It had been another successful night. The girl was getting better and better at controlling the flow of the Tesseract and Loki himself was getting quicker at instigating the cell fission. If all went well, he might try upping their nightly quota to two cells per session.

She was more talented than he had expected.

(And not entirely unbearable.)

As his bedroom door slid shut, Loki stretched his arms behind his back, fingers interlocked. His spine gave a satisfying crack as the fey lights woke slowly above his head. It was late, the corridors to his quarters had been all but empty, only the little lights along the baseboards illuminating the way.

He stripped to his britches and let his form change, stretching and growing cold. Something inside him relaxed as he did so, like a sigh, and he found himself slumping with relief. It was so frustrating, this constant tension within his flesh, within his core, that now came from maintaining his Ás form. He knew, in time, he'd be able to stay shifted near indefinitely. But that wasn't helpful now. Though… though, if he were honest with himself…

If he were honest, his skin had always been too tight.

Loki gathered up his garments, hanging them in the slim closet built into the wall. His reflection flashed from the mirror upon the inner door, blue like a late dusk sky, ridged like valley rivers seen from a mountain overlook. He sighed and let his gaze flick up.

Red, like blood.

Or…

Or, perhaps, like garnet.

Had Frigg ever seen him like this? What words would she have used?

Alexandrite. She'd always said his eyes were like that of alexandrite.

Hah. Fitting.

How would the Jötnar describe him?

Short.

Of course. But otherwise? He was a handsome man, he knew. He'd used his looks to his advantage as much as he did his words and charm.

But as a Jötunn?

What did they hold to be desirable?

Scarred and shaped like a brick, most likely.

Maybe.

He closed the closet, padding over to his bedding, the fey lights swirling about his horns as he walked.

The girl wasn't ugly. Not pretty, certainly, and as a woman she was decidedly lacking in feminine qualities. But if she were male, then she would be well on her way to becoming a handsome young man. The mother could be handsome, too, in a grizzled, war veteran sort of way.

Was that it? The Jötnar simply prided flat chests and squared jaws so highly that even their women became such?

(It could explain some of his… proclivities.)

Loki slid to the ground with a groan, laying back, head resting on his right arm as he watched the fey lights drift along the ceiling. He raised his left hand towards the lights and studied the way they played across his skin. The yellowed glow rimmed the blue of his fingers like the dawn sun pushing against the night sky.

Were there others like him? Small and wily? Perhaps it was a trait of seiðrmasters, perhaps Juri would also stay shorter than her brethren.

No, she was young and already taller than Loki himself.

So not short, but she was wily, and smart. And from the sounds of it, her grandmother was too. And from the sounds of it, her grandmother was the last seiðrmaster she'd had any significant contact with. All alone in a world of warmongers.

Even on Asgard Loki had never been the only one, had always had his mother to speak with, to practice with. Had always had the ladies of the court, even if their interests only lay with cosmetology and love potions. It had been something.

What did Juri have? A gruff, ice-obsessed mother.

How lonely.

He let his hand drop, closed his eyes.

Neither he nor Juri should have been born of that realm. And if there were two such as them, then surely there were others, others who deserved to be uplifted. Perhaps when he got to Midgard…

Well, that was a ways off.


"Hilda had another nightmare last night."

"About the Giants?"

"Yes. I don't know what to do. She's terrified they'll crawl out of the vents and gobble her up as she sleeps."

"Haha! I hardly think they'd fit!"

"Yes, I've told her as much. But Bartlet told her that story about Thjazi turning into a bird. She's convinced they'll shift to the form of a snake and creep throughout the ship."

"Tell her the Jötunn seiðrmasters were all killed in the war."

"I have, but I'll try again. I do not think it will help."


The meeting was coming to an end and Loki hadn't spoken once throughout. Thor had been side-eying him for the last half hour, waiting for Loki to speak on his own, but he was far too busy filing his nails to take notice.

Finally Thor broke.

"Loki, have you any news on our missing fuel?"

"Oh, hm?" Loki blinked, glancing up from his buffed nails, keeping his good humor hidden behind practiced disinterest.

"The fuel cells, Loki. Have you found them."

"Oh! Yes." He returned to his filing.

"... And where might they be?"

"Hm? Oh, would you like them now?"

Thor sighed, exhaustion and exasperation drawing his face after a long day running about the ship. But Thor knew the fastest way to get this done was to play along, as much as the game vexed him. "Yes, I would like them now."

"Well, why didn't you say so?"

By the tensing of Thor's jaw, Loki suspected his look of honest perplexity was moments away from earning him a fist to the face, but the sorcerer waved a perfectly manicured hand and, with a small flash, several cells appeared on the conference table. Their blue glow brightened the room, overtaking the dull overheads. In addition to recharging them, Loki had enacted a small spell of transchronofication to change the cell's labels to a false brand: Ignoriant Super Cells.

He caught sight of Valkyrie out of the corner of his eye. She looked amused by his antics, but it was subtle. Neither of them had spoken more than a few words to the other since their little spat nearly four weeks back.

"Is that all?" Lulu asked, stealing away Thor's pleased look. "That'll hardly last us a week."

Loki sighed, pouring all of his irritation into a truly fantastic eye roll. "No, that isn't all. But the cells require activation. It's a tiresome process, though I've been developing a method to activate them with more efficiency. Regardless, you'll be getting them faster than we use them, so don't get your knickers in a bunch."

Juri had been getting a better hold of the Tesseract's power and, as of two nights ago, they'd managed to increase their production to two cells per session. Loki suspected she'd be able to handle three soon.

The Sakaaran snapped her jaws, gills flaring. She was growing to dislike Loki with an increasingly personal passion, but if she didn't wish for a tongue lashing then she should learn to keep her toothy little mouth shut.

"Brother, be nice," Thor admonished, but he did so with no heat. "And you've done well. When can we expect more?"

Loki let himself preen a little as he answered. "I'll have another batch ready for our next meeting."

"Excellent! Good work, Loki. Now," Thor clapped his hands as he rose, "if that is all..."

"One more thing, your highness," Kvathi spoke, flicking through files on his tablet. "I've a number of citizens who express concern about the Frost Giants in our hold."

Thor, so bright and excited to leave just moments before, sank back into his seat with a barely repressed groan.

"We've been over this Kvathi. Until the Jötnar give us reason, we will not disturb them."

"I understand, but their very presence is disturbing the peace. I've a list of six hundred and fifty eight men and women who have lodged complaint against them. That's nearly a quarter of the ship's population."

"If you only count Asgardians," Lulu muttered. Kvathi pointedly ignored her.

"A quarter of the populace is uncomfortable having the Jötnar so near. I think it unwise to ignore their fears."

Valkyrie spoke up from across the table, "if you need someone to field complaints, I'd be happy to lend a hand." She raised a fist, shaking it threateningly.

"You can't punch your way out of civil unrest," Kvathi harrumphed, shuffling in his seat.

"You sure? 'Cause I'd be happy to try."

"Come now, Brunnhilde," Loki raised his hand in a plea for calm. Valkyrie sent him a glare. "Our good friend here is right. The citizens are afraid. Violence will hardly allay them of their fears."

If this had been a week ago, Loki would have thrown his lot in with the petty noble. But things had changed, the Jötunn girl was instrumental to Loki's plans and he wasn't about to lose such a useful tool.

(And if he occasionally enjoyed her enthusiasm for the craft, well, he wasn't above admitting it. To himself, at least.)

"And what would you suggest?" Thor held himself with all the energy of wet bread, slumping against a fist.

"I'll speak to our people. Tonight, over dinner."

"You will?" Thor's spark of hope was brief. "You aren't planning a lynch mob, are you?"

"I'm hurt, Thor, truly." He made no attempt to appear honest as he said that. They both knew Loki was plenty happy to start riots when the mood struck. "No, it would do none of us good to bring bloodshed to our halls. Trust me, I'll handle it."


Loki lead the meal hall in a series of merry drinking songs throughout dinner, drumming up enough good cheer that the people nearly forgot their beer was mostly water. By the time dinner was coming to a close the hall was loud with laughter, wrestling, and good natured jeers.

Loki made his way to the head of the room, climbing atop the raised platform Thor sometimes used for announcements. He lifted his hands and waited as the people took notice, shushing their companions into silence. Thor watched from the sidelines, apprehension in the tightness of his shoulders. Loki sent him a little wave.

"My friends!" Loki's voice carried through the hall, bright and lively. "How are we on this fine evening?"

The crowd cheered, raising mugs to the ceiling.

"I'm glad to hear it! And I hope the following doesn't damper the mood too greatly, but it has been brought to my attention that some have a few complaints about our downstairs neighbors. The Jötnar," grumbling filled the hall and Loki waited a beat for it to calm, "are making some of you… uncomfortable. An understandable reaction, to be sure. Frost Giants are dangerous, unpredictable, and untrustworthy. And I should know." Loki placed a hand upon his chest, flashing a guilty little self deprecating smirk. The audience chuckled, well versed in Loki's mischief.

"But our King has made his ruling, offering our hospitality to these," Loki pretended to search for a polite word, " exotic guests. And Asgard is as good as her word. We can hardly ask for honor from our guests that we ourselves are unwilling to give."

The crowd didn't look happy at this. It was the same argument Thor had made some weeks back, and it would work for a time. Honor was the currency of Asgard, no one would move to tarnish that golden facade. No, they needed to wait for a convenient excuse to blame the other party before breaking any promises. (Loki's ability to trick others into breaking a pact was one of the reasons so many nobles despised him, and why the country folk who heard of his exploits against the stuffed shirts adored him.)

Loki had been drumming up the citizens' desire for retribution since the Jötnar were promised safe passage, knowing that when the opportunity presented itself he'd be loaded as a hero, enacting revenge for some petty slight. This tension could still be useful to keep the Jötnar in line, but it was now important to keep it from getting out of hand. He'd be truly screwed if some thick-skulled want-to-be hero decided to go monster slaying in the cargo bays.

"Now, I know such plays on your honor do little to lessen your concern for your wives and children. I do not pretend that these beings are not dangerous. But I ask you to trust in your King that they are well contained." A lie. But the youth wouldn't be eating any babies even if she did decide to go for another stroll in the upper decks. "The Jötnar may be savages, but they are not without reason. They know full well that any move against us will mean their heads and, like any animal, their chief instinct is the preservation of their own lives. And I tell you this with confidence, having had the… hm, pleasure of speaking with them, they are far more afraid of us than we are of them."

Some of the younger members of the audience seemed unsure of this.

"It's true! They know the might of Asgard. They know the ferocity of our warriors. "

Play on their pride.

"The strength of our King."

Play on their loyalty.

"The unity of our people."

Our people. Yours and mine.

"Even a bear doesn't hunt a wolf pack."

An old, grizzled man spoke up, scars from battles past pulling at the corners of his lips. "This would be more assuring were it not coming from the mouth of a Jötunn himself."

Thor barked from the sidelines, "watch your tongue!" but Loki waved his brother's ire aside. He'd been expecting this.

"No, no. I understand your concerns. Ulof, isn't it?"

The old man growled confirmation.

"I am Jötunn by birth, it is true. And though I have worked my whole life to overcome my origins, it is something I cannot change." He paused here, a look of barely contained sorrow for the romantics in the audience. (And if that expression was easier to conjure than others, he'd never say.) "But in this my blood is a boon. The Jötnar below have an innate distrust of Asgard. But they trust me easily enough, and will do as I ask for the love of something they call a 'blood bond.'" Loki rolled his eyes at the term he'd just coined, gaining some huffs of laughter from those eager to look down on the Jötnar's ignorant traditions.

"I daresay, they seem to view me as some sort of savior." Show them you are instrumental. "They've been rather eager to get into my good graces, in fact. The younger one in particular has become quite taken with me, in just the few times we've met. Pesters me with all sorts of questions about Asgard's magics and strange customs. Customs like footwear."

More laughter.

"It's sad, in truth. The poor thing was raised in a barren wasteland. Such a hard life leaves little time to learn civility. Honestly, I think the two of them are loath to cause trouble if for no other reason than the cargo bays are the cushiest living quarters they've ever inhabited."

Now, some of the more kind hearted were whispering words of pity. Loki figured this was a good place to wrap it up.

"Well, I believe I've interrupted your evening long enough. And I hope my words have lessened some of your more pressing concerns. If not, I'm sure Valkyrie Brunnhilde would be happy to assist."

She had offered, after all.

Loki quickly slipped out of the meal hall, leaving the crowd to chew through his words in his absence. Thor followed him out, the stiffness of his posture loosened now that no riot loomed on the horizon.

"Thank you," Thor said, the corridors' warm light lessening the bruised bags beneath his good eye. "Though I wonder at some of your claims."

"And which would those be?"

"Your friendship with the Jötnar. I seem to recall your bloodthirst was quite strong but last week."

"I am a fickle thing, you know."

"That you are." Thor shook his head with a found smile.

"What the fuck was that?" Valkyrie announced her presence with her usual grace.

"A pleasure as always, Val," Loki greeted her with a grin.

"Ya-huh. You spent that whole little speech of yours painting them like they're slobbering animals you've trained to eat from your hand."

"A more-or-less accurate description."

"What is wrong with you?! Their your people!"

Loki hissed. "They're not my people."

"Are you hearing this?" Valkyrie turned to Thor, waving a hand at Loki's glower.

Thor crossed his arms. "Loki may be Jötunn by blood, but he is Às in mind and deed."

"Yeah, that's the bloody problem!"

"Have care how you speak," Thor growled. "He is my brother and your prince."

"Are you- ugh!" She threw up her hands. "Is getting your heads caught in your asses a family trait? This attitude is exactly the reason every one of Asgard's allies have turned on us now that you don't have the firepower to backup your hegemony. Are you going to pull this bullshit when we land on Midgard? How long before the mortals get fed up with your golden ass and tell you to fuck off back to space? Hm?"

"We defended Midgard from Jötunn invasion. I doubt they'd take umbrage with a few crass words against their ancient enemies."

"I'm not just talking about the Jötnar!" Valkyrie shouted. "I'm talking about Asgard treating everyone like pawns! I'm talking about your family looking down your noses at everyone like they belong beneath your boot! I left Asgard because I was tired of singing the praises of Odin as he stepped on my neck. You don't have an army to force your will on the realms anymore. You don't get to demand respect anymore. And if you don't stop wanking over your own glory then I'll be the first to join the inevitable rebellion." She spat on the floor, "you cunts," and stormed off.

The brothers watched her go.

"Well," Loki said. "That was dramatic."


Brunnhilde kicked the door open (which required positioning herself in the ajar doorway and kicking the sliding door edge-on) and stormed into the bay. Hulk slowly rolled to a sitting position on his trash-pile bed, stretching a meaty arm above his head with a tired groan.

"Val mad."

"Yeah, I'm mad!"

"Why mad?"

"Because the two idiots running this ship are fucking idiots!"

Muthrun sighed from her corner, flipping through a Sakaaran fashion catalogue. The magazine was too small for the Giant to hold comfortably, and Muthrun had complained about the contents on more than one occasion, but there was very little to do in the bowels of the ship.

"What did they do?" Juri asked. She was weaving plastic package wrapping into complicated bracelets. Tomorrow she'd unwrap them and do it again.

"Just the same old 'Asgard is great and everyone else is garbage' bullshit."

"Are you not of Asgard?" Muthrun asked, daintily turning a glossy page.

"Yeah, was. 'Till I got tired of all that gold gilded shit!" She kicked an iron pipe, one Hulk used as a backscratch, sending it clattering across the hold's floor.

"Shit," Hulk chuckled.

Brunnhilde threw herself onto Hulk's trash pile. "It's just the same old crap spewing out of new mouths. They run around the realms tooting their own horns and paving the way with the blood of idiots stupid enough to throw their lives away for the King's ego."

"Wait, what's happened?" Juri asked. The slight crease in her brow was the Jötunn equivalent of wide-eyed panic. "Are you going to war?"

"No, I just-" Brunnhilde sat up, scrubbing at her eyes. "I was hoping things would be different. I thought maybe Thor had learned something after Hela came back and royally screwed over Asgard. I thought maybe that'd teach him Asgard's not so high and mighty. And Loki! Fuck! He's just an ouroboros of stupid."

"Hm." The low grunt was Muthrun's way of agreeing with Brunnhilde's words without directly saying so. Though Brunnhilde had done her best to show the older Jötunn she was an ally, she still refused to speak with any candor in Brunnhilde's presence.

"He's not stupid," Juri said. When the room raised a collective brow, she elaborated. "Well, from what you've told us, he's a master of seiðr. You can't be stupid and do all the things you've said he's done."

"There's different kinds of stupid," Brunnhilde said. She tore a chunk of cardboard out of Hulk's bed, setting about to shredding it piece by piece. "I ever tell you about the first time I saw him as a Jötunn? He didn't even know how to make ice armor. The guy nearly gave himself heatstroke trying to show off. That was, like, two months ago."

"He didn't-?" Juri snorted. "Really? How could he not know?"

Brunnhilde shook her head with a laugh, but then gave the question some consideration. "You know he's adopted, right? Raised by Odin? Apparently no one told him he was adopted. Only found out by accident."

"How could he not know he was adopted?" Juri seemed to be considering the possibility that Loki was, indeed, stupid.

"Something Odin did to his magic," Brunnhilde said. "It kept him permanently shifted into Às form."

Muthrun made a choking noise, nearly tearing the magazine in two. "That is disgus-" she cut herself off before she could insult Asgard's former king. But Brunnhilde had no such reservations.

"Real shitty. Yeah."

"Wouldn't that hurt? Being stuck in a foreign form for centuries?" Juri asked.

Brunnhilde shrugged. He'd never mentioned any pain, not until he'd finally shifted back and the years caught up with him.

"That's… All of that's just so awful. I couldn't imagine never knowing my dame." Juri looked to her mother, lips tugging into a frown. "Or being forced into another form. It's no wonder he's…" she trailed off, noticing her mother's warning look.

Brunnhilde again took up the task of insulting the royal family. "Completely mental? Yeah, I guess. To be fair, Odin managed to screw up his Às kids, too."

"Still…"

"Look, I wouldn't feel too bad for him. He just gave a speech that boiled down to: 'don't be afraid of the Jötnar in the hold, they're too stupid to be a threat."

Muthrun's magazine crackled as it froze over.

"I… sorry." Brunnhilde said. "I shouldn't have come down here to rant at you guys. That's not fair."

"No," Muthrun rumbled, placing her ruined magazine on a crate beside her. "It is good to know where we stand."