Author's note: There are those moments in fanfiction when I come across such a beautiful, splendid piece of writing that I mull over it for weeks upon weeks after. Then there are those moments when I come across such a piece and find it incomplete. I came across a truly beautiful story this week and I could not get it out of my head. I was so entranced and caught up in the world created that I decided to write one ending myself. This is not anywhere near as lovely or as involved as the original was going to be. If you haven't read the original, it's lovely and you should, but I wrote this as a stand-alone as well. You should be able to catch onto what is going on here without having read the original. There are two parts to this story, both written.

This is based on: Winter's Heart, By: glamaphonic

"In the wake of a treaty, Prince Loki of Jotunheimr travels to Asgard for the first time, where he meets the woman warrior-in-training, Sif. The volatile and intense bond stuck between them will alter the relationship between the two realms forever. AU."

The basic premise of the original is as follows: 1.) Loki is never abandoned and is raised a prince of Jotunheimr. 2.) Jotunheimr actually has their own culture and people and personality. 3.) Sif's dad sends her to the palace to try to set her up with Thor and they end up besties instead. 4.) Loki spends summer breaks in Asgard learning to be princely and becomes besties with Sif and Thor. 5.) Loki and Sif fall for each other. They kiss. End of story. There is no destruction of Jotunheim and banishment to Midgard or any of the other MCU Thor plotlines. This really is all glamaphonic's beautifully imaginined world.

Disclaimer: I don't own any of this.


Winter's Heart (And the Thief Who Stole It)


Part I


The animals in Asgard were garbed in shouting colors. From the scarlet eagles, to the emerald and orange snakes that basked on grey cobblestones, to the yellow sharks in the blue waters of the ocean, the creatures did not bother to hide or camouflage themselves in any way. This was one of the first of so many differences the J?tun prince noted on his first summer spent in Asgard. The bright contrast of their furs and feathers and scales dared any to pass them unseen. They warned of danger, gained mates, and hunted all in plain sight.

The animals in J?tunheimr were different. They clothed themselves in the tones of the land itself – the relentless white of the snowy fields, the pale grey of the sky, the dark charcoal of the mountains, and the deep browns of the forest. They soaked themselves into subterfuge. Predators and prey alike, they moved as silently as shadows, keeping themselves from full display when possible.

Perhaps this difference was caused by the magic inherent in their soils and waters and skies. Loki never could tell. From the first moment he stepped onto the Bifr?st to the last day the bridge sang in all its brilliant colors, Loki felt a bit like a peacock on a glacier or, perhaps more aptly, a snowy fox against a brown earthen field. He was forged of a different clay, a different fired glaze, then those of the brash, frank ?sir. He learned to appreciate this about their land and people, but sometimes it grated on him and made him feel too exposed to the elements.

Sif had always been as transparent as thin ice on a pond. No eye could wonder long about her feelings or motivations. Whether fighting or fidgeting, her full heart was open for all to see and gawk at. It was one of the traits he treasured about her, and most feared about her.

It was a heady draught, stronger than even the All-Father's best ale, when he looked into her eyes and saw her unabashed adoration or felt her hands clasp his, unashamed of who might see. Her heart belonged to him and she dared any in Asgard to question her, with the full hearth of brazen glory that only the warrior maid of Asgard could effuse. She scandalized any and all around her, much as she had always done. She minded the scorn and disgust of Asgard with as much vehemence as a horse minds the presence of a fly. He reveled in her open, loyal affection and felt it to be a greater adornment than any of the scars decorating his person and identifying his accomplishments.

On J?tunheimr, it was another matter entirely. None wore their emotions so frankly. To reveal one's innermost caverns was akin to leaving a city without a wall of defense. He had been taught to keep his emotions closer than his weapons, because they, too, could be used as weapons.

It wasn't that he lacked feeling. On the contrary, his emotions ran deep and turbulent beneath his frosted countenance, but few recognized them and even fewer received direct explanations of what occurred beneath this surface. If Sif was like thin ice on a pond, then Loki was like the horse-thick black ice of the walls of Gastropnir. A great light could be seen within the walls of their main city, but only if one sought long and hard to find it.

Sif struggled to understand that the face he wore in Asgard could not be the same in his home on Gastropnir.

"Why are you ashamed of me?" the lady warrior cried. "Why do you pretend as you do?"

"Why can't you understand?" he answered. "I am to be the King of J?tunheimr."

"And Thor is to be the King of Asgard. What of it? None doubt when he has given his heart away."

Loki's anger burned nearly as fiercely as his jealousy. Of course, Thor could freely display his passing infatuations. He was Thor and he was to rule Asgard. And Sif understood Thor….and Asgard. She had yet to understand that she could not disentangle Loki from J?tunheimr, no matter how she might wish to. To love Loki meant she must love the jagged peaks, the icy plains, the dark forests, and the broken and beautiful J?tuns that made his home. They were all his - his people, his birthright, his curse, his gift, his fate, and his bride wealth. They made him and he was theirs. If Sif wished to be his, she needed to love them, too.

He did not doubt her sincerity or her fidelity to himself. She could not feign such affection, even if she tried. He did, however, doubt her ability to be wedded to J?tunheimr's king.

"What would you do, good Lady?" he asked her once. "Spend your days buried under furs, wishing to be surrounded by Aesir woods and Aesir warriors? Your heart would freeze by degrees until you learned to hate me for taking you from your home and forcing you to dwell here, in a land you do not love with a people you do not cherish."

"There are other ways, other options," she cried. "We can find a way to be together."

He appreciated the sentiment, but it still cut him to the heart and proved that she did not understand him quite as well as she claimed to.

Loki was born to be a king. It didn't matter what he wished or wanted, dreamed or plotted. His first love must always be the land he was born to rule. They were a broken realm, one haunted by ghosts of old wars and old defeats. They had been despised and exiled, forced to the margins of existence, and barely able to keep their heads afloat after so much loss, but they were still his. Now, with the treaty with Asgard and their reentry into the politics of the Nine, there was hope of change, the possibility of a future. Whether J?tunheimr would crumble or rise, Loki's fate would follow and he was as bound to J?tunheimr as J?tunheimr was to Loki, the only son of the king.

Sometimes Loki wished he could tear down his own crystalline palace himself or beg the Norns to rewrite his story so that his fate could be otherwise. To refuse to wed the lady was a betrayal of his own heart and soul. To wed her was a betrayal of everything else. To saddle J?tunheimr with a queen who did not love them was unjust to both lady and realm. Thus, he found himself bound torn in two, forced to choose between what he held dearest and only able to cling to one.

Sif was always meant to be a queen. He knew that from the moment he saw her wield a sword on the training ground in Asgard. Someday, she would exchange her blade for scepter and her battlefield for a throne room, but she would prove just as deadly a foe and just as formidable a force.

And Thor's back would never cease to be unguarded.

"I do not love him in that way!" Sif told Loki, and everyone else, again and again. "That is not the future I would choose for myself!"

From childhood, her father had meant for her to marry the prince of Asgard. He hand-delivered her into the courts of Asgard insisting on her suitableness as the boy prince's companion. Her father was not wrong. They were immediately the very best of friends and the closest of companions, but she would not wed him, no matter how her father argued. She had fought that fate with both hands, choosing a sword over a teapot more times than she could count, but there were some battles that not even the mighty Sif could win.

Sif had never thought overmuch of men or marriage…until the day she realized her heart was no longer her own but now belonged to the proud, funny little J?tun prince. Then, she would have cut realms in two if it would keep her by his side.

"Sif, Thor and I are to be kings," Loki told her. "Our futures are rarely chosen by our whims. We are owned by our thrones. While our voices carry far, the weight of our crowns bends our shoulders to the ground and keeps us from walking as far as we may wish…and some crowns weigh heavier than others."

Thor's crown gave him entry to any of the Nine Realms he pleased. Loki's kept him bound to one. Loki would have held it against him, but the oaf was far too easily pleased to notice. He welcomed the young J?tun prince with a heart as open and transparent as Sif's and easily enfolded Loki into his friendship, without asking anything but shared friendship in return.

For the runt of the J?tun king, he found a place to belong in the land in which he least belonged. The rest of Asgard may have gawked, stared, insulted, and leered, but Odin's heir and his warrior maid welcomed him into the privileged fortress of their lives and dared any to oppose their choice in companion. Those summers were the happiest of Loki's young life. For a few months each year, Loki stayed in the palace in Asgard as part of the peace treaty delegation between the two realms. His days were spent shadowing the golden prince and learning what he could of the ways of the ?sir. His nights were immersed in the great library, soaking in all the knowledge he could glean and taking copious notes on all he learned and discovered. After three years, Asgard had laid claim on his heart in more ways than one and the land of his former enemies slowly transformed to the land of his closest friends.

From the first ?sir messenger who broke the long silence between the realms, Laufey had been suspicious. The king of the J?tuns had resigned himself to believing that ill-fortune still rested on J?tunheimr. He knew his son thirsted for knowledge and any interactions with other realms could only benefit the prince, but he doubted ?sir intentions. After the ?sir reciprocated delegates and the crowned prince himself visited J?tunheimr, Laufey's misgivings only grew. The royal family of J?tunheimr noted, along with the royal family of Asgard, the growing attachment between Laufey's heir and Asgard's warrior maid. With as inseparable as the maid and pair of princelings had been, the danger should have been obvious. But the chasm between realms and peoples still felt so insurmountable that none even considered the possibility. Caught in the throes and passions of first love and youth, Loki and Sif were oblivious to the pits and pitfalls their blooming relationship was heading straight towards or the rippling waves of conflict they were creating.

The families of both were less than pleased when they discovered…and Sif's already turbulent relationship with her father disintegrated entirely. Odin warned them of the impracticality and unsuitableness of it all and grew irritated when Frigga only gave a knowing smile and refused to chide the erring children. Loki's family was even less pleased, but they would never say it out loud. Laufey's first response was as indirect as it was ineffective. Instead of barring Loki from Asgard or from the Lady Sif, he simply sent Loki somewhere else.

"There are Nine Realms, Loki," his father said. "Our goals in Asgard have been accomplished. Our communication with the other realms has been reestablished. It is time you spent time learning our other neighbors and gaining other allies in Yggdrasill. You are not meant to be raised as a puppet king of Asgard or a pet of their privileged prince. You are to be the king of the J?tnar, the one to raise us from the ashes of our defeat and bring us back into a place of honor."

That was the end of the matter and his summer journeys to Asgard halted around the same time that Asgard's prince began his own journeys across the realms. Laufey organized for Loki to visit with the royal families of the other realms, a retinue of J?tnar officials in attendance, and Loki couldn't help but enjoy the opportunity to gain as many experiences on as many of the realms as he was privy to.

Thor, on the other hand, also traveled, but his steps were not to apprentice himself to the wisdom of the realms. Asgard was convinced they alone were the wellspring of all wisdom and had little to learn from any other realm. Thor travelled on quests or challenges to show his prowess as Asgard's prince and on missions to bring Asgard's version of "peace" upon the other realms with the weight of his hammer.

As much as Loki enjoyed seeing the other realms, he missed Asgard even more with each passing day, and he worried lest his companions there would grow to forget him. Since he could not visit Asgard through sanctioned means, he worked twice as hard to forge his own paths between the realms. He worked even harder to create a way to shroud himself from the gatekeeper's gaze so that when his paths led to Asgard, none knew of it but himself…and one other. He knew Heimdall would not approve of the J?tun prince's secret visits to Asgard, let alone to the private chambers of the gatekeeper's young maiden sister. So Loki did not dare attempt the secret paths to Asgard until he knew he could hide himself fully and completely and move without sending ripples through the fabric of Yggdrasill.

When he first found the way into Asgard, the joy in his heart burned like a fire in the hearth of the great hall at the palace in Gastropnir. It was fueled even more by the salt tears of his beloved and the fiery warmth of her embrace when she threw her arms around him and refused to let go until dawn broke and he slipped back into the shadows.

She made him promise to return the next night. He willingly agreed. He came the following night after that and the one that followed also found him in her chambers. His illusions gave the appearance to any who entered that they were both present in their own chambers, alone and asleep in their own beds, separated by impassable space and distance. In reality, they were together, forming their own secret, invisible world known only to the two of them. No crowns were worn, no swords were wielded, no disguises or pretenses were required. It did not matter that he was as blue as the depths of the sea or she as pale as the blush of a lily. Old wars and young treaties faded into fresh oaths and whispered promises. It was a world inhabited only by Loki and Sif and the morning only came too quickly.

Loki's heart was ever-hungry and satisfaction eluded his breast like a leave carried by sudden gusts of wind. These stolen moments could not be enough and no matter how many nights of how many months saw him in Asgard, he still longed for more.

When Laufey arranged for his heir to visit the other realms, Loki refused to be fully separated from the woman who now owned his heart. It was easy enough to orchestrate. A few sly suggestions and pointed remarks to the Prince of Asgard were all that it required and Thor appeared wherever Loki was, the Lady Sif at his side.

"Loki says the Fire Giants have a mountain that could even best Hnitbj?rg. Come Sif! We must investigate Muspelheimr further," Thor cried out, after receiving Loki's letter.

"Come, Sif! Loki says there is a smith on Nidavellir who can craft weapons that surpass even Mj?lnir. I say he is a liar. Let us search out the truth!"

Again and again, the Prince of Asgard followed after the Prince of J?tunheimr, continuing with their tradition of long summer months spent in quests and adventures, only expanded to include more of the Nine Realms than before.

"Do you believe he suspects?" Loki asked Sif with a grin, five years after this pattern had first commenced.

Sif laughed. "It matters little. He would just as willingly follow after you if you asked him plainly to accompany you. He would accept any reason, however flimsy or false, if he could use it to be by your side."

Loki chuckled. "Well, we better not tell him I am only using him to keep you with me."

"Liar. You enjoy his company as much as mine or you would come up with an excuse to keep him away."

"Now it is you who lies. How can you say such a falsity? How could I compare his companionship to yours?" he said and kissed her so deeply a fevered blush painted her cheeks.

"Fine. You enjoy his company almost as much as mine," she relented.

"Hmmm, better."

Loki didn't precisely hide the visits of the Asgardians from his father…it's more that he failed to mention them entirely. In this case, Loki decided that the less he spoke of who he spent his time with, the more likely it was that he could continue spending time with them. Loki feared lest a stray word would shatter the delicate happiness he found himself in, however temporary it remained. Loki suspected his father knew, but as long as his actions remained shrouded in shadow, his father would not speak of it.

"Does Thor know?" he asked Sif during a lull on Nidavellir. They lay in an open field, her head nestled in the crook of his chest and her loose hair strewn over him like a shawl. He entwined his fingers through her dark locks and watched as they fell from his grip back to her shoulder.

"It is enough to say that we prefer not to ask certain questions…and we, each of us, guard each other's secrets."

"So clandestine! I am appalled!"

She snorted. "You are appalled? What do you think the court in Asgard would say if they knew how I spent my days away?"

"Ah, a scandal surpassed only by what the halls of J?tunheimr would say, if they knew how their prince spends his days."

"I wish we didn't have to be so secretive," she said. The very nature of their relationship was so contrary to her open, frank disposition that her struggles to keep her emotions hidden were as obvious as storm clouds against a blue sky.

"Are you going to talk to your father about it?" she asked.

"Certainly…the day after you make a similar announcement to your father."

She rolled her eyes. "The difference being that you still speak to your father and I have not spoken with my father since he last tried to arrange a marriage for me…again.."

"I suppose the prince of J?tunheimr was the first candidate he considered?"

"Naturally. He would be as pleased with your continued attentions to me as he was with me choosing to reject Thor and become a warrior. He may as well curse the Norns and decry ever having fathered a such a daughter as know I have willingly allied myself with our greatest enemy."

"High praise indeed."

Sif laughed and rolled off his chest so she could lean on her side. She pillowed her head on her hand and watched him closely. Her hazel eyes were fervent in a depth of emotion he could not quite interpret, but still sent his heart racing.

"Loki…" she began and by the fall of her brow and the way her eyes grew half-desperate, half-hopeful, he knew whatever she said next would shatter the peaceful balance they had formed. She sighed. "Did you hear about Thor's latest scandal?"

"Oh, I am not sure I am quite current, there are so many blunders the oaf manages to find himself in. The last I heard, a lucky maid in Muspelheimr will be the mother of a half-?sir babe."

"Ah, almost current, then. The lucky maid will be in possession of not one, but two such babes."

"Twins, then? That should please him. Will the Fire Giant maid be relocating to Asgard?"

"Probably not. She despises what she calls the 'frigid climate' and, truth-be-told, she is not overfond of the ?sir either."

"Unfortunate, considering her choice of father for her young."

"I do not believe either put much forethought into their arrangement other than a brief burst of curiosity and a night of passionate revels."

"Thor would not be the first royal to fall into such circumstances."

"Yes, nor will he be the last. speaking of which, when did you last see a babe of J?tun and ?sir parentage?"

"Hmmm. I cannot recall, though my father speaks of some cousins of Odin and then there was Skadi's niece…." Then Loki stopped his consideration and lifted one eyebrow in suspicion. "Is there a purpose in this line of questioning?"

"Only idle curiosity, of course," she answered. "I wondered if you knew what our babe would look like." Then she placed his hand onto where her chest armor hung, slightly looser than was her typical wont.

"Truly, Sif?" he asked, half in awe and half in wonderment.

She nodded and grinned.

His answering laugh resounded through the entire field and he tumbled her into the grass, trailing kisses along her neck and side. His unmasked delight sobered then and he tumbled back into the grass.

"We can't…we shouldn't…Sif, I am beyond delighted, but…the J?tnar would not…the ?sir would not…"

"I hear Alfheim is lovely now," she answered, her eyes alight. "In fact, I heard they have a new style of combat specifically designed to capitalize on a woman's strengths. I believe I could benefit by spending a few seasons learning from their wisdom, or so I informed Thor. He is more than willing to release me from my duties for a time, if it will be of such benefit to Asgard."

"Indeed," Loki answered. "I have heard much tell of the wisdom of Alfheimr's sages and libraries. I believe I would also benefit from a deeper investigation of their offerings. My father could not forbid a season spent in a way that would be of such a benefit to J?tunheimr."

"There are some very quaint villages outside of Heimrir. Few would notice an ?sir there."

"If one ?sir could go by unnoticed, then I would venture that a pair could easily avoid suspicion," he said and momentarily shifted forms. His blue skin faded into pale ivory and he took on the form of an ?sir. He shivered once, his light J?tun clothes too cool for the brisk breeze on his sensitive ?sir skin. Then he shifted back into his natal form.

"Must you? I would miss this beautiful face," she asked and placed a kiss on his nose.

"Ah, for you and only you, I am willing to turn into an elf or fire giant or whatever would please you. Outside and around Alfheimr, a stray J?tun would warrant too much attention and suspicion. There are so few of us dwelling in Alfheimr these days."

"Are there any?" she asked.

Loki's grin widened. "Soon, I will know of at least one."

"I see."

Sure enough, three months later, Heimrir gained two more inhabitants. The small cottage in the mountain village was let to what appeared to be a visiting ?sir couple, soon to give birth to their first child. Thus, the warrior maid of Asgard learned to sew curtains and the prince of J?tunheimr learned to sow potatoes. Their sword and their crown were as far from their minds as Loki's J?tun adornments were from his ?sir face and the Lady Sif's armor was pried apart and readjusted to fit her changing form.

When Ullr was born, Loki thought he had never truly known happiness before. The trio continued to keep house and the little babe grew till he could sit upright and pull himself up against Loki's leg. But like Loki's cast illusions, their beautiful world was fragile and too easily shattered by the smallest pinprick of reality. Loki could momentarily suspend his royal duties, but he could not avoid them forever. When he returned home for what he hoped would be a temporary inquiry into affairs, his father would not let him escape back to Alfheim quite so quickly.

"It is time you return home and we prepare for your coronation," Laufey told his son. "Your training on the other realms is complete. I am old and weary. You need to spend time on the realm you are to rule and take on the mantle of king."

Before Loki could even interject with his arguments against this, Laufey continued. "And it is also time you chose your queen and produce an heir."

At Loki's sputtered and indignant protest, Laufey silenced him with a stern glare.

"But I…"

"No," Laufey said. "You do not need to love the woman. You do not even need to like the woman. You need only to marry her and let her bear you an heir."

Loki knew what his father didn't say.

You cannot have the one you love. She cannot be the one you choose in the light of day. If you choose her by the darkness of night, you must keep her there, shrouded in shadows, hidden from view, unacknowledged as your own.

As if anyone could keep Sif hidden. That was akin to burying a hurricane within a sandbox and expecting it to remain unseen. And Sif, for all her knowledge of the ways of kings and queens and princes, could easily allow her heart to overshadow her reason. Her jealousy could burn as brightly as Loki's and her anger was a force unto its own.

"What do you mean you must marry?" she asked, in a silence more deadly than a shout.

"As it sounds. I must marry."

"And who, pray tell, will you marry?"

"Sif…," he began, warning in his tone, but he knew, he had always known, that this would not end well. For either of them.

"Marry me, then," she pleaded, the earnestness in her eyes a thousand times more painful to behold than her previous anger.

"I already have. You own my heart and soul and I can never love another as I love you. But you know you cannot be queen of J?tunheimr anymore than I can be king of Asgard. We are, both of us, married to our kingdoms first and foremost. If you married me, your heart would remain in Asgard."

"To not marry you means my heart remains in J?tunheimr," she replied, bitterness tarnishing the tone of her voice. "Is there no way for us to be whole?"

"To turn our backs on our realms and marry each other would be the height of infidelity to our first loves. Could we truly still love and respect each other if we chose to abandon our realms?"

"I hate J?tunheimr," she spat back. "I hate kings. I hate thrones."

"All the more reason why marrying me would suit you ill."

"That is not what I mean."

"Sif...," he began. He lifted up his hands placatingly, but they could not stay the torrent of tears or her subsequent flight from the room.

Their following fights did not improve matters. Sif spat and swore and wept and drew her sword on him, but he could not raise his against her.

Loki tried. He begged and pleaded with his father. He threatened to abdicate, to marry her anyway, to do whatever it took to make Sif his official wife.

"Loki, you were born to be king," his father said, his voice weary and worn like a dull knife. Loki heard all the arguments his father did not speak out loud.

Our kingdom is a hair's breadth from destruction. If you take the ?sir woman as queen, your people will see it as another power play by Asgard to control our throne. They will revolt. If you abdicate, we fall into civil war over succession. We cannot survive it. You are not the first king in the Nine Realms to have to choose between your heart and your crown and you will not be the last.

But if you choose poorly, you will be the last king of Jotunheim.

So, Loki walked away from Sif.

It was the hardest thing he had ever had to do, the greatest sacrifice his crown ever cost him, the one treasure he longed for ever after. It was the one way he could most show her how much he loved her and the only way she could not hear it from him.

She left Alfheimr and returned to Asgard, babe in her arms - the babe whose father became nameless and faceless, as shrouded by shadows as Loki had ever been. Thor's bastard children could be paraded through Asgard at midday and sit at the royal table during feasts, but none dared speak of the origin of Sif's son. As the son of the warrior maid, he could be accepted and praised. But not even Sif was fool enough to believe he would be accepted on Asgard if the identity of his father was common knowledge. ?sir prejudices ran deeper than the roots of the mountains and would cling to the boy like frost on glass.

Thor knew. Of course, Thor knew, and he treated Ullr with the same fond affection as he did his own offspring, but there was unspoken sadness in the gestures, a longing for the invisible father that both Sif and Thor could not help but think of whenever they saw the growing boy. In most ways, Ullr resembled his mother, but his propensity for ice magic and the summoning of cold made whispers abound. Some in Asgard called him a "Son of Winter" and a "Child of Ice," but none dared assume he was anything but ?sir out loud. They left such rumors and accusations to the shadows, the same shadows and accusations which once clung to the prince of the J?tnar in their midst.

If the hardest moment of Loki's life was walking away from Sif, the second was when he wed his father's chosen bride. It's not that he disliked her. The tall, lovely J?tun was every bit what a queen should be. Angrbo?a was a peaceful, gentle creature, forged out of moonlight and winter's frost. She softened his edges and smoothed out his spikes and his kingdom adored her. Even Loki grew to love her, in his own way. It was a softer, subtler, more muted love - one grown out of shared responsibilities, shared crowns, shared beds, and shared lives. It was not a love forged out of fires and furies, but royal dinners and firstborn heirs, and he tried not to miss what had once burned him with its brilliant, relentless heat.

But he never fully forgot the hurricane force of the woman who still owned his heart. They saw each other, of course. At treaty signings and diplomatic feasts and coronation festivals, but when their paths crossed, they behaved as strangers…or worse than strangers. She refused to meet his eye and kept her gaze fixed anywhere but on him. She left the room entirely when she saw he came with Angrbo?a.

And he tried, as hard as he could, to ignore her the same. But in this he never changed. He never could avoid watching her out of the corner of his eye and knowing her movements at all times. He could not help but watch as Ullr grew and delight in how he favored his mother in face and form. He could not fully swallow down the bitter sting of regret that threatened to overflow his throat at any moment, forcing him to decry his past decisions and plead to change the past.

It was for the best, or so he convinced himself. Gastropnir grew in strength and number and Loki's days were full in efforts to help his fragile kingdom learn to thrive. His own house, also, grew. Once his line of succession was clearly defined with not only one but three possible heirs, Laufey was satisfied. So satisfied that the old king died. His soul journeyed to the Land of First Snows to reunite his queen. Loki was left alone to rule, well, not fully alone, for Angrbo?a ruled beside him and proved herself as capable as his father had predicted her to be.

Asgard, also, grew in strength and number, but their growth was fueled by the conquests on Nidavellir's moons and deep in the wilds of Nornheimr. Everywhere Asgard set their boots, rumors of bloodshed and heavy taxes followed. This unsettled Loki more than he cared to admit to himself. He knew who led the charges and who directed the weapons of the Asgardian warriors. Yet, not even his own kingdom had recovered from the lashes inflicted by Asgard's armies. How could he pretend that Asgard's hand on any other realms was lighter? Why should his long friendship with its prince soften his appraisement of their justice?

While the crowns of both realms grew heavy and kept them rooted in their kingdoms more than they might have wished, Thor and Loki still crossed paths. They shared notes or quick visits to exchange a jest or a share a dream of a quest which neither would have time to fulfill. Loki heard the rumors of Asgard's preparations for the upcoming coronation and he knew his friend would soon be king. He did not expect to receive a visit from the crowned prince at his palace during such a busy time. It was well near night when Loki was roused from his readings by the light of the Bifr?st. Not long after, he heard the familiar clod of boots and the booming voice that could only belong to one particular member of the Asgardian ruling family.

While Loki was not surprised to see Thor, or for the oaf to show up unannounced at a strange hour, he was surprised to see the heaviness on the man's shoulders and the storm clouds rumbling overhead as he walked. This was not to be a friendly visit, then, but Loki could not begin to speculate on what brought Thor to J?tunheimr.

A J?tun would have circled around his topic in a delicate dance of veiled phrases and topics meant to hint at their reason, growing ever closer to the heart of the matter but never quite dragging the reason into the burning light of the center. An ?sir could be counted on to stampede straight to the heart and pierce it with their spear. After Thor was settled in an armchair near the fire and in possession of the strongest J?tun cider, he quickly bypassed the niceties of small talk to barrel straight into his purpose for coming.

"Loki, I must ask you something," Thor began, his blue eyes earnest in the light of the fire and his hands clasped in front of him, anxiously rending a loose string from his vest.

Loki gave a tight smile in invitation and Thor continued; his voice uncharacteristically uncertain.

"You know my coronation quickly approaches and Father has determined that I must wed. I am free to choose my bride…but I must choose my bride. I am…well…I am not renowned for my wise choices in regard to women and this is. She would be queen and would rule in my stead if anything occurs and her hand is felt throughout the Nine Realms. It cannot be just a pretty face or a comely manner which draws me in. I am afraid I am too often convinced of the goodness and sincerity of those who wish to please and flatter me."

Loki snorted a laugh but tried to steel his face again at Thor's answering frown.

"If you have come to ask my opinion on your choice of bride, it is little wonder that the All-Father is concerned for the future of Asgard. Since when does Asgard seek the approval from J?tunheimr on the prince's choice in queen?"

"Loki, but you are a king and you have made your own…difficult…choices in past and I…well, let me finish."

"Continue, then," Loki said, not bothering to hide his amusement, but grinning in earnest now at the way Thor stammered.

"I decided to make my choice carefully and based on thought and not impulse…"

"That is unusual."

"Silence, Loki. You are not helping. As I was saying, I drew a list of the maids in Asgard who I thought to be most qualified and capable. I inquired of both Mother and Father and my most trusted companions and I eagerly listened to their counsel."

"If you are about to tell me you chose your bride by council vote, then you fully deserve whoever you must now share your bed with."

Thor gave a long-suffering sigh. "If only it were so, then I would not be here, enduring your mockery."

Loki's heart sank as he suddenly realized what should have been obvious from the moment Thor first spoke. "They chose Sif," he said.

Thor shook his head. "This concerns Sif, but they did not choose her. Not exactly. As I considered carefully my choice, I inquired of Sif last for I felt she would give me the counsel most blunt and true. She did. She thought long upon each of my possible brides before she grew exasperated. 'I would not trust half of these dim-wits with Midgard, let alone Asgard. Truly, there must be someone in the Nine Realms capable of being queen.'"

Loki chuckled darkly. "If you are proposing I reign as queen of Asgard for you, then I accept."

Thor shot Loki an annoyed glare. "This is serious."

"No, it is politics and politics is naught but a game."

"It is marriage and marriage is not a game."

"Isn't it?"

"Loki…," Thor began, but his an exasperated huff, he sank deeper into his chair. "Nevermind…as I was saying, before you interrupted me…'Tell me who, Sif, and I will marry her forthright,' I answered. 'The only woman I consider as apt a ruler as Mother would be you and you have told me enough times you would not have me.' While she grimaced and threw a punch at my head, she quickly sobered. I did not hear tell of her for some time. When she returned, my list was in her hands, but with her own name written at the top.

"'You do not wish to wed me,' I declared. 'No,' she answered. 'You know I do not love you in that way, but neither do any of these women. I do wish for you to rule Asgard and to rule it well. I have thought long and hard. If neither of us are to marry for love, then it is better for you to marry a woman who is not afraid to tell you when you are an imbecile than one who will let you burn down the Nine Realms in simpering foolishness.'"

Loki had long since leaned back in his chair, his hands clasped in front of his lips and the shadows covering his eyes. He leaned forward now, the firelight drifting over his features, and his tone grew serious. "Thor, why are you here?"

"I am not here because you are a king. Loki, if it were any other woman, I would not be here, and if you were any other man, I would not be here. But I know, I always knew, I could see it before either of you would admit it to yourselves, and I know it still. I know that Sif will never speak of it and neither will you and I do not wish to know what occurred between you, truly I do not, but I could not continue without…" and here, Thor's stammering fell quiet and the roiling of his anxious fingers stilled. He met Loki's eyes with his own and leaned forward to place one hand on Loki's shoulder. "I am here because I have long considered you as more than a friend but a…a brother-at-arms. I could not…not without…I value your opinion nearly as much as Sif's and I do not wish to lose you as my brother king through my choice in wife. Know, if you had asked for it, I would never have refused you and Sif to wed and my heart would have been overfull of the union."

"But then who would rule Asgard in your stead? No, Thor. Sif's father, your father, all of Asgard - they all achieve what they have long desired and what was always meant to be. Your choice in bride could not be more admirable or capable and she will love you in her own fierce, loyal way"

"But part of her heart will always be here."

"It was Asgard that first lay claim to her heart, long before she ever met the heir to the throne of J?tunheimr. J?tunheimr was a poor replacement for the glittering spires of Asgard, I am afraid. But this devotion to Asgard is one you both share and, around it, you will build a satisfactory marriage and a strong kingdom. I am sure of it."

Loki did not know if Thor could read the words written in the tightness of his brow or the way his teeth clenched. He doubted it, but he knew, if Sif had been the one to break the news, she would have seen clear as day all the words he did not speak.

It was I who was the interloper, the one who crept in like a thief and stole the heart that should have been yours, all Asgard's. But it is me who will pay for it, for I left mine in exchange and must live now without.

Thor nodded. "You will not hold this against me?"

Loki sighed and sank back into the safety of the shadows. He knew what answer the prince wished to hear…and it might even be the truth, while at the same time remaining a lie.

"No, Thor. While Asgard still belongs to the House of Odin, I cannot fault you for marrying the woman who was always meant to be its queen."

Thor and Sif would not need to fight against the ghosts of old stories, the festering wounds of old wrongs, the collective images of the brutal enemy the other evoked in a realm not their own. No, Thor and Sif would not be plagued by all that would have accompanied Loki and Sif, if they had forged onward, full of passionate folly and blind devotion. Whether on Asgard or on J?tunheimr, they would have been fighting to boil water in a blizzard, their weapons constantly drawn to save the honor and good name of the other from the ever-present sins of their ancestors. It would have been a battle, from beginning to end, but one in which they were on the same front together.

A deep, dark, treasonous part of Loki's heart always wondered if the fight would have been worth it, in the end.

An even darker place wondered if Sif would remain queen in Asgard, if it were Loki who sat on the throne.

No, he could not hold ill-feelings against Thor for doing what Loki always wished he could do. He could, however, burn with jealousy which would pale even the fires of Muspelheimr.

Loki's impassive face during the Asgardian wedding celebrations may have been conjured rather than worn, but he still faithfully attended each day's revels during the month long feasts and ceremonies. With hordes of representatives from across the realms in attendance, the contingent from J?tunheimr was barely noticed by most and only dubiously noted at best. This was a celebration of Asgard's glory and the Crown of Yggdrasill was resplendent for all to see.

Nearly as resplendent as their new queen.

At Sif's side through much of the festivities was a young man, nearly as tall as Thor, but half as wide. His dark hair fell in tumbled curls around his lean shoulders and his hazel eyes, while the shade of Sif's, gazed onto those around him with a feverish intensity and keen insight which was an expression foreign to his mother's face.

"Loki, King of J?tunheimr, may I present Ullr Sifson," Thor told them both one day, pulling them both together between festivities. Thor gave Loki a knowing look and then vanished. Loki may have been irritated with Thor's poor acting and obvious meddling, but he was still grateful. He spent the better part of an hour questioning the boy, admiration growing as he caught the quick turn of the youth's mind and the latent magic flowing off him in waves. When the youth ran off again, it was Angrbo?a who approached him next. She carried their third born babe in her arms while he suckled a rattle. Her tall head leaned down far enough so she could whisper into her husband's ear.

"He has his father's hair," she said. She said nothing else and never mentioned it again, but he recognized what wasn't said. Angrbo?a was a J?tun, after all, and she knew, as he did, how an unspoken truth could be more a weapon than a voiced lie ever could. Her statement was both an acknowledgement and revelation, an accusation and a shared secret.

It was her. The new queen of Asgard is the one who first stole your heart, and still keeps you from sleep on nights when the moon is especially bright. She is the reason for the bouts of temper and tense silences after those diplomatic meetings on Asgard. She still haunts your dreams and is conjured by the shadows deep in the recesses of your heart.

While Loki may have often thought about Ullr and even more often about Ullr's mother, he never spoke of them. Not to anyone. Loki's own children grew and began their own lessons to prepare them for the roles they, too, must play in the future of their realm. They were as clever as their father, but tempered by the gentle compassion of their mother into what he thought had the promise of far surpassing him in all ways. He wondered what his little ?sir son would have been like and how he would have found life in J?tunheimr. Would he have despised it, as his mother would have? Would he have been ashamed to be found in the roots of Yggdrasill, instead of its crown? He knew he would never find out, but the questions and unknowns still lingered, like the fog on a winter's morn.

It was not long before Ullr Sifson unexpectedly crossed his paths again, in nearly the same way, and of a similar age, that first brought Loki to Asgard. A small contingency of ?sir diplomats arrived with Ullr Sifson appointed as one of their number. The young warrior had nearly grown into manhood, his eyes wide in youthful enthusiasm for all life could grant him in this new adventure. Loki watched the man during meals and tours, drinking in all he could learn about the boy from afar.

A few days after their welcome feast, it was the young man who sought out Loki. Loki hid his curiosity, but complied and welcomed Ullr into his meeting chambers.

"What request do you bring to the King of J?tunheimr?" Loki asked, a half-smile playing on his lips.

Ullr did not shrink back or cower before Loki. The young warrior knelt respectfully before staring the king full in the eye. "Please, your majesty, the Queen of Asgard suggested I speak with you. I have some small affinity for ice magic and she said there is no mage in the Nine Realms with as much skill in this area as yourself. I do not dare presume that you find time for a youth such as myself, but is there another skilled tutor or mage on J?tunheimr which you could recommend to instruct me?"

The warmth that cut through Loki's chest was worse than an ice sword and he struggled to maintain his composure.

"The Queen of Asgard spoke wisely, Sifson. I will do what I can to see that you are instructed by the very best J?tunheimr has to offer."

"I am indebted to you, your majesty," Ullr said.

"Oh, no, Sifson. It is I who is indebted to you…on condition you learn well enough to turn the King of Asgard's next rain storm into a blizzard."

Ullr gave a surprised laugh and nodded. "You have my word."

Loki may have called in a sage or two in order to instruct the budding magician's innate talents, but he took most of the boy's instruction upon himself. He knew the real reason Sif sent Ullr was not to develop his magic. The long hours of lessons often evolved into long hours telling stories over firelight or playing at a game by the side of the great hall. He treasured each and every stolen moment, grateful to finally know his son.

Loki would have applauded Sif for being so indirect and discrete, if he could have spoken with her himself. He also would have thanked her for the gift of time with the son he had long yearned to know. After so many years, the Queen of Asgard had learned how to accomplish her goals from the shadows and Loki could respond by stepping into the light, on occasion, to repay her.

He had not seen or spoken to the Queen of Asgard since her wedding, though he heard, mostly through Thor, of her whereabouts and the birth of a boisterous, golden son.

Ullr was neither golden nor boisterous, but he was a strong warrior and, more importantly, a good man. He remained long after the others returned to Asgard and Loki was secretly delighted that he chose to stay.

"Why does Asgard cast its bastards onto J?tunheimr?" one disgruntled youth called out. It was early on, during a practice fight. He spoke in the tongue of the J?tuns, fully believing he would not be understood by the young warrior. Much to the surprise and delight of the onlookers, Ullr responded in the same tongue, as fluent as if he had grown up learning it all his life.

"Why does J?tunheimr prefer its bastards remain on Asgard?" he answered. He proceeded to soundly defeat his opponent with a conjuring of ice far superior than his rival's.

None dared question either his parentage or his right to dwell on J?tunheimr again.

Loki never approached the subject with Ullr, nor did Ullr with him, but Loki did not doubt the boy knew the truth. If his cleverness alone did not solve the mystery of it, their similarities in look and manner would have. Loki's preferential treatment would have sealed it as fact. Ullr sat at the king's table during meals and joined the royal family for outings and festivals. Loki bid the young man entrance into his private chambers, at any hour and for any reason, and welcomed his company on any pretense.

All Asgard could not understand why Ullr remained in J?tunheimr.

"You have never been there in winter," was all Ullr would say in response. The ?sir interpreted this as a slight against the unfavorable J?tun climate. They did not know what it was that Ullr failed to voice. None of the ?sir had ever visited J?tunheimr in the winter to know that it was in the winter that J?tunheimr came the most alive.

Great halls and feasting rooms across the realm flowed with celebrations and gatherings of kin. The long-stored foods now overflowed onto the wide, round tables and daily hunts ensured the migrating flocks of reindeer stocked them with meat. The conjured flames burned green and blue and filled the rooms with the light and warmth necessary for their late nights of song and story, dance and music. Ice sculptures glittered across each courtyard and balcony and overflowed into the streets, their creation as much a part of the festival as the contests to build ice towers.

Ullr, while sometimes as brash and arrogant as the worst of the ?sir, could still appreciate the subtle beauty and quiet strength of the J?tnar. He appreciated it so much that when the time came for him to choose a bride, he surprised everyone by settling down with a J?tun maid, his life continuing to be intertwined with that of the royal family of J?tunheimr. Much to everyone's surprise, it was the crown of J?tunheimr, and not that of Asgard, which arranged the wedding. Perhaps, Asgard did not understand the meaning behind the gesture, but J?tunheimr did. It was as clear a declaration of parentage as taking his father's name would have been. All J?tunheimr knew that Ullr was their son, even if the truth was never spoken out loud.

"You did it on purpose," Sif accused when she came for the wedding. It was during a quiet interim between ceremonies when the great hall was nearly empty and Loki had been passing through to his own chambers. Sif was there, hiding in the shadows, tears streaming down her cheeks when her too-familiar voice stayed his footsteps.

"I do many things on purpose. What am I guilty of this time?" he asked, crouching down to join her in the shadows of the alcove beneath the stairs.

"Making sure Ullr stayed with you here."

"Ah, yes. You are correct. I did that entirely on purpose and should take all the credit for his life choices. Someday, perhaps, he will come to his senses and realize that Asgard is where he belongs, but until then, I have him caught firmly in my web of lies."

She rubbed at her eyes, but more tears came to interrupt her efforts. "He's happy here," she said. "I am glad of it. It's been good for him. Being here, I think."

"I have been glad to have him come. More than I can say."

She nodded. In years past, perhaps she would have hounded him for more words, for more acknowledgement, for a greater torchlight into his meaning. But no longer. She knew what he could not say.

He's as beautiful as you are. I wish I could have been there for all of it, but I treasure what you gave me. Thank you...for more than I can ever say.

oooooo

To be continued...