NOTE - This is my sequel to Lithium, and I should warn you right away if you're looking for a fairytale ending this is not the series for you. (Try my Natasha of Asgard stories instead if that's what you like.) Also, this story reaches some new territory; I can only hope you enjoy the places it takes you.

The Politics of Passion

"You shall suffer forever the influence of my kiss. You shall be beautiful in my fashion… And you shall be loved by my lovers, courted by my courtiers. You shall be the queen of all men that have green eyes..."
― Charles Baudelaire

The Lady Sif escorted the agent through long, golden corridors filled with twisting chandeliers that looked like astrolabes grown to immense size, passing fountains set into the walls and tapestries depicting hunt scenes and royal weddings. By the time they reached the huge double doors, soaring up to the arched ceiling, Natasha's head buzzed from all the luxury surrounding her.

The guards in front of them halted. One stepped forth and knocked; a servant in scarlet and silver livery opened it. "Agent Natasha Romanov," the man said.

The servant ushered her into the king's rooms. If the passageway had seemed immense, the rooms were like an echoing theater – a huge space. Chairs carved from dark wood and what looked like bone skulked in corners, ready for an army of visitors. Long tables filled with bowls of flowers and fruit were on either side. A rich carpet bisected the room, leading to the motionless figure at the other end of the chamber.

"Leave us." Loki's words were all the more forceful for his quiet tone. Sif and the guards bowed, and Natasha was left alone with the king of Asgard.

"Come." He beckoned with one palm.

She checked a sigh. Obviously Loki was showing off, displaying his infinite wealth and total power perhaps as an 'in your face' tactic, although she doubted it. More probably it was his version of a mating ritual.

The deep pile of the carpet swallowed her footsteps. As she reached his side, he turned to regard her, his face stern. "You kept me waiting several days, agent."

"I'm certain Heimdall already told you why." Natasha caught and held his stare; she was not about to be discomfited by grandstanding and parades. "The last case was more complicated than the higher-ups on the council planned." She didn't mention her latest war trophy, a line of stitches under the back of her hair resulting from that oversight.

Loki's lips peeled back from his teeth in anger. "No one is higher up. You are a queen, and you have the attention of a king and a god – why should you listen to these petty mortals as they gamble with your fate?"

She tilted her head on one side and decided to see if she could defuse the situation a bit. "I missed you." A simple confession - let him make of that what he could.

The anger disappeared, was replaced by bewilderment. "Why?"

Natasha felt a rush of weary annoyance. "For heaven's sake, you know why." She turned away, already tired of the gold, the flowers, the luxury.

Loki took one stride, headed her off, held her elbows to look directly into her face. "I do know why. But is it a mere call of the blood? Or more than that?"

"If it is, you're doing an excellent job of talking your way out of it." As though she had come to Asgard on nothing more than an interdimensional booty call! "But since you asked, I'd say it's more like reaching out to like." Natasha tossed her hair, curled and styled by several giggling maids, out of her face.

"The next time I summon you, see to it you arrive …"

"Shut the fuck up!" Natasha swung out with her fist and clipped him on the jaw. "Don't try this bullshit with me, asshole. I'm not some courtier to be ordered around willy-nilly, and I didn't agree to come on this little jaunt because I wanted a lecture after facing down a crew of the stupidest criminals you could possibly imagine."

Loki rubbed his jaw. There was a long pause. "Do you like the royal bedchamber?" He gestured to the magnificence surrounding them.

"No." She crossed her arms; Loki had succeeded in making her blood boil.

"No!" He looked stunned; she expected another burst of bad temper, but to her surprise he began to laugh. "Why not?"

"It's like sitting inside an auditorium. I expect someone to come out and start talking about pyramid business schemes or some shit."

Loki rolled his eyes around his chamber, taking it in. "I suppose it is a bit much," he admitted. "What would you prefer – a cozy chateau? An island resort? A cliffside manor?"

"Frankly I much preferred the little cabin in the woods – our safe house. But for now, why don't you just come to my rooms in the palace? They're nearby, and we won't have to shout at each other to be heard…"

She didn't finish her sentence before Loki pulled her close with one arm, waved the other, and the gilded hall disappeared.

They materialized in Natasha's apartment, a comfy salon with over-padded seats, crackling fireplace, and a huge bed. The young women who had labored over Natasha's hairdo were all clustered on a sofa, agog with their gossip. "She caught the king's eye in Midgard!" one said.

"More than his eye, I'd say…" The speaker stopped with a horrified gasp as she saw Loki and Natasha. Instantly the women all bowed their heads.

"Out," Loki ordered. With a flurry of petticoats, the girls disappeared. As soon as they were gone, he brought her close. "Did you say you missed me?" he asked.

"I'm not going to repeat it." As annoyed with him as she was, Natasha couldn't help feeling a spark of desire curling from his rune mark on her thigh. "When do I meet your council?"

"Much as I would like to keep you to myself, we must be off to the throne room in a few minutes. But I wanted to steal some time to talk to you, to see how you are – truly are, not what you say to others."

Natasha drew a long breath of relief. "Good. This is you – the one who shared my orange in the asylum and got carved up with my steak knife." She tugged at one corner of his cloak, encrusted with jewels and ornate embroidery. "And while we're on that topic, is it still there? the mark I gave you?"

"That is a ridiculous question. Of course it is." Loki made a quick gesture and the entire front of his ornate tunic disappeared, revealing his pale chest and the red scar of Pethro, the rune Natasha had chosen to give him.

"Loki, for crying out loud! We have to go to a meeting, dumbass - what are you doing?" His erection, red and impatient against his pale skin, curled up from a nest of black curls at his groin.

At that he began to laugh so completely he collapsed on her bed, dragging her with him. "Ah, this brings it back!" he gasped. "Your temper, and my lust, and the sweet pain of our collision in Midgard."

Natasha lay on her side and slipped one hand over his hip, regarding him steadily. "Tell me what your life is like now."

He sobered suddenly. "They do whatever I tell them to. In some ways it is good, but in a sense I am losing myself. And then there are the lines of would-be lovers – female and male both, all offering services you could not begin to imagine even with your varied experience, Agent. They laugh at everything I say if they believe it is a joke, or nod and seriously reply 'Oh, well said, All-Father.' But how do I tell if my words are folly or wit? Can you imagine living a life of constant applause? I need you, Natasha, to tell me the truth. Tell me when I a being a – what was the word you used? – a 'dumbass'."

She shook her head. "I'm not the only one willing to call you out on your bullshit, you know. How about your brother? And before you dismiss that idea via your usual scorn reserved for him, allow me to remind you Thor rescued Maria Hill out of the asylum without raising a single alarm."

With one impatient tug, he pulled her close so his length lay heavily against the black Kevlar covering her thigh. She had refused to exchange her catsuit for a long dress, even though the maids had begged her to try on any number of luxurious gowns. "But that was thanks to your ingenuity. Confess – it was you who set up his plan, was it not?"

"Yes, but I've had agents blow a careful set-up before, believe me."

"Hm." Loki spread his fingers wide, twisted his wrist, and the material covering her front was gone. At the same time a mirror appeared overhead, so they could see themselves.

"Hey!" Natasha protested, but he hushed her.

"Look up, Agent. There, do you see? In the mirror it seems as though nothing is awry. You in your prim catsuit, and I in my ridiculous robes, and yet here between us we know it is not so." One sly thrust put his engorged penis right between her legs.

"Mmmm." Natasha drew him close and whispered into his neck, "We have a meeting to go to."

"I know it." Loki leaned away from her and rose, fully clothed once more. "I just wanted you to think about me as we sat listening to the fools delegate nonsense."

Natasha climbed off the bed, gestured to her middle. "You'll need to fix this up as well with your magic, unless you want me to put on a show – okay, thanks. And by the way, you suck. I really wanted to concentrate on my first delegation meeting in Asgard instead of your big old hard-on."

Two long rows of glittering, oiled, pomaded officials lined the table inside the chamber Loki called the Minor Assembly. When she entered on his arm, the delegates' heads turned as though they were all tied to one string; only Sif concentrated on the scroll in front of her.

"Such an independent lot," Loki muttered in Natasha's ear.

She gave him a secret pinch and found her seat between a fellow with raised eyebrows giving him a permanently surprised expression and the most beautiful woman Natasha had ever met. The man had long hair, so fair it appeared like ice, striking against his oriental features and dark skin. The woman beside him also had masses of blond hair curling over her shoulders, with high cheekbones and large eyes fringed with lashes like fans.

As one the assembly rose with murmurs of congratulations. Loki waved off their compliments and greetings, turning to Natasha. "My visitor from Midgard," he announced. "You may thank her for the recent treaty of peace between our realms."

There was a flurry of polite applause. "Well done," the exotic man said.

"Yes, indeed," the blond woman echoed.

Natasha began to see what Loki meant. A life of that constant admiration and praise would drive her out of her mind. And what would it do to him, already shaky when it came to sanity and self-worth?

"All-Father Loki, our first matter at hand is the trade between Vanahaim and Alfheim. Strained by war, the relations between the two are tenuous, and if we wish to avoid another set of skirmishes…" The speaker was an elderly gentleman with hair curled into an ornate style. The figure of a flying dragon completed the hairdo, poised on top of the ringlets and braids.

Those around the table nodded as the speaker droned on about history of the realms and the politics involved. Natasha tried to keep herself still as the speech continued; how could Loki put up with it? He held himself very upright as he listened, writing an occasional note on a scroll provided for him by a hovering manservant.

At last the long-winded fellow sat down to more applause. "Well done," the man on Natasha's right said.

"Yes, indeed," the woman repeated.

Natasha felt a snort of laughter behind her nose. Were they wind-up automatons, doomed to say nothing but their selected phrases at any given moment? She caught Loki's eye and he winked; obviously he was thinking the same thing.

"We would like to increase our trade with Alfheim," a courtier began.

"And we would like the same with Vanaheim," said another. "However, if the realm in question acts so foolishly, what is there to do but resort to a tightening of interactions?"

"That is ridiculous." Sif spoke in a commanding, imperious voice filled with strength; Natasha leaned forward to watch the warrior speak. "Any such thing will begin a downward spiral of hostility, resulting in a possible war." Her lovely face creased with a slight frown.

"Lady Sif," the fellow next to Natasha snorted. "I am surprised that you of all people should object to warfare." There was a general bout of laughter at his words.

"And I am surprised that you of all people should have wit enough to speak, Hodur." Sif's frown deepened. "I will face any battle at hand and well all who sit at this table know it, but I do not feel the need to engineer a quarrel where none currently exists. Why not increase the peace at a slow pace and use the armies to improve conditions in Asgard and all realms?"

"Enough." Loki cut her off and picked up the scroll lying on the marble table; with a dark glance in his direction Sif subsided. "The representatives of Alfheim and Vanaheim may rest assured the AllFather will keep their requests in mind. For the moment, I suggest a slowly escalating trade but with a third party to keep an eye on activity on both realms. Now, the agenda states…"

"…It is time to discuss your marriage, All Father." The speaker was the lovely woman with the blond curls.

"Yes, yes, Amora. We do not need to concern ourselves with that just yet." Loki rolled up the scroll and put it down on the table; obviously he was preparing to wrap up the meeting.

"Begging your pardon, we do. The AllFather must marry and very soon – the realm is unsettled if you do not have a wife. There are several candidates, and I would like to go through them one by one. Hodur, do you have the list?"

The blond youth addressed as Hodur sat up and gave the beauty addressed as Amora a loose scroll, but Loki interrupted as she began to read from it. "I said enough! Furthermore, the final choice is my own. I am quite aware the realm needs a queen, and I will provide you with one. You must grant me more time – I refuse to be rushed in that matter." He rose and held out one arm. "Natasha, you will escort me to my chamber."

"Well, you couldn't have caused a bigger commotion if you had tried," she murmured as they swept up the stairs to his huge suite of rooms. "Everyone will be pairing our names together now. Does Asgard have paparazzi and gossip mags?"

"Good," he answered with satisfaction. "I want them to pair our names together. Allow me to change out of these ridiculous robes of state, and we will away to your rooms. And there, Agent, I intend to rekindle our friendship posthaste – damnation!"

The curse was forced out of him. At the doors of his chambers, the blond youth Hodur waited. He wore nothing more than a collar set with gleaming jewels around his neck; it was attached to a long leash held by Amora. "I thought you might enjoy a distraction, AllFather," she said with a gleaming smile.

Loki flicked his gaze over the youth. "Very nice, but I do not wish for further company. Unless you would like him, Natasha?"

She laughed. "No, thanks. I'm good."

"She's good," Loki repeated to Amora. "Be off, the pair of you."

With a sneer, Amora swished past them and headed down the hall, dragging Hodur behind like a chic model with an unruly purebred. "Goodness!" Natasha said, as the doors opened and Loki ushered her inside. "They were both very beautiful, to be sure."

"Hmph. Beautifully simple, inside and out. He would adore to waste my time and pick my pockets while being my 'distraction', and Amora has one object of her affections: herself." Loki took off his robes and flung them on a chair; like Hodur, he was completely naked underneath. He put his arms around Natasha and kissed her neck, pressing himself against her. "Which reminds me, Agent – what did you think of the meeting?"

"I'm glad you asked." Natasha captured his lip between her teeth, and pulled it slightly. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. "I was very impressed with what Sif had to say - of everyone at the table, she made the most sense."

"That warrior." Loki thrust her back so he could search her face with his pale, intent gaze. "She knows of nothing beyond swords and buckets of ale. What did she have to say, in any case? I was too busy thinking about your body intertwining with mine under the mirror I gifted you this evening."

"Yes, but if you're the AllFather you have to pay attention to these things. And she said the divide between those two realms would disintegrate, since you missed it, and it was better to put energies towards building rather than…"

"Forget all of that for now. I actually wanted to ask you about the other matter." As he spoke, Loki punctuated his speech with kisses on her neck, her eyelids, her mouth. "My marriage. What do you think of that? Hm?"

Natasha felt cold dread uncurl in her stomach. "Look, that's your business. Whatever happens, though, I hope there's some way you and I can continue our little interludes, although if your future wife forbids it then we'll just have to say goodbye."

"Oh, no." Loki shook his head and his lips resolved into a firm line. "You and I are never saying goodbye." He waved one arm and they were transported out of his chamber to her bed, under the mirror. Natasha looked up and watched their reflection as he tongued the flesh between her breasts, over her stomach, her thighs.

"You said you get offers like that all the time? I mean that kid on a leash – you have your own little fangroups?" She gasped as he licked one long stripe over her quivering clit.

"All the time – it is quite tedious and part of the reason why I need a wife, Agent, to put an end to that nonsense."

Natasha knew she could head him off that topic but only for so long. Still, she would use every bit of skill she had to make him forget about the delicate matter of marriage – the last thing she wanted in his or any other realm. "Back to the subject at hand. You're allowed to lick me three times," she ordered, "and then it's my turn to employ my tongue. Three times. The loser is the one who begs for the other to continue."

"Oh, Agent," Loki breathed. "Your imagination undoes me, as usual. Prepare for defeat, Natasha."

At the same moment they screamed for mercy, both losing and winning at once, and Loki buried himself in her to the hilt. As she returned his kiss and arched up under him to feel every delicious inch, Natasha realized with a sudden pang she could never allow him to leave her life.