Hello! To those who may recognize this, this particular story is being simultaneously posted on AO3 (archive of our own). Yes, I'm the same person.

WARNING: This fanfic is Loki/Thor. While they are not brothers in this universe, that may squick some people. Also, yes, that means M/M. Don't like, don't read! :)

Cheers!

Chapter One

Loki readjusted the hood of his cloak to further cover his features, cautious despite his new Asgardian appearance. If anyone caught the youngest prince of Jotunheim in Asgard, he reminded himself, there would be Hel to pay. But unfortunately his caution was strongly overruled by his growing impatience and curiosity.

There were so many new things to see; the streets teemed with dirty, hairy commoners haggling over prices and drunken soldiers (equally as hairy, he noted) telling seemingly uproariously funny tales—most of which were also suggestive, if their raunchy motions were any indication. Loki thrilled at his chance to move among them undetected.

He had oft heard stories of the notorious Asgardian swine—how they butchered the old and infirmed, tortured innocents, and ate the flesh of children who had misbehaved. So naturally he had been repulsed, upset, and confused upon discovering (quite by accident) that he had Asgardian blood. There had been many rumors about the witch queen Farbauti, of course, but the fact that he had been half Asgardian had been a closely kept secret.

"I loved your bearer very much, child," Laufey, his sire, had explained the night Loki had stumbled upon the royal lineage records, "and you equally so. Much you hear of Asgard is nonsense, filth drudged up and spread by angry soldiers and townspeople affected by the war. But an era of peace is upon us now, and it's past time to lay the lies to rest."

Loki grimaced, "They're not lies! Byleistr showed me those pictures of Thrym defending the city from the Asgardian barbarians!"

Laufey looked fondly down at his youngest son, who stared defiantly back at him. "Paintings, rendered by a biased artist."

Loki 'hmphed' in disbelief and folded his arms into a familiar sulk. Laufey's lip twitched up in amusement. He had, perhaps, been too lenient with the child. It was no secret that he favored his tiny son, who at six feet stood at least three feet smaller than the average Jotun. But Loki's beauty was also no secret, and now that he had come of age Laufey was beginning to fear for his own sanity. For Loki, who was vain, proud, willful, and more than a little spoiled, took great delight in parading himself in front of what seemed like an unending line of hopeful suitors.

Laufey carefully smoothed back a lock of his child's lovely black hair, upsetting one of the carefully entwined strands of gold and emerald braided into it. Loki immediately aimed a glare at his sire and caught the braid before it could unravel completely. "Loki-child, what am I to do with you? Helblindi tells me you have been terrorizing the servants again."

Loki smirked, "Helblindi talks too much. But you're changing the subject. Why did you not tell me of my monstrous heritage?" His crimson eyes swam with barely concealed loathing.

Laufey sighed resignedly, "Because there was nothing to tell. You are Loki, you are my son, and that is all that matters. Besides," he raised a brow, "It is likely your Asgardian blood that gave you such fine hair." Jotun hair, while confined to their heads, was typically course and unruly. Many—particularly soldiers—chose to shave it completely rather than deal with it.

Loki preened under his father's compliment and considered his words. "I suppose they can't be entirely bad then," he conceded at last. Laufey hid his exasperation at his child's vanity, and allowed Loki to chatter on about the laziness of the servants, taking note of his more relaxed posture. His son would be fine.

It wasn't until nearly two weeks later that Loki, armed with all of the knowledge of the library of Jotunheim on the subject of Asgard (which admittedly, wasn't much), began to consider the unthinkable.

Asgard was off limits to all Jotnar unless by direct invitation of one of the royal family. But limitations and laws had never stopped Loki before, and he saw no reason why they should now. Gifted with unusually strong seidr, Loki was able to traverse the pathways of Yggdrasill as he pleased. The first time he had gone to Svartalfheim, a tingling sensation had overcome him as—to his horror—his skin began to bleach from blue to pale, creamy beige. He had used his magic to halt the progress and retain his Jotun form, but until now he'd had no explanation for what had happened to him.

Now he reasoned that his body was able to adapt to warmer climates by taking on Asgardian properties. He decided to experiment with it.

Loki stood before the floor to ceiling sheet of smooth ice in his room that reflected his appearance perfectly. He began to heat the air around him, careful to contain the temperature change to several centimeters around his skin so that he did not melt the ice. Loki watched, fascinated, as his appearance began to alter.

First his skin turned to a smooth cream, obscuring the silvery markings that proclaimed his heritage. Then his ebony horns disappeared, the gold rings and chains that had adorned them clattering to the ground beside him. His hair remained unchanged.

Breathless, Loki approached his reflection, examining his features. They, too, were similar, barring one notable exception—startlingly emerald eyes gleamed back at him from the ice, surrounded by thick black lashes.

Loki grinned and stepped back, satisfied that he was still every bit as beautiful in Aesir form.

And so within the next week, he had cloaked himself in his magic and left for Asgard.

Loki jumped back in alarm as a wagon full of some kind of foliage rumbled past him, causing him to stumble in an uncharacteristic moment of clumsiness. He fell backwards into a warm body, and before he could register what was happening arms encircled his waist, stopping his fall. Loki's eyes blew open wide and he hissed at the contact, quickly untangling himself and regaining his footing.

"Hey, hey, no need for that—it's not like I was trying to cop a fee…" the cheerful voice trailed off as Loki spun around to glare at him. The Aesir, who had gleaming yellow hair and matching hair on his face around his mouth slowly began to smile. His dancing blue eyes slowly worked their way down and then back up again. Loki blanched as he realized that the hood of his cloak had fallen back. Feeling exposed but not wanting to show weakness or fear, he stared impassively back at the man.

"Well now, you must be new to town," the Asgardian practically purred at him, "I'm sure I'd remember a face like yours." He smiled another dashing smile and, before Loki could react, he grabbed one of his hands and lifted it to his lips. Loki recoiled in horror and disgust. The man seemed amused by his reaction. "And your name is… ?"

"Lo… Luke." Loki responded, startled into a response.

"Luke," the Aesir grinned, "It's truly a pleasure to meet you. I'm Fandral. But don't worry… not all of the stories they tell of me are true." He winked. Loki just stared back at him, lost.

When he didn't respond, Fandral blinked. "You have heard of me, yes?" The name sounded vaguely familiar. Likely Loki had read it somewhere in one of the tomes, but as he couldn't recall where, he remained silent. Fandral clutched his chest in mock horror, eyes wide. "You wound me! For one as beautiful as you not to recognize my name is, well, a disaster of unmentionable proportions! I shall have to rectify that immediately."

Confidence bolstered by the compliment, Loki finally gave him a thin smile. "I believe you already have."

Before Fandral could respond, another Aesir approached them and cut him off. "Gods, not another one Fandral. It is not even midday yet." The newcomer had stern, commanding features and shoulder-length dark hair. His equally dark eyes assessed Loki before moving back to his friend. "You are late again. Everyone is waiting. Come."

With that, he nodded a greeting to Loki and then turned and walked back the way he had come.

Fandral turned back to Loki, smiling brilliantly again. "That's Hogun. Forgive him, he's not good with words." He paused, eyes flickering between Loki and the direction his friend had gone. "Say, would you like to join us? I'm certain no one would mind such lovely company."

Loki frowned slightly and tilted his chin upwards. "What makes you think I do not have better things to do?"

An eyebrow shot up. "The fact that you were wondering the streets looking lost before you fell into me gave me a clue."

Loki flushed. "Perhaps I was merely unsure of where I was supposed to meet a friend," he snapped.

Fandral grinned again, "Okay, where at? I can point you in the right direction. The tavern, perhaps?"

Loki breathed a quiet sigh of relief at the chance to get away, despite the fact that he didn't find this particular Asgardian… completely disgusting. He didn't want to get to know anyone too well, or it would become clear he was unfamiliar with Aesir customs. "Yes. My friend is at the tavern."

Fandral's smile took on a mischievous glint. "Fantastic. That's where I'm going. Come on."

Before Loki could protest Fandral took his arm and began leading him through the crowded streets. Despite the fact that the sights and scents weren't completely new to him—Asgard wasn't entirely different from several of the other realms—Loki was overwhelmed. The mere fact that he was in Asgard and that if he were found he would put the peace of their two realms in serious peril made everything feel dangerous. But the more Loki thought about it, the more he was warming to the feeling. Soon he was keeping pace with Fandral of his own accord. When the man gave him a curious look, Loki shot him a half-smile. He was beginning to feel more like himself.

"Here we are," Fandral stopped in front of a building that seemed to be a focal point in the city. He bowed and gestured to the entrance. "After you."

Loki swept past him.

The building's interior was dark and noisy with flames flickering merrily in the giant hearth at its heart. As Loki entered a brawl broke out to his left, sending one of the burly men crashing backwards into the support beam directly next to him. The building shook as its denizens cheered and raised their glasses. Loki remained frozen to the spot.

Fandral appeared next to him, a wicked grin on his lips. Loki decided to drop the pretence of having a friend to meet in this place. He did not particularly want to be left on his own there, even if it meant suffering Fandral's presence for an extended period of time. There was pressure on Loki's back and it took him a moment to realize that Fandral had placed his hand there, steering the stunned man towards a table in the back corner.

It was slightly quieter there, Loki noted with relief, and the people seemed better behaved. The dark haired man from outside sat furthest away, giving the two newcomers a brooding stare over his mead. The closest was an attractive female, her shining dark hair pulled back into a tail. She perked up at their arrival, giving Loki a look that was one-third amused and two-thirds exasperated. "Hogun mentioned that was why you were late," according to her gesture, "that" apparently meant Loki. "Did you have to bring it with you?"

Loki scowled. "Well, it certainly wasn't my idea," he snapped, acid in his voice.

The woman raised a brow, seeming more entertained than insulted. The large, red-headed, bearded man across the table let out a loud guffaw. "Fandral, you're losing your touch!" he bellowed at the slender man by Loki's side. Fandral wrapped his arm around Loki's waist, pulling him close. Loki promptly stamped on his foot and gave him an elbow to the gut. This caused him to double over and the woman with the dark hair to burst out laughing.

Far from seeming angry, however, Fandral just beamed up at him. "He just hasn't gotten to know me yet. He'll warm up."

Loki looked down his nose at the clearly demented Asgardian and used his frostiest tone. "That is highly unlikely."

Fandral, however, didn't stop smiling. It was beginning to get irritating. "Ah, but not impossible. I like those odds." Before Loki could correct him, Fandral grabbed his shoulder and pushed him towards the bench. The woman slid over to make room for them. Loki attempted to avoid sitting entirely, but after almost getting pulled into Fandral's lap he settled for a seat between him and the woman. At least they didn't smell quite as horrible as he'd imagined they would.

"So everyone, this is Luke. Luke, this is Volstagg," Fandral pointed across the table to the red-head, "you already met Hogun," Hogun grunted and went back to his mead, "And of course the lovely Lady Sif," the woman next to Loki smiled slightly. Loki cocked his head a bit, considering. Sif. He'd definitely heard that name before somewhere, but it had been a while ago.

"So I thought you said everyone was here!" Fandral said accusingly to Hogun, "You made me feel all guilty for nothing."

"Oh please, I'm not sure you know what guilt is." Sif rolled her eyes. "He's busy, might not make it today."

"I thought we were making final plans! So are we pushing it off then?" When Sif shrugged, Fandral sighed. "Ah well. At least I won't have any competition, anyway!" he aimed a roguish wink at Loki, who studiously ignored him.

As they continued their inane jabbering, Loki assessed them in turn. Volstagg was a filthy pig, stuffing his face and spitting food when he got excited, Hogun was barely articulate, speaking almost entirely in grunts and nods, and Fandral was a disgusting degenerate, making suggestive comments nearly as often as he opened his mouth. The only semi-intelligent one was Sif. At least she seemed to be the leader. Loki sat quietly stubborn in their midst, wishing he hadn't decided to make this journey. Clearly Asgardians were not worth his time.

Finally Sif removed some sort of scroll from the pack on the floor next to her. Loki perked up as she smoothed it across the table and revealed it to be a map. It took him all of five seconds to indentify it as a map of southern Svartalfheim, despite its inaccuracies.

"So despite the fact that we were previously going to start here, I thought it might be better to begin at this point over here." Sif tapped a clearing in a forested area. "That way, we can sneak into this entrance here and take Jæghar by surprise—"

She was interrupted as Loki burst out into a fit of laughter.

When he regained his composure, he was met with several glowers. He smiled in mock apology, and Sif's look darkened. "Do you have something to say?"

The corner of Loki's mouth twitched. "No, of course not, not if you have a death wish. Please, do go on."

Sif crossed her arms and sat back, waiting for him.

Loki took a deep breath and sighed condescendingly. "There are multiple problems with your plan. But first, I must ask—have you ever met a dragon?"

Volstagg sputtered indignantly. "Of course! We were the ones who slew the vicious drake that was terrorizing Winelhal!"

Loki scoffed. "I heard of that. That beast could barely be classified as a true dragon. Jæghar will hear you coming a mile off. Besides that, he is no fool. Do you think he does not guard the back entrance to his caverns? That he has taken no precautions against thoughtless intruders? You will set off at least twenty magical alarms even before you make it to the entrance… if you make it there."

Sif's eyes were coldly analytic. "We are not novices. Of course we realize there are tricks and traps. But we have ways of detecting them."

"Such as?" Loki asked, genuinely curious.

Sif shifted uncomfortably and looked over to Fandral, who shrugged. "Some sort of magic, enchanted rock. Glows when it detects magic."

Loki sighed. "That's very well and good, if you were playing hide-and-find with a six year old mage. But you're going up against a dragon that has seen several millennia. Such artifacts only have a certain level of ability, and all of them can be tricked if you're skilled enough. And Jæghar will be."

The hostility had gone from Sif's face as she now looked him over, considering. "What would you suggest?"

Loki blinked at her. "Well, you must have a mage in your party. Several, if possible. Otherwise you have no chance of taking Jæghar by surprise. Dragons are innately magical beings."

Silence fell over the table as they all appeared to reflect on his words. Loki glanced back down at the map and couldn't resist making one more correction. "And the entrance is not encompassed by the Avridral Forest. It is several kilometers to the west, falling within the boundaries of the Darken Wood instead."

Volstagg leaned over the table in triumph. "I told you I couldn't find it! I didn't get lost—the map was wrong!"

Fandral grinned and held his hands up in a defensive position, "To be fair, friend, we didn't think you were lost—we just thought you may have gotten tired, stopped for a lunch break, and then decided to turn around and cover it up by saying you were lost."

Loki snickered as this began a full out argument. He thought back over something Volstagg had said earlier while they bickered, frowning slightly. "You said you slew the dragon of Winelhal, but I thought that it was defeated by some of Asgard's great heroes."

The argument halted into a stunned silence. Hogun placed his drink down on the table and leaned forward. "And who exactly do you think we are?"

Loki looked around at each of them. They stared back. Certainly they didn't expect him to believe that they were some of Asgard's finest?

"You have truly never heard of Lady Sif and the Warriors Three?" Fandral asked finally.

Loki stilled. Yes, he had. And suddenly he remembered that that was exactly where he had heard their names before. How had he forgotten? True, he hadn't paid much attention to Asgardian battles, focusing rather on their culture and lifestyle, but… Loki swallowed hard and tried to come up with a response.

Before he could think of one, however, the door to the tavern banged open.

"Friends!" a great, booming voice rang enthusiastically across the room. "Good news! Father has cancelled the council meeting this afternoon. Let us attend to our plans!"

Loki swung himself around to look at the newcomer and froze. All of the blood drained from his face. For while it was easy to mistake one Aesir warrior for another or to forget which one was who, there was no mistaking this one.

And the crown prince's striking blue eyes had fallen on Loki.

A/N: So in case it wasn't clear: Sexuality is anything goes in this fic. There are preferences, but no prejudices. The Jotun are singly-gendered.

Thanks for reading!