disclaimer: I don't own the canon.

author's note: guilt trips are never fun, and destiny seems to be fickle and two-faced.

summary: everybody's heard the stories/on destiny/lokixdarcy

of course she's heard the stories, she's an intern and she's spending thousands of dollars to be a part of the pol-sci program – she has nothing to do but read. (also, she spends her days with heroes who's stories she used to read with her dad before bed and her boss is dating a god; therefore, know your freaking enemy) The feast had been great up until the mustachio'd god had started poking fun at Loki, and nobody did anything – Thor too busy making gooey eyes at Jane, and Odin just watched as if he was watching some really riveting documentary on paint, or maybe peanut butter.

So Darcy threw the first plate, and Volstagg laughed as the sauce dripped off his nose and threw his tankard of mead at her. It was pretty much a free-for-all afterwards.

Later, after she's scrubbed the mead out of her hair and the sauce off of her arm, Darcy finds him with Fenrir's head his lap.

"This," Darcy informs him snarkily. "is where a thank you is usually given."

"Why?" Loki's voice is cool. "They only speak the truth, afterall."

(okay, like, wtf? Darcy can't believe these people – they label and ostracize and then slay children without thought?)

(there is something wrong with humanity, Darcy thinks as she looks Loki, that we followed the footsteps of these people and allowed them to influence us)

"Yeah, okay," she replies nastily. "Be the victim. Which is totally lame and explains why you never get laid." Fenrir has started to slink away at this point, and Loki's fingers are twitching. "Because I mean, your kids are all ugly and you're the worst villain I've ever seen – really, you have daddy issues and to prove yourself you tried to wreck a rainbow bridge? Dude, are you sure you aren't a thirteen year old girl?"

"Bide your tongue girl," the Trickster hisses, skin flickering blue underneath Odin's spell. "You know not of what you speak!" Darcy shrugs, and curls her hair around a finger.

"Sure I do, everybody says you're worthless and you're going to end the world and you'll laugh as you do it. What's not to know?"

"It is not as if I have a choice!" Loki rarely yells, he speaks slowly, softly, coolly when he is angry - he only raises his voice in desperation. This is not what he wanted, but he has accepted the rather crappy role they expect him to play.

Darcy's eyes are flat, like the ice plains of Jotenheimr. She is unmoving, unforgiving and captivating in her irrtation.

"You're the fucking Trickster, Loki. Make one."

(so yeah, who cares if Jane has the heir to Asgard, Darcy's with the man who'll change the universe)