Loki glanced over to the girl. She was with the soldier's boy, holding hands and nuzzling noses. How adorable, his little girl was growing up…Too bad it wouldn't last for long. He would use this new found love to his advantage…There was no way that he was going to let an opportunity like this pass him by. What would be better than forcing one of them to choose between the team and the one they loved? Originally he had planned on having Nick Fury and Maria Hill make the decision but this would make things much more…interesting. A teenager couldn't be trusted to make the correct decisions, especially when love was involved.

All of the humans were scurrying around like ants, busying themselves for the upcoming battle. Within three days most if not all of them would be dead. It would be a short but glorious battle. The Rebellion wouldn't stand a chance. And once they were gone there would be no one left to protest or rebel against him. Instead the Rebellion would become examples of what happened when people dared to go defy his rule. His citizens would remember to fear him and eventually, that fear would turn to respect and then that respect would turn to love, and then he would become the greatest leader that Midgard had ever known.

Then the parades would be more than a superficial festival that citizens held out of obligation. Instead, they would be held because the Midgardians wanted to honor him. There would be lavish feasts, flowers, and pretty women…He smiled to himself then crept towards the basement stairs.

They were unlit, and most of the light bulbs in the room were burnt out. There was enough light, though, to see that housekeeping was a low priority for the Rebellion. How anybody could live this pig-sty was beyond him. A mish-mosh of suit parts lay on the floor, next to an open laptop, open snack wrappers and empty water bottles. A half-filled mug of what smelled like coffee sat next to the computer. What a stupid girl. Had she forgotten all the lessons he had taught her? Or did she elect to ignore them? Where was she anyway?

He could easily change the blueprints, he thought, or even erase them. Poor girl would be at a loss for what to do. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment. All it would take was one click. No. He would do better by messing with the parts. It would keep her distracted and she would only be able to blame herself. She would get suspicious if the blueprints were began to prod at the exposed wires and tug them apart. He knew little about mechanics and technology but he was quite knowledgeable in the art of sabotage.

"What are you doing? Don't touch those! They're very delicate!" Phoebe rushed down the stairs, yanked the piece out of his hands and glared at him while cradling it like a doll. "You aren't supposed to be down here…What were you doing here? You need to be with the others training."

"I didn't mean to ruin it, dear. They looked so fascinating that I had to pick them up. The craftsmanship is incredible. You are lucky to be related to such a talented man. I would never be able to do any of this."

She nodded. She bit her lip and shifted the piece of armor from one hand to another. "Thank you. I should get back to work, now so if you could just shut the door behind you that would be great." She sat back down, took a swig of her coffee drink, cracked her knuckles and started to get to work. He watched her for a few minutes, as she fiddled around with the pieces, utterly engrossed in her work. Even though he hand was wrapped in a bandage, it was still rather dexterous.

"Dear, what happened to your hand? Are you quite alright?"

"Fine. Now leave. I need to concentrate." She didn't even look at him. He wasn't even sure she heard him properly. Her voice had gained quite a lot of confidence. If only he could he channel that confidence, and her dexterity into something more productive to him. If only he had done that before when she was still under his control, and he could manipulate her like a piece of putty.

He headed out of the room, closed the door behind him and headed over to Maria Hill who sent him over to study the palace layout. He settled himself on the floor next to several others who were hunched over studying the maps like school children. Several of them had lay on their stomachs, their legs in the air. Loki sat next to them, legs folded. He picked up one of them up, and glanced at it. Perfectly accurate. In fact they seemed to have come directly from his study. Samuel had done well as a triple agent. Such a pity he had to kill him. He should have shown him true freedom like he had with Gunnar when he had a chance. Too late now.

He twiddled his thumbs, glanced around and smiled. As a female, it should put them at ease, "So, what bought everyone here?" He tried to keep his voice as friendly as he could as though he were asking about a sports team or the weather. Everyone kept silent and stared at him as though he was insane. "I joined because I agreed with what they were fighting for. But I am scared though, because seeing the Rebellion…I'm not sure if we'll be able to win. Think about how many resources he has, how many soldiers, how many weapons…We'll be out numbered, out matched and I don't want to die."

He looked around. The others looked nervous. They didn't want to answer. They didn't want to admit they were scared of dying. They were obviously aware of what they were facing but were ignoring it. That way they could pretend this whole thing was a game. But, he had just stated what was on all their minds. Made it real. They began to show signs of their discomfort with this new revelation. . Scratching behind their ears, tugging at clothes, twiddling thumbs or playing with their hair. One man looked as though he was going to be sick.

One man, more of a boy really, with scraggly facial hair and thick glasses huffed and rolled his eyes, "Just because they're poor, and don't have a lot of weapons or anything doesn't mean they're wrong or that they can't win. Obviously, they've been oppressed by the government and haven't been given any opportunities to make money or purchase the things they need. God, check your privilege much, okay?"

"Oh, really? Check my privilege says the boy who grew up in a rich family who never had to want for anything, and still managed to get himself arrested because he wasn't grateful for what his parents gave him? You joined the Rebellion not because you care about their cause but because you wanted to prove to your parents that despite every advantage they gave you, you do not care, you hypocritical idiot," he spat out the words as cruelly as he could. He hated people like him. Humans at that age were insufferable. At least he would never have to deal with this. Thank Odin.

The boy curled his fist, stood up and stomped off. Now others would follow. It would be a slow process, but he preferred it that way. He needed enough people to leave that it would be noticeable, but not enough to arouse suspicion. Moderation was key. He glanced around again, excused himself, got up and went on to the group that was learning self-defense. Maria Hill was showing them how to throw basic punches and kicks.

"C'mon, you guys, this is simple. Five year olds learn this on their first day of karate. You aren't even breaking a sweat. You all are a just a bunch of…Never mind. I need a volunteer. Any care to come up?"

Loki raised his hand. Hill seemed grateful. She sighed with relief and began to explain the techniques she wanted to show; headlock, wrist grab, grappling hold, bear hug and how they should get out of them. She had a strong grip, but he couldn't help but laugh. These techniques would do nothing to protect them against his army. They would be killed before they could do anything. His army had been given orders to show no mercy, and leave no survivors. None at all. Even if civilians if they got in the way.

When it came time to spar, he made sure that he beat Hill every single time and he made it look easy. He barely broke a sweat. Every time he knocked her down, he saw the looks on the others' faces and basked in their dumbfounded stares. He knew what they were thinking: If Agent Hill could be defeated so easily, how could they even dream of beating an army?

You're good, Clara. Where did you learn all of this? Did you do you do any martial arts training as a kid?" Maria Hill was pale, breathing heavy, and was sopping with sweat."

"No. I had an older brother. He was a bit of a bully."

"I'm sorry. What happened to him?"

"He passed a few years ago. We were never quite close though. Part of me is glad he's gone, as it finally leaves me free to pursue my goals." Loki then shrugged and walked off leaving her standing there confused and hurt. He glanced over his shoulder and saw her being helped into a chair by her mother. He began strolling through the hide-out, trying to figure out what to do next.

The soldier's son was sitting in the corner polishing his shield with an old rag, some spit and half of bottle of water. Obviously, he needed a little break from his courtship. The boy spat on the weapon and began rubbing it with the rag, humming to himself happily. Loki couldn't place the tune but assumed it must have been a patriotic song at some point.

Loki sat down next him, and glanced over, "That is very nice. May I see it? My father was a huge World War II buff, and was obsessed with your father. He even collected his trading card series…"

"Was his name Phil Coulson by any chance?"

"No. Why do you ask?"

"He was a friend of the team...Worked for S.H.I.E.L.D. He died before I was born, in the first battle against Loki, so I never got to know him. He knew a lot about my dad though, and was very brave. My parents almost named me after him."

Loki nodded somberly. He hadn't thought about Phil Coulson in ages. He barely remembered the man. He had no idea why Coulson would have stood out in the Captain's as they had known each other for a few days at most. But if the soldier had indeed considered honoring Coulson's legacy, there must have been something that happened between the two that he was unaware of. He had to admit though, Phil Rogers sounded like an odd name.

"I'm very sorry. May I still see it, though?"

"Sure."

Loki stroked the shield with his hand, trying to soak in the power that seemed to radiate from its core. It would be back in his possession soon, and perhaps this time he would choose to display it in public, as a reminder. It would be part of a museum along with the other trophies he had taken as mementos of his victories. It would be a destination for tourists, students, and families to visit. Little school children would come on class trips. On days when he felt like it, he would visit the museum and read stories to the children. He would let them sit on his lap, or curl up near his feet. He'd carry sweets in his pockets and dole them out accordingly. Children had the most elastic minds. They would believe anything they were told without any sort of hesitation. He needed to ensure the next generation would be unquestionably loyal to him.

Even though he would gain new trophies from his battle his collection would not be complete. He still needed Mjolinir. It was still on Asgard, resting next to the spot where Thor died. He was almost certain of that. He was sure that the Allfather wouldn't have moved it. He wouldn't want to deface the death site of his most beloved son.

In all these years, the Allfather had never visited or had been bothered to send a raven. He had done nothing to stop him. Loki had taken it to mean that he was free to rule the realm as he saw fit. Once he was sure of his conquest, he would visit his old home and show what he had become. Then, certainly, he'd be worthy of wielding of wielding Mjolinir. How could he not?

Thank you," he said and handed it back.

The boy smiled and began cleaning it again.

"So, you seem to get along really well with the former princess. She's quite cute," Loki said and elbowed the boy, "Do you like her?"

"Yeah…" he said, "She's smart and pretty and funny and pretty and her laugh is amazing and she's pretty. Have you ever seen her eyes? They're the most lovely things I've ever seen. Her hair smells like a meadow." His eyes glazed over for a moment and then he snapped back into reality, "Did I mention she's pretty?"

"Yes. "You did. But how can you be sure she likes you the way you like her? You did harm her leg. I know I would have trouble forgiving someone who crippled me."

"I didn't do it and she knows it. Besides, she's not really crippled. She can do anything that a normal person can do and more. And I know she likes me because she told me I was the best friend she ever had."

Loki raised an eyebrow, "So she called you a friend but not a boyfriend? There's a very important difference between the two. Believe me."

The boy stared at him with a dull confused look in his eye, "What do you mean? She's a girl and she's my friend. We just happen to kiss and stuff. I'm pretty sure that makes us boyfriend and girlfriend. I don't know what else we would be…"

He laughed, "You can have many friends but you only have one boyfriend at a time. She calls Bryan a friend. How do you know she's not kissing him? How do you know she doesn't think of him in the same way in the same way she thinks of you?"

"He's my friend. He knows I like her a lot, and wouldn't kiss her."

"I was talking about Phoebe. Just because he doesn't kiss her doesn't mean she doesn't kiss him."

"That doesn't even make any sense," the boy said, "And he wouldn't kiss her. I don't think he even likes girls yet. Like at all."

"Doesn't mean she's not kissing him. Doesn't mean he isn't lying. It doesn't mean she isn't lying. You trust them too much. Your friend may be hiding his true affections because he knows how you feel and doesn't want to hurt your feelings. The girl could be using you as a cover because she doesn't want people knowing she's in love with a monster."

The boy curled his fist. Tears began to well in his eyes. "Don't call my friend that. He is not a monster."

"Sorry," Loki said, "But she may still feel odd about dating him."

"Well, he still wouldn't date her. He just wouldn't. He's practically a brother a brother to me. Brothers don't date the girls their brothers like. They just don't do that."

Loki couldn't help but laugh to himself. That was exactly what brothers did. He and Thor had been taking things from each other since they were babes. But he smiled sympathetically and patted the boy on his head. "Of course they don't," he whispered, "except the ones that do."

The boy stopped what he was doing, put the shield down and started out of the room, "Excuse me for a moment, I have to go do something…" He slipped away with a jealous, angry look in his eye.

Loki smiled. He had forgotten how powerful of an emotion jealousy was. He rarely had a need for it any more. Fear worked just fine. He gave the shield a final stroke then slipped away himself to work and interact with the others. It didn't take long to convince a few more people to leave the Rebellion; each time he gave them a different reason as to why they should leave, playing off their fears and giving them motives to abandon the cause. Perhaps four or five of them left when nobody was looking with only the clothes on their back. Nobody seemed to notice until supper- time when Madame Hill had made too many bowls of soup.

"That's odd," she said and looked around, the extra bowl still in her hand, "I guess I'll save these in case anyone else wants seconds, otherwise I'll freeze them."

Loki noticed that Stevie sat right next to Phoebe, his arm wrapped around her shoulder tightly as though he were afraid she would escape. She squirmed a little at first but then seem resigned and lay her head on his shoulder. The boy kissed her, deeply, glaring at the beast's son the entire time. The beast's child showed no reaction. He just ate his soup, not talking or looking at anyone.

Later that evening, as everyone was getting ready for bed, Nick Fury clapped his hands together and gestured for everyone to take a seat. "I hate to do this but we need to talk. Everyone gather around in a circle and take a seat. We'll be done in twenty minutes," he said.

Loki sat next to Madame Hill and a mousy man who had sprained his wrist and whose breath smelled like onions, despite that fact that none of their food had contained it. Disgusting.

The children were sitting in a line, dressed in night-clothes. Little Phoebe was wearing pants made out of soft blue fabric and an over-sized shirt that made her seem tinier than she already was. What was he going to with all her clothing when she was gone? It would be a pity just to throw it away. She hadn't even worn half of was also clutching a musty toy bear in one hand and petting its head with the other. The beast's child was holding the same filthy dinosaur he always had with him. Still hadn't given it up after all these years…He was looking down at his feet and not at anyone else.

Loki turned his attention back to Director Nick Fury who was still talking to the troops, "I understand that some of you might be scared and you're doubting yourselves. That's okay. That's understandable. You don't have any sort of training. You're going up against trained soldiers, and an insane demi-god. Neither of them will hesitate to kill you. You are normal citizens with little to no military training. You don't have any super-powers or special skills but we still need your help. We can't defeat Loki on our own. Stevie, Bryan and Phoebe may be the children of the greatest heroes that ever lived but they're still children. They may be willing to sacrifice themselves but…Hey where the hell are you going?"

Loki had started towards the exit, ignoring Fury's yells. Of course it would signal to everyone that something was wrong but he couldn't care less. His work here was complete. In less than three days' time he would attack. On his way out, he made sure to give Phoebe's hair a final tousle. She barely noticed. Nor did anyone else.

Once he was out on the street, he walked until he reached a small alleyway. He didn't want to be seen…too much of a bother. He took a deep breath in and transported himself back to his palace. He rid himself of his glamour and began to trudge to his chambers. He kicked off his boots, dropped his coat to the floor, and started to unbutton his shirt. One of the servants hurried over and picked up the clothing. She followed behind him.

"My lord, I did not expect you home so soon. Is there anything I can do for you?" She stared at him with wide brown eyes, "Fetch you some supper? Get you some from fresh clothes? Draw a bath?"

He nodded, "Yes, please. A hot bath, please then arrange for me to meet with the military leaders first thing in the morning. I would like to have that roasted pork stew I enjoy, some rice, vegetables and mulled wine delivered by the time I finish bathing. Leave it on my bed. I would like my silk pajamas and my terrycloth robe waiting on bed. I do not wish to be disturbed this evening. Do you understand, Maya?"

"Hot bath. Dinner on the bed with silk pajamas and your favorite rob. No disturbances and a meeting with military leaders first thing in the morning."

He smiled, "Thank you. When you are finished go rest. You have exams coming up do you not?"

"I do, my lord. I want to be a doctor."

"An admirable career. Take tomorrow off as well. Sleep in. Eat a proper meal. Study. Go visit your family."

"Th-th-thank you, my lord. Thank you very much," she curtsied and hurried off, her brown ponytail flying behind her. He followed her, and watched as she drew the bath. The steam curled towards the ceiling. The bubbles smelt of apple blossoms. Perfect. In the water he would be able to think, formulate his plan before he met with the military leaders.

He sank into the water until it covered everything but his face and thought about how the events would occur: He would mount a white horse, a sword on his hip and an army behind him. He would charge to the Tower killing everyone in his sight. All that red…It would flow like a river down the streets. Bodies would lay broken on the ground, mutilated. He would ensure they wouldn't be seen as martyrs, that their cause would be seen as one of the many wrongs of history. Anyone who said otherwise would be shown the truth, or killed.

The Rebellion's names would be written in history books, and would be reviled in the same way the names Hitler, Lenin, Hussein and Mao were currently hated by the Midgardians. They would be seen as monsters, killers, anarchists…The worst people imaginable. He would destroy any information that said otherwise.

"I'll head down to the kitchens, and make sure they're getting your supper ready."

Loki opened his eyes and turned, "Maya, what are you still doing here? I told you that once you were done you could go home and rest."

She turned red, "I-I-I- thought that…maybe…"

"Go and rest," he said smiling, "You need it and I don't want company tonight." He kissed her hand gently. She bought it to her chest, blushed again, curtsied and ran out. Lovely girl. Why couldn't Phoebe have been more like that? Why couldn't she have been like all his servants? Pretty, compliant, and utterly devoted to him…Most of the servants were young women, working so that they could pay for their education. Once they graduated, they were free to leave but they were always welcome back to the palace at any time. As long as he still believed they were loyal to him, of course. It was a generous deal. Not only did he pay them well, but he lodging to those who needed it, gave them flexible hours, and even compensated those who needed to hire people to mind their children while they worked. Nobody could say he didn't care about his subjects.

Sure, he only showed his appreciation for the subjects that respected and loved him. He cared for the subjects that could help him with his plans to dominate Midgard. He cared for those who feared him too much but dared not to rebel against him. Soon, however, they would all be able to accept true freedom into their hearts if they had not done so already. As long as they could help him in some way, he was more than willing to help them. That was fair in his mind. The All-Father would be very proud of him. It had been just what he had taught him and Thor as children: Always help those who help you. That was the mark of a good king.

And he was more than a good king he was an excellent king. Near perfect. The greatest ruler Midgard had or would ever know. All he needed to do was win one little battle. It would be easy. He would be finished before lunchtime in two days time, if he played his cards correctly.

Less than three days and his rule would be guaranteed. He sank deeper into the bathwater and let the water caress him. Less than three days…and he would be able to relax. Less than three days and the Rebellion would start to feel like a distant memory. Less than three days and he could begin to rewrite history. Less than three days and everything would be perfect…

In less than three days, he would be the permanent ruler of Midgard. His reign would be long and prosperous. Long live the King.