Author's Note: Hey everyone, this started out as a one-shot, but I think I'm going to make a series of one-shots out of it because I really love Loki/Eris. I tried searching to see if something like this had been done before, but I couldn't find anything... So, I decided to do it myself. To those of you who read my other stories, DON'T WORRY, I will be continuing them soon. Don't take this as evidence of me abandoning my other stuff. That said, I hope you all enjoy this! I love Greek mythology, so this pairing just seemed to make sense to me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

A Chance Encounter: Part I

He had left his home, the only one he had ever known (and yet not the one he was meant to call home), in shame. And he returned in chains.

Dragged, like cattle, by his thuggish older brother. They gave him a muzzle – a muzzle – because he's dangerous. But not really because he's dangerous (which he certainly is) – but because they don't want to see him smirk. Because he smirks – always smirks – even in defeat. He mocks them, and rightly so.

It's ironic, really, that the cleverest Asgardian is not Asgardian at all. I don't know what that says about the species as a whole, but it can't be anything good.

They'd punish him themselves, but he's too much of a liability. He's slipped through their fingers too many times before, outwitted them more than their pride can endure.

So, they're sending him to us. Ha! Mistake number one. Oh, but it's such a lovely mistake. A glorious mistake. Think of the fun we're going to have…

He arrives in a gilded cage, like the royal prisoner he was always destined to be.

Oh, my parents – mainly my father – they will punish him. Of course they will. In fact, they'll probably have my boorish brother do it. He does ever so love a good torturing. So angry, all the time – I imagine he's quite like Thor, actually.

And he and I are ever so alike.

Yes, I'm a princess. Just as he is a prince. My brother is a fool and a prince, just like his.

My parents are the king and queen.

And soon we shall meet.

It's funny, you know, when two clever people meet. You might think they'd clash – indeed, if you put Thor and Ares together in a room, some sort of idiotic scuffle would be unavoidable. But that is only because Thor and Ares are not clever.

Oh no, no, no, Loki and I will not fight. Clever people enjoy other clever people.

When he arrives, I am there. I do not know if he sees me. I do not know if he knows of me. But if he does not, he will soon enough.

We keep him in the basement of the palace. It's a dark, cavernous place. I call it a basement, but everyone else refers to it as a dungeon. It's really not a dungeon, though. Dungeons are dank and smelly. No, no, the basement is just as garish as the rest of Olympus. Gold everywhere. Tapestries. Torture devices fashioned by Hephaestus himself (because really, what dungeon would be complete without them?).

I can hear his screams, sometimes, when I'm milling about the palace. Oh, but they're hardly screams – shrieks of laughter would be more accurate. I smile to myself at the sound. It's music to my ears.

It's on the third day that I decide it's finally time to make my grand entrance, to introduce myself. I walk down the ivory marble staircase, spiraling, spiraling, at a time when I know no one is around.

He's sat against the wall of his cell, but not in the corner. His legs are long, spiderlike; his feet hit the floor, but bent knees do not touch the bench. He stares straight ahead. I know he hears me approach.

"Hellooooo, love!" I greet dramatically.

Emerald eyes snap to watch me as I approach. He quirks a single dark eyebrow. He does not speak, and I soon discover that this is because his lips are sewn shut with a golden thread.

It is my turn to raise an eyebrow. "Ares has gotten creative, I see," I mutter wryly. With a snap of my manicured fingers, the thread disappears without a trace.

"Who are you?" he asks bluntly, mirth lacing his tone. He takes in my appearance and I bask in his wandering gaze.

"You mean to say that you don't know who I am, dear Loki?"

He finally breaks out into a wolfish smile. Oh good, he likes me already. "I'm afraid I haven't yet had the pleasure. What is your name, you exquisite creature?"

"You flatter me, darling. My name is Eris – I am the daughter of Zeus and Hera."

"Ah, and the sister of Ares, no doubt."

"Indeed, pretty thing." I wonder if the pet names bother him. I hope they do.

"Then I daresay, we have much in common." His voice sounds deliciously suggestive and I twirl a lustrous golden lock around my index finger. I would bat my eyelashes, but I don't want to lay it on too thick.

"Oh, I know!" I exclaim enthusiastically, strolling right up to the bars. "Very much indeed…"

He jumps up from his seat to meet me. We are standing nearly nose-to-nose as his wraps his spindly fingers around the bars above mine. He meets my Cheshire grin with one of his own.

"It's like looking in a mirror," I murmur happily, reaching my hand out and studying his face with my fingertips.

"My sentiments exactly," he agrees. He does not flinch under my touch, but rather embraces it and tilts his head wickedly.

I phase into his cell with him.

"Incredible," he chuckles, "You can do that too?"

"Can you?"

"Indeed."

"Hm. Then why haven't you escaped?"

"Oh, escaping so soon would be terribly dull. I like to let them think they're winning before I crush them."

"That's simply delightful! You really are a man after my own heart." I step closer to him and we circle each other in a sort of tango.

He beams and says, "Why, oh why, don't we have one of you back on Asgard?"

"'Cause I'm the one and only, love."

He ignores this. "So," he starts energetically, "why have you come?"

"Because I wanted to meet you, of course!"

"I have a feeling there's more to it than that," he presses. His tone is just short of scolding and I love it.

"Wouldn't you, though," I tease. "I was just holed up in my little palace, innocently thinking to myself, 'You know, that Loki character seems like an interesting kind of guy. I should go meet him.' And voila, here I am!"

His smirk is unwavering and his eyes are shining with glee.

"Okay, okay," I concede, "I think we both know what's going on here. It's obvious. We're meant to be! Goddess of Discord and Strife, Lord of Mischief and Lies, it's a match made in… Well, you get the idea. So, what do you say?"

"My pet, you need not even ask! On my own, I am trouble enough – but the two of us together? The notion is simply divine."

"Yes, my darling trickster, I thought you might agree. But there are so many places where we may wreak havoc…"

"I propose we first and fore mostly pay a visit to Midgard."

"Midgard?"

"It is referred to as 'Earth' in its indigenous tongue," he explains.

"Oh yes, I am quite familiar with this place." I cannot help but smile as I reminisce about the various wars I've caused on the planet in question. The Trojan War was one of my finer moments – I even got the other royals involved in the whole debacle. They were all taking sides and making bets – Dionysus even engaged in a drunken brawl with Apollo, if I'm remembering correctly.

"Your expression leads me to believe that you have already brought some manner of mishap down up the Midgardians," he says appreciatively.

"Yes, I have. And I believe," I start flirtatiously, "that you have, too. Quite recently, in fact."

"Indeed, I do have some unfinished business to take care of. Things hit a bit of a snag before, but I have no doubt that – with your help – I will be able to rectify the situation."

I trail my fingers up his lean chest and he seems positively tickled. However, he does not make any attempt to reciprocate physical contact. This won't do…

Thinking aloud, I say, "Ah yes, you are Jotun, aren't you?"

He seems taken aback by this abrupt change in topic, but only for a moment. "Is really it fair that you know more of me than I of you?" he counters with a question of his own.

"So cold," I tut whist disregarding his comment. The briefest flash of injury crosses his features and I do not restrain myself from grinning smugly.

With impressive speed, one lithe hand is around my throat and he has me squeezed against the bars of the cell. I don't bother teleporting out of his grasp, because I know this is going to be good. I pout expectantly, eagerly waiting for him to respond.

"You'd be surprised," he begins, baring his lower teeth menacingly as he speaks, "just how wrong stereotypes can be." Suddenly, his skin turns blue, and his eyes crimson. Oh, so that's what a Frost Giant looks like?

I release a melodious giggle. "You know," I purr, "they call you Silvertongue…"

Back to his normal self, he lets me go and I drop to my feet. He looms several inches above me, peering down through his lashes. His self-satisfied smirk has been restored.

"Was that anger, just then?"

"No, of course not, my love," he fluidly dismisses. "I do not feel anger, only frustration with others' stupidity."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"Certainly not. Don't be absurd, pet." His grin tells me otherwise. He's so pretty. Never had I had so much fun playing with the boys in Olympus.

"Loki, Loki, Loki, I do believe we are going to be the best of friends," I sing. My words are truthful, but my tone is not.

"I agree," he answers huskily, swiftly pulling my body to his. That's more like it, Frosty.

I weave my arms around his neck, over his slick brown tendrils. He had an odd hairstyle, but I didn't mind it.

Before he can get too comfortable, though, I pull back, out of his grip. I want to leave him wanting more.

I extend my hand, palm up – soon, my beloved golden apple materializes. "So Midgard, you say?"

He raises his brows in half-surprise. "Where did you get that?" he questions.

"Oh this little thing? I like to call it the Apple of Discord. Surely you've heard of the marriage of Peleus and Thetis?"

"I am not familiar with Midgardian history, no."

"It caused the Trojan War, darling. But if that means nothing to you…"

"That is an Apple of Idun," he points out. "How did you come by it?"

I bare my pearly white teeth in a grin. "Are you impressed?"

He matches my smile. "Indeed I am, my love. My father would be most displeased with you."

"Which one?" I counter. Ah, the anger is back. But only for a second – I would have missed it if I'd blinked. His heritage is clearly a sore subject; I'll have to keep that in mind to use later on…

"I am Loki Odinson," he states.

"Or are you Loki Laufreyson?"

"I killed Laufrey as he was about to kill Odin. I have chosen my father."

I only smirk. "You know what they say, love – 'you can't choose family.' Believe me, many things would be different if I could."

"I am not just anyone. I am Loki Odinson, one of the most powerful beings in the realm. I can choose my family."

"Oh pooh, did I ruffle your feathers? I didn't mean to, allow me to extend my deepest apologies. Now, now, let's get going to Earth. My dolt of a brother might be back at any moment…"

"Indeed, let's."

He takes my hand in his, and together we teleport onto the unfortunate planet. Upon our arrival, he is once again clothed in his customary green war garments, helmet and all. I smirk. I must look horribly anticlimactic in comparison, as I'm wearing only my ivory toga and gold diadem.

The moment the mortals lay eyes on him, they erupt in screams. Perhaps I have underestimated his infamy – it seems he's made quite the lasting impression, and I have to admit that he has both my affection and my respect. He should be proud, as this is a harrowing feat – but I knew he wouldn't be, which only bolstered these sentiments.

I throw my apple into the frenzied crowd and the ground beneath their feet begins to crumble. New shrieks ring out, and Loki beams.

"This is the beginning of a beautiful relationship," he tells me.

I can't help but agree.

Author's Note: Thanks so much for reading :) Please review!