▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅
❛ ᴇᴛᴏɪʟᴇ​​​​​​​​​​. ❜ ° . ༄
- ͙۪۪˚   ▎❛ 𝐅𝐈𝐕𝐄 ❜   ▎˚ ͙۪۪̥◌
»»————- ꒰ ʜᴀɪʟ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋɪɴɢ ꒱


❝ IT IS THE HEART
THAT MATTERS MOST,
AND YOURS IS TRUE ❞

▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅

M I D G A R D

Ever since the disappearance of her best friends, Steve Rogers and James 'Bucky' Barnes in the 1940s, Rose had made it her mission to be someone who specialized in finding people. While it was extremely difficult to track down people who were assumed dead over a century ago, the trail having gone cold a hundred times over, it was a piece of cake for her to locate the average citizen. Unfortunately for Jane Foster, this meant that her life's work was now in S.H.I.E.L.D's hands.

The young woman ran into Smith Motors at the sight of unfamiliar people crawling all over the building. There was both panic and outrage as she demanded from no one in particular, "what the hell is going on here?"

In his customarily unflustered way, Phil addressed her rising voice calmly. "Ms. Foster, I'm Agent Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D. This is Agent Daly, my coworker."

"Is that supposed to mean something to me? You can't do this!"

Rose watched the older man run up to her and quickly take her arm. "Jane! Jane, this is a lot more serious than you realize. Let it go."

Jane shook him off as she glared at the agents. "Let it go? This is my life."

"We're investigating a security threat," Rose informed her, echoing her colleague's formal tone. "I understand that this must be very frustrating for you, but I assure you we would not be doing this without due cause. We need to appropriate your records and all your atmospheric data."

Her attempt at diplomacy was met with a scowl. "Oh, this is so beyond frustrating," she seethed through gritted teeth. Jane's eyes tracked the agents as they commandeered her belongings. "By 'appropriate,' do you mean steal?"

They had walked over to one of the waiting cars with its back open so the containers could be loaded into it. She tried to reach for her things, but the nearby agent put out a firm arm to keep her away. Phil reached into his suit pocket and pulled out some cash. "Here, this should more than compensate you for your trouble."

She took it with a scoff, looking at the money as if it had personally offended her. "I can't just buy replacements at Radio Shack, I made most of this equipment myself!"

Agent Coulson only shrugged. "Then I'm sure you can do it again."

"And I'm sure I can sue you for violating my constitutional rights!"

If they had met under different circumstances, Rose would have appreciated the other woman's fire-y attitude. As it was, she could only offer her a polite smile. "I'm sorry Ms. Foster, but we're the good guys."

"So are we!" she snapped. "I'm on the verge of understanding something extraordinary and everything I know about this phenomenon is either in this lab or in this book, and you can't just take this away. . . Hey!"

This last part was aimed at the agent who had grabbed the black notebook out of her hands. She lunged after it, causing him push her back roughly. The older man came to her defense and put his arm protectively around her. "Jane! Easy! Easy. Jane. . ."

As they finished up their search, Phil gave her a nod. "Thank you for your cooperation."

Rose slid into the front passenger's seat (Phil had been very clear that she would no longer be driving— some would say that she had a need for speed that put her on cops' radar) and slipped one earbud into her ear. She turned on the iPod and scrolled through the list of songs.

Her coworker joined her not long after and glanced over at the device. "Where did you get that?"

She shrugged. "Found it in the building. I thought it would entertain me on the way back."

He sighed exasperatedly. "We only needed to take what was relevant to the hammer; you should have left that behind."

"Okay, dad," she teased him. Rose smiled happily as she read the music titles. "Neat— there's, like, thirty new songs on here. If I were the iPod's original owner, I'd be real sad that I'd lost it right about now."

She ignored Phil's disapproving look and selected Immigrant Song by Led Zepplin.

✧ ✧ ✧

A S G A R D

The next morning, Loki woke early, as usual. He lay in bed for a moment with his wife curled up next to him, her head resting on the left side of his chest as it always did. His arm was wrapped around her bare shoulders and he could feel the rest of her, equally naked, under the covers. He'd tried to protest against it, but she had insisted on making love to him to prove that her feelings for him hadn't changed, as well as a way to try to get him to love himself again— and while the latter hadn't been successful, who was he to deny the request of his queen?

Now, he attempted to extricate himself from the bed without waking her, which was a feat unto itself. Eleanora stirred a little as he stood, her eyes opening blearily as she asked groggily, "Loki?"

He leaned over her and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. "It is early yet, dröttning. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm," was her drowsy reply, not needing much prompting to do so.

He smiled genuinely for the first time since learning the truth of his heritage as she burrowed back under the sheets. Unlike him, his wife had a preference for sleeping in. He gave her a fond look as he dressed, swearing to himself that he would do right by her, even if that meant having to face the unpleasant task of seeing his father in Odinsleep. 

✧ ✧ ✧

When she woke for good, Eleanora looked around the room for her husband before she remembered his early-morning departure. Stretching out on the massive bed, she enjoyed the peace and quiet for several minutes before she got up and dressed. She hoped that Loki's mood was more improved today, though she would understand if it wasn't. Having your world be turned on its head was no easy discovery and it would take time for him to come to accept it— if he ever did. All she could do was be there for him, whether it was to listen to one of his many rants or hold him close or act as an ally waiting in the wings.

She decided that she would go see Frigga first, knowing that yesterday's events— as Loki had told her about Odin's collapse— would have been hard for her as well. The Allmother had always treated her as an equal, as good as her own daughter, and so she cared about the queen's wellbeing as if she were a second mother.

Eleanora approached the guards to Odin's chamber and nodded to them respectfully. "Would you inform the queen that I wish to see her? I realize she may not want visitors, but please tell her I'm here. If she denies my entrance I will come back later."

One of the Einherjar bowed to her and disappeared inside, returning not long after with a response. "She welcomes you gladly, Your Highness."

The blonde sent him a grateful smile and went through the door. Frigga was sitting on her husband's right side, holding his hand in hers. Odin lay peacefully on his bed, the covers draped around him artfully. His weathered face was still and untroubled as he rested.

Another chair was on his left, which the Star took after giving her a comforting hug. They sat in a silence that stretched out between them as, for all their courtly manners, neither of them knew how to start such a difficult conversation. Finally, Eleanora offered, "I know. About Loki, I mean. He knows too, obviously. He. . . told me last night."

Frigga's gaze softened as she looked at Eleanora, understanding mixed with slight surprise dawning in her eyes. "You've learned the truth. That must not have been an easy thing for him to admit to someone he cares about so dearly."

The Allmother's words held a warmth that comforted her. She nodded in acquiescence. "No, it wasn't easy for him. He. . . he wanted me to leave him. He tried to push me away, to scare me because of what he was. But no matter what he did, my feelings for him weren't changed. He's still the man I love, regardless of his heritage."

The queen's smile was soft and understanding. "Love is a bond that transcends bloodlines and origins, Eleanora. It is the heart that matters most, and yours is true. I have always seen Loki as my son, just I saw Aðalbjörg as my daughter, though she was not borne from me. I have tried to tell him as much, but I fear that he is too disquieted to believe me right now. There are very few people he respects, and even lesser still those that he sees as equals. He sees you as both."

Eleanora had never felt fonder of the queen than she did in that moment. Frigga had always been an advocate for both her and Loki— the underdogs in Odin's eyes— which had endeared her to the Star. While she was certain that Loki wouldn't believe his adoptive mother's good intentions, she knew that the Allmother only ever wanted what was best for her sons. She nodded in understanding, feeling the weight of her position in her husband's life— but it was a pleasant heaviness, like a downy blanket. "I won't give up on him. Not now, not ever. He deserves to know that he is loved and accepted for who he truly is."

"And that is one of the many things we can agree on," she allowed with a faint smile. "That being said, there is something you must know; you should hear it from me before the news is spoken anywhere else. Loki has been granted temporary rule over Asgard in Odin's. . . absence. It's a heavy burden he bears, but I trust that you will help guide him in doing what is right for our people."

The blonde's eyes widened at that information as pride swept through her. While she knew that her husband's end goal had never been to be a permanent ruler, she hoped that this would give him the chance he'd been craving: to prove his worth, to more than just himself. "I would be honored, my queen."

"Ah," Frigga corrected her, her somber expression lifting slightly into amusement. "I believe that is my line. You are my queen now, after all."

She stared at the other woman in shock. Frigga was the epitome of a queen in her mind: kind and gentle, yet strong and firm as well. She knew when it was the right time to fight and when to be diplomatic. For the Allmother to address her as 'queen' was unbelievable; Eleanora felt as if she didn't know the first thing about the being in the role herself. "I. . . please just call me Eleanora. That is too strange for me to bear."

Frigga's lips quirked in an entertained sort of way. "You are as directly opposite of my son as it is physically possible to be. I imagine that he could not wait to be addressed as 'king' by his people. However, I believe that is what will make you a wonderful queen. Go and be with him; he needs you more now than he may realize."

As she stood, Eleanora glanced towards the immobile body of the Allfather. "Will you be alright, Frigga?"

The older woman dipped her head in reply. "My place is here, sitting vigil beside him so that he will not wake alone. Should you need advice, you will know where to find me."

Though it wasn't a direct answer, she understood the Allmother's sentiment. In any case, she could see where Loki had gotten his penchant for bending the truth, and the thought warmed her heart a little. While he might deny his adopted family, he had learned too many of their traits to ever extricate himself fully from them.

✧ ✧ ✧

She departed the Odin's bedside and made her way to the throne room as Frigga had bid her. When she entered the large space, her footsteps echoed on the stone floor. Her heart beat a little erratically in her chest as she anticipated seeing her husband sitting on the throne for the first time. Eleanora felt almost like a young girl again— relatively speaking, at least, since she was still rather young for a non-mortal— as her stomach twisted in excitement.

If she was being truthful with herself, she did have fantasies about Loki sitting on the throne (both ones she would voice aloud and ones that would make the Allfather roll over in his proverbial grave.) As she approached the dais, her pulse stuttered again at the sight of him lounging on the seat of power, completely confident in his position. He held the staff in one hand, his other arm draped casually over the armrest. Loki wore his usual green leathers, but now complete with his golden, horned helmet.

Two guards stood on either side of the throne, rigid and at attention. She could feel her husband's blue-green eyes calculating her approach, his expression guarded as he anticipated her reaction. He needn't have feared; Eleanora had never been particularly good at hiding her emotions, much less now when the pride she was feeling threatened to spill over and make itself known in the silvery halo around her head. Luckily, she reigned it in just enough to keep the celestial light from appearing, but not much more than that. She dropped to one knee without hesitation and crossed her arm against her chest, bowing her head before him in a gesture of the utmost respect. 

Loki wasn't sure what he'd expected when Eleanora finally came before him as her king but even in all of his wildest imaginings, it hadn't been anywhere close to that. When he received the news that morning in the presence of his mother, he'd been stunned momentarily before readily accepting the role. He had enjoyed watching the guards and other courtiers bow before him as he stalked the halls, the steely glint in his eyes demanding obedience. But now as he watched his wife kneel at his feet, the enjoyment soured into disgust towards himself.

Where did he get the right to make her genuflect to him, when it really should be the other way around? She, who knew the truth about his heritage, yet she still deferred to him of her own free will. She was everything good and pure in the world— or at the very least, his world— and he should never force her to stoop to his level. He was king, though, and he couldn't very well kneel before her without the guards whispering to themselves. He couldn't even voice his thoughts freely without the worry that they'd be repeated unfavorably. So, he did the next best thing he could think of.

Addressing the Einherjar, he waved a dismissive hand. "Leave us."

The one on his left turned to him in some surprise. "But sire—"

"Did you not hear your king?" he demanded frostily. "If I wish to be alone with my wife, then you will heed my order. I hardly think that she would make an assassination attempt on my person."

The soldier bowed shallowly. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Once they had left, Loki stood and placed the staff across the arms of the throne. With his hands free, he came to stand in front of his wife, who was still kneeling. He gently grasped both of her arms to pull her to her feet, the coldness in his expression melting as quickly as snow under the summer sun. When he spoke, the tightness in his voice from the previous night had returned. "Please, dröttning, do not bow to me." He swallowed thickly. "I. . . am not worthy of your respect."

Eleanora allowed him to lift her back onto her feet as she finally met his eyes. He seemed a little startled at the emotion within them, probably having expected fear or suspicion, only to find none. She reached out her hand to brush her fingers gently against his cheek.

"You are worthy," she countered him firmly. "Everyone is deserving of respect, especially my husband." A pause, and then: ". . . my king."

A thrill of exhilaration rushed through her as his eyes flashed, the brief expanse of his pupils making his eyes appear darker for a moment. He liked that, she thought. He really liked that. She made a mental note to call him by his title more often. He caught his hand in hers, holding it between them as his thumb gently caressed the back of her hand. "My love, you have always seen the best in me, even when I struggled to see it myself. I. . . I want you by my side, ruling Asgard with me. Not as a subordinate, but as my equal, my partner in all things."

Eleanora's eyes softened at his words, a warmth spreading through her chest. She squeezed his hand gently as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "I would be honored to stand by your side, konung," she replied, her voice steady with conviction.

He lead her by the hand up the steps of the dais and picked up the scepter. She stood next to him, expecting him to retake his seat, only for him to gesture between the throne and herself. Her eyes widened. "Loki, I couldn't—"

The seriousness in his features faded into mischief as the spark in his eyes returned. He leaned down so that his lips brushed against her ear and she could feel the weight of his presence against her back. "Imagine what the esteemed Allfather would say if he found you in his seat. Imagine what they will say. Our reign of Asgard will be what the historians will come to call the Second Golden Age."

In that moment, she understood why her husband was drawn to the allure of power. It was incredibly enticing to keep letting him whisper words of promise in her ears as he painted a picture of what their rule could be. But unlike him, she had no dreams of grandeur that she hoped to achieve, and was thus not as easily swayed as someone else might be. She cast him a playful look of her own. "You speak pretty words, Silver-tongue. Trying to tempt me with visions of power, are you?"

Loki chuckled softly; his breath warm against her ear. "Is it working?" he murmured, his voice laced with amusement.

"Perhaps just a little," she admitted with a smirk, unable to resist occasionally indulging in a repartee with him. "But don't let it get to your head, my dear. I know your games too well."

His grin widened, the glint in his eyes never disappearing. "Ah, but where's the fun in being predictable?" he quipped, his tone dripping with mock innocence.

Eleanora chuckled, shaking her head affectionately. "Indeed, where's the fun in that?" she replied, her smirk widening as she whirled on her feet to sit on the throne in a graceful cloud of emerald skirts, her actions being met with a pleased, smug grin from her husband.

✧ ✧ ✧

It was not long after their coming to a consensus that the new sovereign couple received their first visitors. Lady Sif and the Warriors Three hastily entered the room without noticing the change in leadership. Half-bent in a gesture of reverence, the brunette was first to speak as they approached the throne. "Allfather, we must speak with you urgently."

Their footsteps stilled, though, when their eyes fell on the sight of Eleanora sitting on the throne and Loki standing a few steps below her with the staff in hand. He pretended not to notice their pause and greeted them with silky cordiality. "My friends."

"Where's Odin?" Fandral demanded as they neared the dais.

"Father has fallen into the Odinsleep," he replied amicably, with a barely-noticeable bite to his tone. "Mother fears he may never awaken again."

"We would speak with her," Sif insisted.

Eleanora leaned forward, noting the little burst of power she felt as she was now of higher status than the brunette. She had been before as a princess, of course, but being queen. . . it was tempting to wield her position as a sword and eliminate the ones who had wronged her in the past. But that was not what Frigga would do, nor was she the type to extract revenge unnecessarily (or at all, really.) Instead, she contented herself with replying imperiously, "she has refused to leave the Allfather's bedside."

"You can bring your urgent matter to us," Loki finished, straightening importantly. "Your monarchs."

He thudded the staff on the platform just has Odin had done countless times before as a symbol of authority. After a moment's hesitation where Thor's friends glanced at each other warily, they all knelt before the throne. A faint sneer turned Sif's lips as her gaze fell on the blonde, and she pointedly only addressed the god. "My King, we would ask that you end Thor's banishment."

He let out a light scoff, as if he found her request ridiculous. "My first command cannot be to undo the Allfather's last. We're on the brink of war with Jotunheim. Our people need a sense of continuity in order to feel safe in these difficult times. All of us must stand together for the good of Asgard."

The brunette launched to her feet, outraged by his words, but Hogun and Fandral quickly grabbed her arms to hold her back. She could only glare at the king as she ground out, "if you are so concerned with the stability of our realm, then I question why you have put a Star on the throne when its intentions are as fleeting as a comet in the night sky."

When the staff thudded again, there was a certain underlying threat to the sound that made even the Warriors apprehensive. Loki's gaze was cold as he met Sif's unyielding expression, clearly unremorseful of her words. His tone was dangerously soft as he asked, "you dare speak of your queen in such a way? You will not address her like that again, unless you wish for it to be the last thing you ever do."

"Of course, Your Majesty," Fandral agreed hurriedly, bowing his head as he stood. "We thank you for your time."

The Warriors guided Sif out of the throne room before she could damn them all. Loki watched them go without regret. They had always been Thor's friends first, and only his because he was Thor's brother. He had anticipated their distrust at his new standing, though the reality of it was still met with a bitter sting. Any mercy or conviviality had disintegrated in the face of their suspicious acceptance— although getting them to kneel before him had come with the pleasure that his wife's actions had not. 

Speaking of Eleanora, she had stood from the throne and joined him on the floor as she placed a reassuring hand on his arm. He let his stiff posture relax in her presence and placed a hand on top of hers as they silently shared gratitude for each other.