|||| (AHEM) (As of December 2014, I am posting said sequel, under the title of In the Absence of Belief, He Plays. Significantly more tasertricks in this sequel.)

Thank you so much guys. I can already tell that I will probably write a spinoff oneshot (at least 1) of further into Darcy's dealings with Asgard. Sorry to give a faux-alert or anything, but I had to tell you all! At the cost of my grades, lol, the wheels are starting to spin! ||||

Final A/N: Here we are, at the end of all things.

To my guest reviewer, I'm sorry I cannot reply directly to an anonymous review, but I'll hope you see this. The premise of the oak king and holly king is a Midgardian premise alone, mythology applying really only to the realm of Earth, and thus only its sun, moon, etc. Frigga's point was merely that as the time is split between the two kings, so should it be between Thor and Loki, evenly. Thanks for actually looking that up – I love inspiring research and learning!

I cannot thank enough the readers and reviewers who've followed this story to the end of the line. Ha, ha, marvel pun – I might be a little tired. But here we are at the end of all things, and I hope I've done my concept justice here. I'm participating in Nanowrimo, and as such, Uncharted Waters is now officially on an indefinite hiatus. I thought I could write some of those characters, and in my own mind I'm coming up awfully short, so there it is.

I hope some of you will continue with me on my writing journey. And now, on to Darcy's maybe-happy ending, which is fairly lengthy!

Until we meet again here! –Bon

If anyone in London thought it odd to see a twenty-something obviously-American girl wandering the shopping districts aimlessly with a raven on her shoulder, they didn't say so. The speculative glances and arched brows weren't even processed in Darcy Lewis' mind, distracted as she was.

When she couldn't even summon interest in a Topshop accessories sale – woolen hats and scarves as far as the eye could see – she knew it was time to call it a day. Stepping off a bus into the cold rain – she rarely drove anymore – had her blinking out of her reverie, and elicited a quiet caw from Muninn, who was undoubtedly freezing in the hostile Midgardian weather.

She still wasn't sure whether the bird was an emigrant from Asgard, a spy, or a gift, but she liked to think it was the former, that the bird had just liked her enough to follow her from a realm that was undoubtedly a hot mess right about now. Unraveling a length of the cozy scarf around her neck, Darcy tried to awkwardly wrap it about the bird and offer him some shelter – her own locks were secured under her favorite woolen cap, and she felt bad for the little guy. She ended up looking like a hunchback instead, but it was worth it for the bird's comfort and the resulting hilarious instagram post.

After ten minutes of trudging through ritzy streets ironically flooded with puddles due to uneven pavement – someone had their priorities straight – Jane's mom's condo was finally in sight. Muninn recognized the address now, struggling out from the scarf draped over his plumage and flapping his way up to Darcy's window. That was always how he liked to enter – what a creeper bird. Front doors just weren't good enough for some, she supposed. Struggling to extract her web of keys from the massive messenger bag slung across her chest, Darcy then squinted in the fading light, making her daily decision of which key to try in the lock first. English keys were just weird, or Jane's mom had a paranoia and wanted to deter even guests who'd been granted a key, or something, because it always took her forever to find the right one.

Finally inside, the intern-turned-almost-graduate shook herself like a dog, wrinkling her nose at the sodden material of her leather boots. At least she no longer contemplated the invention of window wipers for glasses – her eyesight had been 20/20 since her return from the golden realm, a concept her vision insurance provider was undoubtedly ecstatic at. Flinging her cap, scarf, and coat at a chair in the foyer, she grinned to see them land perfectly. The process of kicking off her boots, however, ended with one soaking through a doily on the entryway table, and another knocking over the umbrella stand to her left.

"Yikes," Darcy muttered, hurriedly corralling the runaway footwear and padding on sock-clad feet into the kitchen. She had one of the final essays of her program due tomorrow night, and the last few paragraphs would probably take a while. Coffee, therefore, was needed. After Muninn was let in, that is, as a frantic scrabbling at her window drew her attention. The raven in question flapped to his favorite perch, the corner of the largest sofa, hunkering down with a content little bird-noise.

The espresso machine had been abandoned after Asgardian diplomatic visits had broken about eight mugs in the household in one week – for some reason, their condo was now the international landing pad for anyone Asgardian to come to Midgard, and a new, stainless-steel coffee machine stood in its place. The pot was even titanium, the vendor assuring her over and over that nothing would stand between Darcy and caffeine.

A large communal dry-erase board they all used for communication was hanging on the wall next to the coffee maker, the place they would all be most likely to see it, and today it was sporting some vibrant green marker that said "Thor and I gone for groceries and lunch. Won't be back 'til late. –Jane".

It was only a bit past four in the afternoon, but who knew when that had been written. Darcy's lips twisted in dismay; no food for her unless it was micro-waved leftovers or instant noodles, then, as she still hadn't mastered the art of cooking anything beyond toasting bread or opening a pint of ice cream. The coffee machine, though, that she could do, and she quickly reached past the scrawled message, retrieving filters and her favorite brew and a large green mug with a 'D' etched on it.

The green mug made a memory twitch somewhere in the depths of her mind, but Darcy shrugged it off, switching on the maker and relishing the soothing gurgles of the brewing process. Turning to lean with her back against the marble counter, she rubbed a hand idly through her still-drying mane, eyes falling on the kitchen table. A very official-looking letter, sealed with the sigil of the UN, peaked out from beneath one of Jane's credit card bills, and Darcy stiffened at the sight, eyes flitting to the day calendar hanging next to the stove. Several X's showing passed days led up to today, and three days along the little row was…A large black circle with the words "D-day" inscribed within it.

She had three days to let them know whether or not she would accept the role of official ambassador to Asgard, as that was the date of the first international – inter-realm-ional, really – meeting between official Asgardian envoys and a conglomerate of the UN and former SHIELD personnel.

A rattling noise jarred her from her dreading, then, and Eir stepped into the room, looking remarkably at home in a burgundy cardigan over a white blouse and black slacks.

"All right, my dear?" Eir asked, laying down the briefcase she'd been carrying. Darcy still didn't know what she carried around with her – maybe she was collecting Midgardian healing remedies?

"I'm okay, thanks. Just been out shopping for a bit," Darcy replied, turning to pour the strong black brew into her mug and dilute it heavily with hazelnut creamer.

"With the guardian raven?" Eir asked from behind her, and Darcy's brows rose as she contemplated the rapidly-clouding beverage. "Yes, Muninn came, like always. I probably look like some sort of hipster Mary Poppins out there, but it's not like I can make him go away."

"He is certainly no common pigeon," Eir agreed, taking a seat at the kitchen table and accepting the mug of coffee Darcy offered her. The intern stepped back to the window, wondering for the umpteenth time what Eir's game was. Could Asgard spare their head healer for an indefinite amount of time, to wander around Midgard and pretend she was Darcy's unneeded personal physician?

"So you'll be leaving in three days?" Darcy offered casually, staring out at the overcast day and the raindrops starting to pelt more heavily against the window.

Eir shifted behind her, and Darcy caught the click of a pen being prepped for writing. "Perhaps. Now, Darcy, any strange feelings today? Any headaches, blurring vision?"

"No, and no," Darcy replied as she had every day since the day Eir appeared. The healer had said she was entrusted with the care of her patient, wherever that patient may go, and so she had followed Darcy back to Midgard, leaving her head nurse in charge in Asgard, where the ill and injured healed much more quickly.

Every day was composed of a miniature questionnaire to gauge Darcy's well-being, if there were yet any ill effects of the possession and magical poison she'd endured. But if anything, the intern felt better than she had in years – and perhaps that was what Eir mistrusted, that Hela had worked something sneaky into the magic that had revived Darcy. A sudden chill shot down her spine, and Darcy turned from the window at last. Eir functioned like a personal therapist on top of everything, and she always had the most calming answers ready for Darcy's random utterances. "I'm going to take the position, I think."

"Indeed?" Eir quirked a perfect eyebrow, pen flying across the page – sheaf of parchment, actually, which Darcy found hilarious – as she recorded Darcy's responses that had yet to change.

"Yeah. I mean, major benefits, pay raise, it's like…This is what I went to school for, you know? The timing is right, I'm at the end of my program…" Darcy started to rattle off, and before she knew it she was removing every bottle of spice from the rack on the wall, rearranging by lid color and alphabetical order. She'd developed a lot of weird, nervous habits as of late, and it was no surprise, to her; she'd had the vacation of a lifetime turned into a coup d'état of astronomical proportions before her very eyes, and almost died during it. Also had the best kiss of her existence somewhere in the midst of it all, but that wasn't something she ever spent much time considering. Heat of the moment, she was the only female thing in reach – not that she hadn't read the legends about which way Loki swung – and there was really nothing to any of it. Right?

Her suddenly-trembling hand knocked the paprika over with a clatter, the container toppling to the linoleum and bursting open in a spray of red powder that coated the ground like…Blood. A strangled yelp escaped Darcy's lips before she could muffle it, and she backed away in search of a kitchen towel to clean up the mess, but Eir was already there, laying a soothing hand on her shoulder and ushering her to sit at the kitchen table while she dealt with it herself. "It's nothing, Miss Darcy, just finish your coffee," she murmured, and suddenly Darcy's mug was on the table in front of her, refilled and steaming cheerily.

Muninn appeared then, perching on the back of a chair and cawing loudly until Eir pulled a ritz cracker out of a box on the counter and flipped it like a coin in his direction. The Asgardian symbol's snack of choice was a preservative-filled chunk of trans fat, out of everything he could develop a taste for. Darcy was a proud mother.

Eir had the spilled spice dealt with in a matter of seconds, but not before Darcy had caught side of a few scribble letters on a sheaf of her parchment: PTSD. Was that a thing in Asgard? Did Eir think she had it? Her brow cinched, lips opening on a question, Darcy lost her train of thought when Eir whisked all of her paperwork together and back into the briefcase that never left her sight.

"I'm sure it will feel great to be back in the swing of things, Darcy," Eir said by way of distraction, pointing at the intern's closed laptop sitting innocently on the far side of the table. "Don't you have your final essay to finish?"

Darcy's mouth closed on her thoughts, and she took another hearty swig of coffee before pulling the laptop towards her and flipping it open to her awaiting dissertation.

"Yes, a guard of six should be efficient. I'm not expecting the Republican Party of America to ambush us with machine guns, or for the Pakistani ambassador to the UN to put a pipe-bomb under our chairs,Thor," Loki said dryly into the screen of an iPad he held as he walked the halls of Asgard. Thor's term as leader of Asgard would begin after these initial conferences with Midgard, and for now, Loki was holding the fort down, as the mortals put it. In a show of modernity, he'd even conjured a permanent magical wifi field over the palace, for the convenience of the Midgardian ambassadors that would be joining them sporadically over the years to come. Hence, the iPad he was struggling to use to "head-spend", as Thor called it, with his brother.

The screen on the other end started to move erratically, and Loki frowned, before it stabilized and Jane's face appeared. "You seem to be getting the hang of face-timing," she said with a hint of approval. Loki's brow rose, but he nodded, dodging an Asgardian carpenter as he passed the former banquet hall, now undergoing heavy reconstruction and repairs. "I do what I must, I suppose, to make this work."

He wasn't just speaking of the iPad's methods of communication, and Jane knew it. She smiled, then, a conspiratorial grin as she looked over her shoulder at what must have been Thor.

"I think Darcy's going to do it," Jane whispered, turning back to him. "Eir reports no signs of harm or lingering effects of the magic, and Darce seems…aimless, lately. This will give her a sense of purpose, not to mention a bigger pay raise than I could ever manage for her."

"What makes you think I would be concerned with whether or not Miss Lewis accepts the proffered position?" Loki said, turning the corner to head towards the palace gates. His conversational partner disappeared, and Thor's large, beard-lined grin reappeared. "Oh, I know not, brother, but diplomatic business is usually best left to those who know with whom they are dealing, yes? It'd be a shame to have someone appointed who cannot take the insult "ant" with some grace."

"Must you always bring that up? I shall never outlive it, and I will live quite a while, if Midgard does not have my head first," Loki said with distaste, waving guards aside and awaiting the raising of the gate. "In any case, I must consult with Heimdall about the Bifrost opening for our little Midgardian repose. The "intimate-network" will fail soon."

"Uh, Loki, I think you mean 'internet'," came Jane's voice chiming in, and it sounded like she was trying very hard not to laugh. The mischief god grimaced, exiting the program with a nod at the pair, before waving a hand and sending the electronic device back to his quarters.

The rainbow bridge beckoned, and as Loki stepped onto the glimmering stone, a caw preceded the landing of Huginn on his shoulder. Loki was clad only in a deep green tunic and leather trousers, and winced as the bird intentionally dug his talons in for a more stable seat. "Watch that, it's a rare wool blend," Loki muttered at the bird who had apparently decided to befriend him after the realm's fate was decided. There was likely no one else to perch on, that was all it was.

Huginn cawed nastily in response, and Loki grinned, risking a finger by stroking the bird's crown quickly, Heimdall's post becoming closer with each long stride.

"How fares the cosmos, Heimdall?" Inquired Loki when he knew he was within earshot. The gate guardian rolled his eyes at the familiar tone Loki used, still not quite liking the trickster, but his reply was amiable enough. "There is quite a flurry of activity on Midgard, my Lord."

"Is that so," Loki breathed, coming astride of Heimdall's spot and perusing the canvas of light and spatters of endlessly-moving color that lay before them. He never could tell which part was which, or what the key of the color code was, but it was soothing to watch. No wonder Heimdall's vocal inflection scarcely changed.

"Yes. The Asgardian visit is highly anticipated; ironically, the Midgardians know not that the first king they shall convene with already dwells among them."

"They have not been praised historically for their awareness," Loki conceded, thinking of Midgardian views of Asgardians as gods and otherworldly beings when in reality, they were just extraterrestrial beings at best, albeit slightly magical ones.

"The meeting shall be in London, one of the focal points of Midgardian culture, I have been told," Heimdall offered. "The Bifrost will land there, as it has already forged a gateway to Lady Jane Foster's property in the past, in the same region."

Loki nodded in understanding. He was loathe to leave the Bifrost, simply because Heimdall now felt like a semblance of a friend and comrade, having dealt with much of the carnage alongside Loki himself.

"Three days is nothing to us here in Asgard," Heimdall suddenly said with a nod in Loki's direction. "You had best decide what you will wear, My Lord."

Loki smiled thinly, knowing the gatekeeper was right. "How best to make a good impression with a wardrobe full of naught but imposingly dark and regal garments," he said rhetorically, even as he waved a hand and shimmered away, leaving a disgruntled Huginn to flap his own way back to the palace.

It was almost game day, and Darcy had absolutely nothing to wear. Screeches of dismay echoed throughout the condo from the direction of her room; she had made the call last night to accept her appointment as ambassador to Asgard, knowing full well what that position would entail, and it was already going all wrong.

"No pants," she ground out with gritted teeth, gesticulating fiercely at Muninn, who was perched on a coat rack. "I'm jinxed or something." With that, she dove back into her wardrobe, cardigans and tank tops being flung every which way.

"Darce?" Jane rapped on the doorway, poking her head into the room. "Need something to wear?"

"Yesggnnm," came the muffled reply. "Abso…thing….fits, ne….skinny!" Finally, the intern struggled out of the rubble that was the extent of her apparel collection. "I lost like twenty pounds!" She cried like it was a national tragedy. "Nothing fits right!"

Jane rolled her eyes. "I may have picked you up something for the meeting," the astrophysicist started, "but you have to wear it, okay? It took me a long time to put together." Darcy was side-eyeing Jane dirtily from the first couple words.

"You…picking out clothes for me?" Darcy said with no small amount of suspicion in her words. "Now, Jane, I know I complimented the outfit you wore for that date with Richard but I mean that could've been a spontaneous shot in the dark, and I don't think you should just assume-"

Jane's fierce glare cut Darcy off, and she heaved a sigh. "Let's see it."

As if waiting for that, Jane proffered a shiny black garment bag, entering the room to lay it on the bed and unzip it. A smaller bag was attached to the top, a clear one through which Darcy could see a gold chain and earrings. She narrowed her eyes at that, gaze moving back to the larger bag. First revealed was a smart charcoal-gray blazer with double-breasted buttons, topping a peach-colored blouse with a frilly neckline. Oh, she was a big kid now, and Darcy was actually pleased with the choices Jane had made. There was a matching pencil skirt for the blazer, and all of it looked like it would fit just right. Then came the shoes, a pair of cute pumps with a manageably-tall heel, made of…dark green velvet.

Suspicions aroused, Darcy rounded on Jane. "This is an outfit of manipulation!" She accused with a fire in her eyes that hadn't been there for weeks. "These are shoes of conspiracy!" She shrieked, enunciating her words with shakes of the offending footwear.

"Now, Darce-" Jane started, but the intern was already shoving her out the door, shoes still in one hand, slamming the door after her. Garbled screeches could still be heard through the door, exclamations of betrayal and traps echoing through the floorboards and down into Erik's study. To his credit, the aged scientist just arched his brows and slightly shook his head, not moving his gaze from the compass he was dragging across a map of a constellation.

After twenty minutes of stomping noises and the odd curse word hurled at Jane, Darcy's door was flung open, and she stepped out, clad in the chosen outfit. Jane's head poked around the corner of wall that divided the hallway and kitchen, Thor's following suit above hers.

"If I could lift Mew-mew," was all Darcy growled, folding her arms across her chest and tapping one of the pumps against the floorboards.

Eir happened to walk by, a mug of tea in her hand and a copy of the London Gazette in her other. "You look very nice, Darcy," the healer offered, marching past and into the den. Today she was wearing a pair of Darcy's pajama bottoms and what looked like one of Jane's ratty sweaters, a sure sign of the unemployed, to Darcy's eyes. The intern's puzzled gaze followed her for a moment before snapping back to Jane.

"Well, what d'you think?" She asked snarkily, spinning in place and putting her hands on her hips. "Suitable for an international meeting of esteem and prestige?"

"Did that come from the brochure?" Ian asked, walking past with his own mug of tea. Was it a circus in here or what? Darcy scoffed and glared at him, sputtering "Maybe," but he just headed for the tv room, switching on a soccer game. He was the lucky one; he'd probably thrown on an argyle sweater vest and call it good. Men.

"Darce, it looks amazing!" Jane said with approval, clapping her hands together, and Thor chimed in with agreement. The two cautiously entered the hallway, abandoning the shelter of the wall. "We did good," the petite scientist said with an elbow jab into the thunder god's ribs.

"If this meeting wasn't in twelve hours, this wouldn't even be a thing," Darcy cautioned, running a hand down her side and smoothing the material. "Also, I officially do not trust you two. I know he's gonna be there." With a huff, she turned and re-entered her room, slamming the door firmly.

It was a sober day in Asgard, the carefully-chosen delegation of representatives meeting on the sparkling terrain of the Bifrost to go over a few last points of etiquette and such for meeting the Midgardian council. They had all been carefully dressed with earthly fashion in mind, although Fandral considered the oxford shoes he was wearing altogether dysfunctional for fighting purposes, and it had been difficult finding a dress shirt that would encompass Volstagg's girth. Hogun was plucking aimlessly at the black waistcoat he was sporting; Sif and Freja rounded out the party, along with several Einherjar in muted armor.

The two women were clad in what was more cocktail party attire than grave business meeting, but Freja had refused to change, and Sif wanted something she could conceal a weapon under. The blonde Valkyrie had on a sky-blue peplum gown with a plunging neckline, a white fur stole blanketing her tanned shoulders; blonde ringlets cascaded down her back, and her hand kept clenching, as if seeking a sheathed blade at her side. Asgard's first shieldmaiden was slightly more demure, in a crimson bell-sleeved blouse tucked into a black leather pencil skirt, ending in heeled black boots. Both had garters on, daggers sheathed onto their thighs.

If any of the Midgardian males were able to focus on the point of the meeting, Loki would be amazed, the trickster thought, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sight of the two women.

At last, Heimdall spotted the signal from Thor back on Earth, and the Bifrost sent the envoy rocketing towards a rooftop in London.

"Noope, nope, nope," Darcy Lewis was muttering, hopping on one foot to get her other green pump on. Thor was outside gesturing at the sky in what she could only assume was the all-clear to Asgard to send in the troops, and she was so not down for committing the welcoming committee duties. It probably didn't set her off on the right foot as a diplomatic member of the UN to Asgard, but couldn't she wait to start the job? She didn't want to see Loki's smug face or the stupid horns he was undoubtedly sporting right now to assert his authority or whatever.

God, couldn't they have chosen converse sneakers for her? Darcy thought, ready to throw shoe number one out the window and scrap the process of getting the other on. With a flustered sigh, the other shoe was finally on, and she was tottering out the door, new leather messenger bag over her shoulder. Muninn cawed loudly, but she shushed him, gesturing that for once, the black bird should stay, so that maybe for once she didn't look like the crazy American on the street.

As she hit the ground level of the condo's building, a bright flash rent the sky above her, and she groaned loudly, eliciting the stares of several passerby. "What?" she snapped at them. "Haven't you ever avoided an ex?"

If he could be called that, she thought with discomfort. Why was she attaching depth where there was none? Stop it, Darcy. Focus.

Reciting the national anthem of the United States to herself over and over, starting in on the constitutional amendments when she got bored, Darcy boarded a bus, steadfastly ignoring a ruckus starting down the street in the direction she'd just come from. The Asgardians were like celebrities, naturally-photoshopped celebrities, and today was going to be a mess. There were probably paparazzi around, even. Her peasant self could only hope to get to the meeting, make a good impression, and somehow figure out a way to only perform ambassadorial duties while Thor was the one in charge on Asgard.

That part of the deal was still a little iffy; Jane had her research and projects on Earth, but as both another diplomat and Thor's honey, she was going to have to be coming and going a lot more than Darcy. If the ooey-gooey lovey glances were any indicator, that part of the situation was no big deal if it meant they could see each other. At least Asgard wouldn't have to fix up guest quarters for her.

At last, Darcy was getting off at a bus stop a block from the "fancy schmancy" district of London, as she called it, staring up at the off-white sky and praying it didn't rain. Focusing on her steps, she navigated the pavement well enough until she stood facing the massive outdoor slate of steps that led to the doors of the UN meeting center.

Glancing at her footwear and then up the seemingly-endless flight of stone stairs, Darcy might have keened aloud a little bit. Until-

"May I have the honor?" Said a smooth voice behind her, and Darcy stiffened, shoulders bracing. Her eyes inched sideways, head turning just slightly enough that she could see the arm being offered in her direction.

"I can manage, thank you," Darcy said in what she hoped was her most polite tones – creepers in London didn't often take well to being denied.

"Oh, but I must insist," said the owner of the arm, inching up further into her field of vision. All Darcy saw was a black suit, eyes inching up the arm until she spotted a green scarf that matched her shoes.

"Aw, damn," she rasped aloud, taking an unsteady step backwards. Unfortunately, that resulted in the heel of one rebellious shoe lodging in a crack in the pavement, and Darcy lurched backward with a squawk, eyes closing in prepared for hitting the cement hard.

But it didn't happen, saving arms instead wrapping around her waist and halting her fall. "No, just let me fall, ugghhhhh," Darcy said eloquently in protest, struggling in the grip of her savior and captor. She thought she'd rather accept the sidewalk burn and scrapes, at this point, though she would rue the loss of the nice black tights she'd bought.

"I think you've rather come to enough harm as the result of my appearance, Miss Lewis," said Loki, setting her upright and handing her the bag that had slipped from her shoulder. She accepted it sullenly, not meeting his eyes as she slung the strap securely across her chest. "Thanks."

She couldn't exactly say "no argument there", but she was thinking it, eyes flickering across the stone beneath their feet. As if on cue, raindrops started to fall, pattering onto the cobblestone without any attention paid to Darcy's alarmed gasp.

"No, this hair took ages to tame," she growled, hands raising helplessly to flail in the air above her mane as if they could keep the precipitation from it.

"All the more reason you get inside as quickly as possible, I would imagine," Loki said gently, moving tentatively forward and reaching for her elbow. "Now, Miss Lewis, may I escort you? Your footwear seems singularly inadequate for transporting you safely."

"Can't argue with that," Darcy said with a sigh, giving in and allowing him to cup her elbow as they started up the steps. She clopped along in silence, jaw set as she contemplated what one said to the person they'd partnered with to save a realm in space, and shared a helluva hot moment or two with.

He spoke first, in the end. "You look well."

She snorted, ladylike to the end. "Your spies probably let you know."

He cocked his head to the side, eyes on the steps that seemed to stretch on forever. "Spies?"

"Eir, and Muninn," she muttered. "They're my new roommates, probably on your orders, huh?"

"Muninn disappeared after the throne was righted," Loki said with a frown. "Only Huginn has been spotted within Asgard for some time, and even Heimdall cannot see the ravens if they so choose. As for Lady Eir, she informed me she "quit", and was leaving for a sojourn on Midgard promptly. Something about damage pay never being sufficient."

It sounded like a hilarious load of crap to Darcy, but Eir had certainly taken to earthly life very readily; in fact, if she recalled correctly, Darcy had read something about Eir periodically going walkabout just like Odin, visiting Midgard for long bouts at a time to live among humans.

Finally, the double-doors were in sight, armed guards greeting them stiffly. They were promptly led through metal detector stalls, and then patted down, something Darcy caught Loki frowning deeply at, as the guard ran his hand down her thigh very carefully. She shielded a smirk with her hair, carefully ringleted for the occasion, thanking the guard profusely when she was cleared.

That brought about the question of how the other Asgardians would deal with security; they likely came armed, and wouldn't readily give up their weapons to secure the humans peace of mind. And for those like Loki, with magic – weapons were but a finger snap away, so...

Wisely keeping her mouth shut, Darcy followed the instructions the guards had given her, heels clicking on the marble hallways as she started to navigate the fancy building. She felt like a peasant in a palace anew, but this time, she'd run the gauntlet of palace shenanigans and survived. A moment after she'd started down the corridor, Loki's long paces were catching up to her, and she suppressed a sigh.

"Don't waste much time, do you?" She muttered quietly as he came astride of her. "How do you find infantile Midgard this time around?"

He shot her a sidelong glance, inclining his head as he spoke. "I find I see Midgard through an…altered light these days. It is a more impressive realm than I have previously given credit for."

"Yeah, I suppose hot dogs, pickup trucks and iPads are pretty impressive," Darcy agreed, noting the fancy leather tablet case Loki was sporting. "What's on that – a Microsoft Excel spreadsheet for world domination?"

He reddened. "I…may have downloaded several sessions of..."

Darcy leaned closer as they walked. "Say that again? You mumbled."

"That mortal program…Scooby Doo."

A guard came running when Darcy shrieked out "Whaaat?!" but she waved him away with an apology, turning back to the god next to her. "You like a mystery cartoon of a talking dog running around with a bunch of kids? Out of allllll our mortal creations here on earth, you pick that?!" She was snorting uncontrollably, physically trying to muffle her laughter with her hands, but it wasn't happening. She might have been in minor hysterics, the combination of his presence and the absurdity of his tastes getting to her.

"Who- who's your favorite?" She managed to gasp when the laughter was abating and they started walking again.

Loki blushed again, looking away as he muttered "Velma."

Darcy's eyes narrowed at that, but she said nothing, double-checking her phone and making certain the conference room at the end of the hall was the one they were looking for.

"Not as much to talk about when we aren't dissecting plots against the throne or my terrible knack for getting into trouble, huh?" Darcy said at last, stopping with a frown when a yell sounded from downstairs. She carried on anyways. "Listen, about what you may have heard regarding me being here today…"

Loki's head cocked to the side in inquiry, silently inviting her to continue.

"I've requested my ambassadorial duties to be part-time, during Thor's reign," she started, cheeks warming at how the childish nature of her issue sounded when spoken aloud. "I didn't want…this to be awkward," she continued, waving a hand between the two of them. "Not that there is a…this," she quickly added, trying to quench the interested look in Loki's eyes. "I…Uggh, never mind. It'll all be explained."

As if to take her off the spot, a loud ruckus was now echoing up from the ground floor of the building, bellows accompanying something rattling downstairs that sounded suspiciously like a bladed weapon.

"Asgardians," Darcy tsked, and Loki moved at last, smiling as he pulled back the lapels of his dress coat to display several daggers tucked into his waistband. "Mortals."

"Knew you'd have something down your pants," was all Darcy said, before she was swinging open the door and stepping inside, leaving him with an enticing view of her from behind before the plain door closed and he was alone in the hallway.

At last, Volstagg was persuaded to lay down his axe, the other Asgardian males also dolefully divesting themselves of their weapons before being allowed to pass into the building. Freja and Sif, however, made it past without incident, likely due to Freja's glamour abilities. The blonde Valkyrie even sent a wink in the direction of the guard who'd frisked her, eliciting a loud and dejected sigh from Fandral behind her.

"The swordsman is more a peasant than even these humans," Freja then muttered loudly to Sif, and even Hogun had to grin at Fandral's expression.

At last, everyone was gathered, Thor and Jane arriving last, red-faced and breathing hard. Darcy was tapping a pen loudly on the folder in front of her, one eyebrow raised as she leaned back in her seat, forming theories as to what important activities they'd halted in order to grace the meeting with their presence. Loki, likewise, was leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled in front of his face, dark brows arched at the sight of the flustered pair.

"Elevator broke," Jane huffed. "Had to take the…stairs."

"Oh, I bet," Darcy said, nodding earnestly in wide-eyed understanding.

The Icelandic Prime Minister, of all people, took the floor then, and it was hard not to smile at earth's predictability in choosing a Norse-esque nation to welcome the Asgardians.

Jane was formally announced as the scientific liaison to Asgard, her work with the Einstein-Rosen bridges of the world making her an important figure on the subject of something the UN was calling "intergalactic immigration". Ian was then announced as more of Jane's assistant, unneeded as he was now as Darcy's intern, and he would function as the sometimes-socially-awkward scientist's public relations manager here on Earth.

Finally, it was Darcy's turn, after the Japanese had subjected them to several loud protestations of how and why three "young white people" were chosen to be diplomats to Asgard. It was then agreed that Jane would take on an international conglomerate team to train, to quiet the arguments despite the fact that no one else had really dealt with Asgard as they had.

Then her name was being called, listed as a part-time chief ambassador for the time being, but…

"Miss Lewis, given what we have learned of your contributions to the newfound stability of Asgard, and its willingness to cooperate with and help Earth, we are respectfully requesting you accept a role as full-time ambassador of Earth to Asgard. This would entail full-time residency, except for diplomatic missions and vacations…" Darcy tuned out, the American president's words turning to a dull buzz in her mind. They wanted her to what?

And then, a cold, clear voice was cutting through the human's words, somehow grounding her in the moment. "I would like it to be made clear that Asgard will not force Miss Lewis' hand," Loki said concisely. "We welcome any volunteered partnerships with our realm, but we will not have Midgard pressuring its citizens to embark on what is essentially semi-permanent emigration to a foreign realm…"

At the end of it all, Darcy thought she might have said yes to something, but her anxiety was rising by the second. After what seemed like hours, the meeting adjourned, and she quickly fled, removing her pumps outside the room and starting to run barefoot for the stairs, regardless of any stares she was receiving. She was due to leave for Asgard in three weeks and had to get her affairs in order.

Eir knew there was something not quite right with Darcy after her experiences in Asgard, but had not pressed the issue, instead lingering around and asking after symptoms of entirely different, nonexistent problems. Darcy, too, knew something wasn't quite right; she'd seen enough war movies to know she had something like PTSD, and that the thought of returning to that realm where daggers were common as pens and large wolves roamed the countryside was downright terrifying.

That was why she had to do it, she told herself, finally reaching the ground floor of the UN building. Still in the stairwell, she replaced her pumps on her feet, straightening her shoulders and exiting like she owned the place. She had to return to Asgard, to do what she'd taken years of school to learn, to make her peace with the realm of eerily-sentient ravens and magic practitioners.

"Darcy!" A voice called from behind her, and she slowed her pace but didn't stop, now blindly walking through the business district of London. She was now accustomed to accented voices calling her, so it was no cause for alarm until Loki appeared beside her, uncharacteristically ruffled, green scarf askew and hair looking like he'd run his hands through it distractedly.

"I…I know not how to put this. Things were rushed, in Asgard…When we met, you thought I was Odin, for the Norns' sake. What I mean to say is…I would like to get to know you properly, perhaps on what is more 'your turf', as I believe mortals say?"

Darcy stared at him, taking in the wind-whipped hair, the angular cheekbones, the green eyes looking at her with…Was that hope?

"You're asking to what, court me, Shakespeare?" She finally said, rubbing her arms for warmth in the rapidly-dropping autumn air. Loki responded by removing his scarf and wrapping it around her, looping it several times.

"I'd much rather you dub me 'Beowulf'," he said ruefully after a moment. "Summons an image of chivalry and might, doesn't it?"

"Pretty words and historical work, though," she said, smiling and pointing behind him at a shop window, where a shining new copy of Romeo & Juliet was on display. Loki inclined his head in admission of defeat. "Prose and romantic fallacies it is, then."

"I accept," Darcy said after a quiet moment, linking her arm with his. "If it'll get me out of this wind any time soon."

"My chariot awaits," Loki murmured, summoning a passing cab with a gesture. Darcy gave it directions to a café she loved, deciding that packing and paperwork could wait.

When they reached their destination, Darcy's wail of disappointment could be heard down the block. "What d'you mean, you don't have 'earth money'? Are you carrying a cow in your pocket, hoping a sacrificial offering's gonna get you far down here?!"

End credits: "Whole World is Watching" - Within Temptation feat. Dave Pirner