Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't profit.

Special thanks to my ever patient beta, Notesfromaclassroom. She is an award winning published author who for some odd reason finds editing my scribbles worth her time. Check out her stories by going to my Favorite Authors.

I am warping Japanese Myth for this story - I've placed this story in the early 1600's, at the beginning of the Tokugawa Shogunate, though I'm sure the story of the Snow Wife is much older. But that's when the really cool samurai swords were being made!

Chapter 1: Strangers

"Once long ago in Japan there was a woodcutter, Mosaku, and his apprentice, Minokichi, who were traveling through the mountains on a cold, snowy winter evening. When they got to the river before their destination they found that the ferryman had left. Without any way to cross, the woodcutter and his apprentice took shelter in the ferryman's crude hut.

Outside, the storm grew worse. Although they were laden with wood, they could not start a fire because the wind was so fierce it tore right through the hut's walls. They huddled together as closely as they could. Eventually, they fell asleep.

In the middle of the night Minokichi awoke to find a beautiful woman with skin as white as snow leaning over Mosaku. From the woman's mouth came frost, and beside Minokichi his master's body went rigid and cold.

The snow woman turned to Minokichi and narrowed her eyes. Minokichi was too afraid to even bow his head. For a moment he wondered if he'd actually been frozen through, too.

At last the woman spoke. "I would kill you, too, but I feel pity for you and something else. I will let you live, but if you ever tell anyone of this night I will come for you and kill you. Do you understand?"

At last Minokichi regained control of his body. Bowing, he said, "Yes, my lady."

He heard the door of the hut bang. When he lifted his head, the snow woman was gone.

A year later a beautiful girl showed up in Minokichi's village. She had skin as white as snow. Her name was Yuki. She was an orphan without family on her way to Edo to find work as a servant. Minokichi invited her home to stay with him and his mother before she resumed her journey.

Yuki never made it to Edo. Instead she married Minokichi and lived happily with him and his mother for many years. She gave Minokichi several children, and even Minokichi's mother loved her so much that on her deathbed the old woman sang Yuki's praises.

One winter night, perhaps eight years after Yuki had come to Minokichi's village, she was leaning over her embroidery as the wind howled outside. Raising her eyes, she caught Minokichi gazing at her intently.

"Wife," he said, "there was something that happened to me long ago on a night much like this..."

"Oh?" said Yuki quietly.

Gazing into the fire, Minokichi proceeded to tell her all about the night with the snow woman.

When he was done he said, "It must have been a dream." His wife was silent. He hazarded a glance up at her. His wife did so remind him of the beautiful woman of the snow.

But now her lips were curled in a snarl. Rising, she shrieked, "You fool! It was me! I am your snow wife and you have broken your promise." Pointing to the next room where the children slept she said, "If it weren't for the babies sleeping in there I would kill you right now! But know this, if they have aught to complain of at your hands I shall hear, I shall know, and on a night when the snow falls I will kill you!"

With that she turned into a spinning cloud of snow and disappeared."

A smooth, vaguely British voice comes from over Darcy's shoulder. "He wasn't a woodcutter's apprentice. Mosaku was the finest swordsmith in all of Japan."

Darcy doesn't even jump at the So-Called-God of Mischief's voice.

She just turns around calmly and raises an eyebrow. There is Thor's 'little brother' Loki, hair slicked back and icky, green eyes aglow, staring down at her monitor. Again. Once she would have called him devastatingly handsome even with the hair, but the way he treats her, the way every time he's around he's just in her space...well, it's weird. And not in a good way.

Fortunately, Thor is usually around when Loki's around. Right now the So-Called-God of Thunder is glancing between the screen and Loki and Darcy, and he looks vaguely distressed.

Still staring at the screen, Loki leans forward. "Minokichi was the best of all his apprentices."

Darcy would like to say, 'Dude, it's just a fairy tale,' but he walked right out of a fairy tale...well, or a nightmare where he was tortured and mind wiped by mad space titans, so she holds her tongue. "I've never read anything other than woodcutter," she says instead. She narrows her eyes. "How do you know so much about it?"

Smirking, Loki gives a shrug. And then his smile drops and he tilts his head. His expression is oddly cautious. "Would you really like to know? Curious about your heritage?"

Thor suddenly slaps a hand on Loki's shoulder and starts dragging him away. "Come, brother, time to go. Leave Darcy to her task."

Loki's mouth drops, but he doesn't fight as Thor steers him away.

Darcy watches them head down the hallway. Her brow furrows. How did Loki know she is all of one sixteenth Japanese? Between her ridiculously big boobs and her blue eyes...She shakes her head. All she got from that gene pool is her sadly small stature.

Picking up her lukewarm green tea, she takes a sip and sighs.

x x x x

The wind howls overhead and Loki pulls his cloak to him more tightly. This is not Alfheim in summer. Snow stinging his eyes, he looks at the copse of trees from which he just emerged from his world walk. They look vaguely Midgardian, but off...

It's close to evening. He takes a deep breath. He's too tired to world walk again so soon, and even though he has a high tolerance to cold, he has his limits. He's going to freeze if he stays out here too long.

He scans the horizon. In the distance he sees a tiny hut by a river. Pulling his cloak more tightly around him, he sets off in that direction.

World walking alone was probably not the smartest thing he'd done in his hundred odd years - but he'd just felt the need to get away. His lips have healed from their binding with dwarven twine, but the business with Sif and Thor...he didn't think he could get any more cynical about the politics of state or the heart.

Bowing his head, he tries to find the hut but he can't see it in the deepening dark and steadily worsening snow storm. With an exasperated sigh, he sends off a projection of himself and locates the crude dwelling. With his magic to guide him he trudges on. By the time he reaches the shelter of roughly arranged sticks he is exhausted, physically and emotionally even more than magically. And as he staggers to the door and peeps through a crack he realizes he is not alone. He sends the faintest tendril of magic inside just so he can see.

Inside the hut is a young man. He looks vaguely like the warrior Hogun. He has a wide face with golden skin, full lips, dark almond eyes, and black hair, spilling out from a neatly tied cloth that is serving as a hat. He is leaning over an old man, rubbing the old man's arms, murmuring over and over, "Master, you must not sleep! Master, you must not sleep!" Loki blinks. It takes him a moment to filter the words through the All Tongue, but then he recognizes them as Japanese.

He tilts his head. There is a pile of kindling on the floor of the hut, but the fool has not lit it. There is also a sword in a fine scabbard leaning against the far wall.

The young man begins slapping the old man over and over again, on his face, his legs, his arms. He picks him up and shakes him with surprising force. "Master!"

The old man does not respond.

The young man falls to sit on the floor, pulls his knees to his face, and begins to weep.

Loki stamps his feet to ward off the cold. He needs to go inside, but he doesn't feel like a fight right now, and he'll look foreign to this young man - and very tall, too. He tilts his head. The clothes both men wear are simple but clean and well made. They might have food. Loki raises an eyebrow. He has a little magic left and there might be a way for him to entice the young man not only to not fight Loki, but maybe even to help him.

Smiling to himself, he works a spell he has just recently learned, one that is oddly so easy it might be second nature. He shifts his shape to that of a woman.

Shifting takes only a moment; unfortunately, his body has an internal blueprint for the process. He is still too tall, his eyes are green, and his features a bit too European. Furrowing his brow, Loki reshapes his eyes so they are slightly slanted. He leaves his nose; it has already become more delicate with the shift. A little more concentration and he's made his lips fuller, shortened his stature, and made his bust a bit more petite. He tries to disguise his eye color, but for some reason it makes his vision brown and muddy, so he leaves them green. He casts a simple glamor over his clothing so it appears more like the man's. But where the man's clothing is dark blue, Loki settles for white - it is actually the easiest color to illusion, since it is all the colors and none.

With that he steps into the small hut.

As the door opens, the young man scrambles backwards and to his feet, the sword he crafted against the wall behind him. As Loki watches, his eyes dart to the sword and back to Loki's own. For a moment Loki thinks the man will fight, but then he straightens and bows low.

"Sumimasen," he says.

Loki blinks at the bowing man as the All Tongue filters his words. Sumimasen. The meaning doesn't quite translate. It means, I'm sorry and excuse me. Why is the young man apologizing? Still, the bow is appreciated. Loki tilts his head and says in a surprisingly high melodic voice, "It is cold in here." The little hut barely blocks the wind.

The young man rushes towards the pile of sticks on the floor. "I will try to make us a fire," he says.

Loki smiles. At least the human can take a hint.

Kneeling, the man begins rubbing a notched piece of bamboo against a longer one braced against the floor and his sternum. He gets a tiny ember going impressively quickly, but as soon as he tries to set it into a tiny bundle of tender, the wind whipping the hut quashes it.

Bowing to Loki without making eye contact, the young man begins his impossible task again.

Sighing in exasperation, Loki holds a hand towards the kindling. "Get back!"

The man jumps backwards just as a hot shoot of green flame leaps from the kindling. He looks to it and back to Loki. He swallows and bows his head again. "Excuse me, may I move my master's body away from the flames?"

Loki tilts his head in acknowledgement. Kneeling, the young man gathers the corpse in his arms and moves it to a corner of the hut, carefully righting his clothing. Bowing low by the body, he begins to speak in a rhythmic chant, stopping every so often as though he doesn't know the words.

It's touching to witness this mortal ritual for the dead. But it's foolishness. "If you don't come closer to the fire, you'll die surely as your master did," Loki says.

The young man lifts his head and nods. Rubbing his arms, he approaches the flames. When Loki inclines her head to the space beside her, he sits down but doesn't utter a word. Which after a while becomes tediously boring.

"What is your name, who are you, and how did you get here?" Loki asks.

"I am Masada Minokichi. I am an apprentice sword maker. I and my master reside in Edo," he says with a bow. "We were taking the sword you see leaning against the wall to a Lord in Tatsuno."

Curious, Loki stands and walks towards the sword. She pulls it from the scabbard and gasps. It is so light. And the metal is worked so meticulously the blade is almost a mirror. Even dwarves would be hard pressed to make something so lovely and so deadly. "Did you make this?" Loki demands.

Minokichi straightens and bows his head. "It takes many hands to make a blade."

Narrowing her eyes, Loki says, "But your part was significant."

Minokichi does not meet her eyes. "All was done under the supervision and direction of my master."

"You are lying," she says. She has a keen sense for it. She blinks. "This is your craftsmanship...probably from start to finish."

Minokichi's face hardens and he bows.

Loki tilts her head. How odd to not claim credit. Sheathing the sword, she joins Minokichi by the warm flames, now a more natural orange. "Tell me more about your sword making."

Minokichi bows again and says, "Of course, Spirit Maiden."

Loki blinks. The description is apt enough, but she is used to being known by her name among the mortals of Northern Europe. "You may call me Loki."

"Roki-sama," says Minokichi slowly.

"No, Loki."

"Rooooki," says the young man, his face turning a little red.

Loki tilts her head. A few flakes of snow carried by a draft through the cracks in the hut turn to moisture and then evaporate in the heat of the fire.

"Perhaps you should call me Yuki," says Loki, latching on to the Japanese word for snow.

Meeting her eyes, Minokichi says, "Yuki-sama. It suits you."

He has a very nice face, beardless and open, full lips, high cheekbones. Something warm unfurls in Loki's stomach that has nothing to do with the flames. Narrowing her eyes - when did she start thinking herself as a she - Loki says, "Just tell me about the sword making...also...I am hungry..."

"Of course," says Minokichi, tilting his head.

Minokichi gives her triangles of sticky rice and fish wrapped in seaweed from a satchel, and proceeds to tell her about his craft. Seeing his eyes drift hungrily to the rice balls, Loki divides up the food and gives him exactly half. She's not sure why. Obviously she is a princess - prince! Sharing food with a commoner is completely unnecessary even if it is his, but...he is human and weak. It shouldn't make her feel so good to see the gratitude in his eyes.

She just enjoys learning new things, that's it. She asks him what he will do now that his master has died - she's wondered that about commoners. He tells her about an interesting aspect of Japanese culture. Apparently, if one's own son is deemed unworthy, a second son may be adopted, and that adoptee can inherit his new parent's business. Minokichi's master was planning on adopting him and marrying him to his own daughter, but it hadn't been formalized. Of course, seeing the master's favoritism towards Minokichi had angered the master's biological son.

"He will turn me out now," Minokichi says with a stoic nod. "I will return to my village, without the title of swords craftsman, or a yen to my name. I am unsure of what I will do."

Loki finds herself oddly moved by Minokichi's plight...and envious of the Japanese system of passing down inheritances to adoptees. She can't say why.

"Taihen desu ne," says Loki, the words slipping automatically to her lips. That's terrible.

Minokichi turns his head towards her. He nods, looks down, and smiles. "Well, to be honest, I am not sorry to not be marrying the master's daughter. She despised me...she wasn't as kind as you, Yuki-sama."

Kind isn't a word Loki usually likes ascribed to her - him. She thinks about snatching the one rice ball left in front of Minokichi and taking a big bite out of it just for spite. But doesn't. He probably needs it more than she does. He'll have to deliver the sword to Tatsuno, return to Edo to tell of his master's death, and then return to his home village. Poor thing. She feels guilty for having eaten any of his food at all.

How odd.

Minokichi lifts his head, his cheeks coloring slightly. "Nor is she as beautiful," he says, and then quickly averts his gaze.

Loki smiles. It's a compliment to her enchantment and she's really quite proud.

"But you, Yuki-sama, snow-spirit, what of the realm you come from? Surely it is beautiful," Minokichi says.

Loki raises an eyebrow at the words 'snow spirit.' But then sighing, she looks into the fire. "It is beautiful, I suppose."

"And your people must miss you," says Minokichi, and Loki can hear something in his voice. Caution? Fear?

"Well, I suppose my mother misses me," she says, looking up into the air.

The human beside her relaxes a fraction. "Of course she does. All mothers miss their children."

Loki slides her eyes towards him. Shyly averting his gaze, Minokichi says, "How I would love to journey to your realm..."

Narrowing her eyes, Loki tilts her head. "You speak half-a-truth."

Bowing, Minokichi says, "Yes. You are right. As beautiful as the realm of the spirits is, my mother is a widow. If I do not return to my village, there will be no one to take care of her."

And suddenly Loki realizes he is worried she will kill him - has been worried probably since the moment Loki entered the hut. It would be easy to lead him on, to frighten him, to make him beg. Loki looks at the young man. He has done no wrong, has offered her nothing but politeness, deference, fire and food.

Loki huffs out a breath. "I am not going to kill you, Minokichi," she says, wondering if she's going soft.

The young man lets out a huff of air and bows his head again. "Thank you."

Loki sighs. "So you are your parents' only child?"

"Yes," Minokichi says. "Unfortunately."

"Having siblings isn't so wonderful," Loki blurts out. "I have a brother - the spirit of lightning and thunder."

The young man straightens slightly and then tilts his head. "I would think he might have a temper?"

Loki smirks bitterly at his inference.

"...but I'm also sure he must love you, too." Minokichi says, quickly. "No matter what sort of fight you are having."

Loki blinks and looks at the mortal. He is gazing into the fire again. How did he know? As she watches him, he slumps towards the fire a bit. At that moment Loki realizes that despite the flames, the wind still whips through the hut. Inside the cold is manageable for her, but the mortal may be in danger.

She'd rather him not die on her. "Tell me about your family, and your village."

Minokichi straightens at her words, but he looks at her quizzically and doesn't speak.

"It will pass the time," she says. "It is still cold here despite the fire, and if you sleep you may wind up like your master."

"Eh...you are right," he says. "But I find it hard to believe a spirit would find my world interesting, neh?"

Loki shrugs. "Actually, usually when I visit this world I go to a land far across the sea."

Minokichi's eyes widen.

"Japan seems rather exotic," Loki says.

Looking into the fire, Minokichi says, "Travelling outside of Japan is forbidden since the shogun took power."

"Shogun?" says Loki, leaning forward.

Minokichi nods. "Yes. The Tokugawa family rules Japan, though we have an emperor. The Tokugawa family supplies the Emperor's bride...and through her they control everything."

Loki tilts his head. How wonderfully subtle. "I'm listening," she says.

They talk until dawn - about shoguns, emperors, and little ogre like creatures called kappas that have a fondness for human flesh and cucumbers.

Loki is, of course, familiar with the cultures of Europe - that such a vastly different society as Japan exists in the same realm is fascinating. By comparison, the cultures of the other eight realms seem just poor monolithic reflections of Asgard's society.

As the fire burns down to embers and the light of dawn begins to filter through the slats of the hut, Loki can't help but be a little sad. When she hears the sound of footfalls she knows she must go. "Thank you for your tales, Minokichi," she says. "I wish I could visit your village, it sounds lovely." And it does, the way he's talked about the cherry blossom trees and the leaves in the autumn.

Minokichi bows and says, "You are welcome to come anytime you like."

After a night with him, Loki suspects that the offer is partially made out of decorum. And yet...she feels some sincerity in it, too.

Loki tilts her head and looks at the sword at the far wall. Actually, she might have reason to visit someday. She scowls; but for now...Leaning close to him she whispers. "Do not speak of this evening to anyone. If my brother or my father were to know..."

...if they were to know Loki would be more of a laughing stock than he already is. Taking the form of a woman, no matter how clever, how subtle, would not be regarded highly by his fellow Asgardians.

"I understand," he says.

He doesn't, but Loki knows he will be quiet.

The footsteps are very near now. Standing before him she says, "I must go," and makes herself invisible.

Although he can no longer see her, Minokichi bows to the the earthen floor. "Ki o' tsukete," he whispers.

Take care of your spirit.

For all her life Loki's run against the tide of popular opinion in Asgard. She saw it as a way of safeguarding her spirit, if not her body - she'd taken more than a few beatings for being unmanly. But in the end, it was the spirit that mattered, wasn't it?

She is touched by the sentiment.

x x x x

Normally, Darcy plays assistant to Jane at SHIELD. Darcy's in no way scientifically qualified; she's just the only person who can read Jane's handwriting.

But sometimes when she's caught up with Jane's notes and there are no pressing updates needed to the non-secure section of the SHIELD intranet - Darcy knows just enough HTML, JavaScript, CSS and PHP to be dangerous, Fury puts her on reception duty. Basically, she just gets shuffled around from one odd job to another because SHIELD's afraid she'll spill the beans on all the classified intel she's picked up over the years.

...it's actually kind of a sucky job, really. But no one else would hire her after she graduated. So here she is...on reception duty this morning. It's boring. But it leaves her time to surf the net and do a little virtual window shopping. Right now Darcy is staring at a warm red-almost-pink form fitting cashmere sweater on her screen. It looks so light. And fitted - she'd have a visible waist if she wore it. And it would be warm. Darcy doesn't have access to much luxury now, but there was a time... She shivers in the bulky acrylic second hand sweater she is wearing. It's pilling. And it's scratchy. She looks at the price tag of the cashmere sweater. Only $399 on sale. She sighs.

"Oh, get that one," says a smooth cultured British male voice far too close to her ear. "It will suit you beautifully."

Darcy doesn't jump in her seat - though it takes effort. Instead she rolls her eyes at Loki's seemingly obliviousness to her personal space.

She clicks away from the screen. "Ain't going to happen." Swivelling around she turns. Loki is standing way too close. She crosses her arms.

Scowling at her, Loki says. "Why ever not?" He looks at her sweater. "You don't actually enjoy wearing this...this...flour sack?" He picks at a little pill of fabric.

Swatting his hand away, she says gestures backwards at her computer. "That sweater would cost me my entire food budget for the month."

Loki's face softens just a fraction. "You know, I could -"

Suddenly Thor's voice booms through the hallway. "Loki, there you are! Do not annoy Lady Darcy!"

Loki turns his head, "I am not annoying her!"

"Well..." Darcy says.

Stepping up to the desk, Thor says too quickly, "Dr. Doom has declared himself world's greatest supervillain!"

Loki shrugs.

"Of all time," Thor adds, looking oddly nervous.

Loki straightens. His eyes snap back to her. "I'm sorry, but I can't leave that unchallenged - even if my time as a supervillain was short, it was still better than he could ever manage."

"Um...right-o,'" says Darcy.

Loki smiles. As Thor drops a hand on his shoulder and starts pulling him away he shouts, "But don't worry, I won't forget!"

Darcy blinks. Forget what?

A few hours later, she is still sitting at the reception desk when a messenger appears with a large parcel wrapped in brown paper and asks for a signature. Darcy blinks at the addressee. It's her.

As soon as she's finished scribbling her John Hancock she opens the package. There's a large white box inside. Lifting the lid she discovers a little card taped atop layers of tissue. In a slanted, narrow script it says in green ink: "I did not forget! Can't wait to see it on you. Loki."

Scowling slightly, she peels back the tissue paper. And there it is. The sweater. Swallowing, she runs her fingers down the front. It is just as magically soft as she imagined it would be.

She bites her lip. She's not like some people around here who thinks Loki is gay - she's seen the way he looks at Natasha's ass. But he doesn't look at her that way...and they're not even pals or anything. They've barely even spoken - despite the odd familiarity he's always displaying around her. And somehow when they do Thor always pokes his head in, like he's afraid Loki might bite her or something.

She puts her hands to her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut. And then she opens her eyes and looks down at the sweater. Who knew clothing could make her mouth water?

She scowls at Loki's note. Seriously, what the fuck?

A/N:

You can't pay me for this, but if you like it, you can buy my original fiction. Check out the links in my profile!

Happy Thanksgiving everyone.

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