Loki found Gwen in her office, leaning out of the window and lighting a slim cylinder she held between her lips which stank of rat poison, tar and, for some strange reason, almonds. She struck a match against the pane and lit it, inhaling the smoke it created with a slightly guilty expression.

"I'm stressed," she said defensively, "it was either this or black tar heroin. There's a lot more paperwork involved than I thought there would be."

There was a mug of tea on her desk; Loki pressed his fingers to it and felt it was full, lukewarm and completely ignored. "Are you complaining?"

"No. Yes. Well…" she stubbed out the cigarette with a scowl, but the smell still lingered. "It's amazing, to have this much power, it's wonderful. But there's so much, like, admin stuff that comes with it, so much more than there is with the Rats and I thought that was a lot. And I can't become some… some bureaucrat!"

"You can ask for help," he pointed out.

"No I can't! I'm the first woman ever to have complete control of NY's gangland, and I don't even come from a crime family. I can't show weakness, Loki, or they'll rip me to shreds."

"They don't have to know."

She opened her mouth to argue, then closed it again. "Huh."

"It worked for me," Loki continued, and her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Huh," she said again, and her lips stretched into a smile. "Ben always said he wanted an early retirement."

"And a false Allfather as your advisor," he added, joining her at the window. "How blessed it is that you are."

"Blessed isn't the word I'd use. In other news, I've started mothering James as a replacement for Algernon. It's awful, Loki. He's a foot taller than me."

He laughed as he imagined Gwen fussing over the boy. "Rather him than me."

"Yeah, yeah. It's worrying, though, 'cause if I get too attached then something awful'll probably happen to him like it does everyone else I know." Her tone was lighthearted, but she seemed unable to look at him as she said it. "I don't wanna curse him."

"Mouse," he said, "you're not cursed."

"Sure I'm not," she said quietly, still looking down. "That's the only explanation for me losing everyone and everything."

He pressed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so she was facing him. "You still have me," he said, "I don't plan on leaving you anytime soon. Me, and your empire."

There was sadness in her beady eyes. "Do you ever get lonely?" she asked him, "that big throne and nobody knows you're on it."

"Cease with the melancholy, woman. It doesn't suit you."

"Sorry, I just… I'm tired," she confessed, moving towards him and pressing her forehead into his chest. "And when you're not here, I- I get lonely. Which is stupid, because I'm fucking surrounded by people all the time. Like seriously, I never get a moment's peace."

"Mouse," he said, "I will not pity you, or tell you that you are allowed to grieve, or wallow in misery. Because you cannot afford to. You have a responsibility to the people under you."

"They're not under me," she mumbled, "everyone's equal."

"Hush. You cannot fail them, Gwen. Don't become so wrapped up in yourself you forget about the people you are supposed to protect."

She glanced up at him. "Why do I feel like you're speaking from experience?"

"I told you to be quiet." He kissed her lightly.

"You make a surprisingly good king, Lejemand."

"I am aware. I cannot stay, I'm afraid. We're in the middle of a witch hunt."

"Oh?" she put her hands on his shoulders. "Tell me more."

"A clan from Alfheim, the people my mother originated from and not a particularly pleasant subset of society. Prone to excessive sacrifice."

"And you're not?"

"Not unless it's necessary, and certainly not to prove piety. They believe that by giving children to the fairytale goddess they worship, their own powers will strengthen. Which is, of course, ridiculous."

"They… they kill kids?"

"They lure them in with one of their own and yes, they burn them alive."

He could practically feel the anger bubbling up inside of her. "What'll happen to them if you catch 'em?"

"When we catch them, and for such a crime it's capital punishment."

"Good." Her little hands had balled into fists, scrunching up his tunic. "Make sure it hurts."

"There's my little murderer." He pressed his lips to her forehead. "I know it's a struggle to rely on others, especially when the vast majority of them are useless, but occasionally it's the right thing to do. Oh, and Gwen?"

"Loki?"

"Congratulations."

She smiled crookedly, walked back to her desk and picked up the mug, swilling it reflectively. "Guess that means I'm kind of your equal now."

"No," he said flatly, and narrowed his eyes at the suddenly much-stronger almonds scent. "Can you smell that?"

"Smell what?" she asked, raising the mug to her lips, and Loki put two and two together.

"Don't drink that!" he commanded her and she flinched, setting the mug back down on the table as she jumped backwards.

"Jesus Christ, posh boy, it weren't that cold!"

"No- give it here," he said tersely, and when she didn't respond except to glare at him suspiciously he grabbed the mug himself and sniffed it. "Cyanide," he said shortly.

"Huh?"

"Somebody's laced your drink with cyanide."

Their eyes met; a mix of trepidation and anger in both. "Who the fuck's trying to kill me already?" Gwen exclaimed. "I've only been in charge a week!"

A/N I can't believe we're at the end of 2016 already. It felt like the Olympics only finished in London last week. In other news this fic is technically complete (except for one part where instead of writing half of a chapter I've left a note to future me saying "write this". Thanks, past me) and hopefully it will be fully uploaded by the time Ragnarok comes out, if not close to it. I also want to do some kind of sequel revolving around the events of the film and what comes after it, but that depends on how the film itself turns out. Either way, I'll let you know what I know as soon as I know. Happy holidays!