Hi there. Thanks for being back, and thank you for reviewing erin. sietstra. I'm not yet sure how this will turn out, but I have the feeling it is going to be less "romantic" - at least in the usual, Asgardian way - than I initially thought. So, it's going to go down the wire. :-)

This chapter is a little shorter than my average chapter length, but the upcoming talk was necessary and I enjoyed writing it (I've always had the impression that Odin was not a big-bad-wolf in the shape of a dad. The way I see it, a lot of trouble simply comes from the fact that he hardly ever gives his reasons for deciding as he does, so people will start filling in their own interpretations.)

Hope you enjoy. Feel free to review, I could do with one or two more :-)

Disclaimer: I do not own Thor, Loki, Odin or any other characters in this story. This fanfic is done for the love of trickster deities, and I do not make money from it.

+++ Chapter 3: What do I do?+++

Knock-knock on the door.

Loki groaned inwardly. He thought about killing the light. Sometimes, it helped. Maybe he could dishearten his visitor, make them go away –

'Loki? It is your father.'

Oh, please. Mercy.

'Just a moment.' Loki put the book down and stood up to open the door. He could have done so from the desk, of course. But a magically moved door - that just was not the way you received your king.

Odin entered, his staff in hand and still in his gala armor. He had two guards with him, but he signaled them to wait outside.

'Our doors are not usually bolted, my son,' he said, once they were alone.

'I ask forgiveness,' said Loki smoothly. 'I thought that with Jotuns in Asgard, and protected by the rules of hospitality – '

'The Jotuns.' It was almost a sigh. Odin Allfather chose a chair by the desk and sat. Casually, he reached over to the book Loki had been studying and thumbed through the pages. His one good eye distractedly browsed the illustrations of ritual items and circles of summoning and paused on the drawing of a floppy-eared white bunny. Loki watched, feeling a growing premonition of trouble. His father closed the book and looked up, still casual, 'I was not aware that you were nervous of the Jotun delegation coming to Asgard to honor your brother?'

' "Nervous" may be an incorrect word, father.'

'But you should be!' Odin shouted and slammed his hand down on the book, making dust billow up. Loki cringed in sympathy with the old pages.

Odin went on, 'The Jotuns are not our allies, Loki. Not yet. They are our guests; we offer them a share of our mead and a place by the fire. We do not deny them the right to honor the future king of Asgard. We do all of this, but our eyes are open. Our generosity is limited, and so is our trust. You showed wisdom, my son, when you bolted your room. Do not lower your guard while the enemy is roaming freely in our realm.'

'Thank you, father. I won't.'

Another blow on the book, 'And yet!'

Oh, father. That was sooo see-through.

What Loki had not seen coming was the conspirative smile on the king's face, as Odin leaned forward and lowered his voice, 'I understand you met the Lady Angrboda, my son.'

'I believe you saw me talking to her, so there is no way I could deny.' Sometimes, a nonchalant answer made the king crack an approving smile and served to ease the tension.

But not today.

'And when you talked to her – what was your impression of the princess?' Odin asked with keen interest.

Loki chose his words with care, 'She is very... observant. She has a shrewd sense of humor. And she is a skilled user of magic.'

Odin's eyebrows knitted, 'More skilled than our masters of the craft, what do you think?'

'That's not easy to say. But she created a copy of my armor just from looking at the original. That does take a certain experience.'

Odin stroked his beard, leaving little mystery where Thor had picked up his favorite gesture of abstraction. If I grew facial hair, would I succumb to that same annoying habit? Loki wondered in the short silence.

Then, Odin said, 'You described her as being very observant. Do you think she set her mind to observing you?'

'Father, with all due respect, is this an interrogation?'

Odin straightened up, 'No, Yggdrasil's crown, no. I was – just interested.'

Now, it was Loki who insisted, 'In what?'

'There's a Jotun noble, talking to my younger son. The entire court can watch them laugh and improvise a little costume play. My older son is going to be proclaimed king next Thorsday, but he is unmarried. What do you think? Does that give a father any right to have a talk with his son?'

Loki's thoughts had arrived at this particular twist before, 'Are you suggesting to make me your successor if I marry Lady Angrboda?'

Odin shrugged noncommittally, 'Well, she is the daughter of King Laufey's brother. If you two were united in matrimony, a permanent alliance with Jotunheim might be forged.'

'But would you prefer me over Thor, if I - '

'If you became the Lady Angrboda's husband, the throne of Jotunheim could be yours,' Odin said.

'How?' Loki fired back, 'King Laufey has two sons, and a third one, the oldest, gone missing several hundred years ago, or so intelligence relates.'

'Let's not chase phantoms,' Odin said with emphasis. 'It's two sons accounted for.'

'So, it's two, then. Fine. What's the plan? Send out assassins to cut their throats? Would you want me to start my reign with blood on my hands? How would Angrboda look at me, if she found out?'

'Ha! So you do care about the ambassador!'

'I never said I didn't. I just – '

'First, let me make a point that I was not talking about murdering Laufey's sons,' Odin said, more composed. 'There might yet be other ways to secure his throne for you. But what - and pray, consider your answer carefullly - what makes you think Angrboda would find out about anything that you strived to keep secret from her?'

The question was absolutely unexpected and took Loki by surprise. In a discussion, he strove and usually managed to stay well ahead of his partner's argument. Knowing what outcome the other was aiming at, he could fashion his own answers to manipulate the direction their talk was headed.

But he found himself unable to do that in this strangest of coversations that Odin was forcing on him.

'She - ,' Loki began, then stopped again. Trying to think carefully, to grasp the implications of any word he might or might not say.

'Has a way of reading your thoughts?' Odin suggested, as if he were helping a child to express himself. 'Knows how to touch your soul and play a tune on strings you never even knew you had in your heart?'

'No, not that, but – '

'She touched your hand on the Bifrost, didn't she?' Odin leaned forward. There was an intensity to his question that seemed to condense the very air in the room. 'What did she claim to have felt when she did? What did you feel?'

'Father,' Loki cried out.

'You must not touch her again, Loki. You hear me? It is said that Jotun women have a way of making men bend to their desires. But you must stand your ground, my son. It is vital that you don't bed her – '

'Father!'

This talk was becoming more and more an issue of volume and persistence.

'What?' boomed Odin, 'She would not be your first mate, or so I gather. You and your brother have been frolicking about this realm's supply of maidens like the born rulers that you are! And you're certainly old enough to hear these words from your sire's mouth. – Do not bed her, I say, before you've been introduced as her - ' He stopped himself as though he realized he was saying too much.

'What is the reason for this talk?' Loki cried. 'Father, why have you come? What are you afraid that I might betray?' Odin had fallen silent, but the desperate youth still raised his voice, 'Am I not your son? Don't you think me worth your trust? Do you really think I would give away Asgard's secrets for the cold lips and icy body of a blue-skinned monster? I know that's what she is, she and her people – ' Loki couldn't go on. He was close to tears. He felt he was being treated unfairly, and he felt lost and so very confused by everything that had happened since he followed Thor on that stupid trip to the Bifrost.

Why would that vision not go away?

Angrboda walking beside Sif - naked blue-skinned shoulders, waist, hips and legs moving in gracious feline rhythm. (Sif, in comparison, looked unspectacularly everyday. And, of course, there was that "Mine! Yours truly. Thor" stamp on her fully-dressed curves).

Loki held his eyes cast down before Odin, irrationally afraid that the old magician might read the scandalous image in his eyes.

He heard his father's voice, very calm. Sad, almost. 'No, not Asgard's secrets. It is just... Stand your ground, Loki. Always remember who you are.'

'Nothing will make me forget, father,' Loki promised. His eyes were brimming with tears. Still, he managed to smile confidently. 'And whatever powerful, confusing magic Jotun women wield, I stand a good chance of fighting them back. After all, I'm not one of these blue-skinned, dull-witted monsters. I am Aesir. I am your son.' What else was there to say? He blinked away the tears, looking at his hands in his lap. He waited for reassurance and praise.

He got none of those.

His father put a weak hand to his own brow.

'Whyever did I come here?' moaned Odin. 'Frigga, my wife. Your good advice has made things worse.'

'Mother? Mother is behind this?'

'She suggested that we have a - how did she call it? A "father-son-talk".' Odin gave a frail smile. 'Did we have one? I don't think so. Not a very good one, anyway, I am afraid. I'm feeling old now. Tired. You're crying. Mother will be beside herself. What do I tell her, Loki?'

Loki's answer was a mere formality, dictated by protocol, 'Tell her that I appreciate her motherly concern, and I will honor the wishes of my father.'

'Good.' Odin got up. 'Then everything is said on this matter.'

'A word in private, father? Son to sire, not prince to king?'

Odin hesitated, then gave a nod. He put down his sceptre and leaned it on the desk.

Somehow, Loki found the strength to smile. 'Even if this may have been the most awkward father-son-talk in the history of our family: Thank you for coming.'

Odin acknowledged with another nod and took his scepter. He put his hand to Loki's shoulder and gave it a short, affectionate squeeze. 'Sleep well, Loki, my son.'

'And a good night to you, my king.'

Loki accompanied his father to the door, opened it, nodded at the two guards and the one man that was there for his own safety. He watched the king walk down the corridor, then closed the door...

Safely back inside, Loki leaned heavily against the door like someone too weak to stand on his own. He felt the smooth surface behind his hands and tipped his head back until it rested on the wood. Unblinking, he stared at the ceiling for long seconds. Why was it that sometimes, he just felt like he was a stranger marooned in a world of madness?

'I need a drink,' he said to a massive wooden beam in the ceiling.

But he already knew that that wasn't quite true. He needed to go where the drinks were. Because it was there he would find the people he needed to talk to right now.

Thor's face, as he welcomed his brother back to Wingolf, was untypically somber. But the Warriors Three greeted Loki in high spirits.

'Nice going,' said Volstagg.

'Lady's got a crush on you, heh?' smirked Fandral.

'It did look like you were nicely matched,' said Hogun thoughtfully.

Loki slid on the chair next to Thor that Fandral quickly abandoned for him. He reached for Fandral's goblet of wine and examined the contents. Finding it not full enough, he seized Thor's newly re-filled mug of ale instead and downed it in one, long draught.

The Warriors Three exchanged startled glances. Even Thor seemed surprised. By the time Loki finished his drink, everyone's surprise had turned into slight worry. Loki set down the empty mug, blinked a couple of times and gasped with his mouth open.

Thor placed his hand on the other prince's shoulder. 'What's the problem, brother?'

'I'm sorry for your ale.' Loki was still catching his breath.

'No harm done,' said Thor bravely, although he probably felt different. Exchanging gloomy looks, Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun silently, stealthily, removed their own mugs from the table to cradle them safely against their chests.

But Thor signalled to a maid and was supplied his own new mug, while Loki got his refilled.

'Brother,' said Thor, licking foam from his lips. 'I am glad you came back. We need to talk. About the Jotun ambassador.'

'Your point?' Loki stared into his drink.

'Know that as soon as I am proclaimed king, I shall take care of Jotunheim. Whether our relations be friendly or an example for the power of Asgard will be decided then. It is not at disposal here and now, and it's certainly not something that can be bargained between you and and the ambassador.'

'Of course not,' mumbled Loki. 'What would become of the dealers, if the bargain had its own say in the trade?'

'What do you mean, brother? What did the Lady Angrboda and you talk about?'

'She complimented me on my armor,' said Loki, clutching the mug's handle. 'She pointed out that her present form is not what she would look like when given the choice. And she – she expressed an interest in exchanging information on the wildlife of Jotunheim.'

'Wildlife?' echoed Thor, nonplussed.

'With a special focus on a certain species of frost resistant mammals,' Loki elaborated.

'Oh,' said Fandral with sudden inspiration. 'You mean snow bunnies!'

Wide grins spread on the faces of the men around the table. Irritated, Loki realized that everyone of them seemed to know that particular species - and knew it as a catalyst of filthy associations.

'That's why you look like you've seen a ghost?' Thor, his initial dark mood completely evaporated, winked his eye at his comrades. 'Why don't you invite her to explore some of the "wild life" of Asgard in return? Take her to see the love nests of the pidgeons in the highest tower, for instance. Or the noble horses with their stacks of fragrant, soft hay in the stables...'

Loki's eyes were turning a little glassy, 'Thor, it's father. And mother. I – I think they are planning to marry me off to Jotunheim.'

'Marry you off?' The men exchanged another round of looks, but at this news their frivolity subsided quickly. 'To a Jotun?'

'What do I do?' Loki asked, despondent.

Like one man, Volstagg, Fandral and Hogun leaned over the table and held out their mugs to him.

'Get drunk.' Fandral advised sympathetically.

+++End of Chapter 3+++