"Let's say that Loki is Laufey's youngest, a useless runt except for how his small stature, shifting abilities and royal blood makes him perfect for a political marriage with Asgard."

In which a mutant too famous to cull is dropped like a grenade into the midst of the peace process, a foolish monarch proves himself secretly shrewd, the power of friendship functions as a force multiplier, and it is discovered that in the Great Game of espionage, the dealer does not always win.

"Oh," Izuna said -- delicately, while studiously reading his folder, "I'm afraid we need someone with a ... strong personality for Naohime." "Why's that?" Hashirama replied, just as painfully polite. The daimyo's mediator kept watching them and scratching little pointy words in his notebook. "Because if your man doesn't prove that he's dangerous and has the personality to use it on her if she pushes him, it's going to turn abusive," Madara drawled. Hashirama stared at him for a blank second. The daimyo's envoy stopped writing; even his stone-faced Aburame bodyguard arched her eyebrows over her darkened spectacles. Tobirama stretched out across the table without another word to take back one of the folders Izuna had spread around him. -- The daimyo is over the whole Uchiha/Senju war. They're going to become one people if they know what's good for them. Madara hates it enough without having to marry a woman too.