NOTE - Again, thanks to my lovely readers and reviewers: Moriarty-assbutt, Esha Napoleon, emiichan, thephoenixandthedragon4ever, and joy. I'm wildly happy my little stories keep you reading and entertained.

emiichan - No worries, plenty of that to come in future chapters and the third volume...

joy - Thanks so much for your wonderful review! it's very easy when Marvel and Norse mythology provide such amazing characters with incredible backstories. To be perfectly honest, Loki and Natasha really write themselves - I just take their dictation as quickly as I can.


15. Red Betrothal


The gods and goddesses sat in marble seats surrounding a vast circular arena. In the center was an immense table filled with complicated charts and maps; ranged over them were small clay figures which Odin or Frigga could move as necessary in order to keep the Norns and the Realms in balance.

When Loki and Natasha entered hand in hand, the queen looked up. She murmured a few words to her husband and moved quickly to her son, holding out her arms. "Loki!" she said, kissing him on both cheeks. "What brings you here? And Lady Natasha too. We were just about to finish our work here."

"Tell the boy to come in," Odin intoned. "Have him state his business so we can get back to it and be done in time to dine."

Natasha squeezed Loki's hand. Odin's tone was annoying, and she wanted nothing more than to launch herself at his neck and strangle him thoroughly. Boy? State his business? Really? However ticked off she felt, however, was probably nothing compared to Loki's anger.

The young prince took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. "All-Father – Father – and Queen Frigga. Mother. Natasha and I are going to be wed. I want to announce our betrothal as soon as possible so I can make her my wife without delay."

"Well! This is glad news indeed." Beaming, Frigga embraced him again. She was about to press a kiss on Natasha's cheek, when Odin chimed in.

"Are you certain this is wise? Do not forget the last time you tried your hand at marriage."

"Father," Loki said in a strangled voice, "previously I ran off and was caught in an enchantment. I will not say I had no fault in it; of course I did. But this time I insist on doing it the correct way – with your knowledge and with the backing of all Asgard." His words were civil, but his tone was clear: he intended to have Natasha whether permission was granted or not.

Frigga turned to Odin. "It is a bit chilly in here," she said in a casual voice. "Will you not put on your new cloak, my husband?" As she tucked the dragon hide around his shoulders, she added, "I must say the palace has been an entirely different place since Natasha has arrived. No more gloom or tragedy – no tantrums either," she added, with a glance at her son.

"I will not deny the boy has decided to behave for a few weeks," Odin went on. "But what will happen when he tires of this mortal? A few decades of married life will make him long for change, tricks, lies - his usual pursuits."

Natasha felt Loki's hand tremble in hers, and she knew he was about to burst out in fury, to declare something cutting which would create chaos in that marble, ordered chamber. "I understand your concerns," she said. Immediately Odin's eye turned on her in astonishment. "Do not, however, underestimate me. I'm not looking for a long series of kisses and caresses in this coupling, which would indeed become boring to anyone." She lifted her chin. "I love Loki's personality and his mind. His quick wits, too often used for merely making mischief, are what attract me. I'd like to think I have a little bit of smarts to ensnare his interest as well."

Odin tried to interrupt, but she held up one hand. "Please allow me to continue. We work well together. We are friends, your son and I. Furthermore, you'll find I won't put up with temper tantrums or chaos from anyone, not just Loki." She closed her lips firmly and gave a nod, to indicate she was finished.

Odin, whose eyebrows had shot up to his hairline, turned to Frigga in astonishment. "I like her," he said in a surprised tone.

"Of course you do. When shall we have the banquet? This month? Next month?" Frigga asked.

"Tomorrow?" Loki murmured.

"Nonsense! There is so much to prepare. Lady Natasha needs a new gown, and I shall have to search out some of my diamonds to present to her. I need a new gown, come to think of it. We shall have to hire a new bard, and a host of musicians…"

"Did I not tell you?" Loki whispered in Natasha's ear.

"I don't suppose we could have, say, a family picnic instead?" Natasha was tired of the everlasting banquets in Asgard. "We could all sit outside and drink wine together in the moonlight under the trees – a much smaller, simpler affair."

"Nonsense!" Odin thundered. "Banquets are the tradition, and a banquet it shall be."

Deciding she had pressed her luck enough, Natasha nodded. Frigga, however, folded her into a tight embrace and kissed her again on both cheeks. "My dear," she said warmly, "I cannot tell you how very, very happy you have made me. I know this will mean a new era for my son and for Asgard. I know it."


The betrothal announcement forced a lot of sudden changes. Natasha was whisked out of her old bedchamber and into a new, luxurious suite of rooms complete with a salon, a dressing chamber, a closet the size of an apartment, and several servants to attend her every need. When she protested she could take care of herself, Frigga laughed and told her she would simply have to get used to it.

Grumbling, she submitted to being fitted in gown after gown, each more ornate than the last. As her dresser did up the final hook of her betrothal dress, Jane was shown in. The scientist came wreathed in smiles, and gave Natasha a smacking kiss on the cheek. "Ha ha ha," she crowed, pointing at her friend. "Didn't I tell you that you'd be engaged soon? So, how did he ask you? I'm sure it was all very romantic."

Natasha thought back to Loki's proposal and felt her face grow warm. "I'm not certain 'romantic' is exactly the word."

Jane giggled. "By the way, I feel I must talk to you," she added, growing serious.

Natasha turned to face her. "What is it?"

"Now, I hate to bring down the mood and everything, but as your friend I just feel it wouldn't be right if I didn't say something."

Natasha sighed. "I'm not going to reconsider. I've made up my mind and that's that. I know Loki was a real - well - dick before, but in his defense there were certain conditions... And I really do know how to manage him."

"No, that's not it." Jane leaned right next to Natasha's ear and whispered, "I hear you have to have sex when you're married." Natasha's jaw dropped. "Like, with your husbandl. Just wanted to warn you."

"Jane, you idiot!" Natasha picked up the first object at hand, which was a hairbrush, and chased after her to smack her friend on the butt. Jane laughed and dodged, but eventually had to beg for mercy after she was cornered.

"And how about you and Thor, missy?" Natasha waved away the dresser, who was sniffing with disapproval. "No, it's fine, Soames – I really don't need any more jewelry or my hair done up higher."

"Actually…" Jane produced a long chain. Hanging from it was a heavy gold ring, emblazoned with runes and a large cabuchon. "He proposed to me a few days ago, but we didn't want to announce it just yet and steal the…"

"Thunder?" Natasha winked at her and gave her a hug. "That's awesome! Thor is one lucky god, and I couldn't be happier for you both. Announce away and have at it. I don't give a damn about all these stuffy affairs. Tonight we have another huge banquet; I know – shocker – and the bards will cant odes written about me and Loki. Actually, I can't wait to hear what they say about my future husband. Should be interesting, don't you think? Wonder if they'll work in the story of Sleipnir's birth? And we get to sit at the head of the table with the All-Father as a special treat, which means I'll have to be on my guard all night to make certain Loki doesn't say anything too terribly dreadful to Odin. After that we all watch Volstagg eat several oxen, and then it's off to dance. At this point, I could do it all in my sleep. And you know what? You're next. Prepare for the dresser of doom." She wagged her head at Soames, who was ironing the long train of the dress Natasha had to wear the next day.

"I wish we could just run away to Vegas," Jane sighed. "Still, I suppose it's the price you pay to date a prince from another dimension. And where is Loki, anyway?"

"He's been reinstated in his old rooms and probably is getting sewn into an uncomfortable suit of clothes right now. I'm preparing a large gift in advance for the valet who has to wait on him in order to apologize for the torture Loki is certain to inflict on the poor man."

"Ugh." Jane looked around. "Well, as you say, a few weeks of stuffy nonsense, and then it's back to being yourself for a bit."

Natasha shot her a look as Soames advanced on her again, holding out a head veil in a threatening manner. "I don't think we'll ever get back to that."


It was a huge relief to find Loki waiting for her in the rooms below. A smile leapt into his eyes as she descended and took his arm, swaying under the weight of the ornate clothes she wore.

"You are like a princess," he whispered.

"No, I'm not - more like an idiot." She eyed him cautiously. "Looks good on you, though."

He wore a severely fitted black velvet tunic and breeches embroidered with fine silver thread as though he had been born in them. His expression was formal, but he whispered to her, "I have never seen anything lovelier than your face in my entire life. What a shame they draped all that material over it so I cannot get a glimpse."

"Right? I feel like I'm in a cocoon." Surreptitiously she hitched her train so it wouldn't get stuck in a doorway. "First item on the agenda – start a fashion trend in Asgard for mini skirts, and lose the headgear."

"What wouldn't I give to see your shapely legs this instant?"

"Shhhh, we have to sit next to Papa Odin. You can't tickle my knees tonight."

"Is that a dare, darling?" Instantly a dangerous glitter appeared in his eyes.

"There are a lot of layers, but if anyone can find their way to the prize, that man is Prince Loki of Asgard…"

By this time they were seated. A long series of speeches began, and Natasha shifted in her chair. After a few minutes, she felt Loki slide his hand across hers so he could play with her fingers. Frantically she signaled Odin's presence, sitting regally next to her with a calm expression of interest in the long histories of the royal palace. Loki, naturally, paid no attention but started to work his way under her dress and the several petticoats she had been ordered to wear.

Just as he reached her knees, the history came to an end. Odin stood, and there was a long bout of hearty applause.

"I come here tonight not as the All-Father," Odin stated, "but simply as a father. Friends, it has been many centuries now, but I still remember these halls before the arrival of my son."

Natasha felt Loki's hand jerk with surprise in her own, and she gave his fingers another reassuring squeeze as Odin went on. "It often seems to me now that we were such a solemn realm then, a somber pantheon of gods and goddesses. But when Loki entered our lives, he brought laughter and excitement with him. Certainly he changed this realm forever when he entered it." There was a gasp from the assembly at those words, but the All-Father held up a hand. "Yes, there was danger too, but it seems to me that many of the stories we still tell about my son Loki are of his defending Asgard, and always at his own peril."

He raised his goblet and turned to face Loki. "Therefore, tonight I drink to my son, and assure him of my deep love. I thank him for his bravery, and for bringing his fair bride to live with us here. Thus I bid you all to welcome her, as I do, into our family as the wife of Loki Odinson."

Thor sprang up from his seat and raised his glass as well. "Skoal!" he shouted. "To my brother, Prince Loki of Asgard, and to his bride!"

As the company echoed the toast, Natasha glanced at the god sitting by her side. His eyes glowed but with something more than happiness. Was it contentment? Shock? Or the feeling that, after such a long time, the stars were realigning in the skies?

Odin held up the heavy flagon again, and the cheers died down. "And so, friends, it is with a very merry heart I announce to you tonight the betrothal of my son, Loki, to Lady Natasha of Midgard. Skoal!"

He drank deeply and turned to smash the goblet on the floor. At that moment, time seemed to slow down.

Natasha saw Jane's face, laughing and cheering.

Frigga's hands, clapping to applaud her husband.

Loki's eyes on her own, tender beyond telling.

Odin's glass shattering in a wide arc.

Three drops of wine staining the white hem of her dress.

Those three red dots were the last things she saw before there was a huge explosion in the center of the hall. A spire of smoke shot up, and the cheers turned to screams.

She felt Loki's arms, protecting her. His pale face, filled with anger and fear, was intent on the figure in the smoke.

For there was someone there in the fire, a tall person with long, tangled hair hanging that obscured the face. It wore a long white robe, a torn, bloodied version of the betrothal dress Natasha wore.

"No!" Loki shouted.

The figure raised one arm and pointed at Natasha. "Behold my gift for the bride," it said in a grating voice. Natasha screamed as a burning pain invaded her wrist and arm, but she had no time to attend it. "Where was my invitation to the betrothal?" the thing asked. "It seems if my husband is to be betrothed, Angrboda should wait upon him. What say you, my husband Loki Laufeyson?"

Loki sprang to his feet. "Angrboda! You!" Bitter anger filled his face. "I am not your husband, not any longer. I thought you were dead. Our marriage was dissolved centuries ago, after you betrayed me and killed my friend you lay with. Have you forgotten that, you scheming whore bitch?" With one arm he swept the plates in front of him off the table with a resounding crash. "Beiskaldi gargan griss! Oskilgetten ormstunga! How dare you, to come within a thousand leagues of this fair one next to me and pollute her with your foul fishbelly presence!"

"Hold your tongue a moment, Loki," Freya said, tossing back her blond curls. "There are both Aesir and goddesses present."

He whipped his head to face her. "Do not speak to me, Freya, seducer of men. Have you not lain with your father and brothers as well all of Asgard to serve your whorish desires?"

"Stop it at once." Natasha jumped out of her chair. "Angrboda," she said in the calm, passionless voice she used on assignments, "if the marriage between you and Loki exists I will be the last to interfere between you. But if it is indeed annulled as my fiancé says, then why should you wish to come here and speak to him so? And curse me in the bargain?"

Angrboda's dark figure swiveled to face her. "I hold what I have, and I also hold what I once had. Nothing is taken from me. Nothing. What is mine stays mine. Mark this, Midgard wretch, the runes I have now put on thy wrist forbid thee from laying with the god who was once my husband. Should he touch thee with lust in his heart, thou shalt expire in flames and misery, begging for Hel with your last breath. Marry if if thou wilt, but there shall be no consummation - no marriage bed for thee."

"Ever were you a lying witch!" Thor jumped onto the table and brandished his hammer. "I shall slay you now, as I should have years ago before you got your claws into my brother."

"Restrain your throw, my son Thor!" Frigga shouted. "Stop – everyone stop!" She raised a hand and beckoned to Natasha. "Come here, child, so the company may see what has been done. See, here – these marks are witchcraft." She pointed to three red, angry-looking runes on Natasha's wrist and held up the limb to show to the assembled gods. The flesh was swollen around the crooked figures, as though the marks infected her skin from the inside, and the Russian bit her lip so not to cry out as Frigga touched her arm. The pain was torture. "If anyone slays the witch Angrboda now, these runes will never be removed. Do not move, Asgard – we have no choice but to allow Angrboda to walk free."

"Neither you nor the oaf who calls me his brother make sense, it seems to me," Loki sneered. His eyes were slits filled with hatred, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. "Thor is a fool and the queen gives counsel instead of bloodshed. Thank you, All-Father, for bringing me into such a family: filled with cowards and halfwits."

"Behold thy bridegroom," Angrboda intoned to Natasha, pointing to the god of mischief. "I wish thee many years of pleasure and joy at that one's side." With another loud explosion and spire of smoke, she disappeared.

The company, as one, gasped. For a moment no one moved.

"Well? Do you enjoy the sight?" Loki spread his arms and addressed the assembly in a loud voice. "Seems the black jester has returned – you can always count on Loki for gossip to give you gawks and whispers, can you not, Asgard? Feel free to hurl your insults, Aesir sluts and bastards. I am back in kind to entertain thee…!"

"Enough!" Sif shouted. "That is enough!"

"Why so angry, Sif? Has your brother Heimdall refused you in his bed again? And are you a man or a woman, to give or receive the thrusting?" Loki sneered. His eyes were slitted with dark anger; Natasha had never seen him so far out of control. Even when he had attacked Midgard there seemed to be a dreadful logic behind his actions. Now it seemed the Loki she knew was lost, hidden in the depths of a new personality.

Natasha turned to Frigga. "Get him out of here, now. Send him and me to his old prison rooms this instant before he says anything else."

Frigga raised her hand, and the room swirled. Natasha blinked and found herself in the library of his dungeon rooms standing next to Loki. His eyes fell on her, and he seized her throat in his hands. She knew he was in such a rage he had no idea what he was doing. "Have you come to mock me as they do? As they have always done?" Loki shouted. "I will throttle you first before I have to put up with your jibes!"

His fingers tightened on her windpipe. Natasha felt a roaring in her ears, and the room turned red. Red Room, she thought.

With one lithe movement, she punched her husband-to-be in the throat with the heel of her hand, followed by a series of quick. vicious kicks to his lungs.

He fell back, hacking and retching. For a moment neither of them moved, as they stared into each other's eyes. At last she saw the haze of anger disappear, to be replaced with self-disgust and a terrible sadness. Loki backed quickly away from her, scuttling like a scorpion, holding out one arm to ward her off. "I am ugly," he said. "I am foul, disgusting, a disease. Do not look at me. Go away, Natasha, leave my rooms. Ugly!" he shouted, and collapsed in the floor, covering his head with his arms.

Natasha waited, not moving.

"I am the Darkhold. The destroyer of realms. The bringer of Ragnorak. Do you think evil men desire to be thus? I fear myself and hate myself. You will never understand."

I of all people can understand, Natasha thought. However, she knew such a statement would set off his temper again. "I know," she said instead.

The room became very silent. A clock struck somewhere, its bong! echoing in the room. She heard him, not sobbing, but instead drawing in great, painful gusts of air.

Once Natasha had knifed a man, a murderer, in the solar plexus for a case. She had coaxed him to her hotel bed and stabbed him there among the pillows. At the time he made the same kind of sound Loki was making now.

She heard the tiny mice, the illusions Loki had created for her, play a melancholy air in the bedroom they had once shared. Tears sprang to her eyes. She wouldn't allow herself to think of that past happiness, now shattered in one single instant.


PS - And Loki's Norse curses translate to: Bitch snake pig! Bastard serpent tongue!