us, as will Mephisto, although we would be wise not to place too much trust in him. Svartalfheim remains neutral, as we thought they would," Loki reports.

"What of Niffleheim?" Hrungnir asks. "Will your daughter lend us her aid?"

"My daughter's concern, as ever, is with the dead. She will not move unless it benefits her realm in some way."

"And the dwarves will give some semblance of aid to Odin when he calls on them," Fárbauti adds.

Freya speaks next. "My brother will give Alfheim's aid to the Allfather. There is no doubt of that."

"And no one is stupid enough to involve Surtur in this matter," Laufey says. Even after millennia his rasping voice has the ability to silence a room and capture attention. "It seems then that the lines are drawn, save for Midgard."

"Midgard?" Geirröd scoffs. "What use have we for the mortals?"

"Do not underestimate them," Loki warns. "The Midgardians have grown while the other realms have seen fit to ignore them.

"They are debating their answer," Loki addresses to Laufey. "I believe they will likely wish to discuss the terms before committing to an alliance."

"And you would take advisors with you," Laufey finishes, again understanding his son's unspoken meaning. "Who?"

"Lady Freya." No one is surprised at that. "Lord Thrym." That one fills the room with shocked whispers. It is no secret of the plans Thrym has for Loki, nor the royal family's contempt for the other Jotun. But Laufey, like Loki, understands what it means to send Thrym on this mission.

"Who else?"

Loki hesitates, only for a moment, but it is still noticeable. "Queen Fárbauti," he finally says.

Laufey's eyes narrow slightly, studying the look that passes between his Queen and their eldest child. The King's first instinct is to say no, to keep his Queen at his side, but that look holds a silent plea for Fárbauti's skills. She has always had the ability to trick people in compromises. She is hard and strong, but gentle and understanding. Fárbauti is the perfect person for Loki to take with him if he wants to show the Midgardians the Jotun are not the savages of myth. "Very well," Laufey relents. "When the Midgardians have their response the four of you shall collect it."

/

"Rhodey!"

Rhodey stands over him and sighs. "How long have you been drinking?"

"When did Pepper leave?"

"Three days ago."

"Then three days ago."

"Tony," Rhodey groans. "Enough." He takes the glass from Tony's hand. The billionaire was barely holding onto it in the first place.

"Hey!"

"You're expected at a meeting tomorrow."

"So?"

"With the Secretary of State and the U.N. Ambassador. I have no idea what's going on, but I was called out of an important mission to collect you, so you are not missing it."

"Fury'ssss trying to marry me off like some Disney princess to an alien," Tony slurred. "A hot alien, well actually cold, but he's beautiful, and I want to fuck him, or her, sometimes he's a her."

Rhodey just stares at him. "I really hope you've gone insane."

Tony sighs, curling up as Rhodey places the covers over him. "I hope so too. Good night, Rhodey."

"Night, Tony."