Author's note: I was away on vacation, and saw that Thor was at the dollar theater. So I dragged all my friends to see it, as they were unenlightened as to the beauty that is Loki. =D And they liked it, yay! hots4aTrickers93, lapin d'Alice, and all the others, thanks for the feedback! It makes writing more fun. (Standard disclaimer: I don't own Loki, Thor, Jane, Erik, or Darcy. Just obsessing over Marvel's movie.)

Know Your Place, part fourteen: Expectations

"Despite a certain mishap..." Odin Allfather's words were interrupted by peals of laughter from several of those present in the hall, but their father only smiled in good humor. "Despite a certain mishap, my son, which I will admit to foreseeing as a possibility, I am proud of your performance. You losthalf your party, true, but this serves as a double lesson. One, that death is the inevitable result of battle and thus should be approached with respect; two, that all things worth winning require sacrifice."

Loki was not certain how closely his brother was listening to their father's speech. True, those blue eyes gazed up at that wise, lined face, but there was a certain glazed quality to them, and Thor kept stroking the handle of the hammer he had won in a distracted matter, the hammer Odin had told them was named Mjolnir. Loki knew Thor would prefer to be outside, testing its capabilities and learning how to fight with it. But Loki would listen, for he was not one to ignore his father's valuable and increasingly rare lessons.

"Just as importantly, you picked your companions well and used the tools available to you," Odin continued, apparently not noticing his older son's less-than-focused attention. "You will always benefit from strong and capable warriors at your side. But you also have the benefit of wise counsel in the form of Prince Loki, an asset that will give you an advantage over many. A wise leader knows when to listen to counsel and when to forge ahead, and you found that balance."

The corners of Loki's mouth turned down. Asset? I'm an asset? he wondered, and glanced at his mother with a questioning look. She smiled at him, that soothing smile that she had used when he was quite young and upset over some slight or another, and shook her head minutely. He wanted to protest—he was much more than a mere asset—but followed her lead and willed his temper to cool. He had known what he was doing when he had went alone in search of Mjolnir, had known that he would not be lauded along with Thor for this success. He simply had not expected to be downgraded in status to mere asset when it was he who won the day.

"You are a true prince of Asgard, my son, and you do us proud," Odin concluded to a general cheer from the hall. Thor grinned and held Mjolnir aloft, and the cheering redoubled. Odin sat once more, giving those gathered permission to start the party.

Loki soon slipped to his mother's side; he had had enough of parties and was more than ready to bathe and sleep and return to his normal life. But a question was burning inside him, tormenting him like acid eating through gold, and he could not find it in himself to wait any longer. "May I speak with you, mother?" he asked her softly.

"Of course, Loki," she said and, knowing his intention without needing to ask, rose gracefully and walked with him from the hall and to one of the smaller and very private waiting rooms. He felt eyes on his back as they left, and looked back to see Sif's blue gaze focused on him. But then Frigga shut the door behind, and a sudden, peaceful quiet fell on them like a comforting childhood blanket.

He stood still for a moment, savoring the silence, but the acidic question burning mind and soul could not be ignored. Loki took a deep breath, his gaze fixing to the floor between him and his mother, and spoke.

"Am I... is Thor to take the throne, then?" he asked, his voice faltering just slightly. "Is it decided?"

"Dear one, nothing is decided," she said, coming to him and taking one of his hands in both of hers. "Put no hidden meaning into your father's words. He loves you both equally."

"Then why reward him with such a prize?" he asked, unable to keep a twinge of jealousy out of his voice no matter how hard he tried. He looked up quickly, green eyes conflicted. "Without me Thor would have failed; he would never have found Mjolnir."

Frigga made a soft, soothing sound and lifted a hand to smooth mussed hair from his forehead. "But you made certain he did not fail, just as Thor will never let you fail. My dearest, no matter which one of you ultimately sits on the throne, the two of you are meant to rule together. If Thor is named heir, he will need your counsel and your skills. And if you are named heir, you will be able to rely absolutely on his strength against any enemy. Together you will rule Asgard and safeguard its people."

He sighed, her words soothing away the tension that had stiffened his body ever since his father had uttered that one word. "I'm reading too much into this, aren't I?" he asked ruefully.

She chuckled warmly. "The day you stop examining and poking at things I will know something is wrong with you." Leaning forward, she kissed him on the forehead.

"Now be a good son and escort me to my rooms," she continued, stepping back and stroking his hair again. "I confess I grow weary of parties, and if I eat any more I shall fit into none of my gowns."

Smiling, Loki stepped to her side and offered her his arm.

. . . . .

The woman—this Jane Foster—was smart. Even though Loki did not understand all that he saw in her workplace, one fact was inescapable: She might not know it yet, but she had the potential to reconnect Midgard and Asgard before his people managed to rebuild the Bifrost.

She had chatted excitedly about the prospect with the man named Erik as Loki lurked invisibly around the room's periphery. Thor's name had come into the conversation more than once, much to his annoyance. The girl was infatuated, just like so many girls before her, and it gave her brilliance a focus it would not otherwise have had. It was a dangerous combination, one Loki knew could enhance her success. After all, his obsession to be Thor's equal had without question lead to his own grand achievements in magic.

He stayed out of her way as she flitted around the room, remaining close to one of the glass walls as he watched her, contemplatively rubbing his upper lip with a finger. She could bring his brother here before he was ready, before he could secure his power, something he very much did not want to happen. Perhaps it would be wise to stop her. It would be easy enough to do without raising any suspicions. These mortals were, after all, a frail lot.

A blue-white bolt of lightning flashed from stormy sky to the ground, followed instantly by a deafening crash of thunder. Loki flinched and staggered, his hands flying to his chest, even as the lights went out and the girl called Darcy shrieked. For a moment Loki was not in the dismal Misgardian room—he was back on the Bifrost, Mjolnir's lightning searing through him and sending him flying, lightning that could fracture solid rock and incinerate lesser beings where they stood. He had never before in his long life felt such pain, and for an eternal moment the memory of it burned him almost as badly as the real thing.

Thankfully his gasps of pain were hidden by the beeps and whirs of various machines protesting the abrupt change in the power that fed them. The mortals did not notice the faint thud as he fell back against the glass, his knees weak beneath him. They were much too busy for that.

"Quick, save everything before the backup power goes down," Jane called as she ran from machine to machine. The other two sprang into action as Loki took deep breaths, willing the memory of pain away. It was not easy, not with the storm thundering around him, not when his flesh still bore the scars of his brother's wrath.

"Guess we're done for the night, then," young Darcy announced more than asked as they shut down the last of the mysterious machines and the room plunged into darkness illuminated only by the occasional flash of lightning from the storm that had broken overhead. "I'm outta here."

"She's right, Jane," Selvig said. "Get some rest; you could use it."

"This is so frustrating!" Jane snatched up a worn black journal. "I'm close, I know it."

The older man smiled at her fondly even as Loki glared from across the room. "Just remember, once you solve it, we'll still have to build it. And power it, Jane, something that isn't going to be so easy."

She sighed but nodded. "Why don't you ask SHIELD what they've got to offer? It can't hurt."

Selvig chucked but nodded. "Why not? All they can do is lock me away never to be seen again."

"Or shoot you," Darcy offered cheerfully as she flounced out into the rain, opening some sort of portable shelter over her as she went.

"Or shoot me," the man echoed, though he seemed to be taking the prospect more seriously. Loki thought he was wise; Coulson seemed capable of many things.

"You'll be fine," Jane noted, her voice sardonic. "Come on, let's go."

Moments later Loki was alone in the odd glass and stone building, though it was not silent. The patter of rain was loud, and the occasional rumble of thunder could only remind him of his brother.

"Coincidence," he muttered as he straightened and headed into the center of the room. Thor could not have summoned this storm, not from his prison in Asgard. He did not have such power. "Pure coincidence."

Still, perhaps it would be wise not to harm the girl at this time. Heimdall could not see him, but he could see what happened to Jane Foster—in fact, he was most likely watching her often, for he had always liked Thor and would do as asked.

"Never liked me though, did you?" he murmured, sifting through the charts on the desk, not needing human light to see. "I suppose you've been proved right now, yes, along with Sif and Hogun."

The thought of the smug looks those three likely wore these days was almost enough to make him crumple the papers beneath his hand, but Loki resisted the urge. No trace of his presence must be found here. Only when he was ready to be known would he work a few changes in her machines and in her calculations.

Loki continued to circle the room, his thoughts whirling. He needed to make Midgard his own stronghaven, to cause enough chaos that he could take control. For that he would need an army, and thankfully he had an idea of where to get one. The true problem would be getting them here. He would first need to discover the path from their world to this one. Easy enough, given time and quiet. The second problem was one of power. Certainly he could hold open a gate to admit a handful at a time, as he had for the Frost Giants, but if he was going to bring through a large enough force to cause true chaos then he needed a power source to weave into the spell, so that the energy came from it instead of him own body.

He chuckled. There was a better reason to keep Jane Foster alive, much better than his brother's reaction. She would also need a strong power source to power her bridge. Once she made or obtained one, he would simply claim it as his own.

Chaos. It was the easiest environment for him to act in, for him to shape and manipulate to his own advantage. He had done the same in Asgard, though this time he would have to be more careful. If he had only thought to push ice-encased Heimdall off the damn bridge and into the ocean he would be in Asgard now, enjoying the approval and perhaps even gratitude of his father.

"You were too confident," he murmured to himself, coming to a rest in front of shelf of books in the kitchen. "A mistake worthy of Thor."

He ran long fingers along their spines; he had time, hours of it, and books had been his constant companions as long as he could remember. He needed to learn more of this world, in any case, and how better to do it than read? Kneeling, he began to read the titles printed on the mostly slender volumes.

The Complete Idiot's Guide to Understanding Einstein. The corners of Loki's mouth quirked up. He could never bring himself to open a book with complete idiot in the title.

Norse Mythology: A Guide to Gods, Heroes, Rituals, and Beliefs. His amused expression turned into a scowl. Loki knew all too well the slander that he would find there.

"Though I suppose I could start living up to it," he said softly as his fingers travelled to the next book.

Four Great Tragedies: Othello, Hamlet, King Lear, Macbeth. Scowl fading into curiosity, Loki pulled the volume off the shelf. Literature was always a good introduction to a culture, assuming the culture was advanced enough to even have literature. Apparently the author, this Shakespeare, was considered one of the greatest Midgard had to offer, at least according to the claim on the cover.

Satisfied, he stood and glanced around. He would need a place to leave his body where it would not be found, as he planned to simply ride inside Selvig's mind instead of attempting to accompany him invisibly. There were too many things that could go wrong if he was physically present at the SHIELD base. A long moment of exploring led him to the roof, and even though it was still raining he smiled. The star that normally illuminated the roof was unpowered now, but he could see well enough through the dark and the wet that there was enough space under its structure for him to sit comfortably. It was out of the way; certainly no one would stumble upon him tucked away between its metal beams.

But as he had hours until the morning, he returned to the kitchen, appropriated some bread and cheese for his own consumption, and, sitting at the small table, opened the book and began to read.

Despise me, if I do not. Three great ones of the city,
In personal suit to make me his lieutenant,
Off-capp'd to him: and, by the faith of man,
I know my price, I am worth no worse a place:
But he; as loving his own pride and purposes,
Evades them, with a bombast circumstance
Horribly stuff'd with epithets of war;
And, in conclusion,
Nonsuits my mediators; for, 'Certes,' says he,
'I have already chose my officer.'

Loki paused, a cool smile somehow making his face even more angular. "I think I may like you, Iago," he said softly. As the thunder rumbled softly and the rain pattered against the glass walls, the younger prince of Asgard settled in comfortably to one of his favorite pastimes.

In his own bed, Erik Selvig muttered and turned in his sleep, uncertain foreboding invading his slumbering mind.

(end part fourteen)