Disclaimer: I don't own Thor, or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Marvel and their respective creators. I only own any original characters that I choose to include, as well as any original plot ideas.

Chapter 11: Where Dark Things Sleep

Between the interference of his mother and the troubles of dealing with Sif and the Warriors Three, Loki had begun to question as to whether or not this was all worth it. Frigga was easy enough to deceive, always had been, what with her eagerness to show him her love, shield him from the world and all of its wickedness. But Sif and her friends, his brother's friends, were proving to be more of a nuisance than he had initially anticipated. From the moment Loki had taken the throne, he had deduced that the warriors would not be pleased, would seek to make contact with his mother in hopes of changing her mind. He had paid that last bit no attention, knowing that the queen found herself in a desperate situation, had no choice but to appoint a king in Odin's stead, that he was the only option. Instead, Loki had sought to divide them, split the group into as many pieces as possible, scatter them and keep them from agreeing with one another, for he was certain that, were they to find a point of mutual cooperation, they would conspire against him just as they always had.

He paced, stared down the empty aisles of the library shelves, curious as to how Thor would have set about flipping them to the floor. As the thought moved through his head, Loki found that he was disgusted with himself, having almost allowed himself to behave in so vile a manner as his brother. Flipping tables and throwing ridiculous tantrums. It had always been best to isolate himself, let the anger radiate through the room and out the window until such a time as he could formulate a coherent sentence.

Fortunately, he had thought to tell the guards not to allow a soul entry into the wide room. Loki hadn't made mention of it, but were even a mouse to slip through the door, he'd have their heads.

He growled, purposely avoiding the seating area in the northeast corner of the room where Frigga would often sit and read. Though it pained him to admit, even to himself, his mother was steadily becoming a thorn in his side. Knowing that he would not allow harm to come to her, she would speak of things that would have been led to the death of any other being, daring to challenge him and force him to accept her words with good grace.

From the moment he had relayed to her his brother's banishment, Loki had intended to hold fast to her heart, ensure that Thor was kept out of it, that she continued to play at the favoritism that she so fervently denied. But it had no played out that way, as the servants had far too easily picked up on the fact that he detested the very mention of Thor's name. And so, it had become a sort of taboo to speak of the thunderer in his presence. A notion that his mother had come to realize as well. A notion that had only served to strengthen her longing for the golden Son of Odin.

It was sickening, that his desire to maintain her love, keep it loyal to him alone, had served to drive her further away, bring her to suspect him in the way that Loki knew she did. She was like to think him a mistake now.

What a torment it all was, not knowing which way to turn and who to deal with first. Holding fast to one of the shelves, he pressed his forehead against the spines of the books, that unnamed scent that lingered on their pages filling his lungs. They had always been a comfort to Loki, moreso than arms wrapped tightly around him, offering up warmth and a desire to protect. These lifeless objects, what with their vast amounts of knowledge, had always been far more welcoming to him in the dead of night than the presence of another.

He touched one of them, a spark running up his arm and bringing his mother's words of old back into his mind. She had never expressly disapproved of his and Thor's actions, the way with which they satisfied themselves with beautiful and talented girls. She had only ever hoped that, through such experimentation, they would enter a state of contentment, push the others through the doors and hold to but one.

Loki smiled. That was it.

It didn't matter if he truly gave a damn about her, just so long as he found a woman with which to satisfy his mother's wishes for him. It would be little more than convenience. She would live out the remainder of her days within the walls of the palace, waited on hand and foot as royalty, and he would regain his mother's confidence, her trust, continue playing at this game and maintain the throne.

Even were Thor to return, in days or even weeks, it was certain that Frigga would not have the heart to give him the throne were Loki to have a satisfactory woman holding to his hand.

All the better it would be if she could hold her own.