There weren't many things Thor envied about Loki, but his brother's silver tongue had gotten them both out of trouble more than once, and Thor was often left agape in admiration at Loki's cleverness. As he helped his mother onto the back of Odin's steed, Sleipnir, he wished—deeply and sincerely—that he could possess Loki's powers of persuasion for just a few brief moments.

It had all happened so suddenly. Once Frigga'd announced that they were going to Jotunheim, a flurry of activity erupted—servants ordered to ready two traveling bags, along with the warmest cloaks the Allmother and her son owned. Some sort of message was sent to someone, somewhere in Jotunheim. Frigga disappeared into Odin's chambers and Thor stood with his ear pressed against the door, but he could only hear muffled voices rising and falling for a short time before Frigga swept out and past him, on to accomplish another task in preparation for their journey.

It was all quite bewildering, and there wasn't a moment when Frigga was the slightest bit interested in listening to Thor's protests.

Now, with Frigga astride, Thor hoisted himself up to sit behind her in the saddle. His thick arms enveloped her as he reached to handle the reins, guiding the magnificent animal toward the Bifrost. Once they were moving at a steady gait, Thor tried once again.

"Mother, do you mean to tell me that Father approves of this foolish errand?"

"Of course, dear. He engineered it, apparently."

Thor frowned in concentration. "But, why would he do that? Why would he send his beloved wife and the future king of Asgard on their own to a fierce and hostile land?"

"Things have changed on Jotunheim since Laufey's death. There is a new ruler on the throne, and the realm hopes to reclaim its long-ago place in the universe through diplomacy and honest trade practices."

"Trade?" Thor sniffed disdainfully. "They are a warrior people, they grow no crops, they produce no goods—what do they have to trade?"

Frigga laughed slightly. "There are a number of mines which produce valuable metals throughout Jotunheim. But, during the course of an ancient civil war, the entrances to the mines were destroyed and the realm became isolated. Their ruler, Laufey's ancestor, refused to trade with outsiders and instead created the warrior class. They began attacking other worlds to get what they needed, and thus the notion of the monstrous Frost Giant was born."

Thor absorbed that information, listening to the rhythmic pounding of eight great hooves on the fertile ground of Odin's kingdom. Then, he hissed into his mother's ear, "Why do I know nothing of all that? If I am someday to rule Asgard, why have I not been taught these things?"

Frigga shrugged. "You never asked." She looked back and smiled as they neared Heimdall and the rainbow bridge.

Loki was fairly luxuriating in Tony's arms. He was utterly content, long legs entwined with Tony's shorter, stockier ones, his belly pressed against Tony's. He was so very nearly asleep that he jerked, startled, when Tony quietly asked, "Is that the baby?"

Loki raised an eyebrow, otherwise holding himself perfectly still. By the Nine, he thought—yes. There it was, the little fluttering, only now it was more pronounced, like a swipe of a tiny hand. Or foot. Or... something. He put his hand over the spot where his skin met Tony's and was amazed to discover that it was detectable from the outside as well. "It is. And, it's so much stronger than before."

Tony whooped loudly. He pulled Loki's hand away and replaced it with his own. "Wow! Just, wow! I can feel it! Damn, Loki, that's my kid moving around in there! Do you think he can hear my voice?"

"I think anyone within a square mile of here can hear your voice, but as far as the fetus is concerned, I don't know. Maybe?"

"Hey, Junior," Tony wriggled downward to mouth onto Loki's stomach. "It's Daddy. Listen, I know things are kind of cramped in there, but trust me, you've got it made. Perfect temperature, grub on tap 24/7, and no school! But, it's okay, once you make it to the outside, you're gonna love it. I'm rich, and your other dad's a god! Pretty sweet deal, huh? All right, well, I know you're busy, what with building a nervous system and the cell division and all, so I'll let you get back to it, but I just wanted to say I love you—I can't wait to see you, kiddo. That's it for now, but we'll talk again. Over and out." Tony grinned up at Loki, who was regarding him with a mixture of fondness and bewildered amusement.

"You are ridiculous."

"Yeah. Trust me, I'll get worse."

"Ugh, the mind boggles."

"Listen, you wait until we've got two of 'em. Or, three. Four? How many kids do you want, Loki?"

Loki's eyes had turned to slits and he'd already started sneering at the mention of a second child, but his expression slowly softened and he shrugged as he considered the question. "I don't know. Before, I didn't want any at all, but now..." He absently ran his fingers through Tony's hair and smiled a little. "I have a suggestion. Let's have this one and see how it goes. Perhaps I'll be ready for another in a few hundred years."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, well, I hate to say this, because I totally plan to cheat the system, but I'm probably not going to be around by then."

"Mm," Loki said with a thoughtful nod. "Good point. Well, I shall simply have to preserve copious amounts of your seed before you depart this mortal realm. Then I can have all the babies I want, whenever I want them. Dozens, hundreds, perhaps. A whole army, and they'll all look like you." Loki's eyes were glinting mischievously.

Tony had a vexed look on his face. "Okay, A. You don't need an army, and B. I don't want a bunch of little Tonys and Tonyettes running around without me to teach 'em how to be awesome. So, no sperm bank deposits for you, pal, sorry. But, I wouldn't mind having a few more while I'm still around to enjoy them."

Loki leaned down and kissed Tony. "'Enjoy' may not be the word we end up using even with just the one, but that's a discussion for another day. Right now, I—"

"Tony," JARVIS intoned. "Captain Rogers is here to see you."

Thor wrapped one arm securely around Frigga, raised Mjolnir toward the heavens, and sent them hurtling through space. They landed on Jotunheim's icy tundra, bound on one side by a vast ocean, just as they'd been instructed to do in a message Frigga had received shortly before leaving the palace. Wind whipped around them, coming off the water in torrents of vicious needles.

Thor was instantly on high alert, sweeping his gaze across the bare and far-reaching horizon for threats, but there was nothing, not a living creature, not a tree, just rocky formations glinting with blue tinged light. Thor's face was etched with a scowl; he didn't like this, not in the least. But Frigga was calm and collected as usual, pulling a heavy fur wrap out of her traveling bag and slipping it securely around her shoulders.

"Thor—you'd best put on your furs as well. We Aesir can handle a great deal of cold, but it will eventually wear on us, besides being unnecessarily uncomfortable."

"I'd prefer to stay unencumbered in case of battle, thank you," Thor said sharply.

"There won't be a battle. Norns, son, do you think I'd bring us here if I thought there would be?"

"I—" Thor's retort was squelched by the thundering of what sounded like horses' hooves in the distance. They both turned to look toward the noise, and soon a large coach drawn by two huge, shaggy gray creatures appeared.

A shiver went through Thor as the rig approached. There were two Frost Giants sitting on the exposed perch, one holding the reins, the other a staff. In appearance, they were just as Thor expected, having seen plenty of Jotun warriors. Thor instantly tensed, but Frigga warningly squeezed his arm, indicating he was to stay still.

The carriage came to a stop a few yards in front of them; the two men jumped down and came to stand at attention several feet apart from one another. Every muscle in Thor's body screamed to jolt into action, but Frigga's unruffled demeanor anchored him. And, it was odd—neither Frost Giant seemed to take any notice of them, staring past them toward the sea.

Just as Thor was about to protest that this entire situation was not only absurd, but insane, the door of the carriage swung open. Thor's eyes narrowed and he gripped Mjolnir tighter, expecting a whole legion of Giants to come tumbling out, but instead there was only one—and an exceedingly old one, at that.

The man looked nothing like a typical Frost Giant, apart from his blue skin. He was wizened, his back hunched so that he was only a few inches taller than Thor. His head was crowned with flowing white hair, and he wore a fur-trimmed white robe secured with a gold sash; his face had the long, narrow bone structure that Thor was well familiar with, but the flesh fell loosely in wrinkles, and his red eyes were so deep-set that they appeared black. They were topped by thatches of wildly overgrown white eyebrows that lent the strange fellow a rather comical aspect. He, too, carried a staff, but as he shuffled towards them, Thor suspected it was used primarily to aid him in walking.

The old man wended his way between the warriors and came to a tottering halt in front of Frigga. "Allmother," he said in a surprisingly hearty voice. "My apologies, I'd hoped to be here to greet you when you arrived. It's so good to meet you after all this time." He bowed as well as he could, and as he straightened, Frigga held out her hand. The man gripped it and pressed it to his dark blue lips, and then turned to Thor.

"And, Thor! Prince of Asgard. Please know, you are equally welcome here. I am Alfarin, the Queen's mage." His eyes crinkled cheerily. "Also her grandfather, by the way."

"Queen?" Thor said, stunned. "Jotunheim is now ruled by a woman?" He glanced at his mother, who studiously ignored him.

"Oh, indeed!" Alfarin nodded. "Our queen is Farbauti, widow of Laufey. Her sons, Helblindi and Byleistr, were neither old enough nor sage enough at the time of their father's death to take the throne. Which is just as well. My granddaughter is doing a marvelous job." The old man beamed, and Frigga smiled.

"She certainly is. And, I can't wait to meet her at last. But, do you think we could continue our greetings in the coach? I'm not going to pretend that it isn't a bit... chilly out here by the water."

"Oh, of course, of course. Come, let me help you up."

It was quite a stretch to enter the carriage, but Frigga was clearly capable of doing so on her own. Still, she allowed Alfarin to guide her carefully inside. He turned to offer a hand to Thor, but he rather rudely ignored it and clambered up unaided. Thor sat on one side of the coach, and Frigga and Alfarin on the other; Alfarin brought out two heavy lap blankets and he lay one over Frigga and tucked it around her feet. He started to do the same for Thor, but Thor irritably snatched it away and dismissively laid it on the bench beside him.

Frigga shot him a warning look. "Thor, our host is offering you his hospitality. Please accept it in kind."

Alfarin laughed. "It's quite all right, your Highness. Relations between Asgard and Jotunheim have been brutally fractured for centuries. I'm not offended that the lad doesn't welcome my feeble overtures."

"He can be civil, however," Frigga said firmly. "He's been taught some degree of humility, I believe."

Thor took in a deep breath, and forced himself to say, "Apologies, sir," and Frigga smiled approvingly.

The carriage rocked as the two warrior Frost Giants reclaimed their seats on the outside, and soon the team was turned and they were back on the road to the city.

As they left the oceanside, huge ancient-looking trees loomed ahead of them, and they eventually entered a dark forest. Thor was busy watching the landscape roll by, only partially listening to his mother chat with their host. Much was weighing heavily on his mind, and he had a flood of questions demanding to be asked, but he had no idea if Alfarin could be trusted to answer honestly, or if he, Thor, would be weakening his and his mother's position by revealing the depths of his ignorance. So, he held his tongue and hoped he'd have a chance to quiz Frigga at some point in the near future.

In time, they came through the forest and Alfarin reached out a hand and banged on the roof of the carriage. The rig slowed and came to a stop at the top of a hill. Thor instantly tensed. "What is happening?"

"I thought you might enjoy a full view of the Imperial City," the old man said. Thor and Frigga followed his gaze and saw before them a grand, sparkling city of ice, topped by what was obviously the royal palace. "From here, it looks as it did eons ago, before war and deprivation robbed it of its grandeur." Alfarin spoke softly, his mind plainly overrun with a rush of bittersweet memories.

Thor cast a glance at his face. Illuminated by the light coming up from the city, he looked more vigorous; his dark red eyes glimmered, and for a moment Thor thought he saw a hint of the young man he must once have been. "It is... quite beautiful," Thor said, almost without thinking. It seemed wrong not to acknowledge the old man's pride and sorrow. Frigga nodded in a agreement.

"Knowing the initiatives Queen Farbauti has already put in place, I'm sure it will be fully restored in no time," Frigga said gently.

Alfarin smiled slightly and tapped at the carriage again. The beasts began pulling their burden and they traveled down the hill at a brisk pace, slowing only when they reached the entrance to the city. A gigantic metal gate automatically swung open and they rolled forward, passing through a towering defense wall made of ice and what appeared to be wrought iron spikes glistening with frost.

Thor took in the sights; much to his surprise, the streets were filled with people, Frost Giants too, he supposed, but unlike the warriors he was familiar with, they wore various kinds of clothing, had all sorts of hair styles in shades that ran from jet black to reddish-brown to blond, and were of all sizes, although Thor grasped that the smaller ones were children. Large animals that looked more like wolves than dogs accompanied many; some rode hulking beasts such as the ones pulling their carriage, and some were milling around in front of what Thor gathered were shops made of ice.

It was all very odd-looking, yes, but there was no hint of violence or hostility among the throngs. People paused in their doings to look at the carriage and a few raised a hand in greeting; no one seemed particularly put out by the vehicle overtaking the right of way and causing pedestrians to scoot to the side. Thor was momentarily overwhelmed by an assault on his senses as the smell of food cooking wafted to his nostrils, and the low roar of people going about their day-to-day business filled his ears. Everything had a sheen to it, golden light glowing behind walls of thin ice, like glass.

It took him a moment to see the signs of dilapidation; holes in the road, broken edges of buildings, toppled spires left to sit uselessly in alleyways. But there was energy too, small crews of workmen conjuring blocks of ice and working to repair fallen walls, and bridges between towering edifices.

The carriage took a turn and suddenly the palace came into full view. It was alive with light, a beacon at the top of a hill, but as they approached they noticed ruined towers jutting raggedly into the sky and broken-down balconies marring the gracious entryway. The closer they came, the more Thor could see that the palace had sustained all sorts of damage, and stood in a far sadder condition than the city. As if reading his thoughts, Alfarin commented proudly, "The Queen has chosen to spend our limited funds on rebuilding the town rather than the royal palace. She also makes sure the children are fed and taught, when there are those that would prefer to invest in selfish enterprises. It is efforts such as these which have won her the hearts of the Jotun people."

For a moment, Thor was thoroughly impressed. It occurred to him that this was the sort of thing Loki had been talking about when he'd questioned Thor's worthiness to rule. Strategic thinking about battles, he excelled at; strategic thinking about winning the loyalty of an entire people, not so much. He was again reminded that he had a lot to learn before ascending the throne, but his troubled thoughts fizzled away when, upon entering the palace grounds, he saw what could only be an entire unit of the Jotun army training in a side yard, and he went back into defensive mode.

The Frost Giants were practicing some sort of complicated maneuver involving casting streams of ice across a mark, but when the carriage approached, their leader yelled something in the Jotun tongue, and the men all stopped and stood in what Thor guessed was supposed to be a pose of respect for the visitors. But, most of the warriors had blank looks on their faces, much as the ones who had greeted them at the oceanside had.

Others looked positively murderous.

Thor noticed Frigga staring out the window as well. "I take it not everyone has fully embraced Queen Farbauti's agenda," she said calmly.

Alfarin dropped his gaze. "Sadly, no. Most of those men were hand-picked by Laufey. They do not approve of welcoming Aesir onto Jotun land."

"Then, the queen should get rid of them!" Thor couldn't help blurting out. "They will cause her nothing but trouble!"

Alfarin smiled sadly. "There is truth to that, certainly. But, Jotunheim has, ahem, 'lost' the Casket which provided power to protect us. Without it, we have little in the way of defense other than our warriors. Without them, we would soon be swallowed up and subjugated by another realm."

"And, Asgard doesn't need the combined forces of two of the Nine to deal with," Frigga added briskly, directing her remarks to Thor more than Alfarin. "So, we endorse the continued support of your forces. Within reason, of course."

Thor leaned back as the coach made its way to a large courtyard directly in front of the palace entrance. He was glad to leave the warriors behind, but he would keep the image of those battle-ready faces close to his heart forever.

The carriage stopped inside a long dank, lantern-lit tunnel. The driver and his partner leapt down and stood by while Alfarin again offered a hand to Frigga as she gracefully alit from the cab. Thor, he left to fend for himself, and it was just good luck that the majestic golden prince didn't wind up falling on his royal butt as his feet slid around on the ice. He caught himself just in time and a sneer of disgust crossed his face as he gripped the edge of the carriage and hurried to catch up with his mother and their host. He glanced back to see the two Giants dutifully carrying their luggage with barely suppressed smirks on their faces.

Alfarin led them into the upper halls of the palace. The temperature was only slightly warmer there, but without the wind whipping around them, it was considerably more pleasant than in the carriage, although the gloom of an overcast sky still hung over them. They walked the long icy way and gradually their surroundings became more and more amenable—floors of marble rather than ice, walls hung with huge framed Jotun landscapes and portraits, windows covered with threadbare brocade curtains.

At last, Alfarin took the bags from the footmen, opened a door and gestured for Thor and Frigga to enter. To both their surprise, it was a bright, warm room which could easily have been found in any country home on Asgard. The floor was of wood, covered with a faded wool rug. There was, shockingly, a fireplace, with a fire blazing. The worn furniture was Jotun-sized and rather austere, made from metal and various animal hides, but there were two much smaller overstuffed chairs in front of the hearth that appeared to be the very epitome of Asgardian comfort. Alfarin patted one and said, "Please, sit. These were made with visitors in mind, as was the entire room. It is good that it is seeing use again, it's been eons. I hope it is comfortable for you. If the temperature is still too chilly, I can add another log or two to the fire."

"No, it's perfect," Frigga said as she slipped the cloak from her shoulders. "Most hospitable. Thank you."

"Oh! The queen has instructed me to offer you some, let's see..." The old wizard pulled a scrap of bark from his robe and frowned at it, holding it an arm's length away. "Oh, yes, tea? Or... cof-fee?" The word didn't seem to come easily to him.

"Well... coffee would be most welcome," Frigga said. "Am I to take it that this is not a popular beverage on Jotunheim?"

Alfarin chuckled bashfully. "Oh, no, it is. Among the young folk, at least. I'm still catching up on all the latest trends."

"Catching up?" Thor asked.

Alfarin nodded. "You miss a lot when you're in prison," he said in a spritely tone. "Now, I'll go see to your refreshments, and I'll let the Queen know you've safely arrived." He stepped out into the hall and closed the door behind him.

Thor and Frigga looked at each other.

"Prison?" Thor said. "What do you suppose he... did?"

Frigga shrugged. "Evidently, it didn't take much to get thrown into a cell under Laufey's reign."

"Hm."

Thor settled into one of the comfy chairs and stared into the fire. Frigga joined him and gave him a knowing look. "You have questions."

"Well, yes. First of all—" Thor leaned toward her and lowered his voice. "So, Farbauti is Laufey's widow, correct?"

"Yes."

"So... is she then... Loki's birth mother?" he asked, eyes wide.

Frigga sighed. "Yes."

Thor's expression turned thunderous. "So, she allowed her babe to be abandoned to die? How could she? What kind of woman would do that? You've heard what a good, kind a ruler she is—yet, how can you trust her, knowing she did such a thing?"

"Shh!" Frigga hissed. "We don't know her side of the story. She may have had no say. Or, perhaps it is considered a kindness to prevent the misery of growing up deformed in a brutal society. We can't know, and I don't want you bringing it up. This will be a delicate situation, Thor. Please be cautious with your words."

Thor scowled, but nodded. Then, he asked, "There's something else. I was under the impression that the Jotun... carried the characteristics of both sexes. However, I was taught to refer to them all as 'he.' How is it that they now have a queen?"

"From what I have been able to glean out of my ancestor's writings, many Jotun embrace the aspects of both genders throughout their lives. Others find themselves identifying with one or the other and thus choose to present themselves as either predominantly male, or predominantly female. And, of course, there are variations along the entire spectrum, which apparently are accepted as a matter of course. In many ways, the Jotun are ahead of us in social matters."

"That's all very interesting," Thor said begrudgingly. "But, on a more practical note, why are we here? How is it you think any of these people can help us with the after-effects of mind control when they're barely able to repair their city? How—"

Just then, the door opened, and Alfarin solemnly entered, holding himself as straight as his hunched back allowed. "Allmother, Prince Thor—I present to you Farbauti, Queen of Jotunheim." He bowed low, and in swept the most striking—and unusual-looking—woman Thor had ever seen.