It truly is a feast for Loki, and he indulges enough to make his belly swell, as the last dimensions he visited had held some hardship for him. Some throwing him into the midst of war, others landing him in prison, and quiet a few where he escaped death only by a near miss. Finishing the last plate he can muster, he ponders over the fact, that thus far, this world has been the first where he has been welcomed so openly. And also the first, where his other self should still be alive, and not far away either. He wonders what occupies him so long, giving him the time to enjoy this pleasant state of pride and power. He really is tired enough to lie down, but Loki knows better than to make himself comfortable in his alter egos private chambers, so set on improving his illusion, he decides to snoop around and gather information.

He has noticed the servants did not question his appearance, but addressed him with his chosen title. He has to say, they behave the way he would have instructed them, had he been the true ruler of Asgard: obedient, observant, respectful... Loki knows that he was in fact king of Asgard in more than one universe, and for longer than the two days the allfather had exiled Thor onto Midgard, before collapsing into the Odin-sleep. But the way this realm is organized, he believes his influence must have lasted longer, more like a decade, or even beyond that. After all, the kitchen was able to meet his extravagant taste without an issue it seems, so his other self must have had these cravings before, and more than once. He has to find out more about this Loki.

Thus prior to leaving his chambers, he decides to go through his wardrobe, so he will at least seem somewhat more like this world's God of Mischief, should he be detected as easily again. He walks into the bedroom, glancing longingly at the comfortable bed, before stepping up to the great closet that used to hold the queen's various, majestic gowns. Or still does, as he remarks confused, when he opens the first double doors, and only views some fine woven dresses, most sparkling with expensive jewels, or lined with gold or silver thread between the silk or Brokawe, glowing in the fanciest colors. Although he notes that the majority are held in blue and green, his favorite shades, and only few in white or other pale colors his mother used to prefer. To be exact, he doesn't even recognize any of the garments as those of Frigga. After looking a little closer, he does find a silver white dress that actually did belong to the late queen, one of her most exquisite gowns she hardly wore, but which Loki had always admired. It makes him wonder.

He quickly moves to the next compartment, only to find even more feminine clothing, although these seem more sturdy, some even plated with leather or metal, like a huntress outfit, and even some battle armor a Lady Sif would have killed to have the honor of wearing. Loki's confusion rises, he simply cannot picture Frigga ever enjoying the physical violence of battle the way he occasionally would. Was this world so different? He opens the next pair of doors, and is met with some more casual fabrics, less glamour and more comfort, also holding some night gowns or comfy, simple wear, the way he had seen the peasant humans dress in on Midgard. Not that these would ever truly compare, but the simplistic design does strike him as odd. Perhaps his late mother had worn such things only for herself in private, when she did not need to present. It's what Loki would do. Or would wear under a more elaborate illusion, if he was to mimic a peasant, a servant, or some other lower class person. He can picture the mischief he'd be able to deliver, and has to stop himself from dreaming up new tricks to play. After all, he still has to be on the lookout.

So he moves to the last of the closet doors, thinking how his other self might be too sentimental to dispose of his mother's wardrobe as a tribute, but would surely need to wear things of his own. But the last door is locked. First this confuses Loki. Then he smiles. At last a challenge. Someone else would now curse and search for a key, perhaps hidden in one of the garments, perhaps somewhere in the room. But Loki knows he can open any lock he pleases, if he just has enough patience. So, he tries to concentrate, feel the wood and metal under his fingers, sense the mechanism that is holding the door closed. And then he realizes something odd. The lock is not held by a bolt or a ring, but by magic. And it doesn't seem to be that of his mother, but more like is own. A little more refined perhaps.

It is strange to him, but the God of Mischief concentrates, and is then surprised when the lock gives way on his first attempt to pick it, as if it had waited for him to do so all along. More like a safety latch you would install against children, than an actual lock a skilled adult might pick. Puzzled, Loki opens the doors, not knowing what to anticipate. But it certainly wasn't what he finds: Elaborate underwear, enticing in design and color, clearly meant to be seductive and thrilling. After glancing at some of these dessous, some more playful, others worthy of a dominatrix, he quickly closes the doors again, locking them tight, and tries to disperse the image of his mother, dressed in any one of these seductive garments, as the allfather enters her chambers.

The trickster hastily wanders back into the sitting room, taking some more of the wine he had held back after the feast to calm his trembling nerves. It doesn't make sense. Would his mother be this keen on collecting such various dresses and gowns, overly elegant, almost boring casual, fit for battle, or even cheeky, as the last door suggests? He knows he might let his imagination wonder in such spheres, and had he been king, he might have acquired such an expensive and wide ranging wardrobe. Except for the last one. Unless he had a partner, he thinks. And then a suspicion creeps into his mind. Thor had been surprised by his look. 'Oh, you choose this form now?', he had remarked. And had called him his queen. They are the queen's chambers he occupies.

Loki quickly runs back to the first compartment of the wardrobe, to the dress he had admired of Frigga. She used to hate wearing it, because she always needed to also wear very high heels, as not to tread on the wide falling skirt part. But he is a good foot taller than the queen was. He scans the other dresses. They are all his size. Loki starts to shiver. Then he gets angry. Why should he step back behind his brother, let him be the ruler and king? And play the part of his female companion, a queen, even presenting the way his mother had done, though sometimes reluctantly, with extravagant, glamorous clothing? Then another somewhat nauseating thought invades his skull. The elaborate dessous, hidden away in the last compartment, secured by his magic. It had already been scary thinking his brother would wish to kiss him more. But judging from those gowns, they were even more intimate with each other than that.

Loki has to sit down on the bed, to not sway. And then, feeling the soft, welcoming sheets, his imagination takes off into the direction he had already pictured his mother in. But somehow this is even worse: Him and Thor, lying with each other, his brother kissing his exposed body, hardly covered by one of the enticing fabrics, underlining feminine features, that he was willfully presenting to him, to fuel his desire... “No!”, he gasps loud, getting of the bed as if being stung by something. “No.”, he repeats a little quieter, and then adds with gritted teeth: “No. I will not be your whore! Not here, not ever!” And thinking of the feast he enjoyed, still staring at the elegant clothes that, had the premise been a different one, he might have even considered trying on for fun, he hisses: “No more. Not all the riches of the nine realms would be worth for me to bow to you. I will not kneel before you... especially not like that!” He shakes his head with closed eyes, like a dog getting rid of a bug bothering its hide. Then he moves to close the doors, shutting them with a bang, growing louder each time, and even kicks at the already locked ones, for good measure. Then he shrouds himself determined, and moves to exit the queen's chambers, not wishing to explore them further.

⭐⭐⭐

Loki makes his way to the royal library instead, to read up on this world's history, hoping to find answers. On his way there he crosses paths with various servants, guards and other palace staff, and is relieved to find none of them noticing his presence. He walks on, proud of his craft, believing it must have be a coincidence after all, that led Thor to figure out his illusion. He had after all just entered this world. A strange world, he continues to think, once he slips into the library after one of the castle maids, expecting her to come clean up in the stuffy, dusty catacombs. How surprised is he, to find the grand room buzzing with people of all walks of life, either scouting the endless walls and shelves for books, or standing close in little groups, excitedly discussing things in hushed voices, as not to disturb another.

He has to lean on a wall in awe, and even more when a grand warrior moves towards him, to replace a book right there. Loki notes that the simple fighter must have obeyed a filing system, as the book fits right between the others, containing the same subject, written by the same author. Loki is dumbfounded. Sure, the library had always had a system to find knowledge, but he had found it so very complicated, that searching for information by himself could take hours, which he was forced to do more than often, as he tried to gather background facts to find hidden paths between the worlds, or methods to hide from or counter the magic the allfather had woven throughout Asgard and the other realms. And now, this once secluded place he would bury himself in work with, is a popular meeting place for even the lower classes! It confuses him.

But then he notices a painting, at the end of the main corridor. Although it is quiet huge, Loki still comes closer, passing the packed tables occupied by various students doing research. His mouth is open in awe, and although the sight is strange to him, he cannot help but feel a little proud and happy: mounted on the wall, surrounded by various crests, certificates, and scrolls, framed with golden wood, is a portrait of himself, more than twice his height, and held in vibrant colors. It shows him sitting at a desk, a quill delicately held in his hand, writing on a scroll, numerous books stacked next to him on the table, or on the ground to his feet. Every piece of furniture, and every item in the painting, reeks of expensive quality and tasteful elegance. And his own figure completes this, as all his prominent features are highlighted in the most favorable way, his pale skin shining like marble, his green eyes creating the illusion of a sparkle, the indication of a knowing smile on his lips, his black hair hanging down in delicate curls.

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However, that is where his approval starts to fade. Because the Loki in the picture is clearly presenting as female. Not that he is shown to wear make up, or if he is, it is as inconspicuous and discrete as it can be. But there is clearly some bosom, shown with some cleavage in a most elegant green dress, complimenting the eyes and underlining his slender physique. A banner above the portrait reads: 'Our patron, the God of Knowledge!' Loki is baffled, but satisfied, when he reads the second banner underneath it, showing a quote: 'To tell a good lie, one must first know the truth!'

He had said this to his mother, and to his scholars, on various occasions. To see it written on the wall of the library, honoring him, does fill him with pride, even if he disapproves of his depiction. Although he must admit, that the likeness does seem more than flattering, and at least his face and his hands are drawn to such perfection, he would think to look into a mirror. Loki furrows his brows. Whyever his other self had decided to play along to this charade, he certainly had gained more autonomy and power, than Loki did during his short reign in his own past. And there seems to be a great amount of respect, perhaps even gratitude, brought towards this version of himself. It feels so odd. Just then, a woman close by marvels at the painting, sighing: “She looks so beautiful!” He turns to her appalled, closely searching her face for signs of mockery, but instead finds sincere admiration and even longing desire.

Just then her companion steps next to her, informing her: “He! His majesty has requested to be addressed as his lordship, king Loki!” The woman quickly covers her mouth, and turning to him thanks him: “Oh, I had not heard! Thank you for correcting me! Of course, his majesty. But still, he remains beautiful, no matter what form.” “You're welcome.”, the young man replies, “It's rather new, so you are forgiven. But you know how sensitive his majesty has been lately.” “Well, it is to be expected, is it not?”, the woman returns, making Loki wonder. Just then, one of the guards walks up to the podium located under the portrait, and banging his pole on the ground, loudly announces: “Hear ye, hear ye! As of now until further notice, his lordship, king Loki of Asgard, wishes to be spoken to in his male titles and pronouns! We ask everyone to be mindful of this new status and to inform all who might not know, so that we may respect his highness's wishes. That is all!”

Loki stares at the guard in amazement. But then he straightens himself up. 'They are advised best to follow this order, or feel my wrath!', he thinks, satisfied at the people's obedience, but also grinning in delight, thinking how it will be impossible to inform everyone of this new concept, and how he would be able to shout at the first poor soul that did not get the memo before addressing him. Just then, he hears a group starting to clap behind him. He turns and has to steady himself once more at the sight. Three Frost Giants are stepping out of one of the side corridors, and facing the portrait, following the guard with their eyes, they bring their hands together in approval. One of them turns to the others, smiling: “His lordship, the king...”, and the two return the gesture. Loki wonders if they are chuckling at the Asgardian's obedience, or feel pride for his title. But then he notices the small Asgardian scholar, standing before them like a guide, and explaining: “Yes, quiet certainly! We have learned from previous experience, that informing the public to follow his wishes right away, helps his highness feel comfortable and respected.”, he gestures importantly, “It is vital to make sure his desires are fulfilled to ensure his well being and keep the atmosphere in the palace peaceful.”

The Frost Giants nod and follow him to the long show case before the podium, where he explains: “Well, to keep on with our tour: This is the central display where the historic records are kept!” Loki follows them quietly, listening attentive, as the guide reports: “As you notice, there are two main books, one that reads the old records, as they have been approved of his late highness, king Odin.” He hears the Frost Giants growling disapprovingly, and would have joined in, but the guide continues: “The newer one was commissioned by his highness king Thor, and it is continuously updated to give more detailed and neutral reports of the historic events and the context they occurred in. I must again give your king Lauffey our regards, for helping us complete this task by sharing your own historic records with us!” Loki raises his brows surprised. King Lauffey lives? How is this possible? What occurred in this dimension to keep his other self from murdering his genitor in favor of the allfather's approval?

Not that it had worked in his own past, but he remembers how obsessed he was to prove his worth to his supposed father, and what length he was willing to go to. It all seems fantastic to him now, but is his other self so far ahead of him, regarding his feelings in the matter? Loki would like to just find out by reading the records, but the show case is not only closed around the scrolls for display, it is also locked and guarded by more castle guards. Of course Loki could just appear in his visible form and demand that they hand them over to him, but he does not wish to draw attention to his actions this way. At least not yet. But he gets another idea. As these Jötunn seem to be some kind of tourists, or scholars that are led by a guide, he might as well follow them, hoping to hear more about this Asgard's history, and his other self's character. So he keeps close to them, spending the next hours in their shadow.

⭐⭐⭐

To his frustration, the palace's history and the circumstances of his brother's and his own crowning and union are not revisited in detail, but he still gathers a lot of interesting information: apparently Asgard and Jothunheim are in close diplomatic exchanges, despite the bifrost having been destroyed by Odin on the day of his exile. Loki finds out that the allfather has left, once Thor took the throne, and that him and the queen are in fact alive, but left with a few trusted warriors and servants, to live in another realm, presumably Frigga's birthplace Anaheim.

It also surprises him to find out, that Midgard seems to play no role in the current political situation of Asgard. He smirks, imagining how the Avengers, if they even exist in this timeline, would be completely unprepared for an invasion of the mighty gods, should he be able to convince his dumb brother to go along with it. But that is all the background information he gets of the political situation. Perhaps the guests are not that keen on having the details explained to them, or it is confidential foreign policy that isn't part of the tour.

Loki sticks around anyways, as the guide leads the Frost Giants to the royal gardens. He wonders if this fortress of solitude has become as popular as his other retreat. And sure enough, already while descending the steps leading outside, he can see the many civilians walking around the parks, admiring the bountiful colors of the flowers in full bloom, or standing at boards depicting the various herbs planted in between, describing their attributes and healing qualities. Loki is amazed at this well organized depiction of beauty and resources. The gardens had always been lovely and clean, as they were a favorite past time of their mother's, but seeing them in this glory almost brings tears to Loki's eyes. He parts from the group, as the guides description of the floral difference to that of Jothunheim does neither surprise nor enlighten him, and so he just walks around the garden a bit, taking in the scenery. He is fascinated by how well the order of the park aligns with the chaos of nature, to form something so calming and beautiful as this garden.

He stops by one of the trees, a willow that he used to sit under to read as a boy. Suddenly he hears Fandral, of the Warriors Three, addressing him: “A magnificent piece of wood, don't you think?” The trickster turns to him in a panic, questioning how he discovered him, but then realizes the young man is talking to a lady next to him, admiring the rather inconspicuous tree. When the lady only gives Fandral a quick look, not answering to his obvious attempt to flirt, he adds: “Did you know Loki used to sit here to read poetry? The willow is rather important to him!” The God of Mischief is flabbergasted. Fandral noticed this? Are even Thor's friends in this reality more observant towards him? And he is held more in awe, when the foxy haired warrior claims: “You know, it was here that he got the idea for his fable: 'The peacock in the willow!'”

Loki holds his breath. He had written that story as a young man, when he still took more time to consume and create literature, than study and perfect illusions. He never showed it to anyone, not even his mother! Why would Fandral of all people know about this? And why speak of the tale as if it is a wide spread fact? But then the young woman points to a sign and mocks him: “Oh, and you simply happen to remember it now? Or did you read that of the board, so you could try and impress me?” Loki relaxes a bit, thinking that that indeed would explain the warrior's expertise. But maybe him and Fandral were much closer in this past than in his own, because he assures the lady: “Oh no, I remember, because he read it to me, while we were sitting under the branches as young lads!” “Really?”, the woman now asks intrigued, and Loki listens with anticipation, as Fandral claims: “Oh yes, him and I were rather close back then! We used to spend hours sitting under the willow!” The woman eyes him with more interest now, and wants to know: “And what else did you and the prince experience in that time?” The red headed man boasts: “Well, we were mostly just making out, hidden behind the green. I taught him everything he knows about kissing with passion! I'm a great teacher!”

Loki is horror-struck, and has to cover his mouth. The young woman thankfully comes to his rescue, as she challenges Fandral: “Now that, I do not believe! I've read the fable, and he would not have written it this way, had he had a loyal companion in you! On the contrary, I should believe the role of the boastful fox was inspired by you!” Yet Fandral only advances towards her, putting a hand under her chin, and admitting: “Well, perhaps I did exaggerate a little. After all, like his majesty always says: You must polish the truth to tell a good story!” The lady smiles a little, and the warrior adds: “Because it is true... I am a good kisser! Would you like me to prove it?” She still smiles, but withdraws her head, turning to walk away. Fandral makes one last attempt: “Come on, give me a chance! At least let me invite you to a play! 'The peacock in the willow', tonight in the royal theater! What say ye?”

'It is a play too?', Loki wonders overwhelmed, 'And it plays in the royal theater?' “I thought it was written for the children?”, he half hears the woman saying over her shoulder, and the warrior's response while following her: “No, it is also entertaining to adults...” Loki stands still, trying to sort what he just heard. Then he walks towards the sign, the young woman pointed to. After a longer description about the tree's origin, order, and medicinal use, there is a small info box, reading: “'This willow used to be king Loki's favorite spot to read poetry as a young man. He also spend time for his studies, or writing works of art under the branches. 'The peacock in the willow' was inspired by this location.' Loki smirks, as he thinks of Fandral's failed attempt to impress the young woman with these public facts.

Then he moves closer, as something about the words strikes him as odd. The male pronouns, and the word king are highlighted by being elevated. He touches the board, to find the words can be removed. Taking one into his hand, he turns it over, to read a female pronoun instead. Loki ponders over this. Did his other self change between the genders he presented as so frequently, that writing a new sign every time would be too tiresome? If he could be seen as king, then why present as female at all? And why was the phrase 'as a young man' not also variable then, but fixed. Would it not sound queer to read: 'when queen Loki was a young man, she...' ? As if he could completely transform his gender from its origin, and would keep the phrase to emphasize this.

⭐⭐⭐