Warnings: Mistreatment of norse mythology, comic canon and eventually movie canon.

Disclaimer: Don't own them. Just like to torture them.

Pairing: Loki/Thor (main ship, will take a while and other ships to get there)

Summary: Answer to prompt norsekink meme. Avengers AU. What if Erik hurriedly welcomes Loki to earth and so under the rules of sacred hospitality Loki can't go forward with his attack?

A/N: There has been quite a time between the creation of the first chapters and... now. Somewhere along the way I lost the thought and kept struggling to pick it back up. As it is - I reworked the earlier chapters, but some of the things in them might still seem a bit awkward. Also xposted on AAO.

Being Hospitable

The Tesseract was misbehaving and Doctor Erik Selvig found it very not funny.

He had been studying it for months and the foreign jewel had yielded very little of its mysteries. Erik could guess a part, but he knew that he was just skimming the surface – like a child, stumbling blind in the dark, knowing how to walk, knowing not where the road lead. He had spent many hours with the Tesseract and he could almost swear than in it's blue depths he saw something, certainly, it didn't talk to him (like some of his colleagues laughed behind his back), but he did sense something, even if he didn't know what it was. It was clear to him that the Tesseract was more than a jewel or a weapon of mass destruction, to be perfectly honest – during the time he had spent with the stone, he had began to somewhat suspect that it had an intelligence of sorts. Cue misbehaving.

The situation worried him. As well as the expectations heaped on this project. The way some of his calculations were always rushed off to another project. Phase II. He had no idea what it was. He had no time to ponder about it to conceive an idea. The first time he walked in and saw that they had already built a traveling platform he had snorted. Just because the God of Thunder could open an intergalactic bridge by shouting at heavens, didn't mean any of them could. Even with the Tesseract. The blue jewel did not give up it's secrets easily. Or at all, Erik sighed as he read another harmless, petulant power surge. He knew for a fact that this all meant that the Tesseract was doing something, but to him it felt like it was dragging it's teeth about it. And that worried him even more.

The moment the Tesseract spiked shooting a blue light of energy parallel the lines of conduits, and a black hole in space appeared on the platform they had built – Erik was almost not surprised. His heart was in his throat and beating wildly. It seemed to last forever and was over in a moment. Erik stood stupefied as the energy flickered like a flame and clung to their unexpected guest. For surely, on the previously empty platform now crouched a figure dressed in black and green.

The soldiers pulled up their weapons, making their first cautious steps forward. The panels were still glaring bright yellow light, when Erik found himself nearly jumping forwards with, "Hello! Hello and welcome to Earth. Or Midgard, you're Asgardian, are you not?"

Everyone halted. Except Erik and the figure. It was a man. The alien raised his head, his green eyes bore weightily on the doctor and Erik swallowed hard. He had no idea what had prompted him to move and to speak, but he found himself stepping forward even more, raising hand to silence director Fury before the spy even had a chance to open his mouth. Oddly enough the first thing he felt overall was terror, though he knew he ought to feel excitement. With every step forward he confirmed what he had seen first – this wasn't Thor.

He told himself that he should be excited that another Asgardian, or whoever this man was, had made it here. And through Tesseract no less. If this man was even half as cooperative and indulging as Thor and Warriors Three.. But no matter what kind of running commentary Eric kept in his head the longer he looked at their guest, the more terror he felt. Hair stood up at the back of his neck and every single bit of his being screamed that this man was up to no good. Yet Eric kept inching closer. It felt like he was standing on a precipice whether to triumph or to fall.

"Can .. Can I offer you water?" he managed to stutter out and tried not to nervously glance around looking for what he offered, it felt imperative to keep the eye contact as if with a dangerous animal. "Or coffee? I'm sure that that's one thing we can surely find here, and you do look.. It would be our pleasure. And crackers maybe?" at first he had offered to have something to say, but as he continued to speak another thought came to mind. He snapped his fingers imperiously and he heard something drop and clatter, and he trembled when the green eyes shifted from his gaze to look at the noise. Erik dared not let his gaze move. He breathed a tiny bit easier when he saw amusement in those deadly emerald eyes.

"Doctor Selvig, I really must..," director Fury started though his uncompromising tone booked no argument. The soldiers made another step forward.

"Shut up, director," he snapped, low and stressed. He didn't even look at Fury, all his attention was focused on their guest who in the few moments had risen to his full height. The man didn't sway, but Erik read exhaustion and pain in his pale, nearly white face, sunken look and nearly feverish eyes. Above all, though, doctor Selvig read danger. He had thought Thor dangerous the first time he saw him, stumbling around and shouting maniacally, but this silence and focus – it looked deadly. Erik had no doubt it was.

"Doctor," a nervous assistant approached Erik with a thermos mug of coffee and an opened, half-finished bag of crackers. Erik grabbed the offered items and almost laughed hysterically at the thought of saving the world with cold coffee and a box of crackers. Then he approached their guest. Who in the barest of seconds while Erik had looked at his assistant, had moved again. Down the platform.

"You look tired," Erik absentmindedly wondered how he hadn't choked on his own tongue yet, he felt so mortified. "And.. Cold. Coffee is an energizing beverage and crackers... Well, they're sustenance," he extended them and tried his best to keep his hands from shaking.

Loki hesitated for a moment. And then accepted coffee. "The void between worlds is a cold place," were his first words on Earth.

"Welcome to Earth," Erik felt like he could faint with relief. Loki raised a questioning eyebrow and elegantly took a cracker too.

"Doctor, I must insist – back away," Fury spoke up again. He was not one to be silenced for long. He saw that something had transpired, though he was a man enough to admit that he had no idea what exactly had happened. "And you, sir, put down the spear," he spoke carefully, but there was no mistaking the command in his tone.

Loki looked up from the curiosity in front of him to Fury. He pushed the coffee back at Selvig, who barely managed to grasp it, "It is disgusting," and he took up his scepter that had obediently floated at his left when he had released it for coffee.

"Yes, well, it's cold," Erik grimaced agreeing with the analysis, but as the mystery man took up his weapon (Erik didn't believe for a single minute that someone who travels through wormholes carries pretty, but useless ornaments with him) Erik stepped more in front of the man. "You can't do that," he argued softly, but it seemed to echo in the observatory.

Loki inclined his head, pausing. His hand was raised with the scepter in it, the blade was glowing with blue energy, but he did not fire yet. It's not as if he had any particular reason to rush – these humans, nor any reinforcements they might call upon were a match for him. He was a god among ants. "I wish I could agree. But I don't," his tone was a mockery of sincerity. "I can and I will do as I please."

"You can, but you won't," Selvig argued bravely, and realized that at least for the moment – terror had fled. Maybe because while he had no idea what was before him, he felt protected. It was as if a shadow had passed – wringing him inside out, chilling his bones, but ultimately – doing no harm. "I welcomed you here. You can't attack us. Any of us."

Loki's gaze narrowed.

Erik continued, though he guessed the being in front of him already knew what he was talking about, he spoke for the benefit of everyone else in the room, "I welcomed you here. On Earth, not just in this facility. By the laws of hospitality – you can't act to harm us."

"Interesting," Loki grinned, but his smile was a terrible, sinister thing. "But futile, ultimately. You did not do it correctly and you are not of Asgard."

"We are of the Nine Realms and we welcome you as a Realm. You drank and you ate, and now you must give us time to get our bearings for a more proper welcome. It is only polite. As our guest," Erik was not to be silenced or backed in a corner. He was determined to give his world away. He was determined to avoid slaughter. After all, this was a most secret facility and it housed the Tesseract, and this stranger had appeared here on a whim. The alien looked dangerous and if he acted half as much.. Erik reasoned that if he was a friend it was no burden to welcome him so, and if he was not – it was best to make a friend of him. Earth had enough enemies and maniacs as it was.

"It is not polite to try divest me of my things," Loki tried another angle glancing at Fury who seemed rooted on spot, his face – expressionless.

"None will touch you," Erik promised thinking desperately of how he was going to convince the director on that. "Nor harm you," he doubted that they could had they even tried. "But you must give us some time. The world is large, surely, you realize there are those to whom I must account and who would issue a more .. formal welcome?" Thor had never stood for ceremonies, or demanded anything, but then again, as Erik recalled, Thor had been human as he arrived (and a frightfully strong and dangerous one at that), and an exile. For all his faults, Thor had been a good man at heart, but Erik would be a fool not to expect the other side of the coin to drop too. And whoever stood in front of him was no human man to be trifled with.

The decision was entirely Loki's. True – he had been welcomed, but the ritual gesture of it was weak, barely symbolic in it's nature, he felt only the barest tendrils of magic binding him. He could break them with a snap of his fingers. And the power of honor and oath? What honor did he have as a Jötunn? He had broken other promises and oaths – ones that had weighed on him far more heavily. He had broken things that had been far more dear to him than this strange, little world he came to conquer. He hesitated with answer.

He tried to convince himself that he should just break the hold that this strange little man had gained on him. He should end his curiosity and proceed how he had planned – it mattered not if the humans had managed to carry out whatever contingency plans they had. He had no equals here. Yet he couldn't bring himself to act on it. "I accept," is what he said when he deigned to speak.

He had made his choice the moment he paused upon arrival. He had sealed his fate the moment he took a drink of that vile concoction. And it was all his own doing and no ones hand forcing him. Even now – the magic of the sacred hospitality was weak, and at it's strongest it would be nothing to a god. It was nothing but an excuse.

Truth is, Loki was intrigued. He saw humans as no more than ants – organized in a hierarchical society and possessing of the barest scraps of intelligence, the common foot soldier being expendable and the queen of the hive nothing more than a fatter version of the first – the inner workings of the society ultimately completely insignificant. Still what the human in front of him had done was atypical.

Wariness, fear and above all a deep seated wish to submit – Loki could understand and see it in the race of Men, and others, truly. Asgardians were no strangers to cowardice. But somehow with his offer and request the human doctor had made the god pause. Sacred Hospitality was an old rule. A sacred one. It was rumored to break it was to incur the wrath of the Norns themselves. Loki knew all about rumors and whispers in the dark, though, truth be told, as a ritual the Sacred Hospitality hadn't been practiced for thousands of years – not outside of political negotiations. But wasn't just the mention of the archaic rule that intrigued him, it was the fact that even though he could smell the fear on the human – it still endeavored to treat him as a friend. It chipped in places Loki didn't even remember he had.

"Oh, good," Erik breathed in relief. "I'm doctor Erik Selvig and I'm very .. " Happy? Pleased? Privileged? ".. honored to meet you." a lie, but a polite one. Mostly Erik was just relieved that nobody had been shot yet with all the trigger happy people in the room. He was a scientist, for god's sake's, not a hostage negotiator.

"I imagine so," Loki did not reply with his name. He'll have to. Eventually. But not yet. If the human knew what he was dabbling in then he surely recognized that Loki's slight snub also meant that he did not consider this deal wholly sealed.

"Of course," Erik absentmindedly noted. Whoever this being was, he was a polar opposite to Thor's wide smiling happy friends who had gently knocked on shop's windows, nearly jumping up and down in excitement. However in a way – he didn't seem so different from Thor, to Eric anyway. Thor had been open with his pain and anger – bleeding, screaming violence all over the place, and to Eric – similar pain simmered under the surface of this man. Two different states of the same element. Like water - ice and snow. If Thor was a storm of hail and snow, then this guy was ice – all sharp edges and brittle. "If you would follow me, I'll.."

"Doctor.." Fury had quite a lot in mind to say, but as he had interrupted Selvig, so Erik interrupted him.

"Trust me, director. I'll explain in a moment," his tone was sharp, he would not accept a refusal.

Fury looked at the doctor and the stranger – long and hard. "Very well," he acquiesced.

Erik nodded, heavily. "Now if you would follow me, I'll show you to more comfortable rooms while you wait," he turned back to green-eyes.

"Lead the way, mortal," Loki motioned and even though the address was said as an insult, he still cooperated, indulging in his curiosity. Enjoying how humans bickered and squabbled, and endeavored to please him. Loki had always enjoyed being at the center of attention. Perhaps even a bit more than he would care to admit.

Behind them as they walked away, Fury ordered Hawkeye to keep an eye on them and dispatched a team to do his command. Evacuation was to continue and Fury grabbed a case that a nearby agent presented him and moved to pack up the Tesseract as soon as doctor Selvig and their guest were out of sight. He had no idea what was going on, but as long as the world still spun, he had top secret artifacts and weapons to ship out of here post haste.

LOH

It was rumored on Asgard that there was not a thing in the Nine Realms that could ever surprise Heimdall. It was true for the most part. For all the thousands of years that Heimdall had stood watch at the Bifrost, he had seen many things while staring in the void. He had seen enough that he should have turned his face and sight from gods and other creatures a long time ago. But he was the son of nine mothers and he was stronger than that. For every act of cruelty and malice, there was one act of kindness. For every foolishly made mistake out of ignorance, there was always hope. In the chaos there seemed to be a balance for most things.

But not all.

There was no sense or balance in the pointless death of Asgard's youngest prince. One might think – and Heimdall was pragmatic enough to think it, even though he did not believe it – that Loki's death was a payment for the destruction he had wrought upon Jötunheimr. But it was not. None had seen as many worlds turn, as many events unfold and as many threads snapped as he had. He knew what recompense looked like. Suicide of a god was not it.

Of the few that knew the full and true events of those days, he guessed that some forgave the prince for his actions because of his death, for no warrior could ever make sense of such a senseless act.

He saw that the grief of the queen and the crown prince were not tempered by any offenses that might be laid at the Loki's feet. They grieved for the son and brother they had known and loved still, and it mattered not which worlds were lost. As it was – none were, just the prince. Just Loki.

The Allfather was much harder to read for all his sight allowed him to see. The first thing Heimdall had done when the king sat upon his throne again – he had laid his sword at the king's feet and asked for any punishment the Allfather might see fit to charge him.

For in all of this – Heimdall was not without fault. The prince had been right when he accused Heimdall of blindness, but it was not just the void that eluded his sight, as he had come to realize. In his vanity he had allowed the crown prince to pass that day of coronation. It had been the first step on the road that had put them here. He knew altogether too much to be able to claim ignorance – that he couldn't have known what would happen when the crown prince would reach Jötunheimr. He had wanted the Frost Giants to pay. He had wanted to see that. And in a manner that undoubtedly amused the Norns – Jötunheimr had taken it's revenge.

For sixty eight Frost Giants and their Winter Castle there was the Bifrost itself and a prince of Asgard.

Without ever going to war Jötunheimr had won.

So Heimdall had placed himself at Allfather's feet for judgment. He was the gatekeeper who had failed in his duty. He was the all seeing guardian who failed most of all. Blind, is what he was. He was also surprised. When instead of cutting his head off with the sword, the weary king gave it back to him and bid him to return to his post. Heimdall would have expected at least his eyes to be put out, as his sight as all encompassing it was, had proved only to blind him, so by all rights – he should be blind. But by the king's order he returned. He stood at the edge of the abyss, the broken shards of the bridge reaching into nothing – the Bifrost broken and fallen into the void. He was now the guardian of a ruin, forever staring into darkness as punishment.

It was the bright surge of the blue jewel that drew his sight. He remembered it from the times it had decorated Odin's hall of treasures. But it was another jewel of Odin's that took his breath away. Whole if not hale there on the tiny, insignificant planet of Midgard stood a prince of Asgard. Heimdall could scarcely believe his eyes, which is why he tarried – watched the tense exchange with the humans, wondering at what the prince had in mind while all the while rejoicing.

As the prince settled into a bleak room, strangely amused and not in any immediate danger, so Heimdall turned, disappeared, and dropped on his knee in front of the throne of Odin – all in one move. "My king, I have joyous news for you."

"What would it be, gatekeeper?" Odin's tone was weary, as ever, lately.

"I have seen the prince, and he lives. Loki lives."

One would think that sound would echo in the great throne room of Asgard, but it did not. The emptiness swallowed all the sounds and Heimdall's words didn't carry. Odin sat as if frozen in his seat and only after a while his gaze shifted from the floor to his gatekeeper. The king had heard clearly, but awareness came slowly, it was as if he had fallen in Odinsleep on the throne and only just now slowly woke.

"Show me what you have seen, Heimdall," he ordered.

Heimdall bowed his head, still kneeling and extended his hand in subservience. Odin was suddenly in front of him, grasping the upturned palm and joining in the vision. All the moments strung together since Loki stepped out of the void on the Midgardian platform – every word, every gesture. Odin followed Heimdall's sight up until this very moment where prince of Asgard was still lounging in a small hall, arrogant and apparently comfortable. "Loki," Odin spoke his son's name in wonder.

Odin released Heimdall. "You shall speak to no one of this."

"Yes, your majesty," Heimdall did not dare argue. The prince was alive. If king did not wish to make immediate announcement to all of Asgard, then he had the right to keep the revelation to his family for a little time. Heimdall did wonder if it won't only inflame all those that had whispered against the king recently.

There were those that thought that Odin had been wrong in stopping Loki, who had been king at the time, from destroying Jötunheimr. There were always those who were so eager to war that they were blinded to anything else, but as Heimdall had been handicapped by his own vanity – he felt he was no judge of them. There were also those that wondered if the prince's death was more than an accident. Whether the Allfather had ended his own successor. After all, the king had exiled Thor for acting against Jötunheimr, would it truly be above him to murder the youngest prince? There were many more of those that wondered what strange love did Odin hold for Jötunheimr.

Heimdall had dutifully reported all that stirred in the realm, but it was not to be helped at the moment. There were always fractions that did not agree with one another. It hurt Heimdall to see their people doubt their king – he had half hoped that by reporting this, Odin would bring them to light and address the issue, but the king had just taken it as another burden on his shoulders and done nothing.

Prince's death had silenced all open talk of war in Asgard. Jötunheimr for it's part had stopped the mustering of Giants that had been going on when Loki as a king had launched his attack. Now the Frost Giants rebuilt. And celebrated. Had Laufey been still alive Heimdall had no doubt that celebrations would be followed by war preparations, but king Laufey was dead and his son Helblindi, just ascended to the Ice Throne of Jötunheimr, was reluctant to rekindle war even when Asgard was as wounded as it was now. Heimdall suspected it to be the dowager queen's influence. Fárbauti had ever been against war since she had lost her firstborn in the previous one, and none of the younger princes knew what war truly meant.

"Now leave me. Return to your post," Odin bid him. "Watch my son carefully. Notify me if he is in danger."

Heimdall nodded, "As you will it, your majesty."

Heimdall didn't need to stand at the edge nor gaze into the Bifrost to see what was happening in other realms, but the distant post had become his home and his place of solace and solitude in these long thousands of years. And looking into darkness to see beyond it had become a habit he would find hard to break. He inclined his head to the king before rising to his feet and disappearing only to find himself on the bridge in half-turn and his gaze drawn to the depths that he was blind to so that he would see beyond them. He vowed that he would not let his king down again. Nor his prince.