Hi, everybody. Thanks for returning. Not much to say, but - on with the story. Enjoy!

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 7: Asgardian Diplomacy +++

The door to Asgard's great hall was thrown open wide. Loki stormed in, oblivious of the stares, and headed straight for the king's throne.

'Father. I must talk to you.'

Odin looked up slowly. So did the aged dwarf in his company. 'Not now, Loki. I am having a discussion with Master Dern of Svartalfheim.'

Loki bowed his head and put his left fist to his chest in a traditional knightly gesture of greeting. He radiated anger and impatience. 'Father, I formally demand that the Jotun delegation be excluded from the celebration. Send them home.'

The king frowned. He raised his hand, signalling Master Dern to wait.

'On what argument?' he asked of his son.

'On the argument that they are devious, and cunning, and they should not be trusted.'

'Excuse me, Master Dern,' said Odin to the dwarf. 'It would seem that my son's issue is one requiring my immediate attention, after all.' If only to prevent him from seriously compromising himself, was, of course, the subtext. The dwarf bowed and, giving Loki a strange look, left.

'Now, Loki,' said Odin, finally turning fully to his son. 'It should be obvious that I will not give cause for diplomatic scandal on the grounds of vague suspicion. I trust you have something concrete to back up any such decision?'

'I am your son, and loyal to you, sire. Is it not enough that I ask you?'

'No,' deadpanned Odin, looking at him calmly. 'It is not.'

Loki had expected no less, and changed tack, 'Very well, father. Then I ask permission to marry the Lady Angurboda of Jotunheim.'

Odin continued to look on. Calmly.

'Before you say anything, father, please allow me to explain – '

'Gladly,' said Odin.

Loki stepped beside his father. Keeping his eyes at some point in the distance behind and above the king's head, he whispered into Odin's ear, 'I have spent quite some thought on our last conversation, and what it obviously winds down to, is this: My brother is about to succeed you to the throne of Asgard in less than a week's time. But the power of Jotunheim still presents a threat to the prospering of our realm.' Loki paused for effect, then continued even more urgently, 'Now, here is what I think the most resonable way of action, my father, my king - '

For one moment, Odin remembered a dark-haired boy, fists clenched, face glistening with angry tears, screaming "I want!" Of course, the two words had evolved into the elaborate speech of the natural born diplomat (manipulator, a tiny critical voice whispered). But the sheer intensity of that stubborn cry "I want" was still imminent to Loki's whisper, as he tried to just talk Odin into approval. 'There are only two ways to deal with the situation: We must banish the frost giants forever, bereave them of any chance to wreak their evil. Or we must aim to form a strong alliance, a bond that can secure your heir's reign and Asgard's peaceful existence for a thousand years to come.'

'I see,' said Odin. 'And this alliance will be brought about by - ?'

Loki stepped back, his argument coming full circle, 'The forging of a blood relationship between the House of Aesir and the Jotunheim succession of kings.'

'Only a relationship? You are not, by coincidence, suggesting that you be installed on King Laufey's throne.'

Loki's face was impenetrable, 'In fact, I understand you indicated that this was a option that might be arranged for.'

'Not in this manner.' Odin leaned back. 'Not now. It is too rash, too soon...'

'You doubt my judgment?' Loki asked angrily. 'You question my sincerity?'

'Don't you twist my words,' Odin warned, all the same amazed at the younger man's sudden agitation and change of mind. 'I don't question your fascination for the Jotun ambassador. That you feel attracted to her is quite obvious. So, don't you come talking to me about strategic alliances, the stratagems of diplomacy, when there are much sweeter conquests on your mind.' Even as he said it, Odin decided that his interpretation was slightly beside the point. There was, indeed, little romance on Loki's mind. His son announced his intention of marriage very much in the way he would declare war on King Laufey's people. Odin couldn't help but wonder what the girl had done (or, the voice of suspicion murmured, refused to do) to bring up his son against her like this. Banishment or marriage? Good grief, what had come into the lad? 'I agree with your assessment that Asgard would draw great benefit from a reliable, permanent peace with Jotunheim. But I question your conviction, your purpose. What do you think to gain for yourself, Loki? A king's crown? Or a female's heart? Know your own intents and plans, my son, so we can sort out the means necessary to turn them into action...'

You never had Thor sort out anything. He's got it all sorted out for him. Loki wanted to scream at the old man's face. He didn't. Yelling at the king would have been just too stupid a thing to do, especially now. He controlled himself, fists clenching and unclenching at his side.

'Very well, father. I have sorted it out now: What is necessary for me to marry the Lady Angrboda? I wish to take her as my wife. Then we'll see - '

'See what?'

Loki hesitated.

'Loki? What will we see?'

Loki's green eyes flickered; he clearly felt he was cornered and wished to avoid the need to reply. Then, he blurted out, 'Who makes whom and into what.'

'Who makes whom – ?' Odin looked over to his wife and found Frigga's eyes already on the little scene. She had kept silent while the king was speaking. But now, she took Odin's look as a signal for her to get involved.

'Loki,' the queen said gently. 'Would you go and sit with your friends for awhile, please? I need to have a word with your father.'

'But I – ' Loki saw the loving, yet commanding expression in Frigga's eyes. She emphasized the order with a tiny movement of her head, beckoning in the direction of the warriors's table. Loki caved in and cast down his own eyes before her. 'Certainly, mother.'

He turned on his heels and left, unhappy, angry.

Frigga looked after him and gave a small sigh, before she turned to Odin who looked none the wiser.

'Is he serious, my wife?' the king asked, puzzled. 'Has your son really just suggested that he marry a Jotun princess?'

'He is,' Frigga said. 'He has.'

Odin spread his hands before him, 'Is he mad? Drunk? Spellbound? All three, at different levels?'

'I believe he's never been less affected by alien influence in his whole life,' Frigga said with an undertone. 'My husband must not forget that the girl is Jotun. The first female of her people that he's ever met.'

'But Loki is my son.' Odin looked at Frigga as if daring her to object. She countered his gaze steadily, being used to these little arguments for centuries. He faltered, then he lowered his voice even more, 'How serious is it, mother? Does he love this girl, do you think? Should I have given him my blessing?'

'Your blessing would be lost on a marriage that is already bound to fail,' Frigga said. 'Still, I fear that Loki will do what he deems must be done.'

'He gets that from his mother.' Odin sighed and sagged back in his chair. But it was not the exasperated sagging of a father tired of fighting with his adult sons. Odin did not stop sinking, his eyes closing, hands relaxing in his lap.

'Odin! My king!' Frigga shook him by the shoulder. At the same time, she felt the magic reach out for her, too. Strong magic, commanding her to SLEEP! Fighting down a bout of panic, she looked up and around: Everywhere in the great hall, Asgardians and guests from the other realms were dropping to the ground, dead or unconscious, she could not tell.

She was not even sure, Odin was breathing.

SLEEP!

'Loki!' She screamed for her son, and in doing so, collapsed.

Even in the hour of darkest thoughts, most desperate plans and greatest fury, stomping with his eyes stubbornly on the floor, heading where his mother's order had banished him , Loki could not entirely miss that something peculiar was going on.

Peculiar?

All around him, people were falling down. Asgardian nobles, guards, servants – but also guests: the warriors, ambassadors, druids from the other realms. No one was excepted; one by one and almost without a sound, they collapsed and remained where they fell, twisted heaps of cloth, and limbs, and groans - then: silence.

Loki looked around himself, and all he could think of was, This is a haunting!

He looked up to meet his parents's eyes. To his utmost horror, Odin and Frigga were affected in the same way. Loki saw his mother sink down, and – this is not possible! She's one of the best magicians in Asgard.

His first impulse was to get to her side.

On second thought, he realized he was the last one standing in the great hall. Quite possibly, the last person conscious in the whole of Asgard.

Whoever had worked the magic (and magic it had been, there was no doubt about it), they would not be happy to find him.

If they were many, he might be in trouble.

Loki slipped under the next best table, needing a refuge to stop and think. After all, chances were that trouble would come to him.

When Loki stormed out of the infirmary like a crazed ice monster, Angrboda waited for a short time before she resumed Thor's form and left the room, too. The guard in front of the door greeted her, but basically he kept his eyes on the opposite wall. It was the way, she had come to understand, the princes moved through this realm without going crazy from being constantly watched. As if that golden eyed sneak was not bad enough! She wondered, if Heimdall had his eyes on her now, but of course she'd just have to take her chances. She also wondered where Loki had gone, taking off like that.

He had probably gone in search for his brother and was now crying on the future king's shoulder. Or maybe he had run to his parents, driven by a desire to let them know that they had been, oh, so right, and he would forfeit dating monsters from now on and for ever.

Meanwhile, Angrboda would use his brother's looks and authority to set free Swea and the others. She should have done that right in the beginning, of course. But she had so badly wanted to make sure, her Sweet Innocence would be fine.

She turned a corner and stood before two maids that were sprawled on top of their baskets of laundry. Angrboda stopped in her tracks. Asgardians were strange, but this was definitely not protocol. Angrboda took in the scene, looking for the trap. She approached the girls and shook one by the arm.

'Are you alright?'

No reaction.

'Hello? You hear me?'

Now, focus. Stay in character. What would Thor do?

'Guards?!' Angrboda peered around the next corner. There was a man in a guard's uniform. But he was asleep on the floor, with his legs sprawled in front of him and his spear lying across his lap. He, too, did not respond, when she kicked him.

She looked about, as if she expected a ghost to pass through the wall and deliver the explanation to this mystery. She thought she heard a sound coming from the next room to the left. The door was ajar, and she opened it just a little wider: There was a white bearded man in a scholar's robe, and a boy in an apprentice's gown, both asleep standing up. There was an ink pot knocked over on the table, and Angurboda's sharp ears had perceived the slow dripping of ink on the floor boards.

The scholar had frozen in the act of slapping the boy's face.

None of them would be roused by shouting or shaking. Angrboda even tried tearing one of the precious scrolls down the middle right beside the old man's ear.

No response. Those two, along with the rest of Asgard appeared to have gone into hibernation. Angrboda gnawed her lower lip, then made a decision. This opportunity was too good to be wasted. Swea and the others would have to wait.

Loki sat under the table cross-legged, and considered his situation and his possible next move. A quick survey had proven that Thor was not in the great hall. It seemed unlikely, but the party animal had chosen to take a break from partying. Which was unfortunate, since Loki was quite certain that Thor was at the bottom of events.

He'd made a mental list of all magical creatures and known sorcerers present in Asgard at this time, and he'd tried to match their styles to the evidence at hand. He had arrived at the conclusion that it had to be the work of fairies. They had done something quite similar in another realm, once. And they favored royalty to focus their spells on. It was not necessary, strictly speaking. But it was just their style, going for the great show. How ever they had managed to make Thor touch a spindle. Did the trick work with two-handed swords and battle axes, too? Possibly.

But why? One-hundred years of sleep for all of Asgard, rather than see Thor become king? Loki had recently learned to share that feeling. But he still wanted Frigga back.

Light's eye, he hoped Angrboda was all right.

Angrboda!

The thought struck him like one of Thor's lightning bolts: Jotuns could not be influenced by fairy magic. Something about fairy dust and twinkling stars that made them feel ticklish rather than overwhelmed. What would Angrboda do when she realized that Asgard's defenses were down?

Not many optional answers to that question... and no question he had to stop her.

Loki started to crawl under the tables, zig-zagging between covers and tip-toeing over goblets, cutlery, a lost coat, a glove, shards, dices, a sleeping dog and even a couple of comatose mice gathering around a chicken bone. Before long, he reached the royal couple and rose on his knees to take Frigga's pulse. She was asleep, just as he had thought. He did not repeat the experiment on his father, but turned his eyes on the Allfather's scepter. He knew he was giving a rather bold interpretation of the situation. His only hope was that the spirits of magic would agree with him.

'Excuse me, can I get in? Yes? Why, thank you.' Cheerfully, Angrboda stepped over a sleeping guard and used her great strength to open the weapons's vault. There were more guards inside the vast room than there had been when she first broke into this place. But they were all asleep, curled up on the floor or leaning against walls at precarious angles. The casket had been restored to its pedestal, opposite the door and right in front of the strange metal grid that she had noticed only when Loki nearly broke his back against it.

'Well, hell-lo,' said Angurboda, stepping before the casket. This was almost too easy. For so many centuries, she had heard her uncle and his council debate on how the treasure could be retrieved. And now, all she had to do was pluck it like some red, juicy fruit from the tree of some old nursery rhyme ...

A sudden reflection made her look up: The metal grid in the background had become red-hot, and it melted as she looked on. Within seconds, there was an opening in the wall, large enough even for a tall Jotun to pass through.

Out stepped a monster.

A metal giant, polished steel from head to toe, his face a blazing pit of heat and flame.

Angrboda had heard of the Destroyer - actually, she had been warned about it in preparation for this undertaking - but she had not really expected to meet it. Seriously, who would turn such a berserk loose on a girl that matched all current Asgardian standards of cuteness and nobility? She grew a blade of ice, then looked down, finding it a comparably rather pathetic attempt at a weapon. She had to face it: Even if she dropped the pretense of being a damsel-in-distress, her powers would not be enough to fight that thing. She absorbed the magic back into her body.

The monster walked out of its alcove and in front of the casket.

'King Odin,' Angrboda spread her now empty hands. 'My heart feels gladness that you should be well and awake. There has been some strange occurrences, and I was deeply concerned – '

'Angrboda,' said the Destroyer.

The voice was resonant and brassen, but she still recognized the way it pronounced her name.

'Loki? Are you in there?'

'Of course not,' said the armor hollowly. 'Don't be sillier than you presently look.'

'Where are you?' she insisted.

'I'm sitting under a table in the great hall. It seems the Fairies have cast some kind of spell. Everyone is asleep.'

Angrboda smirked, 'Save you.'

'And you, obviously. Which does not come as a surprise. It's widely known that Jotuns have an innate immunity toward fairy magic.'

Angrboda felt a prickle run down her spine. Excitement? Panic? She was not sure, 'Any - idea why you've been spared?'

'I've given the matter some thought. I assume that my recent... exposure to your magic has somehow affected my own tolerance for magic of this particular nature.'

Angrboda kept her straight face, 'Sounds reasonable.'

'No, it doesn't,' said Loki. 'I have no idea, why I was spared. Maybe it was just due to my fervent desire to do - this.'

Giving a whoosh! of air being sucked into the furnace inside his helmet, the Destroyer fired up.

Angrboda found herself backing away half a step, 'Loki? You're not going to throw that thing at me?'

'Are you threatening me?' The sarcasm was all too audible in his voice, 'What a pity. This won't work.'

The Destroyer breathed a blast of fire. Angrboda dodged it, 'Wait! You don't mean to run rampant in your father's vault.'

The Destroyer halted.

'No one,' it said, unmistakably sulky, 'would question the collateral damages of Thor's methods, if he were to save Asgard from traitors.'

'But you're not saving Asgard,' Angrboda screamed, 'You're having it out on me! Come on, is this what you were brought up for? Asgardian diplomacy?'

The Destroyer stopped again.

'You're right,' said Loki. 'This has nothing to do with protocol.'

Angrboda heaved a sigh of relief.

'This is absolutely personal,' Loki said, and pulverized part of the floor before her feet.

Angrboda dived behind another artefact, counting her blessing for being three foot smaller than her natural size, 'Your father's plans, Loki! Peaceful co-existence. Uniting our people. Don't discover your infinite hatred for Jotuns just now!'

'I have discovered my great dislike for you,' the Destroyer said.

'So what? You going to kill me?' Defiantly, Angrboda peeked over the top edge of her cover. She watched the Destroyer take some steps forward to get her in clear sight. It marched too far and hit the wall four foot to her left. It stumbled back, giving a realistic impression of being dazed. It marched forward and hit the wall again.

'Having problems steering that thing?' Angrboda said.

The Destoyer lifted a metal hand to its metal head. She might be wrong, but she thought it reeled a little.

'No problems,' it claimed haughtily.

Angurboda grabbed at a nearby relic. She had no idea what the little emerald pyramid thing was. But she knew what she would do with it, and she lifted it high over her head. Let's see who feels less concerned for your father's treasures...

'Don't damage that.' The Destroyer reached out one hand as if to stop her. It was almost endearing, the way Loki's body language was transferred onto that thing. Well, she guessed even kings had to practice with their toys before they became reliable tools.

'The casket, Loki,' she said. 'I will take it and stroll out of here with it, and you won't stop me.'

She realized her mistake the moment she made it. Loki had been so absorbed in his own feelings of humiliation and rejection, he'd forgotten why they were here in the first place.

The Destroyer turned it's fiery glance at the casket.

'No!' For the first time, Angrboda was truly scared. Loki seemed crazed enough in his desire to hurt her back to do the unspeakable. 'Loki, please!'

Loki looked at her through the Destroyer's vision that gave a distinctive red tint to everything gazed on. Her upturned face, her wide eyes, all tinged in the color of blood. He heard the distress in her voice, and somehow - suddenly - something clicked into place. How could he, even for a moment of madness, believe he wanted her badly injured, even dead?

He wanted her like this, exactly like this. Looking up at him, anxious for his next move. Her life - her entire world at his mercy, and she knew it and pleaded with him to stop.

The image shifted. Now it was faces. Looking up. At his mercy and knowing it.

'Loki? Are you still there?'

He realized that he had been staring off into space, experiencing an onrush of power, a sublime sensation of potential like he had never felt before in his entire life. He felt giddy with it, sweaty hands clutching his father's scepter, his heart thumping like in an aftermath of a violent exertion of force.

And he wanted it again, ye gods, he wanted it again!

'Put down the pyramid,' he said, his voice hoarse in his own ears. 'I have the upper hand here. You cannot fight the Destroyer. Not while I am controlling it.'

Angrboda stood at ease. She sensed a change, and she was willing to play his game. For the moment. 'Why are you controlling it anyway? I thought only the rightful king of Asgard could command it.'

'I guess that means that right now, I am the rightful king of Asgard. With my father and my brother currently off the game board, it even makes sense, don't you think?' There was a short pause. 'I need you to go looking for Thor.'

Angrboda pouted, 'Can't you do your own searching for the hero?'

'I would. But although the spell that brought about this situation has not affected me, another might. For dealing with Fairies, a Jotun is the logical choice.'

'So, you're going to sit back and watch me do the dirty work. Fine. Will you let me have the casket, if I succeed?'

'No,' said Loki. 'It would be too obvious, obviously. And it would not stop Thor from being crowned king, either. Let's take a different approach.'

Angrboda's eyes became indistinct in the Destroyer's crimson vision. It confused Loki at first, but then he realized that it must mean they were glittering red, 'Now you're talking Jotun. What's on your mind?'

The silence lasted for long seconds. Something about the Destroyer's cocked head made Angrboda picture Loki caressing the king's scepter with his eyes. Like his dreams had taken shape before him, and he was running a hand over the smooth wood, gently, wonderstuck, not quite daring to breathe lest the illusion might pop.

'I am Loki Odinson,' he said with the Destroyer's hollow voice. 'It is my destiny to rule. And I shall never again kneel before anyone.'

The harpies had felt a great surge of magic wash over Asgard, and they had weathered it in bird-like fashion: with their heads tucked under their wings and turning their rumps against the tidal wave. Fairy dust and twinkling stars had rolled off their dark feathers like water from a duck's back. When it was over, they had taken their time ruffling and fluffing up their feathers and, of course, blustering about the things that could happen to harmless guests in this place.

They had only shut up when they observed something strange going on. Naturally, they had followed the perpetrators to the stables. Just as naturally, they had kept their distance, not wanting to be discovered. So, when the opportune moment had come to enter the stables, they had lost track and needed to search.

The horses were asleep. As were the swallows that seemed to have fallen out of the air, and even the flies at the windows. As were the tasty bugs that lived in the hay and were usually hard to catch. While its sisters were searching the stalls, the third harpy decided to take a break. It swallowed a few bugs whole, then went looking for more. Digging deeper and still deeper into a particularly large hay stack, it gave a scared chicken sound when an arm fell out. Well, not all the way to the floor. It remained stuck in the hay, poking out like a fishing rod or flag pole.

The harpy waited. Nothing stirred.

The harpy came closer. The arm was not severed (a pity; what a story that would have made!), but safely attached to some body in the hay.

By now, the other two harpies had gathered. They chattered excitedly, then started to poke at the limb. They pushed it a little, this way and that. Before long, they were digging.

+++End of Chapter 7+++