Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel, Elder Scrolls, Mass Effect, Dragon Age, Final Fantasy, Harry Potter, or anything else that finds its way into these pages. No disrespect intended, only homage, no profit made, only entertainment intended. If you're a fan, read it, if you don't like it, stop reading. Simple as pie.

Rating: M for Mature.

Spoilers: MANY

Chapter Eighteen: Born This Way

Don't be a drag, just be a Queen,

Whether you're broke, or evergreen.

You're black, white, beige, cholo descent,

You're Lebanese, you're Orient.

Whether life's disabilities

Left you outcast, bullied, or teased,

Rejoice and love yourself today,

'Cause baby, you were born this way.

No matter gay, straight, or bi,

Lesbian, transgender life,

I'm on the right track baby, I was born to survive.

No matter black, white, or beige,

Chola or Orient made,

I'm on the right track baby, I was born to be brave!

- "Born This Way," by Lady Gaga

"Would anyone question the fledgling King?" the Royal Steward asked the assembly. No one did. The Jagged Crown was placed upon Loki's head and he took his place upon the Throne.

"Long live King Lodr! All Hail the King!" the Steward said, and the nobles echoed the sentiment. Then a long line of petitioners formed and it was business as usual at Court. Except that now Loki was expected to see to their grievances.

He saw it through as best he could until a man in warrior's armor stepped forward. The man saluted and raised his head.

"Hail, King Lodr! I am a representative of the Golden City's chapter of the Fighter's Guild. We regret that we missed recruiting Your Majesty before this time, but if you'd like, I am here to rectify that here and now."

Loki cocked his head slightly to one side, and raised an eyebrow. "You wish to offer me entry into the Fighter's Guild? As King, I do not have a great deal of time for hunting, you know."

"Oh of course, Your Majesty, but every King for millions of years has been in the Fighter's Guild. It's a tradition."

"I see. So you are even willing to break your own rules of admission to uphold this tradition, then?"

"I… beg Your Majesty's pardon?"

"I believe that the Fighter's Guild does not, ordinarily, allow the admission of Vanir or other… 'lesser'… races."

"Lesser races… no, Your Majesty, but… but you are a Nord, of course we would always allow your entry."

Suddenly Loki changed. His features softened, his body slimmed down and grew curvatious. He became a woman, sitting there on the Throne. He still looked like himself, but… decidedly female.

"What about now? Would you accept me now?" he asked. His voice was also his own, but… feminine.

The recruiter chuckled. "Your Majesty is well-known for his pranks."

"This is no prank. I am as much female as male, as comfortable in one form as the other, unlike my other shapeshifts, which take effort. I do not take this form often, as Mother and Father both prefer that I keep myself a Son of Odin and not a daughter."

The entire Court whispered. This was gossip that was likely to outlive everyone present. Loki held his ground.

"Well, you may be a woman now, but you are ordinarily a man," the recruiter said, beginning to sweat.

"And if I were not, if I spent my days as a woman, would you recruit me then?"

Now the recruiter began to babble. "W-w-w-well, o-o-o-of c-course, Y-your M-m-m-majesty!"

"Steward," Loki said, turning his head in the direction of the Royal Steward.

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Hear this: From this moment forth, any institution that chooses its membership based upon gender and/or race will lose its charter and the right to operate within Asgard. Current institutions with such rules in place have twelve hours to modify their terms of membership."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

The recruiter bowed. "A fine idea, Your Majesty. We were on the verge of implementing new recruitment standards as it was."

"Then see that they are implemented swiftly."

"I will, Your Majesty. Er… may I say that you have accepted our invitation to our ranks?"

Loki turned himself back into a man and smiled a thin smile. "I am already a member in good standing of a competing guild. Clan Centurio. I will remain loyal to them."

The recruiter's face fell. "I… understand, Your Majesty. Thank you for your time."

Loki went through the rest of the line of petitioners and then mingled with the Court, getting to know the nobles not as their Prince but as their King. One particularly fat nobleman he did not know well but had always considered particularly obsequious toward Odin took a sip of wine and a bite of a rich appetizer and looked him dead in the eye with all seriousness.

"So, I've been thinking about changing clans," he said. "The Fighter's Guild is a bunch of hoity-toity snots, the lot of them. I've heard good things about this Clan Centurio. Can you put in a good word for me with their leader?"

"I'll see what I can do for you," Loki said, with a smile. Let the games begin.