AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello, my darlings! I have returned! I know I had set the date for the Prologue for next Saturday (March 16th) but I simply could not stay away. Writing to me is as vital as air to breathe, and I found myself writing the Prologue before the appointed date. Therefore, I decided to give you all a treat and begin the new story earlier. I'm very excited to begin writing the new adventures Loki and Barbara will set out on, and I am thrilled to show a new side to Barbara that not even I imagined would emerge. I had planned to end Game of Shadows with a happily ever after ending and redeem Loki, but I figured that would not do. I wanted to see what he would do with a villainous woman by his side, who is as dark and emotionally wounded as he is. Someone described their relationship as a "psychologically fucked up romance" and I believe I could not have described it better myself. Hence, this story was born. Another reader penned the name for the pair as 'Lokara' and I absolutely love it! So, here's to Lokara's madness and mayhem bringing chaos to the universe!

I have also changed my profile name. Since I decided to write beyond Game of Shadows, it only seemed proper.

I absolutely adore reading reviews. Please do not hesitate to continue providing your comments on the story. I respond to all reviews, both those with accounts and those that come from guest readers. Flames, however, will be swiftly extinguished. Ye be warned.

Now, without further ado, I bring you Of Madness and Mayhem!

Of Madness and Mayhem

Prologue

"All of our questions are answers to our sins. All of our endings are waiting to begin" - 'Circle', by Slipknot

The gentle breathing of the small figure wrapped in a plush blanket reached his ears. The tall, dark figure watched as his son's tiny chest rose and fell with each intake of breath. His eyes were closed, his small hand still clutching the tall man's finger even as he was lost to slumber. His small, perfect pink mouth was closed in a pout, locks of straight black hair covering his forehead. In the very dim light that came from a small lamp in the corner, Loki was but a tall dark shadow looming over his son's crib. With his free hand, he brushed back the tussled hair on Arik's forehead. His eyes shone in the near darkness as he observed his son's perfect features.

He was absolutely beautiful.

The rosy hue on his son's round cheek bore testament to the perfect health enjoyed by Asgardians, a gift from his son's mother. Long-living, he would live for thousands upon thousands of years, ages stretching before him as he treaded through the universe, known as the son of Loki. Yet he would not reach adulthood until the end of his first century. Due to his longevity, he grew slower than the human children of the planet upon which he had been born. Once his toddler stage was over, it would take decades before he reached adolescence. A human of twenty years equaled to an Asgardian child of five. His son did not belong to this realm, even if Earth was the planet that welcomed him on his birth. He had scoffed and snarled upon seeing the parchment of paper that proved his identity: Arik Salazar-Grey, born in Dallas, Texas, on November 15th, 2013 to mother Jane Salazar-Grey. Father unknown.

Father unknown.

He grited his teeth. His son was not some common mortal child born to an unknown father and a woman who was not answered for. Arik was a prince of Asgard. Born to King Loki, ruler of the Nine Realms. Yet once again, he had been robbed of that which was dutifully his. Fate had dealt him another cruel blow, and subsequently, his offspring. His son had been deprived of the respectable birth he should have received, and he of his heir.

Loki stood upright and looked towards the long windows that overlooked the river. His gaze was distant as he imagined how it would have been, how it should have been. He would have stood astonished, overwhelmed with amazement at the news as they came from Boden's lips: Barbara was heavy with child, carrying the heir that would establish his undisputed claim upon the throne. Wonder would have led to satisfaction, satisfaction to elation as he turned his gaze towards the woman he had come to cherish. Asgard woud have rejoiced at the glad tidings: The queen was with child. Realms under his rule would have paid homage; priests would have bestowed a plethora of blessings upon their queen. She would have been doted on, adored and revered as mother to the next king of Asgard. He would have observed with pride as her belly swelled with life, worshipped her body even as she complained of the changes her figure endured. He would have followed her when she entered confinement, days spent once again in the residence where they had enjoyed the first thirty days following their nuptials. He would have paced in front of the entrance to her chambers, surrounded by the High Council, impatient and on the verge of madness while he waited to hear the sound that would signal the arrival of his son. He would have cringed as he heard her screams coming from inside, her cries of agony floating towards him, forcing him to exercise every iota of self-control to keep from rushing to her side. He would have wanted, needed to be there to hold her hand as she endured the cruelty of child bearing. Suddenly, he would have stopped in his tracks as the council looked at him with joy, the sounds of a crying infant filling the residence. Then reverently, Boden would have exited the chambers, presenting the small bundle wrapped in the king's color, a kicking and crying infant cloaked in emerald green. While the chief healer knelt, he would have taken his son in his arms, named him and proclaimed him prince of Asgard. The High Council, servants and attendants alike would have knelt to he who was next to sit upon the throne. Trumpets and horns would have resounded in the golden city, awakening his subjects to the news: The king had a son; Loki's progeny would rule the Realm Eternal for eons to come.

Yet his son had been born on an aesthetic bed inside a healing room for humans, surrounded by lowly beings who brought him into a world that was not his own. Barbara had borne him with the aid of mortal healers, her screams of pain falling on ears that were unhearing, oblivious to the birth of his son as he once again wandered the dark recesses of the universe. There had been no fanfare, no jubilation, no feasts ordered in their name, no loving husband who kissed her as she lay exhausted on a plush, royal bed. She had laid in a strange place, holding his son in her arms while she cried for the father who had not been there, exposing herself to discovery had the child been born with traits that were not characteristic of mortals. Traits that he would have inherited from his father.

The sound of cooing and babbling pulled him from his reverie. Looking down, he was met with his son's eyes, who was now wide awake. Arik took hold of one of his tiny feet, and tried to pull it up to his mouth, eliciting a chuckle from Loki. The sound of his father's small laugh caused the toddler to squeal in delight. It had only been three months since his parents had been reunited, yet that small amount of time had been enough to forge the unbreakable bond of father and son. Arik now looked at him with recognition, his eyes telling the infantile and instinctive knowledge that the man that now stood above his crib was the one whose blood he carried.

"He's your heir" Barbara had said. Yet little did she know that having been born outside of Asgard deemed Arik unfit to inherit the throne. He had almost divulged the harsh truth to her, but seeing her so ready, so bold, so intent on claiming what had once been theirs forced him to still his tongue.

Scooping Arik up, Loki walked to the windows. One arm securely placed under his rump, he and Arik were now face to face. He noticed that Arik always looked at him in wonder, staring deep into his eyes as if seeing something more than met the eye. Loki knew what it was. His son knew. They both shared unfathomably sharp senses and a ken that went beyond those of an Asgardian. Arik shared Loki's Jotun traits even though Odin's magic passed on to him and gave him the same Aesir appearance as his father. Even being of half-Asgardian blood had not prevented him from inheriting his father's frost giant heritage.

Inside, he seethed with rage at the thought. He was a monster, and had passed the same qualities to his son. How long until Arik would begin to display his inherent Jotun abilities? How long until some human noticed the differences in him, his slower growth, his superior strength, his sharper senses? He knew Thor had enlisted the help of Fury and his band of theatrical warriors to find Barbara, and subsequently, him.

It was time to bring Barbara and his son back to Asgard.

He nuzzled Arik as they stood in front of the bay windows, nose to nose. It had only been hours since he had left an apprehensive Frigga back in the palace, torn between her love and loyalty to her two sons. Having revealed himself to her again had only brought an onslaught of tears as she beheld him, Odinspear in hand. With the palace void of its current ruler, Loki was free to move about and reaffirm the loyalty and allegiance of the legionnaires, most of the High Council and the gatekeeper.

He had wandered the lands behind the mountains of Asgard after he had managed to find a portal into the regions closer to the Asgardian dimension. New allegiances had been made, new schemes had been concocted, new plans had been set in motion. His silver tongue had secured an ally that in the end would provide him with powers beyond any imaginable. Pawns were being put in place, armies were soon to advance, and in the end, the king and queen would bleed, leaving him free to take all.

He had stood on the peaks atop the dark forest, watching the shining city that had been under his rule. He knew that somewhere inside, Barbara was grieving, mourning his loss. Many a time he had almost revealed himself to her, slipping veiled into the palace to watch her as she cried loudly into the pillows, his hand reaching out and almost touching her. He had ached to run his fingers through her hair again, to reassure her that he was still there. He had longed too take her, and remind her that she was and would forever be his. He wanted to ease her suffering, yet he knew that such torment was necessary if she was to truly stand beside him. He had seen the change in her eyes, not just the physical transformation of brown into gold. He had seen her gentle, sorrowful, innocent gaze slowly morph into one of fearlessness, anger and ruthlessness. And so, he had remained concealed, watching her from afar as she discovered areas within herself that would bring forth the magnificent creature that she truly was: Dangerous, mesmerizing, nefarious, ambitious. He learned of her departure to Earth, and he had followed. She had managed to fit in seamlessly with the humans, thus making his task of locating her difficult, while staying clear of the sight of Earth's warriors and Thor, who constantly returned to Earth looking for her. Between his search for her and the weaving of his plans, time had passed. Until finally one day, he had managed to center in on a small trace of her energy inside a secure edifice. He had followed her trail, and found her nestled in a large, luxurious estate. She was waiting for him, and eager to present him with the precious gift she had kept hidden: The son he had left embedded deep inside the confines of her womb.

His frequent departures always left Barbara disheartened, in hopes that she was soon to join him and unleash the fury and rage that she had harbored for far too long. Scouring to support the life of opulence she had come to require was not enough to satisfy her newfound thirst for chaos. He knew she hungered for far more. She wanted blood.

Soon, she would satisfy her hunger, gorging on the blood she desperately craved for. He would soon unleash her, and as she brought down the rage of her fury upon those who had crossed them, he would tie loose ends and bring about the outcome they both desired. He would make things right. What belonged to him would return to his possession. The Nine Realms would once again tremble at the sound of his name. His queen would stand next to him, powerful and beautiful as she was. Then, he would swell her with child again, and this time, she would bear him an heir whose claim on the throne would be unquestioned.

"You're back!" her voice pulled him from his thoughts and he turned towards her, Arik still in his arms.

Loki smiled at Barbara as she made her way over to him, and kissed him hungrily when she reached him. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

"I knew Arik wasn't giggling for no reason" she said as she caressed her son's rosy cheek, then looked at Loki expectantly "what news do you bring?"

"I bring glad tidings of allies remaining steadfast and waiting for my word to move towards purpose" he replied, the left corner of his mouth turning upward "my mother sends her love"

"You saw Frigga?!" she exclaimed "did you tell her about Arik?"

"No, I shall leave that honor to you" he said into her hair.

"Wait, if she saw you, she will tell Thor!" she pulled back and looked at him.

Loki grinned at her.

"Exactly"

She returned the smile, understanding his underlying message. The time had come.

It was time for his beautiful Barbara to come out of hiding and let Earth's heroes recognize her as a force to be reckoned with. It was time for The Phoenix to rise. And while she laid waste to the might of the Avengers, Asgard would once again come willingly into his grasp. Joined in one glorious purpose, he and Barbara were invincible. None would dare stand in their way. The powers they possessed were unmatched.

His madness.

Her mayhem.

End of Prologue