Title: Þetta er nóg
Fandom: Marvel (movie 'verse) & Disney's Frozen
Author: Batsutousai
Beta: Runic
Rating: Mature
Pairings: Queen Elsa/Loki, Princess Anna/Kristoff (off-screen pairing)
Warnings: Hurt/comfort, AU, Jötunn!Loki, Loki is a little shit
Summary: Banished to Earth in hopes that he might learn the same lesson Thor had, Loki meets Queen Elsa of Arendelle. But how can two creatures of ice possibly hope to warm the other's heart?

Disclaim Her: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel and Disney. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/N: I wanted to read Elsa and Loki being friends – or more than friends – and since there's only one other fic crossing these two fandoms on AO3 right now (update: two, as of posting, and a fair few on FFN, apparently XD), that sort of left it to me to create more. ^.^" Whoops.

Timeline-wise in the two fandoms, this fic takes place two years after the end of Frozen, and directly after Thor (in an AU, where Loki never let go).

-0-

A life of isolation was not conductive to the sort of social life Anna so craved, but Elsa did her best. She met with her ministers and visiting dignitaries, joined her people in the courtyard for a bit of ice skating, and actually made a point to mingle during the parties Anna kept setting up every month. She did it all with a smile, and even kept her bedroom door open a crack, because Anna never said anything, but Elsa could tell that seeing the door – any door, really – closed bothered her.

Still. Sometimes, it all became too much. So Elsa would make her excuses to her ministers and any visitors, order Kristoff to stay in the castle to keep an eye on Anna for her – like he wouldn't anyway; Elsa was eternally surprised that they hadn't asked for her blessing yet, though it seemed everything with Hans had taught her sister some much-needed restraint – and kissed Anna's cheek, before stepping carefully across the river to her ice palace high in the mountains.

Almost two years, and it remained as glorious and solitary as the day Elsa had first built it. Laws declaring the area off-limits had certainly helped with that, and the unfortunately-named Marshmallow – thank you, Olaf – had kept any law-breakers from getting anything more than a glimpse of the castle.

She had just settled in to enjoy the silence, eyes closing to take a nap, when there came a loud crack, followed by a boom that they'd probably felt back in Arendelle. If she was lucky, they hadn't felt it – or Kristoff was holding Anna back – if she wasn't lucky...

Elsa moaned and hid her face. She was never lucky.

"You can't do this to me!" a male voice screamed outside. "I did everything–" The person cut themselves off with a choke before Elsa could decide whether to get up or not. People outside rather ruined her silence, but Marshmallow wouldn't let them in, and if she pretended she wasn't home...

Marshmallow let out a warning snarl and ordered, "Go away."

"If you don't wish to fall down that chasm in pieces, I suggest you move," the male voice ordered, his tone suggesting he was used to being obeyed.

A prince, Elsa assumed a bit helplessly as she finally got up. Likely some brave fool come to thaw out the Ice Queen's heart. Or whatever nonsense was sending young men questing these days. She was almost to the balcony when she heard Marshmallow let out a panicked noise.

"What are you doing to my guard!?" she shouted before clearing the railing.

Far below, at the foot of the staircase leading to the castle doors, Marshmallow crouched defensively, one arm missing. A figure in black stood before him, hints of silver glinting around his upper arms. The man looked like he was holding nothing, at this distance, though his hands were clenched as though there was something there. When he looked up, Elsa was left with no doubt that his eyes were red, piercing and angry, and his skin was a cold shade of blue. "Your guard," he repeated, unimpressed.

"Yes, my guard," she returned, narrowing her eyes at him and refusing to be cowed by his impossible colouring. "You're trespassing on forbidden land. I suggest you leave. Before I have to drag you back to Arendelle and lock you up."

"Do not think me, girl, so easily managed," the man warned, voice as hard and cold as the walls of Elsa's retreat.

"I suggest you not judge me by my youth, sir," she returned before flicking a hand at him.

Snow swirled at her command, racing down to wrap around the man in a mini blizzard. It was more than enough to scare off those few brave souls who weren't stopped by Marshmallow, usually, but it seemed this guest was not to be so easily cowed, as he flung his arms out and the snow fell lifelessly to his feet.

"I am Prince Loki of Asgard! Do you think your petty tricks will scare me?!"

Elsa's mouth went dry. Asgard. Even after centuries of Christian influence, anyone in Arendelle would know the name of the old gods' home. Loki, too, she knew, and it put her on guard even as she wanted to laugh, because only fools claimed to be gods, even old ones. "You don't look like a god!" she shouted down to him.

Red eyes. Blue skin.

Just a trick of the light.

The man stared up at her for a long moment, silent, unmoving.

Marshmallow roared, clearly having reached the end of his patience with the conversation, and raised his arm to bring it down on the man's head.

When he moved, he was fast, easily evading Marshmallow's attack, and coming to a stop behind the snow monster. He cast a glance up towards Elsa, then extended his arm. It was encased in what looked like ice within a heartbeat, tapering to a sharp point, and he didn't falter in bringing that makeshift blade through Marshmallow's body.

"Marshmallow!" Elsa heard herself screaming, even as the calm part of her reached out with her power to form a wall between the man and Marshmallow, protecting him from further harm and giving her the time to repair him.

She didn't realise the man had got into the castle until there was cold steel kissing her throat. She immediately held her hands up, as though their emptiness was a show of defencelessness.

"Who are you?" the man breathed against her ear, his voice a beautiful purr, without the wind tugging it every which way on its way up to her perch.

Elsa swallowed. "Queen Elsa, of Arendelle."

He snorted a laugh, cruel and mocking. "I see no subjects, save your creature."

"This isn't Arendelle. It's..." Solitude. Icy release from duties. "It's my winter palace."

He hummed, clearly unconvinced. "You know me," he said, changing topics.

Elsa bit her tongue to keep from insulting him; she still didn't believe he was an old god, come down from the heavens to punish those praising the one true God, but only a fool denied a man with a knife to one's throat.

The blade pressed harder to her skin, and she flinched back from the pain. "You know me," he repeated, a clear demand for her agreement.

"I know of the old gods," she agreed carefully, trying to keep her voice steady.

" 'Old gods'," he spat, withdrawing his blade.

Elsa glanced back at him, intending to watch him to ensure the blade was away, but her eyes were arrested by the lines marking his blue face. Curling around his cheekbones and hanging down from his hairline like some sort of forehead jewellery, they were like nothing she'd ever seen before.

Fingers closed around her chin, grip nearly painful, and Elsa didn't think, simply reacted by shooting ice at the man. He knocked it away with a snarl and yanked her forward, until he could all-too-obviously tower over her. "Unwise, Majesty," he rumbled, the gentle roll of his voice at odds with the violence in his eyes.

Elsa forced herself to straighten, showing no weakness. "Unhand me," she ordered, filling her voice with all of the command she possessed.

His eyes lit, appearing almost kind in their amusement, and he let her chin go. "Ah," he murmured, his fingers – as freezing as the palace they stood within – stroking along her cheek. "Now you appear as a queen."

"Funny," she shot back, unable to stop herself, "you still don't look like a god."

She expected him to hit her, or threaten her again, but he threw his head back and laughed, instead, loud and pleased.

Irritated, and still floundering in a sea of terror she daren't allow show, Elsa returned to her balcony, keeping the laughing blue man in the corner of her eye as she checked up on Marshmallow down below. He was repaired, though one hand was held over his midriff, icy claws still unsheathed in anger. He was watching her, his eyes as red as they ever were when he was angry, but he wasn't running up the stairs to her aid.

Not that there was anything he could have done, given how easily the blue man had dispatched him before.

She turned her gaze back on her...guest as he fell silent. He was staring up, towards the repaired chandelier, a strange expression twisting his lips. Something between hatred and awe, Elsa thought, though she was hardly the best at reading expressions.

He looked at her, as though feeling the weight of her stare, and his expression fell blank. "Tell me the origin of this place," he ordered, cool and unyielding.

"Or what?" she snapped back, crossing her arms over her breasts.

He cocked an eyebrow at her, lips turning up with a sharp little smile. "Come now, Majesty. Do you truly think it wise to try my patience?"

He'd avoided an attack from her twice, and had incapacitated Marshmallow without any apparent difficulty. She had no defence, should he stop being amused by...whatever had made him laugh before and was staying his hand now.

Like cold iron around her hands, Elsa was trapped. For the moment.

"I built it," she allowed, obviously grudgingly.

He narrowed his eyes and stalked towards her. Elsa tensed, but his interest was in the railing just behind her, his fingers skirting over the impossibly smooth lines.

Below, Marshmallow let out a snarl. Elsa shook her head at him; she suspected things would go much better if he remained outside the palace.

The blue man turned to her, mouth tight around the edges. "Show me."

Elsa blinked at him for a moment. "Show...you?" she repeated, confused. Show him what?

"Make something. In ice."

She blinked again, searching for something she could make. Inanely, she remembered a moment some months back, when more people than they'd been expecting had come for a meeting. Rather than wait for the servants to find chairs, Anna had suggested Elsa make some.

She held her hands out, back towards the room, and released her power, directing it to create one of those same chairs. It was hardly a piece of art – nothing like the absolute beauty of her palace – but it would serve well enough for what it was intended.

The man stalked forward and walked around it, eyes intent as he ran his fingers along the edges, the smooth plains, the uncomplicated design on the back. Once he'd completed his circuit, he stopped and looked down at his own hand, lip curled up on one side in a snarl. His hands spasmed and ice formed over them, edges jagged and clearly sharp.

Elsa clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle a gasp, eyes widening. She remembered the weapon he'd used to defeat Marshmallow; she'd thought it was ice, but her guard's fate had wiped the thought from her mind. This, now, though, was proof; god or no, this man was like her.

He let out a vocal snarl, flinging his hands out to rid them of the ice. Elsa melted the one careening her way with barely a thought, leaving the other to shatter harmlessly against the inner wall. "This is impossible!" he shouted, clenching his fists.

He's never used his powers before, Elsa realised, the thought unbidden, but certain. Her own ice magic had been little better than spikes and violence before she'd learned to stop fearing it. Before she'd stopped hating it.

Ice formed over his hands again, as sharp and dangerous as before, and she saw it, now, the desperate fear writ across his face. It was like looking back through time, at a young woman afraid of what she could do, struggling to control a power that had a mind of its own.

"Stop!" she shouted before he could fling the ice from his hands again.

"You dare–" he started, turning a hateful glare on her.

Elsa refused to be cowed, walking closer and reaching out to take his ice-covered hands. He flinched back – too telling, his glare intensified – and she held her hands where they were. "You won't hurt me," she promised, because ice had never hurt her, not like this. It had forced a line between her and everyone else, given people a reason to wish her dead, but it had never harmed her.

"What care have I for your pain, mortal?" he spat, the last word falling from his tongue like dirt. But he placed his hands in hers, careful and slow.

Elsa absently vanished the ice around his hands, until she was touching his skin. He was so very cold, but it didn't bother her any more than the cold ever had, and she gently cupped his hands together, between her own. "Ice is a strange magic," she murmured, staring down at the contrast of her pale skin against the deep blue of his. "It doesn't like being smothered, or forced. It likes to be asked, and then left to do what it wants." She rubbed her thumbs over the markings on his skin absently.

"It feeds off of your emotions some," she continued quietly, before he could get a word in edgewise, though it was clear he wanted to. "When you're angry, or scared–" she let the ice go, feeding it her lingering terror, and sharp spikes formed on the backs of her hands, lit red from within "–it's all sharp points. It hurts...everyone. Even the person you most want to protect."

He let out a sharp breath, pain unvoiced.

"But when you're happy, or calm..." The spikes melted away, blooming flowers in their wake. "There is beauty in ice, when you accept it."

"Accept it," he repeated, something dead in his words. He snatched his hands away, and the ice flowers fell from her skin and shattered against the floor. "Accept it?" he said again, the words dripping with disgust. He raised his arms, spikes of ice growing along them. "Who could accept this!"

The last word was a scream, anger and hatred and so much pain. Ice shot out from him, seeking to destroy, to put an end to whatever had hurt him.

In that moment, Elsa felt like she knew exactly how her sister had felt two years ago. Anna had been hurt, then, but Elsa could save herself from the ice, could get close to the man. But how could she possibly help?

What would Anna do? What had Elsa needed, most, when she was like this?

She ran forward, ice vanishing before her, as the idea formed in her head. She didn't even think before wrapping her arms around him, her skin prickling from the intensity of his emotions.

There was a sudden stillness, a sense of them teetering over an abyss, and Elsa glanced up, catching wide, terrified red eyes, and stated, "I do. I accept you, Loki."

He let out a broken sound, somewhere between "No" and a sob, and sagged against her. He was surprisingly heavy, and it took everything Elsa had to lower them carefully to the ground, rather than just falling in a graceless lump.

They remained on the floor for a long while, Loki – she could grant him that name, though she still wasn't sure she believed him to be a god – curled around her right shoulder and clutching her like he desperately needed something to hold on to. Her heart ached at the thought, remembering years avoiding touch, because her touch could kill.

What she wouldn't have given, in those long years, to have someone there she couldn't hurt. Someone she could have hugged as tightly as she held herself when Anna called for her through the door, or when their parents died.

Nothing could be done for that lonely girl, not any more, but Elsa had been handed someone so very like her. Someone with the same powers, the same terror, the same need for acceptance. Heretic or god, it hardly mattered, she would help him any way she could.

No one deserved to have a door between themselves and the rest of the world.

-0-

It had taken Loki an age to pull away, eyes dark with shame and disgust. She refused to let him wallow, instead rising and ordering him up, insisting she would give him a tour. She would have to design him a bedroom, but that wouldn't be hard; it was something of a foregone conclusion (to her, at least) that Loki would be staying in the ice palace. At least until he could control his powers around normal people.

He let her lead him around, surprisingly meek, following his collapse. He showed some life at the fountain in the main hall, and was clearly curious about the little patch of warmth where she was growing vegetables on a balcony on the south side of the palace, positioned so the plants got the most sun they possibly could, with the mountain peak in the way. She left him to his curiosities, stepping out the main doors to form a bird made of ice; a messenger to Anna.

To the bird, she said, "Tell Princess Anna that I will likely be gone for a time. Nothing has gone wrong, per se, I simply have things that need doing up here. And, no, she cannot come to help me." She sighed and shook her head. "Please also relay this to Ice Master Kristoff."

The bird chirped its understanding and wasted no time in flying away when she tossed it into the air.

"He's staying with us," she told Marshmallow, who let out an angry noise. "I know you don't like him, but he's like me. I want to help him. Don't attack him."

Marshmallow sort of shifted forward a bit, head lowering; it was the closest he could get to bowing. "Yes, Mistress," he rumbled before hunkering down next to the bridge, returning to his camouflage as a snow pile.

Loki was hovering just inside the door, a shrewdness to his expression that sent prickles of concern down her spine. She brushed the feeling away, determined to be pleased, instead, that he appeared less a wreck. "We'll have to create a room for you. The east side has my room, and I'm not sure how easy it would be to add to the south or west sides, since the peak is there, but it shouldn't be hard to make a room on the north si–"

"Are you afraid of sharing a room with me, Majesty?" Loki murmured, his voice low and full of promises Elsa refused to consider.

She narrowed her eyes at him, arms crossing over her breasts, and stated, "I value my privacy."

There was a glint in Loki's eyes that reminded her of ambassadors from neighbouring kingdoms who thought the young queen of Arendelle an easy target. They were always cowed by her power, but Loki didn't fear her.

What could she possibly use to control someone unafraid of her ice?

Elsa took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, meeting his amused gaze evenly. "If you continue to push me, I will leave you up here, alone. If I want to be made a game of by men in my own palace, I have visiting ambassadors in Arendelle to see to. You are a guest in my home and will act as such."

Loki stared at her, surprise widening his eyes for a moment before he wiped his expression clear. He performed a perfect bow – a prince to a queen, she couldn't help but note – and replied, "As you say, your Majesty. This is your home; put me wherever you believe suitable."

The easy acquiesce grated on her for some reason, and she puzzled it over as she motioned for him to follow her up to where the ice was already shifting, forming a new room on the north side of the palace. He stared, eyes wide and hungry, hands clenched in his jacket.

"Here," she murmured, gently taking one of his hands in both of hers. He flinched at the touch, but didn't pull away.

Somehow – she couldn't begin to guess how – she knew exactly how to let him feel how the ice felt as it worked: a sort quiet power, now, feeding off her determination. If she was happy, if would have felt gleeful. She expected Loki was more familiar with the sensation of angry or scared ice, prickling under the skin, like there was a monster trying to claw its way out.

"Norns," Loki breathed, eyes wide and bright, his lips turning up with a smile that transformed him. It made him beautiful in a way that caught Elsa's breath and brought tears to her eyes.

God, what she wouldn't do to see that expression all the time.

But then the moment was over, the ice fading away and leaving a new room behind. Loki pulled away to inspect it, giving Elsa the chance to wipe quickly at her eyes.

She made Loki create his own bed, fingers wrapped around his wrist to act as a barrier between his rather strong will and the ice magic balking at his control. The bed that formed was still a little spiky around the edges, but a quick check proved it would serve. She would need to collect some wolf pelts from her store of them, but that wouldn't be hard.

When he moved to cut off the spikes with a knife, she was quick to stop him: "They'll grow back, and they may be sharper yet, in response," she cautioned. "Ice, formed by magic, always seems to respond best when changed through magic. Work with it on your own, but don't force it. Be polite to it."

"I don't do polite," he snarled as he dropped back onto the bed.

She eyed him, remembering the way he'd given in downstairs. It had been polite, but in the way of courtiers giving in to gain something they wanted. "It's time you learned, then," she informed him before turning to leave. "I'll bring furs for the bed."

"Furs?" he repeated.

Elsa collected a pile and brought them back. As she handed them over, smiling at his surprised expression, she explained, "We've an active wolf population. They avoid the town, but they hunt anyone travelling outside. I often run into them when moving between this palace and Arendelle. The meat I give to my people, and some of the furs, but most of them I keep up here. It makes the ice a little more comfortable to sleep or sit on." She sighed and shook her head. "And, when Anna comes, I have to bundle her up in them."

His brow furrowed. "Anna?"

"My sister," Elsa explained as she stole a fur and absently directed her magic to form a chair. "We grew up...separated. She's not fond of me coming up here alone, but she doesn't have my – our, I suppose – powers."

Loki shifted, eyes darkening. "Perhaps one of you are adopted," he suggested.

Elsa shook her head. "No."

"Oh, but for one child to have such magic, and the other to be barren? How would you know?" Loki pushed cruelly. "Perhaps you should ask your parents. With your magic, they would dare not–"

"My parents are dead," Elsa snapped once she'd found her voice. She shoved out of her chair, distantly aware that she was shaking, and refused to look at Loki as she shouted, "I'm glad that Anna doesn't have this, this curse! That she never had to suffer the way I did!" She took a moment to breathe, scared of the way the room had gone red around them.

After a moment of silence, when the room was blue again, she quietly said, "Anna is my sister. Politely do not suggest otherwise again." Then she stalked from the room, from the palace entirely.

She stopped next to Marshmallow, looking in the direction of Arendelle for a long moment before sitting down next to him in the snow. "Tell me one of Olaf's stupid stories," she requested, because the little idiot liked regaling Marshmallow with tales of his adventures in Arendelle and the surrounding mountains. Elsa was always too busy while she was in Arendelle to hear them from the source, but Marshmallow was all too happy to regale them for her during her time in the mountains.

Anna thought she was lonely up here, but she couldn't possibly be more wrong.

-0-

Loki was scarce for the next day, hiding behind the thick doors of his room. Elsa wasn't certain he'd come out to eat at all, and she spent a couple hours worrying over it before she finally forced herself to knock on his doors. "Loki?"

There was silence from within.

When Elsa rested her hand against one of the doors, it lightly swung open. She stared at it uncertainly for a moment before pushing it open enough that she could peek inside. "Loki?" she called again.

Again, there was silence. But, looking in, she could see a curled blue form on the bed, bare of clothing and furs, both. It would have embarrassed her into leaving, but the spikes on the bed had grown in the night, crowding the man, and she had a sudden image of her guest being impaled by ice.

"Loki!" she shouted, pushing into the room fully and starting towards the bed, heart in her throat.

The figure vanished as she reached the bed. "Good evening, Majesty," Loki's deep voice purred into her ear as hands pinned her wrists to her hips.

Pinning her saved Loki from being sprayed with sharp ice, but it didn't save him from Elsa snapping, "Unhand me!" and knocking her head back forcefully. She felt it connect, and allowed herself a moment of victory before shame washed it away.

"Ah," Loki murmured as he let go, giving Elsa the space to whirl around and look at him. "Your sense of fun is worse than my bro– than Thor's," he commented as he touched his nose gently.

"Stop coming up behind me," she ordered, reaching up to take his hand. "Let me see."

He snorted, the sound unhindered by whatever damage she'd caused, and lowered his hand. "It takes far more than a mortal hitting me with her head to hurt me, I assure you." Still, he didn't stop her from feeling lightly along his nose.

There wasn't even a hint of blood, and she finally stepped back after a moment, convinced he was fine. "I came to see if you–" she started before realising the vanished body from the bed had shown the truth of the real Loki, too; he was completely naked, and she flushed and looked away. "Heavens! Put some clothing on!"

He chuckled and stepped forward, close enough that they would touch if she swayed forward even a little. "Must I?" he murmured into her ear.

Elsa felt strangely warm, her heart going double-time against her ribs. She set her expression and turned to him, catching his eyes and refusing to look lower. "Yes, you do."

"Ah," he murmured, cold breath fanning against her forehead, "but there is no one here, save–"

"Me," Elsa interrupted. "I require clothing be worn."

His eyes glinted and hands brushed over Elsa's waist, unexpectedly intimate. "Rules are so tedious," he complained before stepping away.

Elsa couldn't help but look down, eyes drawn by the still-visible markings along his throat and curling over his chest. A loincloth hid away his more...private parts, but he remained far too naked for Elsa's preference. (Or perhaps just naked enough– Dear Lord, she was starting to sound like Anna with Kristoff. What was wrong with her?)

Loki was smiling, smug and wide, but he wiped it smooth after a moment, glancing back at the opened door. "Did you have cause for intruding, Majesty?"

Elsa pushed away her mental dance and straightened, conscientiously smoothing down the front of her gown. "I hadn't seen you out to eat and was concerned."

That seemed to throw him, if the way he twitched and blanked his expression was anything to go by. "I have no need to eat as you do." One eyebrow raised and disdain transformed his expression in a way that washed away all of Elsa's lingering warmth. "I am a god."

"Oh, then do forgive my concern," Elsa snapped back, temper jumping her grasp before she could even think to grab for its reigns. "Given your inability to make anything of ice, I rather forgot."

"You dare–" Loki snarled, flinging one hand towards her. Green light danced at his fingertips for a moment before it seemed to rush backwards, into his chest. He stumbled backwards with a gasp, hands pressing over his heart.

Elsa was moving before she thought, grabbing his elbows and stabilising him. She would have reached lower, but a part of her had noted his again-missing loincloth, so she'd gone higher. "Loki," she whispered as he dropped his head, shoulders heaving with gasps, "what just–?"

"Punishment," he gasped out, the word somehow raw. "I can't–"

And then he was laughing, loud and brittle. Elsa almost pulled away, the sound making her skin crawl, but she forced herself to hold on tighter, instead.

When the laughter turned in sobs, Loki's hands grasping at her to keep himself up, she was glad she hadn't moved away. Refusing to think about his nakedness, she pulled him closer, her heart breaking to feel his whole body shake with each sob.

What wretched things had been done to him, to leave him so constantly between arrogance and this broken man?

It wouldn't occur to her until much later, after Loki finally regained himself and quite literally pushed her out of his room, while she was laying in her bed and watching the sky dance with light, that Loki had mentioned a brother. Or, been about to call him – Thor, another of the old gods – brother before correcting himself.

"Adopted," she whispered and closed her eyes, the truth unfolding before her. (Or, part of the truth. A simple adoption wouldn't leave him such a wreck, would it? It wouldn't require some sort of punishment, surely.)

The mere suggestion that she and Anna weren't related had chilled her more than usual; how could she bear to discover it was the truth? To learn either she or Anna were out of place? That they hadn't been wanted by their birth parents?

Elsa opened her eyes, lashes heavy with frozen tears, and looked down at her hand. Snowflakes played over her palm, birthed from a curse that had terrified everyone, save Anna.

She pushed herself out of bed, magical nightgown tickling her calves, and made her way down the short flight of stairs separating her room from Loki's. She considered knocking, but thought better of it and curled up against it. She wanted to talk, to somehow ease his pain, but she had no idea what she could say. Wasn't even certain he would accept her help.

So she stayed outside his room, resting back against the closed door, like she used to do when Anna would sit on the other side of her door back home; as close to her sister as she could safely get.

-0-

Elsa had woken in her own bed, in the morning. She'd half expected Loki to stay in his room all day again, but she found him in the main hall, steel knives glinting in his hands as he moved smoothly in a manner very like the Arendelle guards practising with their swords. Loki's movements were far more flexible, however, and unencumbered by the heavy armour her people always wore. (Unencumbered by pretty much everything, honestly, since he was, again, in nothing more than a loincloth. God, he was beaut–)

Elsa shook herself and continued down the stairs, determined to ignore him and get something to eat.

She had barely cleared the stairs before he was next to her, too close, but carefully not touching. "Good morning, Majesty," he purred, red eyes bright with a strange warmth.

"Loki," she returned cautiously. "A good morning to you. I trust you slept well."

"As well as I ever have," he agreed, brushing the comment away and stepping back to give her some much-needed space.

"That's...good," she decided when it became clear he wasn't going to speak further.

Loki hummed and offered no further conversation as she moved to collect some fruit from the storage she had set up near the warm patch. She checked her plants as she ate, ensuring they were getting sufficient water from melting ice, and that the temperature remained steady. Warmth was harder for her to manage, especially out of season (never mind up in the mountains) and she constantly worried that her magic had failed her. Especially when she had a scare, or something angered her.

"How do you do that?" Loki asked, his voice loud in the warm silence.

Elsa glanced up and found him with one hand extended into the warm patch, eyes on his extended fingers, which looked strangely not-blue. "Keep it warm?"

Loki raised an eyebrow at her. "Quite."

Elsa fingered the leaves of a plant. "Love."

Loki snorted.

She sighed, reading his disgust in the sound. "There's a saying, that only an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart," she explained, not looking up at him.

"How so very trite," Loki muttered. His feet turned in the snow, as though he was intending to leave.

"I froze Anna's heart," Elsa said, looking up to watch his shoulders stiffen as he stopped. "She was trying to help me, to calm me down, and I hit her heart with ice. She froze solid. Not right away, but..."

Loki glanced back at her, expression unreadable. "It doesn't sound as though she is any longer."

Elsa shook her head. "She saved my life," she admitted quietly, "because even though I'd hurt her, even after...after everything, she loved me. She was half frozen, and she chose saving me over kissing the man she loved."

It still hurt, two years later, remembering Anna standing still as an ice sculpture, one hand raised to stop Hans' sword. No matter what Elsa had done to her, no matter how many times she'd pushed her sister away, Anna had still given her own life for Elsa.

Elsa took a deep breath and looked up into those shuttered red eyes. "It doesn't matter," she said quietly. "Blood doesn't matter, because we have love. She and I, we have something far stronger than the ties of our parents."

Loki snorted and turned away. "You are yet a child," he snarled.

"Do you love him?" Elsa called after him. "Your brother? Would you give your life to save his?"

"I would never– Loki started, spinning back around to glare at her.

"Wouldn't you?" Elsa shot back, standing to gain some ground and move around her plants. "Honestly, if he was about to be killed, would you stand aside and let him–?"

"I already did!" Loki screamed, face twisted with anger far more intense than Elsa had ever seen before.

It wasn't until a spike formed out of the ground, nearly going through his foot, that she realised Loki was angry with himself.

That was...telling. Elsa took a deep breath and brought her calm to bear on the palace, taking away the chance that it would actually hurt Loki. Then she asked, "What happened?"

"What do you mean, 'What hap–'?!"

"Loki," she said, meeting his wide eyes with all the calm she could gather. "What happened?"

He smiled, wide and cruel. "I sent the Destroyer to kill him."

That...sounded pretty bad. "Why?"

"He was mortal, why not make use of the hand dealt me?" he replied, something almost gleeful in his voice.

Elsa remembered the way the ice had reacted; there was more to this than he was pretending. In the tales of the old gods, Loki was the liar, the serpent in the garden, tempting Eve with honeyed promises.

"I don't believe that," she informed him. "Something else must have–"

Loki laughed, the sound too brittle. "Must it have been something else?" he asked, tone gone mocking, before he snorted and turned away. "Oh, do continue thinking well of me, Majesty. I'm sure it will end well."

And before Elsa could think of something to say that he wouldn't mock, he was gone. She suspected he wouldn't emerge again that day.

-0-

In fact, Loki didn't come out for the next day, either. He'd probably have stayed in his room for a third day, but Elsa was woken by Kristoff shouting, "Elsa! Call him off!"

She stumbled to her balcony, only to laugh when she found Marshmallow had picked her Ice Master up and was hugging him. (She had no idea why, but she suspected Olaf was at fault somehow.) "Marshmallow!" she called, but she was laughing too hard to actually give him any orders.

Marshmallow got the idea and gently set Kristoff down with the order, "Don't touch the ice."

Elsa shook her head and hurried from her room and down to the main hall, nightgown reforming into her usual gown as she went. She got there just before Kristoff and motioned for a couple of chairs while she found them both some food. "Were you hugging the stairs again?" she teased as he stopped next to one of the chairs and gently ran his fingers over the back. "You know Marshmallow gets jealous when you do that."

"If he was more ice, I might hug him, too," Kristoff murmured before tearing himself away from the chair and giving her a quick look over. "You don't look like there's an emergency."

Elsa rubbed at her eyes. "Anna," she complained.

Kristoff chuckled. "She was worried. I told her I'd stop by on my way to the mountain fjord for ice."

Elsa sighed and carefully settled into her chair. "Thank you for that. Did she let you listen to my message, or did she just..."

"Paraphrase it?" Kristoff suggested with a knowing grin as he dropped gracelessly into his own chair. "The latter. I saw the bird, but it seemed to have vanished before I hunted her down."

"I will kill her, one of these days."

"I highly doubt that," said a cool voice from above them.

Kristoff jumped and looked around uncertainly for a moment. "What the–?"

"Loki," Elsa called, looked up at where the blue man was leaning on the railing of the upper staircase. He was wearing a green tunic and black trousers, she couldn't help but note, as opposed to his usual loincloth. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or disappoint–

"Loki?" Kristoff repeated, following Elsa's gaze and squinting.

Loki's lips curled with a mean smile, barely visible at this distance, and he leapt over the edge of the stairs.

Kristoff let out a shout and jumped out of his seat, arms going up, as though he might catch the blue man without either of them coming to harm.

Elsa, for her part, felt paralysed as she watched Loki drop. A part of her knew he'd be safe, that he wouldn't have jumped if he hadn't some way to save himself, but the rest of her felt like she was going to throw up.

Nothing moved to save him, he just landed on his feet, crouching slightly against the impact. He was still smirking as he straightened, red eyes on Kristoff's disbelieving stare. "Good morn," he said smugly.

Anger washed over Elsa, sweeping away the terror, and she was on her feet and motioning ice shards at him before she could think to stop herself. "Damn you! You don't do things like that!"

"Elsa!" Kristoff shouted, horrified; he well knew what her magic could do to a person.

Loki, though, just knocked the ice away, smirk vanishing. "Desist, Majesty," he suggested, voice gone cold.

"You started it!" she snapped, motioning for the floor to grow spikes around him, since he wasn't wearing shoes. "If you want to risk your life–"

"I wasn't risking–" Loki started before he just sort of stopped, staring at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

"Elsa, stop!" Kristoff shouted, grabbing her shoulder.

Elsa had just enough presence of mind to keep from hurting her sister's fiancé. His wide, horrified eyes snapped her out of her fury. "Oh my God," she whispered, heart jumping to her throat. She looked back towards Loki. "I'm sorry, Loki. I didn't–"

"Intend to hurt me?" he said drily, one eyebrow raised. "You didn't." He glanced down at the ice spikes surrounding him and motioned, sending them back into the floor and showing he was unharmed. "Really, you need a far different element if you look to harm me."

"Why are you...blue?" Kristoff asked after a moment, apparently deciding the most obvious question was the most important.

Loki's spine stiffened and he smiled, a little too wide. "I am a Jötunn. A frost giant. My kind is blue."

Elsa blinked. That explained his ice magic, though not his trouble with it.

Loki gave Kristoff a quick look over and sneered. "Who are you, anyway?"

"Kristoff Bjorgman, Arendelle's Official Ice Master and Deliverer," Kristoff returned, crossing his arms over his chest and stepping forward and to the side slightly, putting himself between Elsa and Loki. "And you are?"

Loki smirked. "Prince Loki of Asgard," he announced before vanishing. Elsa sensed him behind her right before he said, "God of Lies and Mischief, at your service."

Kristoff spun, his pickaxe in his hand, and Elsa saw the fight that was about to break out.

"Stop it! Both of you!" she snapped, putting a hand on both of their chests and shoving. Loki didn't move an inch, but Kristoff stumbled back a step, clearly surprised. "You know better," she told Kristoff before turning on Loki's smirk. "If you're going to continue to be difficult, go back to hiding in your room. I much prefer the calm."

Loki used the hand on his chest to pull her closer, leaning down so their noses brushed. "Liar," he breathed against her lips.

"Hey!" Kristoff called, clearly disapproving.

Loki's eyes glinted with amusement. "I think your lover's a bit jealous," he whispered, still in her space.

Elsa swallowed and pushed away from him. "Kristoff is engaged to Anna," she insisted, though she was sure her voice was trembling. God. How did he ruin her control like that?

"Is he indeed?" Loki murmured, something about him seeming to relax, though she couldn't begin to determine what.

Kristoff gently touched her shoulder. "I take it this is the reason for your absence?" he asked quietly, his eyes still narrowed on Loki.

Elsa nodded. "Yes."

Kristoff looked at her uncertainly for a moment, then raised his gaze to Loki. Elsa glanced back at the blue man and found him staring at Kristoff with one eyebrow raised, expression otherwise blank. They held each other's gaze for a long couple minutes before Kristoff looked back at Elsa. "Anna isn't going to like this," he pointed out.

Elsa sighed. "Just...kept her in the palace. Please."

He nodded. "I'll do my best." He tugged at his jacket. "You remember the delegation from London is arriving at the end of the week?"

Elsa closed her eyes and resisted the urge to hug herself. With Loki's appearance, she'd completely forgotten the reason for her escape to the mountains. It wasn't that she was avoiding the delegation, only that she needed some silence and peace before dealing with the influx of curious ambassadors and their retinue a visit from one of Arendelle's trading partners always meant. They always wanted a performance, and to ask a million questions about her magic.

They wanted to know what sort of threat she would pose, should Arendelle ally themselves with someone they were at war with. Elsa understood that, as much as they all made light of the visits.

"I recall," she agreed evenly, opening her eyes and offering Kristoff a calm smile. "I'll be there."

He nodded, then glanced at where she knew Loki was standing just behind her. "And him?"

Loki's control over ice was pretty much non-existent, but he didn't pose the same threat to others that Elsa once had. She doubted he would behave himself, but she couldn't order him to stay up here, locked away just because he might be trouble in Arendelle. "That's Loki's choice," she announced before shaking her head. "Ask Gerda to prepare one of the rooms in the royal hallway, please. Just in case."

Kristoff's expression said, quite clearly, how bad of an idea he thought this was, but he inclined his head all the same, recognising when he shouldn't argue. "It'll be taken care of," he promised before scratching under his cap, his one nervous tick that he couldn't seem to stop. "I'll just...go, then?"

Elsa sighed and stepped forward to hug her sister's fiancé. "Yes. Thank you, Kristoff."

"Be careful, Elsa," he whispered to her before turning to leave.

Elsa followed him to the doors, watching as he got back into his sleigh. Marshmallow looked for a moment, as Kristoff descended the stairs, that he would pick the human up again, but Elsa's disapproving stare had him returning to his snow drift appearance.

When she finally closed the door and looked around the entrance, Loki had vanished. She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to curse; she'd already resigned herself to his constant absence.

-0-

"Have you been taught how to handle a blade?" Loki asked the next morning when she came downstairs. He'd been practising with his knives again, and she hadn't been able to help herself, stopping on the landing and leaning against the railing to watch him move. He'd graduated to trousers, at least, but his torso was still bare.

She shook herself when he turned to look at her, realising he'd asked a question. "Like a sword? No. There was never much point, given my–" she raised her hand and flicked her fingers to call up a tiny storm of snow to dance across her palm "–magic. Why?"

"Your ice magic is completely useless against others with the same ability."

"So, you," Elsa cut in, starting down the last flight of stairs.

Loki shook his head. "My people," he insisted. "And your existence proves it's possible to have an ice sorceress on Midgard; there may yet be another. And that other may well hunt you down up here, where your only defence is something they, too, control. You will die."

Elsa swallowed and stiffened her spine, holding still three stairs up so she had the height advantage. "Speak plainly, if you would."

Loki inclined his head. "Allow me to teach you how to use knives. Enough to hold your own long enough for one of your birds or your monster to make it back to your people for help."

Elsa considered that for a moment; it was true that her magic wouldn't serve her against another person who could use it, just as she and Loki hadn't been able to harm each other when they'd tried. It was sensible, to pick up another form of defence, especially given how many kingdoms were trying to court Arendelle's favour to keep from making an enemy of her. Still, Loki didn't seem the sort to give lessons for free. "And your price?"

He smiled, wide and a little sharp, but wholly approving. "A teacher for a teacher; I would learn your control over the ice." His smile darkened. "Only a fool lets rot a skill, as abhorrent as it may be."

Elsa frowned. "Abhorrent," she repeated, finally finishing her trip down the stairs. The floor flared bright blue as her foot touched it, and Loki jumped. "I used to think that, that this was a curse, not a gift, but I only ever hurt myself that way. Ice is a part of me – a part of you – and that's something we just have to accept."

Loki snorted. "I don't have to accept anything."

Elsa raised an eyebrow at him. "Consider this, then: A gift can be used, but a curse will only ever use you." She left him to consider that while she went looking for breakfast.

When she returned with some fruit, Loki had returned to moving with his knives. He didn't look back at her, but he seemed to know she was watching, for he said, "You have an hour to eat and find something to wear that you can actually move in. I suggest trousers."

Elsa grimaced – nothing good ever came of a lady wearing trousers – but motioned for the ice making up her gown to change its shape.

Loki froze, red eyes going wide as he watched her skirt shorten and separate. "You're wearing ice," he realised.

She frowned at him. "Your point? How much of your clothing is true?" She remembered the way his clothing disappeared and reappeared around him as he pleased.

"None of it," he replied absently, stepping forward and reaching out to touch her wrist, fingers brushing over the thin ice acting as a see-through sleeve. "I hadn't noticed. It's...impressive."

Inexplicably, Elsa felt her face heat at the compliment. "Many people wouldn't agree with you," she said, struggling to keep her voice even. "Anna always complains it's too cold."

Loki laughed, the sound bitter, and his hand brushed along her arm to her shoulder, then touched her cheek. "My skin gives people frostbite. But you..."

"I don't feel the cold, not really," Elsa admitted. She could tell his skin was cold, certainly, but it didn't bother her any more than wearing ice did.

He stared at her for what felt like an eternity, hand a comfortable chill against her cheek, before suddenly spinning away. "Forty-five minutes. Eat your breakfast, Majesty."

It was strange how uncomfortable the following warmth felt.

-0-

Loki was a surprisingly patient teacher. He had her use knives shaped out of ice, since she was unlikely to hurt herself that way, and taught her some easy stances with them, running them constantly over the following days, trying to make it so she could move in her sleep. He had to keep correcting her footing, but he never once seemed testy about it. Rather, there was almost an air of happiness around him.

In contrast, he was constantly struggling with fury when he worked with ice. Everything he made either grew spikes, or shattered before it could finish forming. Elsa had been required to calm the floor of the palace at least twice each day, and dodged three flung ice spikes over the course of their five days of lessons. She was beginning to realise she wouldn't be able to teach Loki this particular magic until she'd discovered why he hated it so much.

It was that thought that had her knocking on his door Saturday night. They would be heading down to Arendelle the next morning, taking a few hours for the travel, and the rest of the day to settle in and give Elsa the chance to see to anything Anna got distracted from. (There was always something.) She supposed they could have talked during the walk, but she suspected she'd get more out of her guest – friend? – in the ice palace, where Marshmallow was the only other living being within shouting distance.

His door opened to show him, one eyebrow raised. "To what do I owe the honour, Majesty?" he enquired.

Elsa held up the bottle of mead she'd bought with her from the store hidden in her room. "Can we talk?"

His other eyebrow went up at the drink. "Nothing good ever comes from talks had over mead."

"Less good comes from you losing your temper while trying to work with ice in Arendelle," Elsa replied evenly.

"Ah." Loki snorted. "So you've brought mead to soothe my anger when you tell me I must remain up here. I assure you–"

"What? No!" Elsa hugged the mead against her chest. "God, no. Why would I do that?"

He looked honestly surprised for a moment, then suspicious. "Why indeed," he murmured, stepping back and motioning for her to enter.

Elsa hadn't been in his room since he'd tried attacking her with green magic, and she didn't bother hiding the way she was looking around now, taking in the surprisingly few changes: The bed had mostly lost its spikes, and there was a chair that she vaguely recalled creating back when he'd first moved in, which had been joined by a small table with a couple of small spikes sticking out at odd angles.

She took a moment to call up another chair, then settled into it. Loki sat in the original chair carefully while she created two mugs and poured them both a fair serving. "I do hope you like it cold," she commented as she handed it over.

Loki shrugged. "I hardly expected else, here." He took a sip and motioned for her to speak.

Elsa rubbed her thumb against the side of her mug, and a pattern of leaves grew on the mug. "Why do you hate your magic so much?" she asked, jumping right in, because dancing around the issue had done them no good so far.

Loki frowned and tilted his head down, staring into his mug as though it held the answers. "What do you know the the frost giants?" he asked in return.

"Loki, that's not–"

"Humour me," he suggested, the curl of his lips bitter.

Elsa chewed on her tongue as she thought back on the tales Mother used to tell her and Anna, before the accident. It wasn't much, even though the frost giants should have been a point of interest, given her powers. "Not much," she said at last, before nodding at him. "They live in a world of ice. They're giants. Usually."

"I'm a runt," he said, the words hollow in a way that ran an uncomfortable chill up her spine.

"I suppose they must have blue skin and red eyes."

"They do," Loki agreed, eyes flicking towards his hand around the handle of the mug before he shifted it to hold the bottom.

They were both silent for a moment, Elsa unable to remember anything else, Loki apparently unwilling to continue.

Finally, though, he explained, "There was a war between the Jötnar and the Æsir, the ones you once called gods." She nodded to show she understood. "The battleground was first Midgard, and then Jötunheimr. The Jötnar lost, and Odin AllFather removed from them their power." He stopped to take a drink. "He also brought back a child with him, to raise as his own, never to know what he was."

Adopted, Elsa remembered; she could guess where this tale was going.

"Two weeks ago, my bro– Thor was to be named king, though he is reckless and unfit. I...opened the way for some Jötnar to interrupt the proceedings. Thor, in response, dragged myself and his friends to Jötunheimr, to make them pay for their trespass."

"Were they not invited?" Elsa enquired, frowning. All the neighbouring kingdoms had been invited to her coronation, which would have been the same even if Father had been alive.

Loki's smile was a flash of teeth and violence. "The Jötnar weren't supposed to be able to leave their Realm. Even if they had been, the Æsir consider them to be little better than mindless brutes; they never would have been invited to an event of such importance."

Elsa's heart sunk and she hid her upset in her mug. Oh, yes, she knew where this was going.

"A Jötunn touched me while we were in Jötunheimr, and my true colours showed. Quite literally," Loki added, holding up his left hand and smiling nastily at it. "It little matters how well you dress a monster, Majesty; you cannot hide the truth of them."

"When I was eight," Elsa said, the words spilling from her because she needed to say something, "I accidentally hit Anna in the head with ice. It almost killed her." She clenched her hands around her mug, and tiny spikes formed between her fingers. "I spent years refusing to come anywhere near her, to let anyone touch me, because I might hurt them. I might finish what I'd started."

She looked up at him, icicles clinging to her eyelashes, and explained, "I wore gloves, and long sleeves, because the less of me people could see, the less likely I was to lose control. To show them what I was."

Loki laughed, the sound hollow. "What you are, Majesty," he corrected cruelly.

She swallowed and reached up to brush away the icicles. "No," she said quietly. "I'm not. I never was." She laughed, quiet and a little brittle around the edges, because two years in, and a part of her still couldn't believe her people didn't hate her. "I was scared. I told you, ice reacts to that, to your fear and anger. When I thought I could only ever hurt people, I did."

He snorted. "Helpful, Majesty. Surely you don't believe it so simple to consider yourself...kindness incarnate."

That startled a laugh out of her, and she waved a hand at the room around them. "Do you see this? My solitude? Do you see anyone here that would be hurt if I lose control?"

Because she did, sometimes. Not as often any more, but in the beginning, when it became too much, when she couldn't sit through one more false smile or hear one more nervous laugh, she could come out here and scream. And if a storm formed around her, if ice shot out of her, seeking a heart to freeze, well. Marshmallow was the only one around, and he was as unbothered by her losing control as the building was.

He was carefully still in his chair, eyes focussed on his mug. "Why bother at all?" he asked.

"Because Anna needs me," Elsa replied simply.

Loki finally moved, bringing his mug up to muffle his disbelieving snort.

"I've almost killed her twice, but she has never once thought of me as anything but her sister. This magic, this thing I once considered a curse, has only ever been a wonder to her." Elsa shook her head and glanced at him. "It makes a world of difference, I think, knowing that there's someone who will never hate me."

Loki had gone still again, a bitter smile playing around his lips. "It doesn't take much to break a trust," he said with quiet certainty. "A sentence from the favoured son, and all good deeds are forgotten."

Elsa swallowed. "There aren't any favoured sons around here," she pointed out.

"No," he agreed, "there aren't." But he didn't sound as though that was a comfort.

"Then there's no reason for me to hate you, is there?" Elsa asked, chin up.

Loki stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, then he set his mug aside and slid forward on his chair. "I could hurt your sister."

"You won't," Elsa said with certainty.

Between one blink and the next, Loki had crossed the space between them, his breath cold against her mouth as he whispered, "I could break your heart."

Elsa's heart stuttered in her chest and she swallowed against the sudden dryness of her mouth. "It–" she started before having to stop and swallow again. "It's not that fragile," she managed the second time.

"Everything mortal is fragile," Loki whispered before moving forward that last inch and brushing their lips together.

It was absolute freedom, mountains between her and everyone else. It was magic held by tight reigns for thirteen years finally let free. It was that first taste of finally being alive.

Elsa grabbed for Loki when he pulled back, her mug falling, forgotten, to the floor. He chuckled against her lips, not even a little bit nice, but she knew it was okay. That was acceptance, sharp in all the wrong places, because there was nothing normal and safe between them. They were two blizzards let loose, crashing together because only after they'd taken their energy out on each other, would they keep from harming anyone else.

Elsa didn't regret it for a moment; propriety be damned.

-0-

Elsa woke alone, in a bed that wasn't hers, wearing absolutely nothing. There was no slow realisation, only immediate embarrassment, accompanied by a heady warmth at the memories of the night before. God, her parents were certainly disappointed with her, up in Heaven, but a large part of her didn't really care. She had nearly resigned herself to never marrying – even a political marriage was unlikely, given the uncertain fear most people outside of Arendelle seemed to view her with – and leaving the continuation of the royal line to Anna.

But with Loki, God. She'd probably be excommunicated for having anything to do with an old god, but she was already toeing that line, with her magic. Arendelle's priest had spoken with the bishop in Oslo multiple times, going that extra mile to ensure she wouldn't face any repercussions from the Church because of the gift she'd been born with. She appreciated it, certainly, and would continue to do so, but if going against the Church was the only way she could have someone who would accept her as readily as Anna...

Her thoughts ground to a halt, suddenly struck with the realisation that Loki might not share her hopes for the future. He didn't strike her as willing to settle down. For all she knew, he was already married, or would never consider marrying her because she was human. Mortal, he called her.

She hurried out of the bed, gown forming around her, and hurried from the room.

Loki was in the entrance hall, moving smoothly through the now-familiar dance, his knives shining as they caught the morning sunlight. It wasn't until she reached the main landing that she realised he hadn't bothered with any clothing that morning, and she felt her cheeks flush even as she continued her trip down the stairs.

One moment, he was thrusting a knife into a beam of sunlight, the next he was at the bottom of the stairs, catching her around the waist and pulling her against him, her gown vanishing at his touch. He swallowed her surprised gasp, and the following moan she couldn't keep in at the feeling of his hands against her back and sides.

He put her down only once she was desperate for breath, and she hit him as she gulped for air. "Curse...you," she got out.

He chuckled, not even a little breathless, and brought his hands up to her shoulders. He rested them there for a moment, giving her a moment to calm her breathing, before sliding them down, over her breasts and around her abdomen to her hips. Magic followed his touch, ice mixed with something that was entirely him, and formed around her in a dress very like her usual gown, save for how her sheer sleeves were more gold than silver-blue. The light caught her when Loki stepped back to observe his work, and Elsa noticed that the familiar silver sparkles of her bodice had taken on a green hue.

"I can't manage your train," he admitted after a moment, shrugging as though to signal it wasn't a big deal.

Elsa shook her head and offered, "I don't wear it while travelling." Which she didn't; much as it added to her outfit, it tended to collect deadfall, when snow wasn't in the way. She glanced down at his naked chest, then forced herself to meet his eyes before she got distracted. "Did you want me to...?"

"Dress me?" he finished, eyes glittering with amusement. "If you think you can manage something a little darker than your usual eyesore."

She felt anger bloom in her stomach at the insult. "You don't have to look at me, if it pains you so much," she snapped as she stepped forward, determined to put his thoughts about her abilities to shame.

She'd built an entire palace in an hour; she could do dark colours.

The ice fought her – of course it did; it was happy as light shades of blue – but she had a well of determination and something to prove. Black bled into the trousers and boots, like ink spilled across her desk back in Arendelle, and the shirt bloomed with green, a shade darker than the magic he'd once tried to use against her. Over his heart, she left a shimmer of pale blue in the form of her personal snowflake, half claim, half a response to his addition of green and gold to her dress.

He pulled her close as the ice settled, leaning in to whisper, "I like looking at you," against her lips before pulling back and smirking at her. "I just much prefer you naked."

And then she was embarrassed. Again. "You can't talk to me that way," she insisted.

He laughed, the sound absolutely stunning. "I promise to watch my words where someone might overhear, Majesty," he teased.

She took a deep breath and touched her fingers to the snowflake over his heart. "If you intend to stay, you may as well use my name."

He caught her hand and brought it to his mouth to kiss. His eyes held a world of sadness as he admitted, "Where else would I go? I've been banished from Asgard, and Jötunheimr would sooner see me dead than offer me sanctuary."

Elsa wondered if she'd ever hear the entire story of what had happened before he'd faced off against Marshmallow outside her palace a week and a half ago. "You're always welcome here, and in Arendelle," she said quietly as she uncurled her hand from his and gently brushed it over the corner of his mouth and up, along his cheekbones.

He smiled. "Always?" he enquired, cupping her cheek.

Elsa stared up at him, considering that. "Don't send any Destroyers after my sister."

He chuckled and leaned in, lips brushing against hers. "No promises," he whispered before kissing her, gentle and true as a promise.

Elsa still had questions – would probably always have questions, with Loki – but this one was answered: Loki intended to stay.

And she intended to let him.

A/N: I have some ideas for a sequel, but no guarantees when it'll get done. It requires some research on my part, and a little more figuring-out-of-things before I can even get started on it. (And February is already shaping up to be one hel of a busy month for me in real life. XP Probably best not to look for it until mid-March at the earliest.)

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