Mischief Managed

"Jane, if you don't stop bouncing your leg you're going to break through the floor," Loki's ventriloquism is exceptional. His smile doesn't waver an instant as he mutters to her.

Hers is nowhere near as good, so she picks up her napkin and dabs at her lips. Behind cover, she growls, "I'm nervous. When are you gonna do it?"

"When the time is right," he squeezes her thigh under the table, which does precisely nothing to ease her nerves. In fact, it gives her an extra set of nerves for her to balance, domino-style, on edge. It's only a matter of time before they all tumble over. "Be patient, love."

She wants to throw his hand off, but his thumb is rubbing against her, soothing and rhythmic. It burns to admit, but it is helping. A little. Either that or it's turning her on. Probably the latter. Sometimes it's very hard to correctly identify her feelings when they relate to Loki.

So Jane leaves well enough alone and does her best to go on with her meal, because it is excellent. The courses—wild boar, smoked fish, roast vegetables, fresh bread, strong cheese, sugared fruits and nuts—are laid on golden platters, spread across a groaning table, fragrant steam mingling with torch smoke and herbal incense. Music drifts in through open windows, notes floating on a gentle breeze. Asgard is drenched in moonlight, glittering, its damage hidden in forgiving night.

But the town is lightless. The great hall of the palace is overflowing with Asgard's entire adult population; children are holding their own parties in the gardens and lesser feast halls. Their laughter is a soprano accent to the dancing music. The atmosphere within the palace is rowdy and jovial, but tinged with an hint of sorrow.

Knowing that this is all that remains of a great Realm is a pain shared between them all.

Jane feels that pain somewhere between her ribs, as if she's been shot with an arrow she can't extract for fear of bleeding out. Alcohol helps mitigate the agony; she's had more mead than is advisable or safe. Her heart and thoughts are racing.

A few seats down, Thor strikes up a drinking song with Hela roaring out the lyrics beside him. It spreads down the table until the entire palace echoes with the lyrics. Even Loki is singing; he strokes Jane's forehead with his forefinger and suddenly she knows the words too. They bubble up from her throat the moment she needs them, and the unfamiliar words roll off her tongue.

They sing of battles and brave defeats, of last stands and hollow victories. Yet, somehow, singing about such dark things purges the atmosphere of sorrow.

They are alive when their enemies wished them dead. And the dead are not forgotten.

The song ends and Jane beats her empty mug against the table, cheering until her voice cracks like dropped glass. Hers is the smallest cry among thousands.

Thor stands. "My friends!" at his voice, all others fall silent. "Tonight, we celebrate our dead. May they find Valhalla!"

His blessing is echoed by every tongue.

"Tonight, we celebrate the living. Brave soldiers who defeated our enemies...may they find reward!"

Cheers, laughter. Thor exchanges drinks with more than a few soldiers, some of whom sport fresh scars, before he holds up his hands for quiet again.

"Finally, we celebrate family. The families we have lost, and," he glances from Hela, to Jane, to Loki, "the ones that have returned to us."

Another cry, but Jane hears distinct cries for General Hela and Prince Loki. No one cheers for her; she's grateful.

Loki stands, a wave of two fingers filling his cup and Thor's once again. Hands clasped, they drain both as each onlooker shouts encouragement and approval. Jane's hands are raw from clapping.

"And now," Thor says, once the crowd settles, "My brother has prepared a celebration of our great victory over Thanos. My friends, join me!"

Toting casks of drink and platters of food—some people even lift their tables and carry them outside—everyone migrates to the gardens where the children are playing tag through the flower beds. Night is clear and mild, soft starlight catching everything in a silver net. Most everyone settles on the grass, soft and fragrant, dotted with jewel-headed flowers that bend and sway in the breeze.

Loki's display begins simply—if the word 'simple' could fairly be used to describe the riot of fireworks, wheels, and fountains that spread across the sky. Children howl in delight as a row of fountains bursts to reveal a line of Aesir soldiers, their shields and spears glittering and golden. The soldiers run through a series of marches and drills before their sparks fade and their shapes dissolve into darkness.

Then, a pause. Applause and cheers flow loud.

Before they fade, an explosion like an erupting volcano shakes the ground. Laughter turns to shrieks as Thanos, mighty fists clenched, looms up in the sky.

Thor's lightning flares and Hela's dark magic blooms to answer the threat, but another explosion rumbles immediately, forestalling them both.

A great wolf, black fur bristling and eyes gleaming emerald, leaps into the air, catching Thanos between its great teeth and hurling him between the stars. He vaporizes in a rainbow of sparks that cascade to the ground, dancing on air currents like a flock of fireflies.

Jane has never heard anything like the laugh that shakes the crowd. Grown men jump like children, watching their enemy's effigy vanquished so easily; women blow kisses to the fake Fenrir as he bounds like a puppy off the towers of Asgard.

The wolf, whose tail is already dissolving, throws its head back and lets out an eerie, victorious howl. It bares its teeth once more and vanishes in twinkling light.

It's impossible to hear anything above the crowd, but Jane doesn't need to hear Loki to understand what his smug grin is saying.

I told you so.

Jane shakes her head, but she has to laugh.

All right, so he knew better this time.

She'll have another four thousand, nine hundred years to get even.

Hello all! Thank you so much for your kind reviews and encouraging words during the writing of this fic. It was a lot of fun to write and I hope just as much fun to read.

So, who else loves the idea of Hela being a reformed baddie and the Odinkids forming a weird, dysfunctional family unit? Cause that's my new headcanon now, Ragnarok and Infinity War notwithstanding.