It said a lot about how nervous I was when I found myself fussing with several flower arrangements.

They weren't from my own garden. I didn't have that good of a green thumb, not for flowers like these. I fussed a little more with the careful arrangement of carnations, lilies, and baby's breath in one of the glass vases I had set out on the table covered by a blue tablecloth I had picked out on the way over. Blue was a calming color, right? We were going to need all the calm we could get.

I stepped back, gave my handiwork a critical look, and moved the vase to get it a little more centered. Then I gazed around.

Despite the centerpieces and tablecloth and the little lights I had strung up along the ceiling, the place still looked exactly as it had been intended to be: A prison cell. I knew we were having the talks in here as a contingency in case Namor lost his shit, but the atmosphere definitely could have been better. Maybe I should have picked up some dra—oh, who was I kidding. I could fill the room with giant teddy bears and cute bunnies, and it still would've been dreary and depressing. Not to mention potentially insulting.

I went to another flower arrangement and started messing with it, pointedly ignoring my very amused husband who was watching me from his spot leaning in the doorway. I could feel his determined resolve not to say anything for fear of pissing me off. Too bad that just feeling his eyes on me was accomplishing that very feat. "Stop laughing. I'm trying to get this space looking a little less like a cell from Alcatraz."

"I know exactly what you are doing, Pet," Loki replied, his eyes on my hands as I rearranged the flowers just so. "However, that is the third time you have rearranged that particular centerpiece. I realize you are nervous, Pet, but may I suggest you take a quick stroll around the compound instead? Perhaps find Thor so you can do your best to beat him to a pulp?"

"You're actually suggesting I go and beat on your brother?"

Loki shrugged. "Better him than me. I am quite certain he would welcome the chance to spar anyway." His eyes blazed as he added, "Besides, I can tell you are too jittery for any other activity I would like to suggest as a way for you to calm down."

I was pretty sure the look on my face as I glared at him in exasperation provided confirmation, especially when he raised his hands. "Do you see? My point is made. Go smack Thor around. We have an hour before they arrive."

There wouldn't be much smacking around on my end. Thor was stronger than I was, a lot stronger. Then again, he could take a punch, so off I went in search of my brother-in-law.

An hour later, I knew Loki made the right call even if I had to put up with Thor's patronizing taunts ("You're absolutely adorable when you're trying to be menacing!" while patting me on the head, among other things). I showered, changed into some clothes I kept stashed in one of the empty rooms, and right as I left the room heard my name being called. I knew the voice and the scent, and I smiled as T'Challa walked towards me. "You're early."

"I am right on time. If one shows up exactly on time, they are already late." He raised a hand to pat me on the shoulder, saw me flinch, and put his hand back down, respecting my space.

My touch anxiety had returned after I broke Silence a long while back. Even though I was alright with people I was close with such as Thor touching me, I still experienced mild panic attacks when anyone else touched me, even if they were a friend. I willed my pulse and breathing into slowing down and T'Challa fell in step beside me as we made our way down the hall.

"I understand you and your husband will be mediating my talks with the King of Atlantis," T'Challa told me.

"We will. How are things over there?"

He took a deep breath. "Too many people died. The flood waters finally receded, and we managed to find more survivors, thank Bast. Still, I look forward to hearing Namor's explanation for why he attacked my people completely unprovoked." I could feel his rage. "I do not understand wh-"

He stopped because we had just passed the alcove that sat across the hall from Thor's room, where a statue stood.

"Why is there a statue of a naked man there?"

"It's a long story," I told him and hoped he left it at that. I really didn't want to get into how a life-sized marble statue of Hercules ended up with us.

T'Challa studied the hat Herc was wearing. It was one of those big fuzzy Cat In The Hat deals that were popular about ten years ago. Herc wasn't wearing it on his head, at least not the one on top of his neck. "So, did you or Loki put that there?"

I probably should have felt insulted that T'Challa automatically assumed that I could take credit, but I had to concede that he might have a point. "Neither. That's Sam's doing."

I hadn't even been aware Sam had a hat like that. I didn't ask where he got it or why he had it. It was still covering up Herc's pride and joy because neither Loki nor I had found anything we thought was funnier.

"I would have guessed either him or the White Wolf next," T'Challa stated, and we continued to the elevator that would take us where the talks would be.

When the doors opened, I caught a fishy scent that made me think of the ocean, of brine encrusted boats, seaweed, the cool slide of water against my skin, the sounds of seagulls and whalesong, the barking of sea lions such as the one that stole Loki's swim trunks on our last vacation when we decided to skinny dip in a cove. It seemed Namor decided to arrive even earlier than T'Challa.

I could sense frustration and bewilderment. Steeling myself, I walked ahead of the Wakandan king and stepped into the doorway of the cell where the King of Atlantis was having a stare down with the God of Mischief.

Loki was a porcelain statue adorned in his signature green and gold, his face so beautiful it was painful to look at, the thought making me question, once again, how I ended up being so damn lucky. He sat with his arms crossed, leaning against the seat's back. I knew that under the table he was manspreading, and there was a smug smirk on his face. His own oceanic eyes were fixed on Namor, who was staring back. Loki's expression spoke volumes, and what it was saying was I am here whether you want it or not, and there is not a thing you can do about it. You are beneath me.

You may be a king, but I am a god and I can destroy you and will if you even think about trying to mess with us.

Loki was the master of saying "shove a knife up your ass" with just a look.

Namor took his eyes off Loki to visually rake me from head to toe with a disdainful expression. The temperature in the room dropped, and I wasn't doing it.

Shit. He hadn't even been here long, and Namor had already succeeded in pissing my husband off.

Namor was as tall as Loki, dressed in a pair of black pants with a matching black vest. The material was like nothing I had ever seen. It was as though his clothing were made of fish scales, the light bouncing off the iridescent pieces that were superimposed on the black. It had the effect of giving a shimmering glow, like light being reflected through water, the way the sun looked on the surface of the sea when you were looking at it from under the waves. He had short black hair that was slicked back, and his ears curved into delicate points like an elf's. His eyes were a deep, penetrating blue that echoed the deepest depths of the oceans he ruled. His physique was a swimmer's build, heavily muscled in the chest and shoulders, tapering to a pair of slim hips and strong legs. His body was made for swimming, for speed, and I knew he was as strong as Thor and Carol, which was the reason for all the precautions. That power, combined with his legendary temper, was enough to make anyone sweat.

T'Challa came in behind me, freezing at the sight of the other king. He gave Namor a nod that was frostily polite, and then went around to the other end of the table, pulling out a chair and taking a seat, fixing those chocolate brown eyes on the enemy.

I started to sit across from Loki, but a mental nudge from him had me coming around to sit beside him. He didn't move his legs from their position when I saw down, which meant that his thigh pressed against mine, a comforting weight.

Namor glanced around at us, noting the way Loki's little finger brushed my hand, which made him notice our rings, which made him wince inwardly. Yeah, he knew he had already fucked up and we hadn't even started.

Something which was happening now.

"It would appear we are all here," Loki stated. "So, who would like to start?"