Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Why is Alfheim withdrawing their trade from our realm?" Baldur demanded.

"No idea, My Lord." The speaker was Asgard's ambassador to Alfheim; she looked harried and windblown.

Loki hid a grin and pretended to bury his nose in the scroll he held. Naturally he was the cause of the trouble in Alfheim; by spreading gossip and rumors he had created a skirmish on their borders that ended with both sides blaming the other for the hostilities.

Baldur closed his eyes and tipped his head back with a defeated groan. "Honestly, I just do not understand how this escalated so quickly. And now the princess from Vanaheim refuses to visit us again. She claims her bed was inhabited with several toads when she got into it last time."

Lady Sif slammed her hand on the table, a loud smack echoing throughout the gallery. "Are you nine years old, to play such foolish tricks? I am tired of your nonsense, Silvertongue. At over one thousand years of age you should be grown up enough to stop this foolishness." She emitted a snort. "Toads!"

"Why do you think I was the cause?" Loki allowed his voice to fill with innocence. "As it happens I agree with you, Sif. The very foolish nature of this trick shows it was not me but some idiotic youth trying to show his admiration for the lady. You will have to look elsewhere for the criminal this time." Of course it was him all along; the princess's frantic shrieks when she found the toads made him double over with laughter. And when she dashed from the room with a look of horror on her usually haughty face, he had to hide in a nearby courtyard so his gales of mirth wouldn't be heard throughout the palace.

"Why do I think so?" Sif repeated. "Because Asgard was actually peaceful when you were on Midgard – no skirmishes, no toads. And if you think this is amusing, allow me to remind you of this – Alfheim has kidnapped Volstagg, and his family demands instant action. This could blow up into a huge situation if something is not done at once."

Loki opened his mouth to let loose a volley of pleasantries about the trials of holding Volstagg prisoner, when a sudden thought struck him. He sat back, winded by his idea, and quickly he formulated a plan that would end his boredom, save Volstagg, and create peace between Asgard and Alfheim. Perhaps he could even ease the ache in his heart at the same time.

Around him, the various delegates had begun to speak. "Mayhap we should increase the guards at our borders," Fandral proposed.

"Forget all that," Loki declared. "There is one person who can solve the problem with no need for bloodshed or war. I propose you hire a certain assassin-spy."

Of course he was not permitted to go to Alfheim to see events unfold, but the news filtered back to the palace in due course: Agent Romanoff successfully brokered a ceasefire with the realm and returned with Volstagg in tow. Loki couldn't help a grunt of admiration when he heard she stopped on her way back to present the Vanir princess several gifts of chocolate and coffee, considered priceless in that land. With one mission she had smoothed out all of his mischief – well worth the enormous payment she would bring back with her to SHIELD.

However when Volstagg, all swaggers and bluff, entered the gallery Loki felt a twinge of annoyance. "'Twas a true adventure!" the large man bellowed, "worthy of the best bards. The Kidnapping of Volstagg 'twill be 'klept, and I myself shall hire a poet anon to write the lay."

Loki interrupted the loud boast. "Agent Romanoff? Where is she?"

"Ah, the red maiden from Midgard returns to her home apace. And a true Viking maid she is! I left her at the Bifrost not two moments hence…"

Volstagg's voice faded in the distance. Loki had already dashed out of the room.

He caught up with her at the edge of the bridge. Her skin was very pale as she approached Heimdall, her voice grave as she requested passage back to Earth.

"No!" Loki shouted. "Natasha – wait!"

"Loki." She turned and faced him, and at the sight of her his blood stopped; in fact, everything seemed to stop. "I thought it would be best if I returned at once – we both know what happened the last time I spoke with you."

"Begging the Lady's pardon, but you must stay," Heimdall stated. "The Bifrost is not yet ready to transport you back – there is a loose strand the Fates must tidy here before your return."

Loki felt his blood, frozen for one heart-stopping moment, pump again as he gave the gatekeeper a grateful look; he was almost sorry for all the pranks he had played on the man. "There, you see? We cannot leave untidy strands for the Fates, can we?" He put one arm around her shoulders and turned her back to the palace.

"The last few weeks have been very difficult," Natasha argued. "I don't want to move backwards. I've tried to bury myself in my work…"

"All that aside, you have no choice but to stay with me, even if Heimdall had prepared your passage."

She put both fists on her hips. "Where the hell do you get off saying that, jackass?"

"You told me yourself that you would owe me for the chocolate pastry and berries I brought you for breakfast when we shared our chambers on Midgard," Loki insisted. "You promised me thanks, and I never received it. And so, Agent, it is time for you to give me what I rightfully deserve."

In his rooms, Loki locked the doors and turned to her. Although he had meant to woo her with fine phrases and a great deal of wine, he found he was unable to do anything but draw her close, hold her as tightly as his trembling arms would allow.

"This is a mistake," she insisted. "We should sit down in a living room somewhere, or a den. Got any dens here in the palace?"

"I will create this salon called Den for you anon," he breathed. "Grant me just an instant of your time to embrace you thus."

Another struggle set her free. "Why? You told me to go to Helheim, said you were tired of me. You said my rules were enough to drive anyone mad. And you mentioned you would go to bed with the first Aesir you met when you returned."

"I was out of my mind." His voice grew very low. "I would have done anything to make you come with me. And - and I still have to sleep on the floor with nothing but an eiderdown for company."

She wandered away from him and leaned her forehead against the bedpost. "I heard what you told me that night when you thought I was asleep," she muttered. "Did you mean it? Or was it another trick?"

"Why should I lie if I thought you were asleep?"

Natasha tipped her face up to his ceiling as though she had just made a decision. "I – damn it! Get the fuck over here, you bastard."

"Oh," Loki gasped, as he sprang forward and folded her into a long kiss. In truth he almost did not want to sleep with her, although his member was already rearing and struggling against the laces of his leathers; lying together would mean an end of this final sojourn and a difficult goodbye, made even more dreadful with the unbearable pleasure in each passing moment. "Please, Natasha, allow me to…" He interrupted himself with another deep kiss.

Lovemaking was an art, he had discovered early on, and the men and women in his bed were gratified to be thoroughly pleased by his tongue and body. He liked to parade around the room, skewering his victims with a glance to make them tremble for what was about to come, whether it might be torture or delight. Sometimes he produced various items or other participants, all to watch the shamed blushes of his current lovers and hear their tumbling words of desire.

But with Natasha he simply wanted to hold her near, and when at last he slipped inside (as they both knew he would) it was with a gathering sadness he thrust, still kissing her. Little murmurs of pleasure escaped them both, and when he came close Loki withdrew, eyes fixed upon hers, before he entered her again.

And again.

And again.

But each time bore him closer to the final throes, the feeling mounting inside like an oncoming storm, and when it broke with all the violence of a volcano he shouted and plunged like a salmon thrown up on the bank of a river, fighting for life.

"I should…"

"No." Loki shook his head and held her more firmly. "No, not now." If he had been a salmon she was now like a silver minnow about to dart through his fingers.

Natasha settled herself comfortably on his shoulder. "I was going to say I should remind you that you promised me something as well."

A tiny thread of hope thrummed within him. "Did I? And what was that?"

"You said when the stack of money you were saving became one hundred dollars you would take me out to dinner. Your final paycheck came through last Friday, and I added seven bucks out of it to your pile. Guess what – you've got to return to Midgard for our date."

"Ah." Loki nodded solemnly and pressed her knuckles to his lips. "The council will have to understand I simply must make good on my promise. As a prince I have to honor my word." He couldn't keep the triumph out of his voice; suddenly he foresaw a shining trail of vows and wagers designed to keep two unlikely beings together for as long as they wished.

Natasha's eyes sparkled with something he immediately recognized as mischief. "Maybe we can play Operation after the meal. I bet you I'll win this time."

His heartache melted, as a spike of ice would waver under the force of a warm breeze. "I shall accept your bet," he whispered into her hair.

END