So here's yet another update! I'm hoping to get the next chapter out sometime this week too, but it may be a few days. I feel like I've been possessed by a writing demon tbh, I just can't stop! Anyhow, I promised you all more Loki and now I'm delivering - he's in almost every scene through this chapter (he even gets POV scene!) and writing him was SO much fun. I'm a little nervous about how it turned out, and any feedback, good or constructive criticism, is very much welcomed! Much love, and happy reading!

No warnings for this chapter.

The weeks that follow give you no clues - the blonde guardsmen that were on duty the night Lorelai was killed were all either feasting or patrolling with their comrades, and you can't send anyone to Alfheim to excavate the site of Thor's murder for fear of risking detection. As days pass, you feel more frustrated and more resigned. It appears fate is done being generous with you.

Arik is still in the guard, although he seems to be making friends. You decide not to remove him from the barracks, although Haldier thinks it should still be done. "I can't coddle him," you tell him. "He'll never fit in if people think he's being given special treatment."

He concedes that you're right, and continues to keep an eye on the young man. He tells you that Arik's attracted the attention of one of the generals - Harokin, and the man's asked to take him on as a squire. Arik is excited by the prospect and you agree, though you miss his familiar red hair about the palace.

Loki and you continue as you have been; although you're less talkative and more wary once again. You don't try to broach the subject of Thor with him a second time. After a month passes, he asks you, "Have I upset you?" There's accusation in his voice. "You've being off with me. More so than usual."

"No," you say quickly - too quickly, and his eyes narrow. "I just don't have anything to say." He looks exasperated and you use an easy excuse, "I'm bored; I miss Lorelai." It's only half-false - you are bored and you do miss her.

"Why don't I come with you on one of your rides?"

You glance at him. You didn't know he'd noticed that you'd started riding in the forest again. It makes you uneasy - what else did he notice that you didn't know about? "But you're so busy," you say, unwilling to cross him. It's wiser to be civil and courteous, you understand now, if you wish to regain any importance at all.

Loki narrows his eyes at you. "I can make time." There's a strange note to his words... something like a challenge, but softer. Like accommodation.

"If you can spare it. How's Odin?" You quickly seek to change the subject, hoping to distract him.

"Fine. He's awake again, but not truly up yet. Mother's forcing him to rest a while longer, to regain his strength." He says this all neutrally, but you watch him closely. Without Odin dogging his steps, Loki's become a little more easygoing, and more confident at court. Part of you hopes he'll have gained enough confidence to start dismissing his father.

You sip your wine considering your father-in-law. Maybe Frigga had been successful. "Good... That's good."

Once Magni learnt his first word, more quickly follow. Mama is followed by cat, which is followed by shoe, which is followed by book. It amuses you that his vocabulary seems to have no theme, but you're proud and give him many treats each time he learns a new one.

"You spoil him," Loki notes with amusement the night after Magni says slow for the first time. You've ordered stewed apple for him to celebrate; the tangy smell is muted by the sweetness of sugar mixed into the fruit, and it's Magni's favourite dessert.

"I'm only encouraging him," you say indignantly, watching as the boy carefully scoops up a little bit and brings it to his mouth. Loki says nothing, but his eyes glimmer. Suddenly he rises from his chair, and lifts the child in his arms.

You jump up, "What are you doing?"

Loki walks over to one end of the rug in front of the fire, Magni waving his spoon helplessly about in the air. He kneels and sets him down in front of him gently. You hover awkwardly - Loki has held Magni before, but only when requested. "Relax," he tells you, still amused. "Just a little experiment." The small boy is clutching onto his boot, grinning, and he steers him around to face you.

"Go to your mother," Loki prompts him with an encouraging nudge.

You sink to your knees at the other end of the rug and hold your hands forward. The gap is three foot wide at most. "Come on Magni," you coax, "come to Mama."

He wavers uncertainly, eyeing you and clutching onto Loki's sleeve at the same time. You call him again and he giggles, bouncing. Loki pushes him gently.

The boy falls down with a laugh. Loki shakes his head, "He's not even trying."

"Try again," you say, and he does, with the same results. You don't know how long the three of you stay there, trying to get Magni to walk, but finally he does so. It's just a few steps; staggering and fast and uncertain, but you're delighted and sweep him up into your arms. "Well done!" You gush. "My darling! Well done!" As you pepper his small face with kisses, Loki appears beside you - quickly and somewhat unsurely, he pats your son's head.

You get Magni to walk as much as possible after that, and soon he's wandering around for long minutes at a time. It is one such day that you are outside, letting Magni explore on his own two feet. You stand a distance away, observing him. Beside you stands Haldier, and you wait to see Arik appear. Before long he does, and he smiles to see you. He looks well you note happily - he's been given fresh armour by his new benefactor.

"Arik," you greet him warmly. "How are you? You look very dashing."

He goes a little pink and Haldier snickers. "Thank you, Your Grace," he mumbles quickly, "I'm well thank you. How are you?"

You smile at him. "I'm well too; the prince has learned how to walk and he's kept me run off my feet." Arik grins at the small golden-haired boy. You wait a moment, reluctant to continue. "I don't have any news, I'm afraid," you tell him gently. "I've been looking and asking, but there's not much to go on yet."

Arik watches Magni for a moment longer before turning his attention back to you. "It's okay," he says. There's a note of determination in his voice. "I think I might know who it is now anyway."

"Oh... You do?" Haldier shifts beside you, and you stare at Arik uncertainly.

The youth nods grimly. "Yeah. I've heard Loki was the one who did it."

You inhale sharply. Oh no. "Arik, I don't think-"

"I asked Father," the boy says in a rush. "He thinks it was Loki too."

Your eyes widen, "He does? Why?"

"Because he was angry with her! Everyone know's what Loki's like - I saw him on the battlefield."

You're hardly a fan of your husband, but something about it doesn't sit right with you. "Arik, I don't think that's true. Loki was in the feasting hall the whole time."

"He's a sorcerer," Arik replies stubbornly. "He could be in two places at once."

You don't want to fight with him so you simply press your lips together. "I can't have you near my son if you're going to start arguing with the King," you warn him. "I feel your pain Arik, I do, but this must be handled with care, do you understand?" He's silent and you narrow your eyes. "I haven't forgotten Lorelai, Arik," you say. "I want to know who did it as much as you - but I really don't believe it was Loki."

"Okay," he says simply. You watch him uncertainly and he looks around. "Can I go? I need to write a letter to my mother."

"Of course," you tell him. As he leaves, you turn to Haldier. He looks just as uncomfortable as you feel.

It appears your discomfort is unfounded. As the weeks pass, autumn ends and frost begins to appear on the ground, and Arik voices no more suspicions of Loki or anyone else. His master, the general Harokin, has done him a good turn - the boy makes friends among the soldiery, which gladdens you.

As you had suspected, Lorelai's death is forgotten; it turns into another vaguely remembered anecdote which is commented on then promptly put aside. She wasn't important enough for people to grieve for. It angers you, but you push it down. You must be patient, you tell yourself. In time, something was bound to come up. You constantly wonder what she'd wanted to tell you. There is no way of knowing.

Magni grows steady on his feet, and soon he's tearing about the palace, much to the vexation of his nursemaids. More than once you come in to find them chasing him around the room breathlessly, begging him to stop and rest. His first birthday passes - a feast is held, and it's the first celebration you've truly enjoyed in months. Odin makes slow progress - another unforeseen cause for delight - and you are spared his lectures and control.

You begin to attend court again, infrequently. The people still distrust Loki; you're not sure that will ever change, but there are no more outbursts from Harbard. In fact, you don't see him again. You enjoy the compliments from the lords and ladies when you wear a new gown or style your hair differently, and smile when Loki grants a request. You return to council meetings, where the nobles welcome you back.

It's still strange and different- but the palace begins to feel like home again.

"I think we'd best resume our walks," Loki comments one evening over dinner. "Soon - maybe tomorrow, in fact?"

You're fighting to get Magni to use a spoon, and only half-listening. "Mm, that's fine."

"I'm glad you agree." There's an amiable note in his voice, as there so often is now. You glance at him. He's leaning back in his chair, watching you with a strange light in his usually sharp eyes. You've noticed him looking at you like that a lot of late. You're not sure if you should be disturbed or pleased.

"What?" you question, grimacing as Magni wrestles with your hand.

"Nothing," Loki says at length, lifting his wine glass to his lips. Magni begins to cry and you don't think on it any longer.

The next day you rise early. It's too cold for your usual gowns, and your wardrobe is slowly filling with thick velvets and brocades. Humming to yourself, you pick out a deep grey gown with white fur trim. Yule is coming, you think to yourself as you dress for the day - and it both excites and saddens you. Your first Yule without Thor; how strange.

But you're determined not to dwell and cause yourself upset. Breakfast is served to you by a bustling woman who sweeps quickly through your chambers, picking up any stray clothing for washing, and you enjoy the creamy porridge that warms you. Mentally, you make a note to summon the head of the palace staff - fires will need to be kept lit, wood will need to be reserved, and Yuletide bonuses for the best of the servants should be decided soon. You've had gloves made for Magni, to stop his little hands from freezing, and you ensure he's well and truly bundled up before taking him down to the courtyard with you.

Haldier waits - he's become a staple of your guard now, and Magni waves at him. He smiles at the small boy and you smile at him.

Loki's already waiting, adjusting the saddle on his great black charger. He's wearing a winter cloak - the fur lining his collar is black, of course. "We're taking the horses?" you ask as you come up behind him.

He glances over his shoulder at you absently, "I thought it might be safer, in case the ground is icy." Magni wanders over to him, muttering nonsense words and Loki quickly guides him away from the huge snorting animal.

"You need a nicer horse," you tell him, eyeing the charger hesitantly.

Loki grins. "Svadilfari's just fine. Fits my reputation."

You roll your eyes at his smugness and then dive after Magni, who's decided to run full tilt across the yard. Behind you, your husband laughs as you grab the enthusiastic child and drag him back. "What a handful," he says with amusement as Magni shrieks and kicks indignantly. You thrust the struggling boy at him.

"You take him."

"I- Ah-" Loki's protests are muffled by the small lump of blonde curls and flailing limbs that deposits itself in his arms. "Freya's tits," he grits out, holding Magni as far as possible, "Would you just - there." He manages to wrestle your son onto his shoulder, where Magni perches like a small bird, amazed at all he can see from his high vantage point.

"Be careful," you fret, instinctively reaching your hands towards the boy in case he falls.

Loki catches them in his, his other hand tight on Magni's side. "Relax," he tells you lazily. He's wearing black leather gloves, and the texture is warm against your bare fingers. He brushes a thumb against your palm.

Awkwardly, you pull your hand away. Loki looks at you knowingly. There's smugness around his mouth as he passes Magni back to you.

Before long you're both up on your horses; Magni is tucked against your front as the gates open to allow you out. Arik marches in front of you, he grins at the small boy and nods respectfully to you before the procession begins. You look about. "Where's Haldier?"

"At the back," Arik says, and there he is.

Asgard in wintertime is truly wonderful. There's an anticipation of snow in the air, and you can't wait to see the golden city blanketed in a thick white carpet. You trod along at an easy pace - slow enough to wave and respond to the people who come to see you, but quick enough that you don't take up the streets for long. Loki is more reserved among them; his face is watchful, but not hard, and as you glance at his profile, the curtain of black hair that contrasts against his pale skin, you think he's rather handsome.

The thought shocks you - instantly, you flit your eyes straight ahead, and focus on paying attention to the citizens around you.

When you reach the market it's busy - there's a delicious smell in the air, and you tell Loki you want to look around. He gestures to the guard and brings his horse to a stop. Arik steps forward. "I can take him, Your Grace," he says helpfully and Loki tosses him the reins.

You smile at the boy, passing Magni down to Haldier before swinging your leg over the saddle. Two large hands rest on your waist as you slide down, ensuring you don't fall. You can't help the stiffness in your spine, but you try to smile at Loki all the same. Civil and courteous, you remind yourself. Even if the same hands that killed your husband are still on you. "Thank you," you say politely, and move away.

He drifts after you as you start towards the stand where a man is mulling wine in a hot pan. "Where's Magni?" he questions, eyes flickering about.

You point to where Haldier stands at a little distance, holding Magni's hand and pointing out strings of decorations around the marketplace. "He's fine," you tell Loki as the soldier returns your son to you, and you thank him. Loki watches Haldier retreat with a calculating gaze, and you frown to see Magni rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Did you not sleep well?" you murmur to him, bending down.

Suddenly there's a commotion - a crash and a loud, angry noise and you stand straight. Svadilfari has come loose; people shout as the tempestuous horse rears about, crashing into stalls. Loki curses and bolts after him as the great black horse careens across the market and you gasp, scooping Magni into your arms.

There's an odd feeling in the air; and suddenly you think there's too many people in the square. You can't see any of the guard - not even Haldier. You call for him, eyes flickering about nervously. There's a deafening whine of pain and in the corner of your eye Loki's horse rears, then collapses. Without a second thought, you push people out of the way, Magni crying against you.

"Loki?" you call - and then someone grabs you, and you see an angry face and a raised fist and the flash of a blade, and you shove, hard, and run.

"Guards!" You scream, tearing through the marketplace. All around you people are screaming and running, and you hear a man exclaim in pain. Suddenly someone else grabs you and you elbow them squarely in the face, before you hear them cry out.

"Your Grace!" The soldier seizes you and pulls you into a doorway. "It's me!"

"Haldier!" Your head is swimming and your heart is in your mouth, "Where's Loki, what's happening?" He slams his entire body weight against the door which you're pressed against and it opens. You scramble inside the building, clutching Magni who wails.

"The King," Haldier says, words rushed. "They're trying to kill the King." He grabs a passing woman and shoves her in beside you, "Stay with the Queen!" And he's gone - just like that, dashing into the throng. You hover in the doorway, breathing hard. You want to go; you need to know what's happening! But you can't risk Magni's safety so you stay, agitated and afraid, and try to catch a glimpse of your husband in the furor.

The woman beside you is trembling and you turn to her. "What's happening?" you demand, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"The horse," she's babbling, "the king's horse! It... It went mad! It flew straight across the market, and then His Majesty was... was there-"

"And?" you say, voice raised. "And?"

She flinches as someone runs past. "These men came, I don't know from where, and... and King Loki was trying to calm the horse! And then there were knives and shouting and I ran!"

Your mouth tastes salty and you shake her. "Who? Who were they?"

"I don't know," she sobs, "I don't know... please, please-"'

She's interrupted by your name, and you whirl around to see Loki coming towards you. His clothes are ripped and there's a cut on his cheek, but he's fine, he's fine, and you stumble out to meet him. He grabs your arms - Magni is still crying - and looks you and the child over frantically. "Loki, " you say, and his fingers tighten on your sleeves, "Loki."

"You're alright?" he demands, voice hard and you nod, "you're alright?"

"Yes, ye-"

"The boy?" His eyes run over Magni and you nod, holding him close.

"We're fine, we're okay, Loki-"

He's pulling you along with him as he turns and crosses the marketplace, and you struggle to keep up with his rapid pace. HE comes to a dizzying stop in front of a wall of golden-armoured guards; the Einherjar, you realise with relief, and they part to show two men and a woman pressed against the wall, their faces stark and angry. You recognise Harbard immediately - of course, you think, of course.

"There's more," you hear a familiar voice say, and relief washes over you again as Haldier appears. There's blood on his armour. "We're hunting them down now, Sire."

The rustle of struggling limbs is heard - and then you feel your face drop as Arik is shoved up to the wall beside the other perpetrators. He looks at you widely, afraid, and you stare back at him unbelieving.

"Good." Loki's voice is as sharp as a whip. "Good."

Haldier is true to his word - a mere hour later and he has stormed the city and hunted down the rest of the would-be assassins. Loki sends you back to the palace with a considerable army of guardsmen; he commands you to go straight to your quarters and wait for him. You're too shaken to argue.

Inside, you wait anxiously, as the day turns to noon and then to evening. When the sun is setting and pink streaks are marking the sky, you scramble to your feet when a knock comes at the door.

Loki enters and you close and lock it again quickly. He's dressed in his armour - it makes him look tall and severe. All the easiness that had been on his face in the morning is gone. His cut is healing. You go towards him, "Loki-"

He raises a finger. "I will ask you this only once," he says, with icy composure. Your brows pull together as you stare at him, trying to figure out what he's going to ask. "Did you know?"

Your eyes widen. "Did I... know?"

"Don't lie." His words are stony. "I can tell when you lie."

"I'm not- No, I didn't know! How can you think that?"

Loki lists off reasons effortlessly, and you realise with a start that he must have been thinking about it all day. "The boy, Erik-"

"Arik."

"- you asked for him to be brought into our household. You asked to stop in the marketplace. You went to your mother's house and only took two guards in with you overnight; one of which was the aforementioned Arik, and had the rest of my soldiers stay separately in the village. You were sympathetic to Harbard - and the whole world knows what you think of me. Is that enough, My Lady, or shall I continue?"

"That's quite enough!" You reply, with a high voice.

Loki is unmoved. "Very well. So, did you know?"

"No," you whisper. "No, I didn't know." He holds your gaze for a long moment, before his shoulders slump. Strangely, you don't feel angry at him. You step towards him, unsure. Perhaps you ought to reach out to him; embrace him or console him, you are his wife, after all. But you can't bring yourself to - instead you say, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he says tiredly. "I'm fine."

Several days pass. Asgard is in uproar. Wild ludicrous tales fly around - some say Loki singlehandedly killed the whole party, some say he fled and cowered. Others say it was a plot orchestrated by himself, to gain sympathy. They are utterly ridiculous, and you fear if you roll your eyes any harder they'll fall out of your head. But you cannot pretend to be unaffected. The guards on every corner of the palace are a constant reminder that you had come close - scarily close - to having Magni torn away from you, and you retreat to your quarters for safety.

Loki visits you every day to ask how you are, how Magni is, if you want more guards, if there's more you think should be done. It's odd and unpleasant, that you feel somewhat safer when he's close - it's a betrayal of the husband who watches from Valhalla. But you can't help it, not when he's so intent on keeping Magni safe and well.

"We're fine," you assure him for the fourth day in a row. You don't tell him that you've started locking the door to your chamber at night now. "Loki, you must calm down."

"I'm calm," he replies immediately, raking a hand through his hair. "I'm perfectly calm."

You glance at him doubtfully. "Sit with me?" you ask, and he collapses onto the couch. A crease appears on your brow - he's wearing the same clothes for the third time now, which is unlike him, and you can smell the sweat from him. "Have you bathed?"

"I've been a little busy," he snaps.

You roll your eyes in annoyance at his tone. "Loki," you say tersely, "you must calm down."

"How am I meant to do that?" he demands harshly. "In case you've not noticed, there are a group of people who want me killed-"

"We have them in the cells-"

"- who want you killed-"

"Loki-"

"- and I have people demanding death in one ear, and other begging me for mercy in the other! So forgive me if I seem a little tense!"

"Loki." There's a voice you use - one you'd used with Thor only a handful of times, and one you've used with Magni only once. It never fails. Loki stops his tirade, chest rising and falling rapidly. You take a breath, "I'm only wondering how you are. I'm not criticising you."

He's silent; lips pressed tightly together. You take in the dark circles under his eyes. "Have you slept?" He nods jerkily and you sigh. "Ate?" He shakes his head, black hair swinging with the movement. "I'll have some food brought up," you say, rising to fetch a guard. When you return, he's still sat there, a fist pressed against his mouth. You can see him brooding.

Delicately, you sit next to him. The leather of his trousers brush your skirt. "What's going on?" you ask him softly. "When's the trial?"

"Two days hence. I've had to postpone it; we've been looking for witnesses, taking statements, dealing with plea requests..." He trails off. Then he spits suddenly, "I'm going to kill them all."

His vicious words don't surprise you - what else could he do to grown adults who'd tried to murder him? You lay a hand on his forearm in silence. He continues. "Volstagg's wife has been to see me so many times. She's claiming it was all Harbard's idea."

"Was it?"

"I don't know. Even if it was, Alaric and Gunnhild won't say a word, save that I deserve this."

Alaric and Gunnhild - Volstagg's eldest two children, they were older than both yourself and Loki. You sigh. "They should have known better," you mutter. "Their poor mother." Loki says nothing, but you can feel the tension radiating from him. "What else?"

"Harokin's entire legion are up in arms." He laughs shortly. "It's almost an act of mutiny - and half of them are saying they'll desert Asgard if I'm not lenient."

"Lenient?" you ask, flabbergasted. "They do realise he committed treason?"

"They're loyal," Loki says grimly. "He's been a great general - truly, one of my best. Such a waste."

You're silent before asking, "And Harbard-"

"Will die." Loki's voice is blunt. "No doubt about it; even if the others are exiled, he must die. He stood in the throne room, bold as brass, and admitted everything. He has no shame," he spits. "I suppose it makes my job easier."

"It does," you murmur. You think of Sif, and close your eyes. Such a waste - so much hatred, and it only resulted in more and more bloodshed. But you're relieved that at least Loki seems to be taking no enjoyment from this; you'd expected him to be gleeful, full of satisfaction when he finally got to silence his dissenters. The food arrives and you both eat in silence.

Afterwards, when he's stopped picking at his plate, you ask again. "Loki?" He glances at you. "What about Arik?" Your voice only shakes a little.

His hands twist uncomfortably. "He's very young," Loki says soberly. A lump appears in your throat. "I haven't spoken to him yet."

"I could do it." It's a better idea and you know it. "He'll likely be more forthcoming with me." Loki nods, and no more is said.

The following day, you're sitting at your window. Your fingers skim over the strings of the harp uselessly. "Your Grace," the Einherjar speaks and a you look up in surprise. You've grown unused to receiving guests, "someone to see you." When he steps aside to allow the red-haired man into the room, your stomach plummets.

Arik and Lorelai's father stands looking at you, and you stand. "Ragi-"

"Please." His voice is broken, desperate. "Please. He's a boy."

"I-"

"He's young," the man blurts out, clearly panicked. "If anyone should be punished it should be me; I'm his father, I'm responsible for him." You speak again, to try and calm him and the fear in his eyes grieves you. "Please, Your Grace," he repeats, "not my son too."

You wait for him to catch him breath before speaking. It's difficult to look at him. "Ragi," you take his hands in yours. "Nothing has been done yet - the trial hasn't even passed. Arik has angered the King, but I am sure we will get to the-"

"It was that Harbard," Ragi interrupts again, new pain in his voice. "He told him such things, led him astray - he's a good boy, a kind boy! He would never do something like that of his own accord-"

"I know," you say, "I know."

He finally calms a little, hands shaking. "You do?"

"I do," you tell him, though you're not sure what to believe. "Please, be calm. All will be revealed in the trial. Loki," you have faith in what you say, "is not so cruel as to kill a child for the actions of adults."

After Ragi has left; still pale and shaken, but with your assurances of a fair hearing, you go straight to the dungeons. The boy is in a corner, curled up with his hands around his knees. He's staring at the floor and you step close to the bars. "Arik?"

He jumps, startled; and then relief washes over his features as he recognises you. He scrambles up from the floor and flies to the wall where the thin golden barrier shines. "Careful!" He skids to a halt. "Bumping into this hurts." You looks him over from head to toe; he's pale and blotchy and his clothes are crumpled, but he doesn't looks mistreated. Inside, you are filled with relief.

"I'm sorry," he says instantly, and you can hear a waver in his voice. "I didn't know... I didn't know they were going to hurt you! Or the prince! I didn't know..."

Alarmed, you sink to the floor and beckon him to do the same. Arik slumps down, and you can see tears in his eyes. "Arik, why?" you ask desperately.

The boy's beside himself. "I didn't know," he repeats, "I didn't know!"

It's clear he needs time, but you can't just sit there while he suffers so. "Open the cell," you command the Einherjar stationed outside. He balks and you raise your voice, "Do it!"

When the barrier comes down, you lean forward and Arik grips you tightly. He's shaking and you rub his back soothingly. "It's alright," you tell him, like you would Magni. "It's alright."

"I'm sorry," he sobs, "I'm sorry."

After several minutes, he calms, and you pull away gently. "Arik, please. I need to know what happened. How did you-"

"Harbard said he had a plan," he blurts out, clearly too upset to care about angering the other man, "He said Loki killed my sister, and that he wouldn't stop." Your heart sinks; you should have listened to Haldier and had him removed from the barracks. "They didn't say anything about hurting anyone! I asked what they wanted to do and they said they wanted to get Loki to confess!"

"You agreed?"

He nods, eyes still wet. "I thought they might kidnap him, maybe slap him around a little. I didn't think they were trying to kill anyone; not you or the prince, not even the King! They said they'd make him tell me who killed Lorelai-" his voice breaks. "They only said I had to let go of the horse!"

You're speechless. How could adults - most of them fathers and mothers themselves - take advantage of such a naive child's grief? You shake away your anger, not wanting Arik to think it was directed at him. "It's alright," you tell him softly, "It's alright. I'll tell Loki, and he'll know."

"You will?"

"Of course I will. But Arik," you take his hands. "You know it's likely you won't be able to stay in Asgard. You won't be allowed to be a soldier any more."

"That's okay," he says, although you hear a tremor in his voice. "I can go away."

You nod, still holding his hands. Norns, Nine, Thor, you pray. Whatever was out there and listening, you hope you can help the boy.

When you leave the prison, you go straight to the throne room. It's empty, so you turn on your heel and go to the council room. Without knocking the door, you enter, eyes darting over the room. He's sat at the head of the table, staring blankly. You cross the room and stand in front of him. "Loki."

He rubs his temples. "What?" On the table in front of him are several sheafs of paper - death warrants, you realise with dread.

"Have you made a decision?"

He sways a little, "Almost." Your eyes drop down to the papers again; the top one is signed. "The main ringleaders will have to die, obviously."

"And who would they be?"

"Harbard, Alaric, Gunnhild, Harokin..." He pauses.

Sif's father, Volstagg's eldest son and daughter, and a rebellious general. Your stomach sinks. "And Arik?" Loki's eyes shift. "Loki," you say tremulously. "You can't."

"He committed treason - he tried to murder his king!" The black-haired man argues back with you, but it's a half-hearted attempt.

"He's little more than a boy! They convinced him you killed his sister; he thought they would make you confess-"

"And how did he think they'd do that? Pretty words?"

"-he didn't know it was an assassination plot!"

You fall into the chair beside him. Loki's mouth is downturned. He looks far from happy. "If you do this," you say gravely, "all those who think you're nothing but a murderer - that you enjoy nothing but killing, will be proven right. You won't win, Loki. All you'll do is inflame more hatred and suspicion. Sometimes," you take his hand that lies on the table, "sometimes showing mercy can be the wisest course."

He's silent; beneath your touch, his fingers twitch. "Sometimes," he says quietly, "it can also be the most foolish."

"Thor would never have-"

"I am not Thor."

Not so long ago, you would have snapped back - that is obvious - but now you pause. "I know," you say instead. Loki looks at you. "Thor never had to make this decision, but you do. And Loki," you lean forward and his eyes follow you, "I know that you don't want to kill a boy. I know it."

"Do you?" he asks.

You swallow and nod. "Yes," you whisper. "There was a time when I would have believed the worst of you, but now..." You shake your head. "I don't believe you're that kind of man."

Loki cocks his head to one side. "Really? And what kind of man do you think I am?"

"I'm still deciding."

He's quiet, and his gaze falls to your lips. Suddenly, you're reminded of Lorelai, and her comment that Loki wanted 'something else' from you. You had dismissed her, and yet... his eyes are still lingering. Slowly, he reaches up - this is the closest you've been to him voluntarily in years - and his thumb traces your cheekbone.

If there was ever a time to test her theory, then surely it was now. Before you can lose your nerve, you hear yourself say to him, "I'll make you a deal."

Loki freezes. "What?"

"I'll give you something." You can't believe the words that are coming out of your mouth. "If you promise to be merciful to the boy, then I'll give you something."

"What kind of something?"

He sounds wary, and more than a little curious. You take a breath, "Anything you want." He's staring directly at you, and for a horrible moment you're afraid that you've overestimated yourself and he'll laugh at you. But Loki doesn't laugh. He looks far from amused; you can practically see the cogs whirring behind his eyes.

Slowly, he leans towards you, close enough that you can feel his cool breath on your skin. He bends down, nose skimming your cheek, and you stay perfectly still. You feel the tips of his fingers on your neck, tracing your pulse, his feather-light touch making the skin prickle.

Then he straightens.

"Very well," he agrees coolly, though there is a little strain in his voice. "I want a kiss." Relief floods your chest; that was all? You could give a kiss, short and sweet. Quickly, you move forward - but he catches you with one hand. "Mm." There's a strange quality in his tone, and he looks down at you, "I want a kiss like the ones you gave him."

Him?

Your stomach sinks as you realise who he's talking about, and you pause. A single kiss was nothing - but to kiss someone the way you had kissed Thor? You'd loved him with all you had; it wasn't something you could just fake. But Loki is watching you, and you realise grimly that you have to try... even if it is a betrayal of your husband's memory.

The difference is that Thor had never really made you feel nervous - of course you'd been giddy and self-conscious the first few times he'd kissed you and when you'd lain together, but there was something warm and welcoming about him that had eased that away quickly. Loki makes you nervous. He's tall and dark and formidable, and his eyes are always full of intent. Your nerves sing as you stare up at him.

Loki stares back.

Slowly, you reach to touch his face; his jaw is sharp and smooth under your hands, and you push away the feelings of doubt. Letting your eyes fall closed, you pull his lips down to meet yours. Loki is still and unmoving beneath your touch, but his lips are softer than you'd expected. You think of Thor for a moment, and pour all your affection into the kiss - and suddenly Loki is kissing you back, his hands coming up to clutch you tightly, roaming over your neck, along your back, tangling in your hair.

You gasp into his mouth and he swallows it, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip. You whimper a little and let him in, and the kiss deepens, making your head spin. You can smell nothing but him.

Loki's hands slide down your front; he pulls on the bodice laces of your gown and it gapes open, allowing him to slide his hands around your waist. He continues to kiss you, hands travelling to your back and pressing against the skin there. When you pull away for air, he's not dissuaded - he simply moves his lips to your neck and suckles a bruise into your skin.

It's only when his hands come out of your dress and begin to hike your skirt upwards that you push him away. "You said just a kiss," you gasp, catching your breath. Loki's still close to you; his fists clench tightly.

"A mistake I won't make again," he says breathlessly, eyes on your red mouth. You're suddenly very aware that you just kissed Loki, and that your dress is open, and that his hands have been all over you. Blood rises in your cheek and the more you try to suppress it the worse it gets; awkwardly you stand and turn, redoing the laces with shaking fingers.

You feel excited.

You feel sick.

When the dress is safely closed up again you turn back to him. Loki hasn't moved, his eyes somewhere beside your head.

"You'll keep your end?" you question him.

He nods.

When you step out of the room, still trembling, you feel calmer. You don't completely trust Loki, but surely he'll keep this promise? You could tell he'd been looking for an excuse to pardon Arik even before you had offered a solution. As you return to your chambers, a famiiiar grey head crosses your path. Internally you sigh. "Allfather." It's easier to be polite when you haven't had to take his orders. "How are you?"

"Where is my son?" Odin demands without preamble. Your fingers curl.

"The council chamber." Odin nods curtly, and goes to brush past you. You turn after him, "They aren't in session-"

"I heard about the marketplace," he interrupts you. Somehow, his one eye manages to look at you disapprovingly, even though you've done nothing wrong. "I'm sure it'll be a relief to you to have the guilty party punished."

You incline your head. "It will, Allfather. I only hope that both justice and mercy are disposed-"

"Mercy?" His voice is sharp. "What mercy can there be for traitors?"

With a annoyed sigh, you reply. Why do you even bother making conversation with the man? "I only meant that there are those who know better and those who do not; it would be a cruel shame to punish one for the crimes of another."

"What are you talking about?"

You've lost your patience with the old man. "Nothing, Allfather," you reply as nicely as you're able.

Odin looks at you for a long moment, then turn on his heel and continues along the corridor. You roll your eyes at his back and depart.

When you're gone, Loki can't stay still. His heart is beating much quicker than usual, much more than he liked, and he excuses himself from council meetings early and goes to his chambers.

Once he's inside with the door barred, he paces. You'd felt even better than he dreamed; having you real and solid and warm under his hands had felt like pure divinity and his blood races.

Loki has never considered himself anything but a realist - he knows it's not want or desire which had prompted you to agree, but it's enough. And given the flush in your cheeks and surprise in your eyes, he begins to wonder if perhaps, one day, he'll be able to kiss you as he pleases.

It's a delicious, intoxicating thought. Patience, he tells himself harshly, have patience. You've been stubborn from the moment he met you all those years ago; it will take more than a single kiss to overturn years of bad blood.

But it's a start.

There's a knock at his chamber door and he inhales at the intrusive noise. "Who is it?"

"Your father. Open the door, Loki."

Loki hesitates, slow to initiate discussion with the trying man. The past few weeks free from his overbearing shadow have been a breath of fresh air. But Odin is the Allfather, and he is Loki's father, so Loki begrudgingly acquiesces. The old man enters his room, still slower than usual, looking about critically and it sets Loki's nerves on edge immediately. "Father," he says warily. "What is it?"

Odin turns to him. "I hear you're sentencing the traitors tomorrow. I've come to give you strength."

The insinuation stings. "Thank you for your concern," Loki mutters. Odin looks at him closely.

"I know I've been hard on you," the Allfather says suddenly. "No doubt you resent my input." He sighs, and Loki shifts uncomfortably. It's unlike Odin to speak so frankly. What is he expected to say? "I only wanted to help you," he says, stepping forward.

Loki's brows raise as Odin puts a hand on his shoulder. "I've been hard on you, and you've surpassed my expectations every time," he says suddenly. All Loki can do is stare. Is this what it was like to have been Thor? He can almost forgive his brother for being so happy all the time.

"It will be difficult tomorrow," Odin warns. "Thor was never good at such matters. But you've got a stronger stomach in you." He sounds proud, almost. Loki swallows. His father continues, "It's important to take the right advice; not to be waylaid by those who do not truly understand what it is to make such decisions. Traitors," he looks Loki straight in the eye, "are a danger to us all; a danger that must be dealt with swiftly."

"What are you saying?" Loki demands, but his voice comes out less harshly than he'd hoped. Odin squeezes his shoulder, and the strength in such an old man's grip surprises him.

"Only that I know you'll make me proud."

So... I really hope Loki is still in character - I don't want to soften him too much so that it's unbelievable. One thing I will mention is that if you're wondering why he's not like "lol lets just kill everyone who was involved problem solved"; it's because I don't think that's how he thinks? He's definitely pragmatic and ruthless, but even when people (the W3/Sif/Heimdall) committed treason against in the movies, he wasn't rushing to have them executed. Not that he's a good person, but I don't think he kills indiscriminately. I'm really trying to get that delicate balance between good and bad. Hope you liked it!