Hi guys! Fall quarter is drawing to a close, and my spare time equals reading material for you guys! This is a brief-ish followup on the tail of Lithasblot and Old Lace, taking place during the Christmas season of the next year. Darcy's been in Asgard a while, and she and Loki are pretty cozy with each other now. Hope you enjoy!

Once, he had been feared.

Grossly-embellished tales, spread far and wide and elaborated upon at every turn, spread through households in medieval Europe like wildfire, stoking his own ego in the process.

The black, curved claws were longer with each retelling, the red shade of the eyes more fiery with each teller's additions. And the punishments bestowed upon the children – they curdled the blood of listeners more with each rehashing.

Once, he had been Krampus, the night-dwelling counterpart of the one whom they called Santa Claus. The dark figure lurking in the shadows, the child-thief, devourer of juvenile mortals, balancer of behavior among peasants and royals for centuries.

And now? He was bored. Belief in him, as with so many things the mortals claimed to live by, was dwindling, found few and far between in this age that they dared call "modern" on Midgard. He was discarded, left in the closet of human memory, just as honor and chivalry had been.

It was his own fault, he supposed, choosing to prefer mortal children; but a change was needed, he thought. New meat. And he knew just where to get it.

"I just don't know if there's enough," called out Darcy Lewis, flipping a feathered quill through her fingers and biting her lip as she evaluated the massive sections of holly garnishing the halls of a wing of Asgard's palace.

"Milady, there is an equivalent of an entire Midgardian mile in each corridor and wing," began Kvasir, the equivalent of an executive assistant to the new Asgardian reign, and currently, Darcy's unwilling co-conspirator in a massive decorating scheme across the Palace and its grounds. "While Yuletide is indeed a highly-valued concept in our realm, I just do not think, in light of forthcoming events, that we need focus on such…frills…"

"Oh, I do love a chance to crack open the mead!" Bellowed a loud voice, approaching from the opposite end of the corridor.

"Volstagg!" Yelled Darcy, jumping into the bear hug awaiting her. When she'd pried herself loose with a rarity of only maybe one bruised rib, she rubbed at her side absently, pointing with the quill in her other hand to the decorations spread over the intermittent archways adorning each corridor. "D'you think it's…Christmasey enough?"

The husky warrior stood back, hand on his beard in an appraising gesture. "Hmm…I don't think I've ever seen this scale of, what did you call it, Christmas?" He clapped a large hand down on her shoulder, the mortal diplomat only wincing slightly at the impact. "Well done, Lady Darcy. This year, we'll have our spirit back."

Darcy's smile faltered a little at that, watching the warrior start to whistle a random tune as he continued down the corridor.

It was true, life in Asgard had been less than easy in the past sixteen months since Hoder's coup and subsequent downfall, and it had only been recently that Darcy herself had even recovered sufficiently, in her mind, to try to restore some cheer. Yule had provided the perfect excuse, and she'd quickly marshaled an army to harvest decorations and plaster them over any and all available surfaces within the palace. Holly sprigs, garland imported from Earth, wreaths made of fragrant lavender and rosemary, and other bits that could be found were promptly strung, hung, and pinned around the palace.

She was somewhat cautiously awaiting the verdict from the throne of Asgard, and she figured she didn't have long to wait. At least she had the pleasure of being right, the thought providing little comfort as a rustling sounded from down the hall and behind her, her ears by now knowing the sound of leather rubbing against woven fabric, and the jangle of sheathed daggers.

Kvasir paled a little at the expression on the trickster god's face as he approached Darcy from behind, and the human sighed, cinching her eyes closed with a quick grimace before swiveling on her feet, the quill lowered to her side and hitting her jean-clad thigh with a nervous staccato.

"Your Majesty," she said in a bored tone, sketching a curtsy that was probably more disrespectful than if she hadn't made a move at all.

Loki's glacial gaze was on the decorations as he came to a stop in front of her, eyes skyward even as he waved a dismissive hand at Kvasir. The little red-headed traitor promptly skittered away, a length of holly falling at his exit. Darcy glared at his retreat, darting over to re-secure the adornment.

"Lemme guess," she started warily, back still to Loki. "You don't like Christmas. Yule. Whatever. Maybe Hanukkah's your thing?" She ended hopefully, turning to find Loki had done that creepy teleportation thing and was now right up in her face, green eyes glittering with…something in their depths. She swallowed hard, trying not to fidget under the scrutiny.

"I was about to say I thoroughly approved," came the smooth accent from above her head, a cool hand reaching out to pluck at a ringlet draped across her shoulder. She brightened, just as he added, "But something is missing."

Her eyes fell, but his hand transferred to her chin, tilting it upwards to make her blue eyes meet his green. "I seem to recall reading something, oh, three hundred years ago or so-" his eyes crinkled with humor at mention of the 'senior citizen times a thousand' status Darcy often referred to, "about mistleltoe?"

Darcy's lips twisted into a pout, even as she tilted her cheek to lean further into his touch, her free hand snapping her fingers. "Knew I forgot something," she muttered. "Whatever will we do, my king?" She ended in a low murmur, looking up at him from beneath her lashes.

"Until we procure some with all haste, I suppose we shall have to…pretend," Loki said with a shrug, bringing his other hand up between them and snapping his own fingers. With a gleam of green light that quickly died away, a sprig of mistletoe revealed itself, dangling from the archway they stood beneath.

"My oh my, Loki's a romantic," Darcy exclaimed, leaning in so their foreheads touched, bumping her nose gently against his. "Alert the media."

He caught her lips with his, both hands now gently cupping her face. With a small noise of contentment, she dropped the quill in her hand, fisting the lapels of his long coat in her hands to drag him closer. He responded with one hand leaving her face to twist itself into her thick curls, his feet edging her backwards and against the hallway's stone wall.

Straying from her mouth, his lips traced a line of kisses across her cheek and down her jaw line. When they reached her neck, her legs faltered beneath her and she leaned further into his frame for support, eyes shut.

A hand came behind her back to support her even as he pulled away, grinning apologetically. "That does remind me…Do we not have an envoy of said media arriving any minute now?"

Darcy groaned, pushing her face into his leather-clad chest and hitting it several times. "Noo," she murmured into his jacket's depths, even as a loud buzzing disrupted the quiet of the corridor. As she muttered something about bureaucrats and feeding the earthly newspaper monster, Loki reached for her back pocket, retrieving her phone while his other hand rubbing soothing circles against her side.

"It's only a few days," he said gently. "I scarcely want them here any more than you do, but what did everyone say to my ideas of a Loki-led dictatorship?" That drew a grin from her, even as she brought the vibrating gadget to her ear. "Hello, this is Ambassador Lewis."

A tinny voice sounded from the other end, on some rant about the logistics of the arrival of the team of journalists who would be covering the summit that started in Asgard in two days, and Darcy rolled her eyes. Loki's brows raised in disinterest, and he opted to amuse himself as she listened to the droning, dragging his lips across her temple and the ear that wasn't pressed to her cell phone. A sharp gasp from Darcy had her conversational partner asking if anything was wrong, and Darcy's eyes shut in consternation, grinning fiercely as Loki's hand wandered from her hip and along her ribcage.

"Everything's fine, I just, ah, stubbed my toe," she ground out into the phone. "Running around Asgard, you know, lots of errands to prepare for the…arrivals." Loki pulled back with a cheshire cat grin, and she slapped a reprimanding hand flat against his chest, smiling through her annoyance.

"Yes, sir. Yep. No, you can tell Secretary Jefferson that I am calling the shots here. There's a whole sort of etiquette to this realm, and suitable behavior is very different here." Loki's teeth grazed her ear, and she shuddered against him, the hand that was still against his chest clenching in the material there. "I sent over several documents on what to expect, and I'm not handling the fallout of one pigheaded politician's decision to burp in the midst of a meeting of this level." Never mind that burping was the soundtrack to Volstagg's life, and he attended most of their meetings. It was fun to keep Midgard on its toes. "You know what? If he doesn't have time to peruse the information I sent, that's his own problem. It won't be a sword at my throat. Tell the Secretary I'll see him when he gets here."

Tearing the phone from her ear and hurriedly ending the call, Darcy wrinkled her nose at the device. "They won't ever fire me, right?" Loki, who now had his hands fisted in the material of her shirt at her waist, tugged her closer, pressing a kiss to her hair.

"Of course not," he replied instantly. "Asgard would have no one else in your position." She smiled, pressing her face into his neck as he nuzzled against her hair. "You do, however, have a slight problem with back-talking figures of authority," he conceded into her ringlets, and she giggled into his shoulder. "Now, I suppose we should head to the Bifrost and ensure those reporters don't fall off, mm?"

"Would be a tragedy," Darcy agreed, making a face, and they turned as one to head down the hallway, a quick word from Darcy ensuring that a passing servant would spread the word to continue decorating where she'd left off. Loki tucked her into his side as they rounded the corner, and she gave a habitual nod of respect to a painting of Frigga hanging on the wall to her left before pulling out her phone to again double-check arrival times.

The Bifrost was the new Heathrow, and she'd just become the new head of Customer Service, she thought with a sigh.

Yggdrasil was no easy tree to climb, the dark one conceded; only certain gnarled branches were accessible by foot, the others requiring significantly more climbing finesse, and a bit of magic here and there.

Up and up, across and around he went, navigating the roots and branches that fluctuated between shades of bright green and black, the passage of time nothing to him in his focus. Glimpses of the realms, times, and places he passed flickered past his vision as he climbed, battles both ongoing and long lost appearing and disappearing as he left their branches behind.

He licked his lips in anticipation of the meals ahead as he climbed. Muspel children, already charbroiled; Jötun children, like little popsicles for dessert; and Midgardian children, the main course, with their fat-filled diets plumping them up perfectly. The cheeks were the best part, he mused, cresting another large arc in Yggdrasil. It was a rare case indeed, when specimens of those varying sorts were gathered in one place, and it just so happened that he had heard tell of such a gathering, happening soon, in the golden realm.

Little did they know, they were supplying him with a fully-stocked buffet. And if the realms tore each other apart in the wake of his actions, what did he care? He'd have a full stomach and be ready for a nice, long nap.

Distracting himself with different recipes for cooking the children of different realms, he almost missed the limb he was looking for; with a sheen of gold covering the dark green moss, it was obviously the route to Asgard. Krampus grinned, a full set of knifelike fangs on display, and switched courses, heading for that path, and the door made of gold and bright oak at the end of it.

It was the second summit that Asgard had hosted since the new relations had begun after the siege of Hoder, and larger than the first. Darcy was not looking forward to it, but earth was really starting to feel the effects of resource consumption and global warming, and that was where Asgard would come in. The golden realm would act as a go-between, as Jötunheim had offered a potential partnership with Midgard, to help combat melting glaciers and warming oceans. It was risky, but the details that needed hammering out – no pun intended, though Thor would be there – were of the highest importance if Jötuns were to be granted access to earth.

It was Thor's turn to act as king at the moment, but Darcy, Jane and Loki functioned as his thinking machine – some of the finer details in dealings like this had escaped him in the past, leaving them frantic to clean up behind him.

He and Jane were late, she noted with annoyance, glancing around the golden chamber and seeing only her assistants and the other representatives whose presence she'd requested – Freja was standing with arms crossed, bored, and the Warriors Three were debating amongst each other what would be on the banquet table tonight. Sif stood to one side, hand on the hilt of her sword, steadfastly avoiding eye contact with Darcy, whose contact, she had made clear, was utterly unacceptable, no matter if she was yawning or making out with Loki. Couldn't be friends with everyone, the ambassador had conceded a while ago, and she no longer took it personally. She had a job to do.

And so Darcy pasted a welcoming grin on her face from where she stood, just inside Heimdall's post at the Bifrost, ready to greet a platoon of reporters who would cover the event for Midgard. She was glad, in a way, that this summit had fallen on the calendar where it did – she'd extended an offer for diplomats and envoys to bring their families along, and let them experience Yuletide in Asgard. Hopefully the atmosphere would be a little cheerier, with small voices filling the halls alongside all the decorations she'd demanded.

Loki had extracted his arm from hers when they'd arrived at the Bifrost, disappointed at the absence of contact, but knowing they had to remain professional and above reproach while these new relations between the realms were still so new. The last thing he needed was an accusation of bewitching Midgard's live-in ambassador to his realm, really, and while they weren't in the habit of concealing their association around Asgard, it was agreed that they couldn't be all over each other when reporters and shrewd senators were breathing down their necks, looking for a loose thread to pull on.

The seasons in Asgard were an odd thing, the climate remaining fairly temperate all year round, but Freyr, an elderly scholar who had a knack for influencing such things, had been persuaded to concoct a "winter" of sorts for the summit. Really, Darcy had just wanted an excuse to wear cute coats and scarves, although she'd forgotten any such apparel in the rush of things today, and was shivering in the strong breeze that forever accompanied the Bifrost. Noticing her discomfort, Loki flicked his hand furtively, and one of Darcy's favorite peacoats, a deep green one, appeared on her. It was also his favorite, and he inclined his head with a wink at her smile of thanks.

"Any time now," Heimdall intoned, his overall attitude much less stoic than before the Coup. Loki liked to believe they might even be "bros", as Darcy often insisted they ought to be, after everything.

Shifting impatiently on his feet, Loki absently drew a dagger, flipping it in his hands in a whirlwind of movement that came easily to him. A throat cleared to his left after a moment, and Darcy arched her brows meaningfully when he looked to her, her eyes on the blade in his hand. "Might not be the best impression," she said. "Reporters are sharks, and you fiddling with a sharp weapon at first sight is gonna be blood in the water for 'em, Loke."

He smiled ruefully at her nickname for him, pocketing the weapon. He didn't understand her reference, but the gist of it was clear. She nodded in approval before seeming to remember something, patting at the pockets of her newly-summoned coat. "D'you know where I left my iPad? It has the roster on it…" A blink later and it was in her hands. "Never gonna get tired of that. Convenience, man…" She trailed off, scrolling swiftly through the device and pulling up the document she was looking for, just as the Bifrost jolted, brilliant golden light filling the dome they stood in.

"Merry Chr- I mean, seasons greetings!" She chimed weakly at the sight of a group of bewildered mortals, shakily regaining their feet and looking around wildly. One had to remain politically correct even in other realm, after all.

Thanks for reading! ~Bon