A/N: Believe it or not, I got chapter two finished THE NIGHT BEFORE THE BAR EXAM. So here you go - please enjoy while I go suffer through three days of exhaustion, anger, tears, and misery. Upshot: you'll get a new chapter soon because I'll need to work out my rage on my characters. ;)

Song: "Something About the Way You Look Tonight" by Elton John

Grace awoke the next morning to a sunrise where the night sky had been. Loki never did anything half-heartedly. What surprised her, however, was that he was not in bed next to her. Usually they got up together to the sound of Amy asking to be brought from her room. Speaking of which, she didn't hear a peep from the nursery, which meant either Loki's sound-blocking spell was stronger than she'd realized, or Amy was also still asleep. Somehow, the former seemed more realistic.

She pulled herself off the bed, taking the sheet with her as a makeshift robe. Upon entering the nursery, she discovered neither scenario was the case—Amy was nowhere to be found, which meant she was already roaming the palace with Loki. This ordinarily wouldn't have bothered her, except that in her current environment, she had no idea where to begin looking for them. In fact, she didn't know if she could even remember her way back to where she and Thor had entered the previous evening. She wondered if maybe she could summon that servant Thor had mentioned to ask how to get around Asgard.

As if on cue, she heard a knock from the other room. She returned to the main chamber and cracked the door, as she was still clutching the sheet precariously to her body. A young woman with dark hair and eyes, wearing a long dress and apron, curtsied.

"Good morning, Lady Grace," she said, her voice soft but slightly nasal. "May I enter? I am Dagmar, your servant for your stay here."

"Um…" Grace blushed, and not because she was all but naked in front of a total stranger. She was deeply uncomfortable with the idea of having a servant; she'd never even had a housekeeper! Her mother would sometimes try to clean the apartment she shared with Loki, and even that made her nervous. But she also suspected that refusing Dagmar would be an insult to Loki's family, or, worse, cause trouble for the servant herself, so she nodded and stepped aside.

"Would you like me to draw you a bath?" Dagmar asked.

Grace had never been so weirded out in her life, but she agreed. She had to give up her sheet so the bed could be made anyway. Dagmar hurried off to the bathroom and shortly thereafter, Grace heard running water. She followed the sound and found Dagmar pouring oil into the tub, under the faucet. "What's that?"

Dagmar smiled. "For your skin. We are not so different from your world."

Grace returned the smile, curious as to how Dagmar would know about earthly bath products. She wondered if there was some kind of Midgardian history class in schools, like kids in New York learned about ancient Greece. "Thank you."

"You are welcome." Dagmar went to a closet and pulled a bathrobe out, holding it up so that Grace could discreetly shed the sheet and step into the robe. "Is there anything else you require before I attend to the chamber, Lady Grace?"

"One request," Grace replied. "Please call me Grace. No 'lady' required."

Dagmar looked as uncomfortable as Grace had been a few moments earlier. "But, I—"

"I know custom says otherwise. Thor has trouble with it too. But really, I prefer to be called just by my name. I'm not royalty, after all."

"But you are as good as."

The way she said it took Grace aback; there was just something strange about the phrasing. Being Loki's partner would by nature make her a member of the upper class. But she felt more akin to Meghan Markle than Queen Elizabeth—someone who happened to be dating a royal, not someone bred to be royalty.

"If you're worried about Loki being angry, don't," she said. "I promise, if I tell him it's what I want, it will be what he wants."

"As you wish," Dagmar replied, as she scooped up the sheet.

"Thank you. For the bath too."

"It is an honor, La—" Dagmar stopped herself just as Thor had. "Grace."

When Grace was sure Dagmar had begun cleaning the main chamber, she slipped off the robe and eased herself into the bath. The water was steaming, but somehow not too hot, and the oil Dagmar had added tingled slightly on her skin. The room was filled with the aroma of vanilla and bergamot, and, as Grace relaxed, she felt overcome by emotion.

"Loki, I don't know where you are, but this is the best morning you've ever given me." She paused. "Well, almost the best." And as she closed her eyes, although she knew she was alone, she could have sworn she heard a devilish laugh and seen a quick flash of green light in the mirror across the room.

"Daddy! Pony!"

Amy grasped Loki's hand—well, more like two of his fingers—and then pointed toward a large stallion in the stable. It was as black as his hair but had a shock of white running through its mane. He walked with her toward the horse, having to moderate his normally long stride to accommodate her short steps.

"Stallion, my love," he gently prompted. Although Amy was only a little over two years old, he and Grace believed in treating her like a miniature adult.

"Stahyen," Amy repeated, a child's pronunciation but still trying to use the word.

Loki lifted her onto his shoulders and leaned down to allow her to gently pet the horse's head, following his lead. "Would you like to know a secret about this stallion?" Amy nodded emphatically. "This stallion," he said, "was the first one I ever rode."

Amy's eyes grew wide with wonder. "Yours?"

"He still is," Loki replied. "A bit too old to ride properly now, but I wouldn't allow my father to"—he paused, considering his words carefully—"to send him to live with all the other old horses."

"Do you still ride stahyons, Daddy?" Now she was trying to impress him, he knew. It was endearing, and he smiled at her effort.

"I don't have a stallion anymore, I'm afraid." He watched his old friend sniff and nudge his daughter's hand, just as the stallion had done with him when he was a boy. "But I'm sure we can find one you can ride when you get just a bit bigger."

Amy gasped the way only a child who has just been told she could have a pony of her own could. "Am I bigger now?"

"Too big," Grace said, coming toward them from the palace grounds, her auburn-tinged hair blowing backwards as she walked. The wind had picked up that afternoon, reminding Loki how bitterly cold it was the night he met her. He hadn't been as susceptible to it as others were, owing to his heritage, but he remembered the pink in Grace's cheeks and the sight of her breath in the air, and it brought a smile to his lips.

"Mama!" Amy held her arms out, asking Grace to take her, and Grace obliged. She knew she wouldn't have much longer to do this, as fast as Amy was growing. "Daddy says I get a stahyon!"

"Oh yeah?" Grace raised an eyebrow. "And did Daddy tell you where the stallion would live?"

"Well," Loki said, his voice betraying his mischief, "being a prince has its benefits. Access to a stable is perhaps the least impressive but possibly the most important."

"Ah, yes. That's probably why I keep you around!"

"It clearly has nothing to do with my dashing good looks or excellent abilities in the—"

"Kitchen!" She gestured toward Amy with a jerk of her head. "You do make great spaghetti."

He drew his hand up the curve of her spine, sending goosebumps across her skin. "Yes, I believe I made a superb dinner last night. And you provided the most delicious dessert."

She slapped his arm playfully and put Amy on the ground. "So, what else do you have planned for the day besides making grand promises to our kid?"

"Well, as you know, we are attending the banquet tonight."

The three of them began to walk toward the garden on the south side of the grounds. He knew Grace would love it there; summertime was her favorite time of year, despite its heat, because the trees would flourish and Central Park would be overcome with bright, bold colors and so many fragrant flowers that almost made up for the acrid smell of the humid city streets. She had no trouble making the nearly hour-long journey subway ride to Manhattan even on her days off from work, just to take Amy to see the turtles at Turtle Pond or to the zoo. Anything to be surrounded by nature.

Just then, Amy, who had run slightly ahead of them, called to him as they passed a group of warriors sparring in a courtyard. "Daddy?"

"Yes, darling?"

"Are they mad?"

Loki and Grace exchanged a look. "No," he said. "What makes you think that?"

She pointed to the men who were, by then, locked together by their axes. "They're fighting!" She looked genuinely distressed. Loki realized that, as a human, Amy had never seen sparring, while he had been exposed to it—even participated occasionally—practically since he was brought to Asgard. He had never been particularly good at it, but it was something expected of him as an Asgardian, and, even more so, as a prince.

"No, baby," Grace interjected. "They're just playing! You know, like you do with your friends when you pretend to be lions and tigers."

"Your Uncle Thor and I used to do that," Loki added. Amy's eyes widened for the millionth time that day, as though she didn't believe he and Thor could ever have been young too.

"Yeah, and you know how much Daddy and Uncle Thor love each other." Grace glanced over at him to gauge his reaction. He seemed to be somewhere between amused and embarrassed.

As they reached their destination, Grace stopped short. Before her was the most beautiful, lush, colorful garden she had ever seen. There were flowers she had seen on Earth and flowers she was certain were only of Asgard. A canopy of trees—weeping willows, from the sight of them—lined the edges of the space, providing shade and privacy. There was a stone and gold fountain on the far end, and a tree that appeared to change from magenta to green to blue depending on the wind. She wondered if Loki had enchanted the tree himself or if that kind of thing was simply normal here.

"Loki, this is…"

She couldn't even finish because he took her by the waist and pulled her into him. Amy ran ahead, settling down under the colorful tree, content to play with blades of grass and leaves. Grace looked up at him, his arm as tight around her waist as her heart was in his hand. "This is my own private garden," he explained. "Only those who know its location can see it."

"That reminds me of the Room of Requirement in Harry Potter."

"Where do you think I got it? It's hard to believe a mortal could have such a brilliant magical idea."

Although he was smiling, Grace could see that it wasn't the usual Cheshire grin he would have after pulling something like this off. Something seemed to be weighing on his mind. "Loki, what's wrong?"

"Are you happy, Grace?"

"Oh, let's see." She looked skyward, as if considering his question. "I'm in another world with the two people I love most, in an unbelievably beautiful garden, and I got to take a long, uninterrupted bath this morning, to say nothing of the fact that I get to meet your family tonight at a banquet in a palace." When he didn't seem to understand her sarcasm, she said, "I think I'm content."

"No," he said, blinking hard. He looked toward the tree where Amy was still contentedly entertaining herself. "What I meant was, are you happy with me? With our life?"

For the first time since he had revealed his true self to her, his voice was full of hesitation. If she hadn't known better, she would have thought it was fear. She gently put her hand on his face and turned his head toward her again. "Loki, I have never been happier." Then, she hesitated. "Okay, that's not true. The only day I've been happier was February 15th, 2013."

"Her birthday. Of course. But…"

"But what?"

"I caused you a great deal of pain, Grace, even if you are content now."

She smiled up at him, her hair falling over one eye, which he brushed back. "February 15th caused me a great deal of pain, too," she said. "But I wouldn't trade the joy I got from that pain for—"

"For all the Nine Realms?"

She kissed him. "For all the Nine Realms."

"Damnit!"

Grace sat at the vanity in the bathroom, staring at her reflection. What little makeup she wore was doing absolutely nothing for her that night. She had a little superstition that you could tell how an evening was going to go based on how well your hair and makeup worked. Of course, one of the benefits of her rarely wearing makeup or doing her hair was that in turn, she rarely had to formulate a prediction of the upcoming day.

Tonight, however, she was not only meeting Loki's parents, but she was doing so at a formal banquet in front of half of Asgard. On top of that, Loki had a gown delivered to the chamber that was more beautiful than anything she had ever worn. It was made from gold fabric that seemed to be a combination of satin and jersey, with a sheer, mesh overlay that gave the gown the appearance of starlight. It wasn't strapless, thank God—she didn't have enough there to fill out anything strapless, even after pregnancy. Instead, the straps were wide enough to cover her shoulders with a slight wing over them, and the sweetheart neckline gave her just a bit of sex appeal. It fit her as if it had been made for her, and she was frustrated that her face wasn't holding up its end of the bargain, with her hair not faring much better.

Dagmar appeared from behind her, stepping into view of the mirror. "What troubles you, Lady Grace?"

Grace sighed. "No one here is ever not going to call me that, are they?"

Dagmar winced at the rebuke. "I apologize."

"Oh," Grace said, more gently this time, "I'm sorry. It isn't you. I just can't seem to make myself look human."

"I believe you are human."

Grace laughed. "That's true. I'll rephrase. I would like to look like an attractive human."

Dagmar set down her stack of towels and stood behind Grace. "Well, I believe Prince Loki would argue that you are already quite beautiful, and he would not be wrong."

"I appreciate that," Grace said as she fiddled with her hair.

"May I?" Dagmar asked. Grace nodded, and the maid picked up a comb and some pins. She gathered sections of Grace's hair and wove it into a pattern of curls and twists that finally began to look intentional.

"You are really good at this, Dagmar. Have you always liked doing hair?"

"Yes. I have two sisters. I used to practice on them."

"I wish I had a sister. My parents tried after me, but they just…couldn't."

"You have a lovely daughter, at least."

"Yes, I do, but I'm sure she'll also be an only child."

"Do you know that for sure?"

"Well," Grace sighed, "I expect it would be quite difficult to have a child with someone who isn't human."

"I suppose so. However, I've never heard of anyone trying to, so I can't be sure of that."

Before long, Grace's hair had been swept into a high ponytail with curls wrapped around it to form a polished but effortless-looking style. She marveled at how intricate it was without looking overdone. "Dagmar," she said, "you really need to make this into a career."

Dagmar shook her head and lowered her dark eyes. Suddenly, she looked as uncomfortable as Grace felt every time someone called her lady. "Thank you, but I am just a servant. But I am glad to have been helpful."

"Thank you. You have saved this evening from ruin, at least so far."

"It is my pleasure." Dagmar gave a small curtsy and left the chamber.

"Okay," Grace said to no one but herself, "I suppose looking half-human is better than not human at all."

The knock on the door startled her, although it shouldn't have, given that Grace knew it was Loki. She wasn't entirely sure why he insisted on knocking before he entered her room. He obviously didn't do that at home in the apartment they shared. She wondered if perhaps he reverted to some of his formal manners and upbringing when he was at home for an extended period of time, kind of like how some people reverted to accents they had growing up when they visit home. She walked carefully to the door and flung it open. There he stood, adorned in his formal armor, sans horned helmet. She expected him to greet her as he usually did, with a kiss and a gentle squeeze to her waist—sometimes, when Amy wasn't nearby, it would be a squeeze to her rear instead—but this time, he hesitated. He seemed almost in a trance, like he was struggling for words.

"You look…ethereal," he said.

She laughed. "That seems appropriate, given our location."

He loved her laugh. It was honest and playful. He often thought there was no sound more beautiful. "Is Amy asleep?"

"Yes. Dagmar is with her. By the way, she's—"

"Grace, I'm so sorry, but we must go. The Allfather detests tardiness. I'm afraid I learned that early in my childhood." He extended his arm to her.

"Okay." She took his arm and made a mental note to speak to him later about Dagmar's talent.

They walked the palace in relatively silence, both lost in their own thoughts. Grace was nervous; she had heard a dozen stories about Odin, not all of them flattering. She wondered what Odin thought of his son, the prince, involved with a human. Would he be happy with the union? Would he want to meet Amy?

"Where did you go just now?" he asked. His soft voice somehow never managed to startle her, whether she was expecting it or not. Perhaps, she wondered, that was a sign of how comfortable she felt with him. Or maybe it was simply that his tone was always so gentle.

"I was just…thinking about Amy. Do you think she's going to be okay? What if she wakes up?"

"If she should awaken, I have instructed the servant girl—"

"Dagmar," Grace corrected. "Her name is Dagmar."

"Right," he said, a puzzled look on his face. "I have instructed her to inform us at once. But I do not think that is truly what you were thinking of."

She smiled. "Sometimes I wonder if that magic of yours doesn't include mind reading."

"Would that it did," he replied. "It might have saved me some trouble attempting to buy you a birthday gift last year."

Then, he stopped walking and turned toward her. On the wall opposite her, was a huge mirror, like something you would see in a period room at the Met. She momentarily admired the broadness of his shoulders, draped in green velvet and leather. Then, she came back to Earth. Well, almost.

"It's nothing, really," she said.

"Grace?"

She could sense his disbelief. "I—just—do you think they'll like me?"

"They would not have invited you to stay in the palace otherwise."

"They did that for your benefit. I don't just mean will they be polite to me. I mean, will they like me? Will they approve of us?"

He gave her his most mischievous smile, the one he knew could always reach her, melt her, comfort her. "As I told you, I have come to believe, finally, that my family have always wanted what is best for me. If they did not believe you to be what is best for me, they would not have permitted me to be part of your life when I met you. Thor alone threatened to stop me if I had hurt you." When she did not reply, he said, "I promise you, this evening will be everything we both want it to be."

"You seem to be telling yourself that as much as you're telling me."

He shook his head. "The only thing I need to tell myself is that I am the most fortunate man in all of Yggdrasil, because you are on my arm this evening." With that, he again extended his arm to her, and she again took it, trusting him to lead the way.

"Lords and ladies of Asgard, I pray thee rise and give welcome to Prince Loki, Son of Odin, and Lady Grace Lawson." She heard the announcement of their arrival before she realized they had been standing just outside the banquet hall.

"Ready?" Loki whispered.

"Just don't leave me."

Suddenly, the huge, thick, walnut doors opened to a room that must have been the grandest in all Asgard. It was a combination of futuristic and medieval; the bright, gleaming gold and silver toned walls were offset by long, heavy tables made from the same wood as the doors. Great, iron chandeliers hung over each of the tables, adorned with soft hued lights—not candles, though they gave the same flickering glow. It was difficult to take in everything at once, not least of all because of the thundering applause as they entered. "Does this happen at every family dinner?" she asked, trying not to gawk.

"Only when I've done something very, very good."

As they proceeded down the aisle between the tables, she realized they were headed directly toward three individuals standing in front of a more elaborately decorated table with five equally ornate, padded chairs around it. She immediately recognized Thor, wearing his armor, which was similar to Loki's but clearly more built for battle. Next to him was a statuesque woman with a warm smile, bright blue eyes, and wavy strawberry-blonde hair cascading down her back. And finally, a stocky but powerful looking man, with an impressive white beard and a gold eye patch over his right eye that matched the armor he wore. He looked, to Grace, like a battle-ravaged Santa Claus. The thought made her smile, which was probably good, since otherwise she likely would have already passed out from sheer terror. She'd only ever met the parents of one boyfriend, and that had been a chance meeting at temple during a book sale in high school. That was a far cry from meeting the king and queen of an entirely different world at a banquet.

Loki bowed. "Mother, Father, I am pleased to introduce you to my darling Grace. Grace, these are my parents, Queen Frigga and Odin Allfather."

He pulled her forward gently, almost causing her to trip on her dress. She managed an approximation of the curtsy she'd seen Dagmar give. While she was comforted by a small nod from Thor and the enduring smile from Frigga, she couldn't get a read on Odin. She supposed that was an asset in ruling, to be able to hide one's emotions, but as far as social interactions were concerned, it was maddening.

"I am very happy to finally meet you," she said, more to Frigga than to Odin, whose gaze and face remained impassive. However, he did reply to her.

"And we, you."

With only those words, Grace felt immediately calmer. At least he was speaking to her. Odin motioned to the table, giving unspoken permission for the group to be seated. Loki directed her to a chair between himself and Thor, across from the King and Queen. She appreciated this; between the two enormous princes, she could disappear from the public eye.

The rest of the room buzzed with activity and conversation—likely, she thought, about her. It was probably unusual for a human to be in the palace, let alone at a table with the royal family. Several servants began to bring out generous portions of food—fresh fruits, vegetables, bread, and cheese, as well as platters of turkey, chicken, and sausages. The sheer amount was enough to feed Manhattan for a year. But having lived with Loki for as long as she had, she knew that at least Frost Giants had voracious appetites. She suspected Asgardians were no different.

As they filled their plates, Frigga finally spoke. "Grace, have you enjoyed your stay thus far?"

"Oh, yes, very much," Grace replied, waiting for either the Queen or King to take a bite of food before doing so herself. And they said all those hours watching the royal wedding coverage were wasted, she thought.

"And your daughter? Has she found Asgard to her liking?"

"As far as I can tell, yes. She was quite taken with the horses."

At this, a small smile played over Odin's lips, almost imperceptible if one hadn't been looking for it. "Seems she is taking after my younger son."

"Loki never mentioned he rode horses before today, actually."

"Ah, well, it was so long ago that he last rode…perhaps he has forgotten how."

"Well, that seems unlikely," she replied. At once, all three others at the table stopped and looked up, eyes darting between Odin and Grace. Loki held his breath; she was walking a dangerous line by contradicting the Allfather. Before he could intercede, however, she said, "I mean, it's not like there are many opportunities to ride horses in our city, but I am sure that if Loki learned to ride from you, he would never forget how—even just to show off!"

Odin gave her an appraising look, studying her for a moment, and then let out a great laugh. "My son," he said to Loki, "for all your ability to deceive, I fear you have been found out!"

The tension at the table immediately broke, and they continued to enjoy their meal. Thor told stories about the brothers' childhood, and Loki noticed that, for once, they weren't all embarrassing to him. Thor even managed to compliment his brother's magical skills with a story about how Loki had transformed himself into a snake and was so convincing that Thor picked him up, only to change immediately back and scare the daylights out of Thor. He had screamed so loudly that the Warriors Three thought he was a maiden in distress.

Frigga asked Grace about her parents and Amy. It was her nature, despite being a skilled swordswoman and warrior, to care about family. "Do your parents enjoy having a grandchild?"

"Very much. I hope you can meet Amy sometime during our stay. If you'd like to, I mean."

"I would," Frigga replied. "I think it is a universal desire of parents to have grandchildren."

"My brother and I have been great disappointments in that regard," Loki said.

"Until now, that is," Thor added with a wink in Grace's direction.

Grace turned toward Odin. "Your Highness, tell me, did your parents enjoy being grandparents to your sons?"

With a hint of sadness in his one good eye, Odin shook his head. "My father, Bor, was killed in battle when I was quite young. Sadly, my brothers suffered the same fate. But I expect that, had he lived, he would have been quite proud of both of my sons."

Loki and Thor were gobsmacked. Odin rarely spoke of Bor. He had been a fierce warrior, but had died far too soon, leaving Odin to rule before he was even a capable warrior himself. Beyond that, what little they knew about Bor was from legend. Truthfully, they had always known better than to ask. Grace, however, in her naivety and with her kind, inquisitive heart, had no such compunction.

"I'm sure he would be proud of them, and I'm sure he would be proud that you raised them to be such good men."

"Yes," Odin said, considering this. "I have raised two fine sons. A bit impatient, perhaps even reckless, at times. But good nonetheless."

Thor raised his glass. "Well, then, a toast to our grandfather. To his memory, and his legacy."

Everyone at the table raised their glasses, but Loki's mind was far away. He sat silently, gazing at Grace as though no one else was in the room. He looked at the way her hair framed her face, the smoothness of her skin. He thought about the way that her kind, generous, and easygoing nature had quickly caused even his generally humorless, serious father to discuss a topic he had rarely broached with his sons. Years prior, he would never have expected to have had this change of heart about his father's feelings. And that, in his mind, made all the difference.

"That went well, don't you think?"

Grace rubbed her bare arms to keep warm in the cool evening air. She was perched on the edge of the balcony in his room, which would have ordinary scared the hell out of her, but she knew that even if she slipped, Loki would catch her.

He returned to the balcony with a warm, velour blanket, wrapping it around her shoulders. "I couldn't imagine it going any better. I told you that everything would go as well as we wanted it to. Are you tired?"

"Not really. Which is surprising, considering it's probably past my bedtime, whatever time it is here."

"We are not so old."

She smirked at him. "Well, you're only…what, a couple thousand years older than me?"

"I beg your pardon!" His feigned annoyance only served to make him more adorable. "I am only a thousand years old, thank you very much."

She walked toward him and gave him a kiss. "I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

It amazed him that after all this time, her kiss could still make him feel like he'd never kissed another woman in his life. And over the last thousand years, no other woman had been able to do that. His expression suddenly turned profoundly serious.

"Grace," he said, carefully, as though he had never spoken her name before, "I would like to make something clear to you. I have never seen my father express the sentiment he did this evening." His arms were in front of him, hands clasped together, white at the knuckles. He was clearly tense.

She blushed and wondered what could have caused her normally confident-bordering-on-arrogant partner to turn into, well, her. "I hope I wasn't too forward or nosy or—"

"No, not at all. Admittedly, I was taken aback when you asked about my grandfather, but it appears that I, too, have much to learn about Odin. Which seems…appropriate."

"Appropriate? How so?"

He turned away from her to walk toward the far edge of the balcony, and she followed. "When I was young, my father told me that I was born to be a king. What he did not tell me was that I was born to be a king of an entirely different realm. As such, I always felt different, but it was because I was different."

"So you've said."

"And," he continued, "when I discovered I was, as I phrased it then, the monster parents tell their children about at night, it changed me. I convinced myself that I should simply live up to that destiny."

"Loki, we talked about this. You aren't that monster anymore." She reached up to touch his cheek, and he took her hand and kissed the palm.

"Please," he said gently, "please, let me get this out. Because I fear if I do not do it now, I may never have the courage again."

She pulled the blanket closer around her. "Sorry. Go on."

"What I am very clumsily trying to say is that because I felt different, like a monster, I never believed I would know love. Nor did I want to. And when my father sent me back to Midg—I mean, Earth—I had nothing left in my heart but vengeance and hatred. Until, that is, I was fortunate enough to meet you."

She was mesmerized by this soliloquy. It wasn't in Loki's nature to wax poetic, despite his voice making everything sound like poetry.

"When you brought me into your life and trusted me," he continued, "not only with your heart but also with your child, even after—no, especially after you found out my true identity, I realized I could be more than what I or anyone else thought I was."

She sank back down onto the edge of the balcony. "Loki…" She wanted to say something, but realized she had no words to respond to what he was confessing.

He stopped and took a long, slow breath, then came to sit beside her again. He took her hands in one of his—the size difference never failed to amaze her—and looked straight into her eyes. "Do you remember when I told you about the Norns?"

"I do. It was when I told you about Amy's conception."

"And do you recall that I told you that they do not make mistakes? That they control our destiny?"

"I do."

"Grace, when I said that, I believed it. Yet, I did not truly understand it. But now, I think I do."

Her mouth felt dry and for no reason at all, her hands began to shake. "What are you saying to me, Loki?"

"I once believed my destiny to be a throne. And then, to be a monster. But in these last two years, I have realized my destiny is to be Amy's father…and your husband, if you will have me."

All the breath she had left inside her lungs escaped in a whoosh. She had imagined the moment of her engagement since she was old enough to know what a proposal was. She always expected it would be something cheesy, like on Valentine's Day or at Disneyland or something, so generic that she could steal someone else's story, and no one would be the wiser. But in a million years, she could never have dreamed she would be on another planet when it happened. She wasn't even sure she'd heard him correctly. "What did you just say?"

"I asked," he said, lowering himself to one knee, "if you would allow me the honor of being your husband." She was still aghast and definitely not prepared for this. But there was no question in her mind. He was simply asking her to do something that she knew would be the best decision of her life, something that did not even require thought to respond to.

Suddenly, for no reason at all, a hilarious thought popped into her head, one that related back to what Loki had told her about his time on Earth before he knew her. "I do not know if I should take laughter as a good or bad sign," he said.

"I'm sorry. It's just—I'm laughing because, well, you're kneeling before me."

It took him a second, but when it finally registered, he laughed too. Then, he took a small box from inside his armor—where he had pockets inside all of that, she had no idea—and opened it. Inside was a delicate, silver band with a single emerald. It was perfect. She couldn't have imagined anything better.

And as he slipped the ring onto her hand, Loki leaned in toward her for a kiss, but stopped short to whisper in her ear, "In the end, I will always kneel."