Wow, um...virtually no response to that last one...okay...uh...I know we're really that busy going-back-to-school point in the year, but the lack of response has been really disheartening considering what I usually get with this story. So...yeah...

This is the last chapter before the epilogue, which may be a long time coming. I'm maybe two sentences in. Maybe. For the moment I have a Thor piece and another Avengers oneshot in the works, featuring Jane Foster, Hawkeye and Black Widow respectively. There isn't any more Loki directly in the future, but that may change.

-XXX-

"Any child we conceive may come out blue," he tells her one night.

From where she's settled into the pillow, Tati cracks an eye. "Oh?" she asks easily. "Did you curse your privates?"

Loki snorts, shaking his head and looking down, eyes on the bedsheets. For the first time in a long time, she is privy to his uncertainty. Loki traces veins from her upturned arm, the faint violet lines showing up easily against the pale insides of her wrists. A little more awake (he considers this can be attributed to his admission), Tati watches him with half-lidded eyes.

"What makes you think I'll want children?" she inquires, brushing off his lack of an answer. She is teasing, he knows it. The slight fire in her eyes confirms this, the quirk of her lips. She is getting so good at that… "My influences," he acknowledges wryly. Tati continues. "I don't know about you as the fatherly type, Laufeyson. Especially considering your track record of…guardianship."

With a growl, he snags up her wrists to flip the young woman on to him. They roll briefly on the mattress, Tati laughing wildly until they pause. She's claimed top, and folds her hands on his chest, making a neat pillow for her chin. Her feet stretch and she nudges the tops of his toes. To visibly acknowledge his bare feet still delights her – he had apparently never walked around barefooted before. He finds her to be a very silly creature – yet it is still amusing to please her in such simple ways.

She quiets, contemplating as she rests against his chest.

"Do you…" she strays off slightly before continuing. "Do you want that at some point? A family? Baby, dog, picket fence?"

"I do not see why a fence is particularly necessary."

Tatiana blinks up at him. The god can practically taste her apprehension. He cannot quite believe they are conducting this topic of discussion. It is perfectly natural, yes, to assume that they will remain as they are now for a good long time. To the god's surprise, his reader has yet to insist on any ceremony, and nor has she brought up the thought of formalizing their situation. Even his brother's precious Jane had spoke of a set of vows – to which his brother had eagerly responded.

That is the differences, he supposes, one he does not mind. Tatiana does not require jewelry or gilded words to assure her of their unacknowledged bond – he'd fought long and hard in his pursuit back to her; he would stay.

"No formal arrangement, yet she allows herself to entertain the idea of off-spring."

He has been silent for some time, and knows she must be worrying.

"I do not know." This is a partial truth – if anything, he would only ever want children for the sake of her, as well as to further his bloodline, and perhaps just to see how a babe might turn out. As for any desires to be a father, he has none. Loki feels no urge to procreate. "But I would not be closed to the thought."

Tatiana accepts this. Something still troubles her, regardless. "And, why would these hypothetical children be blue?"

Loki hesitates before turning inwards to focus his energies. Ice floods his veins, channeling every nerve. It is like being thrust into a body of water in the midst of a snowstorm. Painful, by a slight, a little prickly. Not particular comfortable, slipping into his other skin.

When he opens his eyes, bloody orbs that they are, he hears Tatiana's sharp intake of air. Loki does not look to her. He lifts one hand to see the slate-coloured flesh. Dark unfamiliar and certainly not his. And yet….As he turns his attention back to Tati, he notes her stiffened form against him; wary body language. She examines him fully, shrinking up, minimizing her body space. Shying away.

It frustrates him. He will not have her afraid. One hand rises to her hair, soothing as he would any creature on edge. Wary, just as wary as she is portraying, Loki watches her slow scan of his new skin.

She finally reaches out to touch, insurance that he is tangible. Real – not an illusion of a trickster.

"It is truly my skin," he says quietly. Tati jolts, reverie broken.

"Hard to be sure with a trickster god," she murmurs. "As Bruce says, you're about as insane as a bag of cats."

"I'm flattered."

She hits him, watching in fascination as his skin goes from slate to indigo with a rush of blood. The slight awe, slight fearfulness returns.

"Are you all like this?"

"Asgardians?"

She nods, eyes flickering up to meet his sanguine gaze.

"No," he says flatly. "They're not. I am an unusual circumstance." The god pauses. "Jotun. I am of the Frost Giants. They all appear as I do."

"Then why-"

Weary, he cuts her off. "It is a long tale for a later time."

They have time – all the time in the world – but she says nothing, merely lets her eyes flash. They lay together in silence, Tati running warm hands along his bare arms and chest. Wonderment rules her expressive face.

"What do you think of my monstrous visage?" he asks wryly. Tati's eyes grow wide. He doesn't let her protest. "Is it not…fearful? Don't fret my dear, I promise, I can turn back."

"You're not a –"

He shakes his head, hissing slightly. "Do not attempt to sway me of what I know. I am the nightmare, the beast beneath your bed."

"The beast in my bed," she points out, pressing her chin into his sternum. His hands go to wrap around her wrists, but they do not attempt to prevent her caress against his chest and shoulders. "You're simply different, Loki. Not particularly beastly by any means."

"I am a horror."

"You're being a drama queen."

The glare Tatiana receives is fearsome indeed, possibly intensified by his current appearance. The bloody gaze didn't help. She swallows back, though, and pushes closer, clearly ignoring the chill of his slate skin.

Then, a look of nervous worry overtakes her and she pauses in her motions.

"Loki…" Tati bites her lip. "Can we even –" She took a steadying breath, clasping her eyes brightly. When they opened, she moved to touch his cheek, asking in a low whisper, "Would this…us.. work together when it comes to conception? I mean, we're different species. Is it possible?"

"Yes."

His reply is definite. "And if not…then it shall be. I will make it an impossibility reality."

The response is unsurprising to her. Thoughtful, Tati nods. "Would that be safe?"

"Of course."

This is a lie – he has no idea if magical interference with the biology of procreation is dangerous task. But he very much wants to give her hope.

She settles against him, tracing patterns in the blue-grey flesh. His skin, now so cold, relishes the warm fingertips, and the warm form against him. The skin that meets his is sweet relief from treacherous chill. Watching Tatiana stroke the lines of his throat, face masked in shadow, the god is forced to wonder over what she thinks on.

Softly inquiring, Loki lifts a hand to brush back a few locks, unveiling her face. "What is it you think?" He doesn't add "of my skin." But she seems to comprehend his meaning.

"Does it matter?" she asks, not unhappily.

"As it cannot be altered…no, it does not. But I would still like to know."

Tati sighs. "I won't say it doesn't disturb me a little, your second skin. And it must bother you, right?" she peers at him, a sadness in her inquiry. "Else you'd feel…comfortable."

"Does it scare you?"

"No," she whispers. "Only intrigues."

-XXX-

She began to ask him to change. Sporadically. And, most times, he would comply. Closing his eyes to pull upon the threads of power, he felt the cold submerge beneath his skin, filling him, stealing his breath. When he opened his sanguine eyes again, she would be watching, always in a quiet awe. Her fingers would skirt the ridges and crests, and for a moment Tati would be silent. And then, as naturally as breathing, she would return to whatever had occupied them before. As though nothing had altered.

Sometimes, he can believe it hasn't.

There is an effort being made. He can see that. She is sensitive to his cool skin now, his touch causing her to openly shiver more so than ever before. Her lips may quirk, or purse, in some repression of emotion or expression. He cannot be entirely sure of what she is thinking – if there is fear, disgust in those warm depths of her eyes – and he thinks perhaps he would rather not know. But there is trying. It counts.

"You don't have to like it," he tells her bluntly one evening as they stand in the kitchen. Tati's putting away the dinner plates from the dishwasher, and she straightens with his words, expression of surprise blooming on her features. He has just filled her request of altering. Now, he leans against the counter, arms crossed. The dark blue-grey looks even darker against the white of his shirt.

"No," she agrees. "But you need to."

His grip tightens on his forearms, gaze flickering up from the floor to meet Tati's icily. She ignores him, continuing in her motion of stacking plates.

"And if me accepting it is what it takes for you to accept yourself…I'll deal." Her eyes meet his sharply. "I'll always deal."

This displeases him. "You do not need to pity me."

She shakes her head, lips quirking. "It's not pity. It is a simple equation of mental health. You're at a disadvantage, you see, if you don't accept this part of yourself."

Loki scowls. Tati, in return, shrugs.

"That's just my perspective."

He tells her it's not any sort of disadvantage. Assure he can very well look at himself, in any form, and that she need not worry for him, nor pity him, nor "deal" for him. With this, her lips purse. But she nods, closing her eyes as he crossed to her, taking the plates from her hands to set them upon the counter, pressing his forehead to hers. His lips hover just above her own. She is so different to him when he is in the form. Cautious. Gentle. She touches him with reverence. Perhaps she's taking a cue from him. The god presses closer. Loki can feel her murmur softly, first his name, then -

"Jotun." She blinks up at him. "It sounds...powerful."

Loki simply sighs.

-XXX-

Later, she'll ask questions about the Frost Giants. He'll tell her about Jotunheim, about Nal and Laufey. Loki explains the upraised markings on his blue flesh. He speaks of learning magic. Of days spent learning the art of battle, fighting. He'll recount the Allfather's glorious battles, the defeat of Loki's once-people, and how he was, not matter which way it was spun, a prince of two peoples. Tati will grin with this, and tell him her childhood fantasy of marrying a prince is coming true, thankyouverymuch. And he will laugh, loud and merrily.

"Not much a prince anymore," he says, his arms wide, smile coming naturally and easily as daylight. Yet, they still see it pains him to admit this. "Nor a kingdom. I've no kingdom to rule, Tatiana Deror."

He had been promised, long ago, a kingdom. But Tati doesn't seem to care. From where she is perched in the threshold of the master bath, brushing out her hair, her expression doesn't hold the gravity of his claim.

"Well, we can't have it all, can we?" she says vaguely. "Princes and whatnot…."

The prince in question rolls his eyes heavily. "I am supposed to be king, Tati. I was bred for a higher purpose than…this."

She doesn't let him pity himself, though, and moves to the bed. "I'm perfectly happy without a kingdom. I mean, unless it was something like Monaco – which you should not invaded, just so we're clear – for anything much bigger than this –" here she gestures out, as if to indicate the pair of them and the house. "—would probably be beyond our reach."

"I have lead armies—" the god protests. Tati presses a single finger to his lips.

"And I'm sure you did a marvelous job of that." He didn't, and they both knew it. "But, for the moment, let's be a little more focused on getting through the next year without our asses being dragged back to Asgard, shall we?"

-XXX-

Thank you for sharing this journey with me. I truly enjoyed the entire process, all of the feedback and support, and the experience. Look out for an epilogue!

~D