This fic is posted in honor of Alydia Rackham's Lokane Oneshot Weekend challenge! I agreed partly because I can handle a one-shot. Life tends to get in the way of anything else, as I am loth to admit. I have never written Lokane, but I am a proud and loyal Lokane shipper! So here's to you, Alydia, who got me on board this lovely ship. May it never sink. :)
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The more Loki thought it over, the more he began to realize that this whole mess was entirely, utterly, wholly, completely, irrevocably her fault.
Granted, he had made some… unwise choices, in hindsight. Yes, he could have done better. Been more mature about the whole thing, really. But there was really no point in wishing you could change the past. He'd been completely willing to absolve himself of (almost) all guilt- especially once he realized that his motivations could be traced back to one thing.
The thing he had been striving to accomplish for centuries had finally happened.
Thor had grown a brain.
And a heart.
All right, so maybe he was being a bit melodramatic in his solitarily non-opinionated conclusions but still!
It wasn't fair! He'd done all the work and she had gotten all of the credit! Thor became who he was because of him!
Him, Loki Silvertongue.
Because his younger brother had finally decided to do something drastic in order to literally hit some sense into him.
All him.
All Loki.
This insignificant, irrelevant, upstart of a mortal!
Foolish, foolish girl!
Who did she even think she was? Surely not enough of herself to be compared with him, Loki, Thor's own brot- Not that he mattered anymore to Thor. No.
And that didn't bother Loki one iota. Let Thor be the hero prince and save all the realms and be praised for his bravery and valor. Loki didn't even need to be jealous. It wasn't even worth his time. He didn't want to care.
None of it mattered because none of it was his fault.
Or perhaps it was just easier to blame her for her arrogance in taking all the credit than it was to admit that he'd taken the wrong approach and a few kind words and a warm smile would have gotten the whole thing over with THAT quickly.
Easier than listening to the hurt that whispered Thor had changed because of her, her mercy, her kindness and her patience and it didn't matter what Loki did, because he could never give his brother that kindness. He wasn't capable of it. Never had been, obviously, because Thor surely would have changed if he had, wouldn't he?
No, he had watched Thor quite closely during his banishment. Made sure to break his heart, so he turned to Jane, thereby receiving the means necessary to overcome his own heart and stubborn pride. And Loki had driven him to it.
Stupid, foolish human.
No, he deserved ALL of the credit. He would make sure of that. Make sure that SHE gave it to him. Ensure that she knew her place here, and that she was only here because he allowed it.
(Thor had brought her to Asgard, thinking that something surely must be wrong with her all because Heimdall couldn't see her for a few minutes. Probably just picked up some Svartálfar incubating influenza. Nothing serious. Idiot.)
She was only here because she fulfilled a little place in this grand scheme. A game piece. An annoying little game piece, but a game piece nonetheless.
One more pawn in this endless game.
And oh, she would play.
She would kneel.
She had done NOTHING.
Nothing.
And she, Jane Foster, would know it before the end.
Truly feel her own insignificance in this world that was not her own.
He didn't see what Thor found so fascinating about her. Or any of the mortals really. Creatures with a flickering candle of a life, swimming in ignorance, inventive and innovative enough, to make up for the lack of depth in their life, filling their short wicks with pleasure and insignificant discoveries that mattered not in the higher scope of things.
Pathetic.
All the same really.
So no, she deserved nothing.
She would get nothing from him.
And he would make sure that credit was given where credit was due.
He would fight for it. She would be wise to give up while she was ahead. She could have Thor's heart, dammit, but he, Loki Silvertongue, would have his dues.
He could care less about her respect.
Foolish Mortal.
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He knew she was close. He didn't know how he knew, but he did. It was almost a tangible presence in the air. A flurry of disgustingly bright smiles and curious apprehension.
He knew, so he observed her before either of them could even see each other, feeling for her distinct presence, before she could set her eyes on them, waiting for the familiar, bitter taste of antipathy that would accompany her detested presence and poison the tense, silent atmosphere even more.
And then he glimpsed her.
Just at the far end of the hall, basked in shadow so he couldn't clearly see her face.
Not that he particularly cared about her face. But a small, prematurely self-satisfied part of him wanted to see her face when she saw him.
That was all.
And see him she did.
She broke from her conversation with Sif, who tilted her head. Walked right past the goddess, not waiting for a proper introduction. Lot of gall for such a small, pretty thing. And pretty she was, he had to admit. A flawless, smooth complexion, pleasant features, lithe, graceful figure, and soft brown eyes that were dainty and bright.
Quite pretty in fact.
He waited for it. Waited for the sharp sting of disgust, contempt for that beauty (Her soul was beautiful and his was not), watched with a curious equal amount of desirous anticipation and sardonic curiosity.
Watched those gentle dark eyes that widened in realization- in recognition- as her steps halted- turn fierce as she set her head and purposely marched up toward them.
Very bold.
Mortals.
She didn't even look at Thor.
Thrown ever so slightly off balance at the utter lack of fear or at the very least- disgust and apprehension, he stepped forward, and introduced himself, since Thor had apparently lost his manners and failed in the attempt for him, the great blundering idiot. Pity Thor hadn't grown those along with his infintisemally larger brain. Of course he wouldn't have matured in anything that Loki would appreciate, no.
Ugh. He'd been in prison too long. That, or Thor was intimidated.
Strange. He had Sif for that, didn't he?
"I'm Loki. You may have heard of m-"
He didn't have time to prepare himself even slightly for the turn of hand (literally) that Fate would deal him next.
As it so happened, he had been so consumed with how he was going to show her her place in regard's to her lover's pseudo-relative that it didn't even cross his mind that she would be set on showing him his.
Oh.
...
I deserved that.
This was curiously the only thought that burned through his brain as a ferocious and powerful slap was graciously bestowed right across his face, the little mortal vixen.
"That was for New York!"
Only later would he dwell on the fact that it was first time he had felt punishment was truly deserved.
Fascinating.
extraordinary.
He recovered from his shock quickly enough- her hand was hardly injurious to his form- but when he looked back…
… it was if a veil had been torn away. A veil that had lain in front of his face for as long as he could remember. So long that he hadn't even known it was there until it was gone.
And it had only taken one slap to the face for him to see it.
Only a heartbeat.
For when he turned his face, it was to behold the loveliest, enchanting, absolutely most beautiful creature he was certain he'd ever seen.
No longer was he waiting for the poisonous animosity to fuel the competitive cynicism with which he would wield a blade through her delicate soul, through Thor's heart.
He was no longer waiting for the bitter enmity that he had long since thought inherent in him toward her. Slowly, a knowing, genuinely delightful, nearly feral grin spread across his face.
No, actually…
"I like her…"
And he did. He truly did.
To Thor, a declaration of approval; to himself, a conclusion born out of long bitter months that had morphed into delight in mere moments.
Oh, well done, brother. Well. Done.
Only when she left his sight and the smile had faded from his eyes did he realize that the torn veil had left a foreign, panging ache in his heart.
Something like regret.
And something more.
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And as they all turned to go, heading down that looming path toward a journey that was rife with uncertainty and danger, Loki realized that while the sore bite of betrayal, contempt, and pride still simmered within him, it had not been directed at her. Not truly.
I could have been there, Jane Foster.
Not until now did he realize that he could give a name to the bitter taste in his heart. So familiar, so held in revulsion by him, perhaps even denial- that he had not recognized it for what it was.
I could have been there. I would have, had I but known.
Jealousy.
No...
Forgive me.
He was not jealous of her.
He would not dishonor Jane by mingling such an unenviable emotion with that passionate, delicate soul.
Forgive me, Jane.
He was proud of her.
Forgive me for what I never did.
Forgive me for what I must do.
Proud of her for finding in Thor- for being to Thor what he could not. For making Thor better person. A finer, more noble leader.
A worthy king.
Oh, had I but known.
No…
I would have given you the universe, and all her shining stars...
He was just jealous of Thor for finding Jane Foster first.
...Because you deserve them.
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And... There it is, my lovelies!
There may or may not be a sequel. Probably, once I see the film, which will be in about 2 weeks. :) So don't hold your breath. It's just a fervent wish at this point. I am just so amazed that I actually had the time. One of these days I'll be able to proudly put "TBC..." at the bottom...
Reviews are most welcome! Deem it worthy of your fandom if you will!
Chocolate love, KFJ