I just reloaded my poll - took off some of the stories that I'd finished and put on some new ones that I'm considering - and I would love it if you'd cast your votes! Thanks!

This chapter is also Ozhawk's handiwork. Enjoy!

Apparently an Asgardian feast to celebrate the engagements of both their royal princes could be pulled together in just a few hours, Skye mused, looking around the magnificently decorated banqueting hall. Or maybe Asgardians just partied like this all the time. Who knew? She restrained the urge to quake yet another Asgardian lord who ran his eyes lasciviously down her body as Sif introduced them. The blonde Valkyrie at her shoulder – Brunnhilde, Sif had called her – growled menacingly and the lord actually paled and fled.

"That's a neat trick," Skye said cheerfully to Brunnhilde. "You'll have to teach me that one."

The tall blonde smiled slightly. "It should not be necessary, Lady Skye. They will need to learn better quickly. They forget how hot Fandral's temper is when he is provoked. I daresay he will teach one or two of them better manners at the point of his blade and then the rest will settle down."

"I'm quite looking forward to seeing a few of these arrogant pricks taken down a peg or two, actually," Sif muttered under her breath. "Did you know Lord Tyr told me last week that I needed to stop wasting my time with the sword and get on with raising a child or two?"

"No!" Brunnhilde gasped. "Did you cut him a new orifice?"

"Several, actually," Sif smiled, showing her teeth. "Ah, Fandral returns! I am relieved of my duty – come, Brunnhilde, let us go and find some ale."

"We should remain, as chaperones…"

"Seriously, in a hall this busy, you think they need chaperones?" Sif laughed, linked her arm through the blonde's. "Cut them a little slack!"

Brunnhilde smiled, bowed her head respectfully to Skye, and followed Sif into the throng.

A warm hand settled at the small of Skye's back, and she leaned back into Fandral's touch. She knew even without looking that it was him. Would have known even without Sif's words. She could feel his presence.

"I am sorry I had to leave you, my lady," Fandral murmured quietly against her ear, and Skye gave a pleasurable little shiver. "I shall not do so again this eve." His short beard was tickling her neck. Skye had to battle the urge to turn, wrap her arms around his neck and do something very disgraceful. She must have let out a sound, though, because Fandral gave a sort of choked exclamation and his hand slipped around her waist, drawing her closer against him.

"Do not make noises like that, Skye, I – don't think I can control myself if you do." His voice dropped huskily.

She must have squeaked again because he swore – colourfully and archaically, which made her want to giggle. And then suddenly he was drawing her through the crowd towards Loki and Jemma.

Skye went without protesting – not that she wanted to. Fandral smelled intoxicatingly good, the hardness of his arm around her waist made her just want to melt against his strength.

"Loki," Fandral murmured into the Trickster's ear, "you are aware that I have covered any number of times for you in the past, yes?"

"Hm," Loki said, his eyes on Jemma as she giggled at something Jane was saying to her. "Yes, Fandral, I suppose I am in your debt somewhat. What do you want?"

"An illusion."

Loki turned and smiled wickedly, eyes alight, looking at Skye. "Why Fandral. After all your remarks to me about my immoral behaviour."

"Ten minutes," Fandral said, a flush rising on his cheekbones. "Ten minutes only."

Skye suddenly caught on to what he was asking Loki for. "An hour!"

Loki had to cough to cover a laugh. "Half an hour, Lady Skye, while we sit at table. You are to sit between Fandral and I, and Volstagg on Fandral's other side will notice nothing but his dinner. Any longer than that and the illusion will be difficult to maintain; too tricky for me to make the simulacrums interact with others."

"Thank you," Fandral said a little stiffly.

"Yes, well. Don't behave too badly."

"Hypocrite."

"Of course." Loki smirked.

A gong sounded then, and Loki nodded. "The dinner bell." He moved closer to Skye and Fandral, using Fandral's broad body to conceal the fact that his hands were moving slightly as he whispered under his breath. A slight green glow appeared around his hands, and he reached up and touched a fingertip to each of Skye and Fandral's brows.

"Step back, and go quietly," Loki said softly, "be careful not to bump into anyone. No one can see you, but they could still feel you."

Skye couldn't help but find it creepy, as Fandral led her swiftly out of the hall, to look back and see herself apparently chatting animatedly with Fandral and Loki as they made their way to the dinner table.

"Wow, I really do look tiny next to you," she muttered, "and ugh, does my laugh really sound like that?"

"It sounds like the sweetest of music to me, my lady," Fandral said poetically, leading her outside. "And your small stature does not disturb me in the least."

Skye let out a slight squawk as he suddenly caught her by the waist. They'd made their way out onto a balcony overlooking a large courtyard with a huge tree in the middle of it, and Fandral easily lifted her to sit on the stone railing. She yelped and caught at his shoulders – and then realised how fortuitously her perch brought her almost equal with his height.

"Oh," she looked into his eyes, gleaming faintly in the moonlight, as he stepped closer to her, moving between her parted knees, his strong hands holding her waist. "Fandral." It was a thin whisper of his name.

"Skye," his voice was a low rumble, but he didn't move further. Not until she ran her hands impatiently into his thick blond hair and pulled his mouth down to hers.

Loki sighed impatiently as they slipped up to their seats half an hour later. "Fandral, really?" he muttered under his breath. "You're going to have to shave that beard off. Poor Skye's chin is all over red."

Fandral's grin was entirely unrepentant. Skye nudged Loki in the ribs as he passed his hand swiftly over her face to conceal the stubble rash on her chin with another illusion. "Don't you dare make him shave. I like his beard."

Loki arched his brows mockingly. "Indeed," he drawled. "Far be it from me to interfere with your pleasures, Lady Skye."

She blushed, realising what he was inferring. "Don't be a creep, Loki. I'll tell Jemma on you."

He actually looked worried. Skye grinned and turned her attention to hastily eating some dinner, since they'd missed the first half of the feast.