Darling readers, please bear with me while I explain a few things about this story for you. Trust me, you really need to read this. I mean it. Otherwise I'll be getting lots of mail about "OMG THAT'S NOT CANNON YOU STUPID BITCH DON'T YOU READ YOUR HISTORY BOOKS" kind of bullshit that just makes me mad.

Anyway, yes I realize that Loki has had many wives, and many children, and that everyone loves Sigyn, but hear me out. What I've done is not only given the children the shape shifting powers of their dad, but also made them certain ages based on when he had them. Par exemple, Fenir is a teenager, just behind him a few "years" is Jorry, followed by Hela, and then Sleipnir is youngest.

Also, I've added a few pictures to a photobucket account, created with the use of an InkScribble game from DollDivine, that are how the female character's look. Seriously, this game is so cool. Totally fits the vibe I wanted to create. That link is in my profile, and it will have all the up-to-date characters and clothing changes that you may need.

So please, enjoy this story, and go easy on me for the first few chapters, I haven't written anything in a few mothes and I'm a little rusty.

AHEM! Disclaimer: I own nothing, and if I did, Loki would be horny as fuck all the time and Tony Stark would be his little ass-slave.

Loki was furious. Green magic spilled from his fingers like acid, pooling on the floor momentarily before disappearing. How dare his parents send for some Elvin princess to try and court him! He paced his room, hands clenching and unclenching stiffly by his sides. His mind reeled at the thought of having to be cordial to this stuck-up, spoiled, and probably magically inept woman for more than a few moments. Stopping in the middle of his room, he took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed as he forced himself to relax. He was a God, and by Odin's beard, he would not marry some high and mighty Princess.

Scooping up some of the spell books he's been reading from his desk, he marched out of his room, Hel bent on spending the rest of the day hiding in the depths of the archives with his son Jormungandr, who was known to shrink down to his "normal teenager size" when his father joined him in his sanctuary.

The journey from Alfheimr was normally a tolerable one, with the bifrost cutting down the time quite nicely. But on this occasion, Lady Amalthia was having a hard time believing she would make it to Asgard without killing someone or something. Her sister, Princess Arameth, first born and in line to marry the only best- blahblahblah – hadn't stopped complaining since they were out of hearing range of their father. It had started with complaining of her future suitor, and how his supposed isolation had turned him into a troll or something like that. It slowly progressed to where she talked of the lack of good food in Asgard, the overabundance of ale, and the horrid clothing they wore.

"Darling little sister, do take care to remember that all of my clothes will still be mine when I marry this Prince, and that you are not allowed to wear them, understood?" She tossed her dark chestnut hair over her shoulder, turning her nose up as she glanced back into her hand mirror that she insisted upon carrying on her person at all times. Amalthia had to steer her horse closer to take the reins of her sister's mount as well, sighing quietly to herself.

"Yes, Princess." She watched out of the corner of her eye as her sister touched her skin, frowning every so often and correcting any blemish with a tiny spark of magic. A small smile graced her slips, seeming more to Amalthia like an evil smirk than the smiles of her long-ago childhood.

"Soon, little pet, you'll be calling me Queen of Asgard."

The air of the archives was stuffy, and smelled of old paper, ink, and the unmistakable hint of mint that came with using his magic to light the torches. Their green flames lit up the underground rooms with a mystifying glow, perfectly illuminating the prince and his son, who were resting in two of the few chairs in the whole archives. Stacks of books surrounded them, one in each of their laps as Loki tried to teach Jormungandr –Jorry, as he was fondly referred as by his father- how to light the candles like he had done. Looking up from his book at his son, he smiled at how much he'd started looking like his father. Although they technically shared no blood, Jorry had taken on the trademark black locks of Loki, but kept them hanging in his face most of the time, occasionally pushing them behind his ears. His skin was pale, but patches of it were flecked with green and black scales- a reminder that he was still, indeed, a world eating snake. His eyes were a bright yellow, silted like a snake and always perceptive of everything.

"But Father, I can see just fine in the dark, why do I need to learn a lighting spell?" The slight elongation of his "s" was almost adorable to his father's ears, but he kept the grin off his face.

"So that you may have the ability to either bask your enemy in your eerie glow, or plunge them into total darkness." Loki kept his voice soft, but he knew even if he had dramatically shouted the words, Jorry would have had the same reaction; which was to roll his eyes, run his hand over his face and try to hide the grin that was sneaking out of his normally cool and calculated mask. "Now, let's try it one more time." Leaning forward in their seats, father and son attempted to bring a different color to the single candle between them.

It was nearly midday before the two Elves reached Asgard, having to stop multiple times so that Arameth's gown would not wrinkle, and to make sure Amalthia could adjust her flowing silks to have the most impact on those looking at her without them dirtying. She took care to adjust the sashes around her gold-plaited waist garment, insuring that their purple color stood out against the creams and whites that she wore. Ridding across the rainbow bridge, Amalthia could take a minute to admire the world; the bright skies that seemed to change color randomly, the golden buildings in the distance, and the green grass that shimmered like emeralds. Her sister, on the other hand, was too busy looking around for people to show off too, muttering about stupid Aesirs who were too busy drinking to admire their future queen. With a sigh, Amalthia clicked at her horse, cantering to keep up with her now displeased older sister.

As they arrived at the royal palace, Arameth was delighted to find out that not only was her suitor there to greet her, but so were the King and Queen of Asgard. She gracefully dismounted her steed, walking over to them with her nose held high. Bowing for them, just low enough to please the King and Queen, she took a regal looking stance. "King Odin, Queen Frigga, it's a pleasure to be in your company once again." Odin gruffed in the back of his throat, while Frigga smiled, gesturing to her son.

"Princess, this is our son, Prince Loki. Loki, this is Princess Arameth." Loki put on a fake smile, bowing low enough to show he was still of higher rank than her. As he looked up, he happened to look past her, and straight into the eyes of Amalthia.

His heard sped up, thumping loudly in his chest and making him dizzy. Her multi-toned blonde hair gave her a heavenly glow, and the simple dress she wore did nothing to detract her beauty. He watched her flush bright red and curtsy low before turning and steering the horses into the stable. Loki frowned, and turned to Arameth.

"Princess, why does your sister not stand proud with you? Is she not also royalty?" Arameth's jaw set, and she tried to contain the venom in her voice.

"I'm afraid, Prince Loki, that she does not fit the… qualifications to be a princess." Her eyes traveled to Loki's face, an evil smile on her lips. "She spends too much time with the commoners and with her face in a book." Loki's frown deepened, and he turned to his parents with a small bow.

"Forgive me Father, Mother, but I do have to attend to my son, who has been vying for my attention." Standing and waiting for his mother to nod, he turned, making his way for the stables. Arameth frowned, turning towards the Queen, who held her hand up.

"His son does come first, along with all his other children. Please, let me show you to your room so you may relax before dinner." Arameth followed, a scowl on her normally perfect face.

So, that's it! Well, ok, it's really not. There's a lot more to come, just not right now. Right now, I have to go take a placement test, go to the bank, and take the cats to the vet.

Sorry it was so short, but I am pressed for time, so it will have to do until I can get home and do a few more chapters.