There was a smile on Frigga's face as she watched her husband training their sons in the courtyard, and she sighed at the sight. But it was not a content sigh, nor a happy smile. The sigh was frustrated and the smile was one of exasperation. Oh, she loved them, all three of them, always... but simply loving them was just not enough some days.

This was the third time that she had visited the courtyard during training time, her needlework absently sitting across her lap as she watched, and Frigga was not pleased with what she saw. Not wholly, at any rate. Oh, Thor was doing well, and she was proud of him and pleased for him, but Loki was doing just as well, and yet Odin didn't give him half the praise he did the elder of the two boys.

It was blatantly obvious who Odin's favourite child was, and the rest of Asgard would follow his example. Thor would be the favoured prince to the rest of the realm. He was the elder, the heir, and he was Odin's favourite – and so he must of course be better.

Even if Loki was his equal, despite the disparity in their ages.

Frigga held a secret close to her heart. Just as Odin had a favoured child, so too did she. But it was not the same child. No, as terrible as Odin might think it, Frigga loved the foundling that he had brought back from the war against the Jotuns with greater intensity than she loved the child she had birthed herself.

Thor had... well, he'd been expected, anticipated, but Frigga had not felt ready for motherhood when she realised the stirrings inside of her. Odin had been too pleased to notice her unease and reluctance, and when Frigga had first laid eyes on her son, most of it had faded anyway.

But taking Loki in as her son had been her choice. Hers. Odin had brought the infant back from the war front with the intention of giving him to one of Frigga's attendants to raise, in the event that the under-sized Jotun child would some day be useful to them. Frigga had taken the babe from her husband and named him Loki herself, and nothing Odin could say would dissuade her.

Of course, for the sake of the kingdom, they kept their disagreements over the babe private. But Frigga had claimed Loki as hers then, and it only took a hundred years for Odin to get used to the idea and stop fighting her on it – though clearly he still favoured Thor, the child of his blood.

Frigga watched sadly as Loki was pushed slowly into the shadows. Odin had always cast a large shadow, but he was careful to give Thor some sun. Sunlight enough to cast his own shadow, certainly, and Odin looked to be making that shadow to grow as large as his.

But Loki. Frigga thought her heart might break if her little Loki could not be given any sun of his own – for sun was needed to grow, and grow strong.

The training was done for the day, and Odin clapped Thor on the shoulder proudly. Father and son went together into the palace – never noticing that Frigga had been audience, or that Loki had been left behind.

"You are his equal," Frigga said firmly.

Loki's head snapped up from where it had been bowed, contemplating the weapon he had been training with, and his beautiful green eyes loked with Frigga's.

"Odin is missing one of his eyes, and so he does not see as well as he once did," Frigga stated plainly, and a new smile danced about her lips. One that said she knew her comment was nigh-on traitorous, but she didn't care, and that her having said it at all could be their little secret.

Loki, bless his heart, bit back a smile of his own and ducked his head again.

"So, with one eye, Odin sees that he has one son, who he shall shape in his own image. I see two, and I will not see my Loki forgotten," Frigga declared, soft but firm. "Come with me," she bid, hand out to her son. "I will teach you things that Odin has forgotten the importance and value of."

Loki looked up with surprise and intrigue. Yes, her son was an inquisitive, curious child. He did not hesitate to cross the courtyard and slip his delicate little hand into hers.

"This shall be your first lesson at my knee, my son," Frigga said as she sat Loki down at a table in her private chambers and wove a spell between them. "A spell to conceal you from Heimdall's sight."

Loki's eyes widened in awe. It was well known that Heimdall saw all things. To have a way to block his eyes... It was nearly beyond comprehension.

Frigga laughed softly at the look on her son's face.

"Don't look so surprised," she teased gently. "Heimdall helped to make this spell. After all, just because he is able to see everything, does not mean that he wishes to. This is a spell passed from one woman to another, generally, so that we may keep our secrets from all men. But you, my Loki, you will learn this spell, and then I shall teach you so many other, much more wondrous things."

~oOo~

"Mother, why doesn't Father love me as he loves Thor?" Loki asked one day, his voice soft and his eyes rimmed with red as he sniffled and shuffled his way into her chambers. "I fulfil the demands of the training just as well as my brother, don't I? But I never get even a word of recognition, never mind the praise that he heaps upon Thor."

Frigga sighed, and gestured for her son to come to her. He now a century older than the first time she had drawn him from training in the courtyard, but still small enough that she was able to cradle him on her lap.

"Loki, my precious, wonderful son. I have told you that Odin sees only one son through his one eye," she said. Then she hesitated a moment, in thought. She decided that it was needful for her child to know the truth. Or at least some of it. Odin had not told her everything when he brought Loki back from the war, so she could not tell Loki everything. But she could tell him some.

"It is that he still does not wholly accept you as his," Frigga said softly.

"Why would Father not accept me?" Loki questioned, truly confused.

Frigga sighed, and wrapped her arms more tightly around her son. "Because you are not his," she whispered.

Loki gasped a pained gasp of a breaking heart and a shattered world.

"M-mother?" he quavered.

"Odin found you as a babe in the wake of a battle. He did not tell me which, and if he either suspects or knows you parentage, he has not told me that either," Frigga said softly. This was all true. She had suspicions of her own, but Odin had not spoken, and she would likewise keep her silence on her guesses. "His intent was to give you to one of my handmaidens, but I claimed you for myself instead. You are the child of my heart, my Loki, even if you are not the flesh of my flesh. No matter what else may be, I am and always will be your mother."

Loki buried his face in her shoulder then, and sobbed, and held tight to her. His world was shattered completely. He would never have the love of his father, because to Odin, he was not his son. He would never be equal to Thor, because he was not truly his brother. He was a foundling. A nothing, left to die in the aftermath of a war, for Odin would have only taken him if he had been abandoned.

But he was Frigga's son. She said so. She was his mother. That was enough.

After a time of crying, Loki finally wiped away his tears and obediently blew his nose when Frigga held a kerchief up before his face. Then he plastered a very fake smile upon his face, and begged for a new lesson in magic.

Before the day was done, the smile was genuine once more. His world was still not stable, but Loki could and would go on. He had his mother. That was enough.

~oOo~

"It is not enough that I be as good as Thor," Loki growled as he threw a ceramic vase – filled with water and flowers – against the wall. "No, if I am to be even comparable, to begin to approach being his equal, then I must surpass him in all things! And even then, I am sure I would not be considered Thor's equal."

"You are better than him," Frigga corrected softly, and laid soft-but-calloused hands on her son's shoulders. "You are the younger, and you lack the advantage of Odin's blood, but you match him in every feat of strength demanded of you both in the training fields. In intellect, you surpass him by miles. Thor is charming, but he hasn't your wit, your intelligence, your thirst for understanding and knowledge. He lacks tact, where you are all that is subtlety when you wish it. Thor's only ability with magic of any kind is what he is able to conduct through Mjolnir. He is unable to conduct even the simplest of spells, not as you are gifted, my Loki."

Frigga's voice was soothing, measured, low and calm. And calming.

Loki covered one of her hands with his, and breathed slowly in and out, releasing his frustration. A wave of his hand, and the broken vase was repaired. The water and flowers returned to their containment, the mess cleaned away.

"You need an outlet," Frigga discerned clearly. A secret little smile danced upon her lips. "You have my permission."

Loki frowned and looked over his shoulder to his mother. "To do what?" he asked, confused.

Frigga smiled more widely. "Whatever you want," she said firmly, and turned her son to face her, still smiling at him. "Cause mischief, set up pranks and jokes, set out to explore the realms and meet new faces. Find new books, make new discoveries, invent something entirely new if it would give you pleasure. You are a creative mind in a world that has settled down and feels no more need for any kind of creativity."

Loki wrapped his arms around his mother's waist and bent his head to rest on her shoulder. Strictly speaking, he was several centuries 'too old' for hugs. But he loved his mother, and he was truly a tactile creature, though he hid it well. He loved hugs, and he got them only from her.

~oOo~

As the god of mischief, chaos, madness, word-smithing and hearth fires, Loki wasn't all that sure about settling himself into a routine. He wouldn't like to become too predictable. On the other hand, if he spent most of his days setting up a prank or five, and then the other two days away from Asgard while tempers cooled and he missed the more violent fall-out of his fun... well, why not make it the same two days every week? Everybody would soon get to know that there would be no point in seeking him out on those days, and his mother had suggested he travel, among all of her other suggestions.

Loki started with simple pranks, and the nearer realms. He bleached Thor's favourite red cape so that it was a cheerful, sugary, ridiculous pink. He visited Alfenheim. He slipped laxative into Odin's mead. He went to Svartenheim. He bespelled the hair of the Warriors Three, so that Volstagg's red mane was black, Fandra's blonde locks (including his moustache and the bit of fluff on his chin) were bright red, and Hogun's severe black style was blonde curls. Loki went to Muspelheim.

A few centuries passed in that manner, until the day he decided to travel all the way down to Midgard. Just on a whim. Loki was surprised to learn that he quite liked the place. Innovation and invention was encouraged, intelligence was valued just as much as physical might, and there were libraries and museums full of knowledge open to all interested persons.

Two centuries into Midgard's various libraries around the world, and Loki was quietly enjoying a copy of The Prince that had clearly been donated to the library by someone who no longer needed the heavily scribbled-upon copy. Or had been added to the collection when the owner had left it behind by mistake and hadn't returned in search of it for over a year. Loki was rather enjoying the notes in the margins when a sound roused him.

Normally, noises could not and would not pull him from his reading. He had, after all, began his literary interests in Asgard and the library there was near where the Valkyries trained, occasionally under his mother's guidance. But this particular clattering thump, soft though it was, happened inches from his elbow.

A bag, with a number of badges and pins attached, sat on the desk beside him. It was soon joined by an inch-thick text that was thumped down beside the bag, and a much slimmer volume that was lightly slapped down on top of that.

Sociology by Giddens, sixth edition, was the thicker text. The Communist Manifesto by Karl Marx, translated of course, was the thinner.

The badges that covered the brown, lumpy bag had various quotes and images, many of which referenced television shows, movies, and internet tropes – and only half of which Loki truly understood. Another quarter he vaguely understood, but he was fairly sure he lacked the full context. His favourite among the badges – so far as he was able to take in with only a cursory glance – was one that said Chaos, Panic, & Disorder. My Work Here Is Done. That particular badge was actually green with black writing on, and with a gilded border. His colours.

Loki looked up to see who owned the bag and was at least making use of the books. It was a woman. Girl. Woman-child? It was so hard to tell on Midgard any more when a female was considered no longer a child but instead a woman. Once, it was simply a matter of her reaching child-bearing age. In this age, it was much more subjective.

All the same, Loki guessed her to be in her first year of study at the college that he was able to see through the window and across the road. Second if she had skipped a year at some point in her schooling and matriculated early.

"Hey," she said, and an apologetic smile tugged at her lips. "Did I disturb you? Sorry about that. Uh, mind if I sit here? I should probably have asked first, but I didn't want to interrupt you, and you looked like the apocalypse could happen and you wouldn't notice, you were so deep in your book."

"Go ahead," Loki agreed easily. Then... "First year across the road?" he asked, wanting to know if his guess was right.

She nodded. "Yep," she said, and unlike so many of her contemporaries, she didn't pop the P. "And you? You don't look like a college student, if you don't mind me saying."

Loki chuckled. "Considering most male college students look like drunken frat boys or brick-headed jocks, no, I don't mind at all," he said with a smirk.

She giggled a little, but quickly bit down on her very full lower lip and ducked her head.

"Oh, did I stumble upon a girl who was forced into a sorority by her parents, but enjoys mocking the system?" Loki probed curiously. He set his book down on the table beside him and turned in his seat to give the young lady his full attention.

"Ah, no," was the answer. "At least, to the first. I do enjoy mocking though. And I've got a small collection of disposable cameras in my dorm room for when I sneak into their parties, so that I can have blackmail when they take over their parent's very successful companies."

Loki barked out a sharp, delighted "Ha!" – though he was careful to keep the volume down, so as to not draw the ire of any librarians that might be lurking between the shelves nearby. This, it seemed, was a mind that he could appreciate. And why hadn't he ever thought of taking pictures of his victims? Oh, wait, blackmail would do him no good most of the time. It would only get him challenged to a spar or duel. He could beat most everybody in Asgard in a fight if called to do so, but he hadn't the taste for such things as Thor did.

She shrugged – and it was either her being demure and modest, or it was a what-can-you-do-but-make-the-best-of-it sort of motion.

"You haven't answered my question though," she said. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Now, that depends entirely on what day it is," Loki answered with an easy smile. "Mondays and Tuesdays I set up pranks around the palace. Wednesdays and Thursdays I escape to a different country to avoid the fall-out. Fridays I spend with my mother, hearing about said fall-out second hand and making sure I'm not falling behind in my duties to the court, and on Saturdays and Sundays I alternately hand my brother and his friends their arses in the training courts, and pretend that they've handed me mine."

The girl blinked. "Palace?" she repeated, having latched onto that one word and probably not heard all that much beyond it.

Loki chuckled. "Palace," he confirmed.

A nervous light entered the girl's eyes. "Suddenly I'm worried," she admitted. "Cinderella was never really my style, and this meeting has all the right fixings for it."

"And what Disney Princess was your style?" Loki asked slyly, a wicked little smirk tugging at his lips.

"Belle," the girl answered. "At least she was interested in books. And while everybody goes on about the Stockholm Syndrome in that movie, I always counter that there's a better case for Lima Syndrome, or the Beast would have never let her go in the first place – and Belle didn't admit to any feelings for him until after she wasn't his prisoner any more."

Loki chuckled. "A fascinating argument," he allowed. Quickly, he looked the girl up and down – clean jeans, a likely home-knitted cardigan, a bright green t-shirt with only the middle part of the slogan visible across her not inconsiderable bust. Bright eyes behind simple black frames and clear skin. He extended a hand. "Loki," he said. "Prince of a place you've probably never heard of."

She set her hand in his. "Darcy," she answered. "Political Science major at the college across the road."

"Oh, then you'll probably be interested in my reading material," Loki said, and nudged the copy of The Prince that he'd been reading a little closer to her bag.

"Not until next semester," she answered with a teasing, sarcastic little smile.

~oOo~

After that, Loki made it a habit to return to that particular library every week, and every week, Darcy would take the table next to him. They would talk a little, she'd get some study done, or make varying amounts of progress on assignments that the professors gave her. After two months of this, Loki decided to invite the young woman to have a drink with him in a slightly hippy café down the street a little.

She agreed, and long, interesting, and extremely varied discussions over strange teas (sacred basil tea, white peony tea, iron monk tea, monkey-picked phoenix tea... just to name a few) was added to their weekly routine.

Take-out in the park followed another couple of months later, and around about six months after they'd first met, Darcy invited Loki back to her dorm room.

~oOo~

"Loki? What are we?" Darcy asked absently as she lay back on her bed, naked as the day she was born. Then again, so was the other person sharing her bed.

"Eternally under-estimated, under-valued, or under-appreciated by very nearly everybody else that we know," Loki answered easily and without much thought. Utterly honest as he wasn't with most others of his acquaintance. "And occasionally very, very kinky."

Darcy huffed, and poked him in the side. "Very funny, Trickster-god. I meant us, as in to each other, a definition of whatever our relationship is," she elaborated. "Friends-with-benefits? Dating? Or am I just your weekly booty-call?" she asked.

Loki frowned and his brow furrowed in thought and confusion. "What brings about this particular line of enquiry?" he probed carefully. He was familiar with all terms used, but was reluctant to commit until he had some idea of the sort of answer that Darcy was hoping for. For all he knew, she could be hoping he'd say booty-call, when he more than just kind-of wanted to say dating-with-intent-to-commit. He hoped she didn't want him to say booty-call. Much as he enjoyed the sex (and he enjoyed it very much) he also enjoyed their debates and discussions. Those times when sex wasn't on their minds in the least, and they were still having a fantastic time. Their occasional movie nights were pretty fun too. Popcorn and snuggling. Very nice.

"Well, let's see. Since we met in the library a bit over two years ago, you've regularly shown up every Wednesday-slash-Odin's Day around dinner time, stayed until at least noon on Thurs-slash-Thor's Day, and between the mind-blowing like-wow sex that gives whole new meaning to your titles 'god of mischief' and 'silver-tongue' we have the most intense discussions I'm ever going to get with anybody that doesn't have ten different PhD's," Darcy rattled out – and Loki realised just how much she had come to really know about him in such a (for him) short space of time.

"So, I'm asking, and probably should have at least eighteen months ago: what are we?"

Loki chuckled softly, pulled himself up and then over so that he was holding himself up on his forearms above Darcy, and bent his neck to kiss her.

"Well, how would you feel about me asking you to marry me?" he offered when he pulled back.

Darcy's eyes – which had closed in bliss at the kiss – popped wide open so that she could give him a completely shocked stare. Then the shock slowly faded when she realised that he was being completely serious, and with a grin that nearly split her face she rolled them both over and impaled herself on him enthusiastically – winning a groan from her lover.

"Two-point-five kids and a white picket fence?" she asked teasingly as she slowly began to ride him.

"Two or three, but I will not have half a child," Loki answered with surprising coherence for a man who looked like he was nearing Valhalla. "I had enough nightmares when you first shared Midgar's version of the Eddas with me. I have no desire to father a child that looks as Hel is described to. Nor any of the others, for that matter. And much as my shape-shifting ability entertains you my love, I have no particular desire to birth an eight-legged foal."

Though, after that discussion, he'd gone back to Asgard and for the first time ever, had approached Odin's chosen steed. The animal was far more intelligent than any of the other horses in the stables, and that had made Loki worry – and seek out the true Eddas in the libraries of Asgard. It had not been fun reading. Thankfully, no mind magicks had been used on him to forget having been raped by a horse, nor bearing Sleipnir, but his namesake, Loki-Loptr from the time before, had certainly not been so lucky.

"And if you insist on a white picket fence, then I will retaliate by filling all water-bombs with paint when playing with said children," he added, driving the unpleasant thoughts from his mind.

Darcy laughed, laced her fingers behind Loki's neck, and kissed him.

Then she stopped as a thought hit her – and the complete cessation of participation from her end caused Loki to choke out a needy, pained whimper.

"Sorry," Darcy said, and rolled her hips. "It just occurred to me that I should probably introduce you to my folks first. How soon do you want to get married?" It was, after all, only three weeks until Christmas. One week before Darcy would be leaving behind her one-person dorm-room at her college campus and returning home to her parents for the holiday.

"Tell them when you call them next. I'll come on Odin's Day like I always do, and I'll meet them then," Loki promised. "Then we can run away and get married in Vegas on New Year's Day."

"Can we have the proper, big-white-wedding on our anniversary?" Darcy asked. "I'd be happy to marry you tomorrow, but Ma will want wedding photos. Besides, one more year, and I'll be legally old enough to drink."

"A solemnification of our vows for us, wedding as far as your parents know," Loki agreed. "I'll follow you home for the holiday this year, shall I?"

"That holiday will be Christmas," Darcy warned.

"Not a holiday celebrated in Asgard," Loki countered. "I won't be missed. I know your customs quite well by this time, though. I won't screw up," he promised.

Their sentences were getting shorter as their need began to wind tighter and tighter in their bellies.

"Okay," Darcy agreed. "You got a deal. Meet the folks at Christmas, marry on New Year's Day in Vegas."

Loki lunged at that, and suddenly Darcy was on her back beneath him. Then he proceeded to blow her mind – five times. Personally, he thought Darcy gave him too much credit for the 'mind-blowing like-wow sex'. After all, as the saying went, it took two to tango, and it was only because Darcy was somehow miraculously able to keep up with him that he was able to give as good as he did.

As chests heaved, short of breath, in the afterglow, Loki realised he was going to have to introduce Darcy to his mother as well. His father could go uninformed until Ragnarok for all he cared, but his mother was a different matter.

~oOo~

"So, you said you had big news to share when you got home," Moe Lewis said when he'd taken his turn giving his baby girl a welcome-home hug.

"Moe! Let Darcy get inside before you start with the twenty-questions!" Bwana 'Bee' Lewis scolded her husband lightly. It was her side of the family that the less-than-standard naming tradition came from.

"Better done now," Darcy said with a laugh as she waved off her mother's objections. "Ma, Pa, I'd like you to meet Loki," she said, and reached back out the door to grab the hand of the Aesir who had been waiting, hidden behind the door-frame where he couldn't be seen.

"Well it's about time!" Bee declared, eyes bright as she took in the young man who could only be her little girl's beau.

Moe nodded in solemn agreement, his eyes fixed on their unexpected (though not unwelcome) guest. The way Darcy talked about him – and she did – they'd really expected to meet him a lot sooner. Darcy was normally very quick to bring boyfriends home. Perhaps that she'd waited two years with this one just meant it was actually serious this time.

"Do you have somewhere to stay while you're in town?" Moe asked Loki.

"Not yet," Loki answered. "But I am more than capable of making such arrangements. I wouldn't want to intrude on your family Christmas celebrations."

"What about your own family?" Bee asked carefully. "They won't mind you being away from them for the holiday?"

"My family doesn't celebrate Christmas," Loki answered easily. "I didn't even know about the holiday myself until I left home. I'll give my mother a quiet gift, privately, but she's likely to ask what the occasion is. My father and brother are completely oblivious to the holiday, and wouldn't welcome the idea of sentimental gift-giving that they would see it as."

"How could you possibly not be aware of Christmas?" Moe demanded, completely confused and utterly baffled that such a major holiday – not just religiously, but commercially – could have been missed. Maybe he could understand if Loki had come from Africa, or one of the "Stan countries", where 'western' holidays weren't really given the time of day except by the minority Christian groups. But... judging from Loki's accent, his family had clearly been living somewhere in the Western World.

How had such a thing happened?

"Well, I was raised in a very isolated little kingdom on the other side of the world that you've probably never heard of," Loki offered with an understanding curl to his lips. "We followed the old Norse traditions there."

"I guess that's where you got the name then," Bee said with an 'uh-huh' sort of expression on her face as she nodded slowly.

"Something like that," he allowed.

"Didn't stick to the doctor's prescribed due date?" Moe joked.

Loki winced.

"He's adopted Dad," Darcy said softly.

It was Moe's turn to wince, and Bee gave him a solid cuff about his ear.

"Darcy, you go get yourself settled in, and I'll supervise your father's grovelling apology to your young man," Bee instructed her daughter. "And likely the shovel talk too," she added with a knowing smirk, a lifted eyebrow, and a pointed roll of her eyes that settled them on her husband.

The man gave a weak chuckle and hopeful little smile under his wife's gaze.

Darcy shook her head fondly at both of her parents, kissed Loki's cheek, then dashed up the stairs with her bag.

Darcy didn't unpack though. She tossed her bag onto her bed and headed for the linen closet. She grabbed sheets and a towel and quickly set about setting up the guest bedroom for Loki's use. He wouldn't be sleeping in her bed while they were under her parent's roof, after all.

There were some lines that didn't get crossed, and some standards that had to be upheld.

Despite that, there was no way her parents would let him stay anywhere else in town when they had a spare room and she'd brought him home at Christmas to meet them.

~oOo~

Christmas had gone well. Loki had gotten a nice (understated) bracelet for Bee and a build-your-own remote-control aeroplane kit for Moe – both things he knew from Darcy talking about them that they'd like. He'd also talked to them about his intent to take Darcy for a little vacation over New Years and – quote – ask her to marry him.

They, naturally, assumed he meant to propose, not stand with her before an officiate and exchange vows. Moe gave his consent, Bee got a bit teary and had said she'd start getting things together for organising the wedding. The Lewises weren't quite rich enough to afford a wedding planner. They were comfortable, but employing somebody else to organise things that Bee could do? They didn't see the point and (paying a good portion of Darcy's college tuition as they were so that there were fewer student loans for their baby girl to worry about) couldn't afford it anyway.

Moe had insisted that they'd still continue paying for Darcy's education too, even if Loki was able to support her – which he assured them he could.

Between Christmas and New Year, Loki was quick to spirit Darcy away to Asgard. She had to meet his mother.

A quick spell found Frigga in her private chambers. Alone. Perfect for an interview with her son – and his guest, who he had spelled to be hidden from the sight of all but himself and Frigga while they were in Odin's kingdom. Darcy, awed and unwilling to get separated from Loki lest she get lost in the truly massive palace, stuck close to his side as he led the way.

"Loki!" Frigga greeted happily. "You're back later than usual."

"Forgive me, Mother," he begged softly.

"I will if you introduce your friend," Frigga answered with a teasing smile.

Darcy figured right then and there that Loki got his sense of mischief from his ma.

"Mother, this is the Lady Darcy Lewis of Midgard," Loki presented. "I have told you of her before."

Frigga nodded and turned her smile on Darcy.

"It is good to finally meet you," she said. "Thank you for being such a good friend to my Loki."

"He's been pretty fantastic to me as well," Darcy answered with a little bit of a blush.

"Mother, I have asked the Lady Darcy to marry me. Her parents have consented without any knowledge of my true status, and Darcy had agreed. Will you give your blessing?"

Two hands snapped up to cover nose and mouth and hide tear-ducts. An apparently universal move that meant I am too happy to even speak right now and I think I may cry.

Darcy took that to mean that Frigga approved. The hug – strong, warm, and with an arm around each Loki and herself – solidified that supposition.

~oOo~

"We're goin' to the chapel and we're, gonna get ma-a-a-ried," Darcy sang as she and Loki cruised around Vegas looking for a twenty-four-hour celebrant they they could agree on. Loki had vetoed any Elvis look-a-likes as too tacky, even for them in Vegas. Darcy had countered no Village People – Loki honestly hadn't been about to argue, and would have said the same himself except that she beat him to it.

"Gee, I really love you and we're, gonna get ma-a-a-ried," Darcy continued happily.

"Going to the chapel of love," Loki finished with a chuckle, and steered her towards one that he'd spotted. The Little White Chapel.

Since it was daylight in Vegas, things were... a little quieter. Vegas was traditionally a 'night life' sort of city. During the day was when a good portion of people in Vegas slept. So, the somewhat-famous chapel was actually available. For a little while. They were able to squeeze Darcy into one of their many bridal gowns, Loki magicked himself into an appropriate tux, and they met before a non-costumed officiate in the area called the 'chapel of promises'.

They left as Mr and Mrs Loki Lewis. Yes, he took her last name. It would be troublesome for Darcy to have to change too much of her paperwork, and Loki honestly didn't have much – at least, that was truly legitimate. It was easier for him to take her name. Also, Aesir naming conventions... Yeah. No.

"How was that?" Loki asked with a smile as he sat on the edge of the bed in the honeymoon suite they'd booked for the single night they were in Vegas.

"Just tacky enough to stick," Darcy answered happily as she looked up at her new husband. She could hardly believe it. Just recently twenty, and already married to her man. A man she'd only met two years before and who, actually, wasn't human.

A laugh escaped Loki at her quip. Delighted with her, he bent down to kiss her. Oh, they'd done this before. They'd done it a hundred times before. More. But this was different. This... they had slim gold bands around the third finger of their respective left hands. They were married now – and somehow that made it new and exciting. Not that it was ever dull.

But still. New, somehow.

"You're stuck with me for the rest of your life," Loki promised her solemnly, his voice a low whisper when he released her lips.

Darcy hummed contently. "Sounds good to me," she agreed. "Now get that sexy loincloth off, and see if you can unwrap the lingerie."

"A challenge?" Loki teased with a wicked smile, and lowered his teeth to a ribbon that was holding part of the sheer silk in place.

"An invitation for mischief," Darcy countered with a knowing, happy smirk.

~oOo~

The 'official' wedding came a year later, as promised. It was largely organised by Bee Lewis. Of course, Darcy and Loki made sure their feelings and opinions on the whole thing were known and considered. Frigga was the only attendee on Loki's side – she found sneaking out of Asgard by one of the secret passages a little thrilling. Apparently it was something she hadn't done since the days before Asgard was at war with Jotunheim, long before Loki was born.

The couple had their honeymoon (and it was really their first, since just one night in a Vegas 'honeymoon suite' didn't quite count) in New York, where Loki got them into a different Broadway production every night for a week, while they shopped and/or walked around Central Park during the day.

Then the new semester was rapidly approaching, and Loki (somehow) bought a loft apartment for the two of them to live in. At least while Darcy was still studying. Darcy wasn't going to question where he got the funds from. Melting down the shoulder pieces alone of his ceremonial armour would put her through college five times over. But the loft was theirs. They could do whatever they pleased to it. No landlords to complain.

Loki wasn't there every day. He did still have to show his face around Asgard with some regularity – make sure Thor wasn't making an idiot of himself (that was practically Loki's job as his brother, even if he was only adopted), check in with Odin (and summarily ignore his overwhelming apathy towards his adopted/second son), and of course catch up with his beloved mother.

She wanted news of grandchildren particularly, but was happy enough to simply hear how Darcy's health and studies were, as well as Loki's, of course.

"Babe?" Darcy called as she wandered into their kitchenette, their daily paper delivery already open in her hands.

"What news of the world is troubling you my dear?" Loki asked as he set down their breakfast (it was French Toast Day).

"You remember when Stark went missing in Afghanistan?" Darcy countered.

Loki blinked. "They've found him then?" he asked.

"Yeah. And apparently being held hostage by a terrorist organisation in the middle of a war-torn country has really done something for his world-view," Darcy answered. "He's announced a cessation of weapons production."

Loki smirked. "Stocks will go through the floor, but the man's still a genius. He'll get it back on its feet fairly quickly. I'll buy up," he said.

Darcy laughed, pressed a kiss to his cheek, handed over the paper, and sat down to her breakfast. It was an hour until her first class, and a ten minute walk to the campus. Loki woke her up pleasurably every morning so the day always started well, and they had plenty of time to take the morning at a leisurely pace. Darcy was all for sleeping in, but Loki just made waking up so much fun that she was beginning to be converted into a morning person.

"And what else will you do while I'm in my classes?" Darcy teased fondly as she speared a slice of french toast on the end of her fork. "Apart from buy out Stark stocks while all the more nervous investors jump ship?"

"The same thing I do every day, Pinky," Loki answered. When she laughed, he grimaced. "Really though, I'm afraid I have to go and make my appearance in Odin's court," he admitted unhappily.

Darcy gave a sympathetic (slightly mocking, but that was them) pout, leant across the table, and kissed him. As though that would make the pain of having to suffer fools all day any better.

"Taking over the world is a slow-burn sort of thing anyway," she reassured him. "Not something that can be done in just a single day or night."

Loki chuckled at that, kissed his lovely wife again, and settled in to enjoy his breakfast.