"Mother raised me well." And he owes her much for that. (And misses her still.)

"It is our job to see that protocol is followed and the males are kept in line," he agrees. It's not going to be fun. "The pissing and moaning will no doubt be exquisite. I think you ought to be first line on this. If they are very naughty, they can have a chat with me." Charts with Loki tended to leave scars, after all. "We've no choice but to make this work."

He falls silent. Idly, he runs the palm of his left hand with his right thumb, a nervous gesture that helps him focus. The scar on his hand, however well hidden, is real. It's a touchstone. "I meet the Queen of Ebon Askavi." He presses his thumb into his palm. "I knelt to her."

After he'd sworn to never be on his knees again, he'd done it willingly, like it was only natural.