Chapter 1

It was early in the morning. Too early really to go jogging. London's cold heavy air seemed made of icy glass shards that cut at his bare arms and chiseled cheeks as he ran through it. He should have dressed for colder weather. He shook his head to wipe the pain from his mind. Concentrate on the music, he chided himself, exercise is about mind over matter. How he hated spending his mornings panting in the perpetually frosty air. If he could, he would be snuggled on his couch by the fire reading Hamlet or in his bed laying perfectly still so as to not disturb the rest of his beautiful Juliette asleep beside him. But here he was jogging the streets of London at 4:00am. Jogging to keep his body fit and toned for the people who loved him that way and paid him to stay that way. 4:00 am to avoid the paparazzi who he imagined lurking in every shadow.

Normally Tom wasn't on the paparazzi's most wanted list but since he had started and stopped dating superstar Taylor Swift his marketability had gone up considerably. He stopped for a moment, winded he bent forward placing his hands just above his knees and breathed deep tired breaths. His eyes wandered over to a nearby bus stop bench. "Of course…" he half chuckled between pants. There on the bus stop bench his ex's face, the woman that had broken his heart, was plastered. An advertisement for her upcoming world tour.

"Tom!" he heard his name shouted from across the street. He looked towards the small heard of men coming at him from all sides. Damn… The paparazzi swarmed him. The dark London street was suddenly bright as midday with camera flashes. "Tom, Mr. Hiddleston!" They shouted pushing their cameras in his face. Suffocating, the word pierced his mind, this life is so suffocating. He lifted pleading eyes towards the sky, save me.

Taking a calming breath he tried his best to smile at the photographers as he said, "Gentlemen, thank you for your interest. May I please continue om my morning run?" He didn't have much hope that this gracious approach to his attackers would work but he had to try. The bulbs kept flashing.

"Tom, why did Taylor dump you?"

"How do you feel?"

"Is it true that you tricked her into dating you by lying about her ex?"

Rage, it began to boil in his stomach. When had he ever been anything but nice to these people, to any of his fans for that matter. He had always made it a point to stay around for pictures with them, making sure that every wide eyed fangirl got her moment with him. Never had he been anything but a gentleman to the public. Just like his love for Taylor, the love he once had for his fans now haunted him, imprisoned him. Done, I'm done with this. Tom opened his mouth, finally ready to expel the anger he had been holding for too long. "How do I feel?" His words burned in his throat, "You all…"

His words were cut short by a shout and the sound of a very expensive camera shattering on the pavement. The rest of the paparazzi turned to see what had happened and Tom craned his neck in an attempted to see over them. A woman with dark brown hair was moving through the small mob. She snatched a camera from whomever she passed then smashed their livelihood into the sidewalk, shattering the camera and their day's wages.

After losing their precious cameras a couple of the photographers didn't seem to mind the thought of hitting a woman. Throwing decency aside they attacked her to avenge their pride. The woman didn't even break stride and her punches were so fast. The few photographers that had attacked lay upon the pavement along the pieces of their broken cameras. They moaned and the clutched their bodies where she had hit them. The remaining paparazzi parted for her, their cameras hidden behind their backs for safety.

Tom eyes met hers. Eyes as sweet as chocolate and as invigorating as a morning cup of coffee. The dark brown of her eyes matched her hair, dark and warm with the odd strand of gold or red tint. Her skin glowed in the faint light of the morning, white like porcelain, she was dressed in black slacks and a black pea coat with the collar flipped up to shield her cheeks from the wind. A silk scarf floated around her neck. White with ravens, in flight, embroidered throughout.

The rest of the paparazzi mob decided that it was a good time to leave and the group dissipated. Tom breathed a sigh of relief. "hehehe thank you for that." He reached his hand out to shake hers, secretly praying that his savior didn't turn out to be a crazed fan girl. Seeing the way she took out those camera men, he could be in real trouble if the woman was unstable. "I'm Tom, Tom Hiddleston."

The woman looked at his outstretched hand then turned and walked away. Tom's jaw dropped. He looked at the hand he had offered to see what might have driven her off. Sweat? Did he have mud on his hand? A booger? Nothing, his hand was clean. The woman was already across the street and disappearing around a corner. "Miss?!" He shouted after her. She didn't turn or slow her pace.

He took off running after her, hoping to catch her and…. Well he didn't know what he was going to do when he caught up to her. Hey, don't you recognize me? I'm a huge star and you should grovel appropriately. Hmm maybe not. Tom rounded the corner that the woman had turned a minute earlier. A silken scarf blew onto his shoes. White with embroidered ravens. He bent down and snatched it before the scarf could blow away. About 15 yards away the woman ducked into a shop. Did she not realize that her scarf was gone? A perfect excuse. Tom grinned widely. Now he could approach her for a legitimate reason. He ran to the window of the shop the woman had entered. It was an antique bookstore. Soft light poured from the window out onto the street. It looked open. Excited to unravel the mystery of the woman he grabbed the shop door's handle, yanked it open and ran inside.

Rays of morning sun drifted through Tom's bedroom window coming to rest on his face and pillow. Tom shifted in his bed then opened his eyes. I really needed to get blackout curtains sometime soon, he thought as he slowly sat up.

Once downstairs Tom groggily shuffled into his kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed the half full carton of milk. It felt like forever since he had time to ease into the day with a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. The refrigerator door closed.

Tom used his free hand to grab the box of cheerios from on top of the fridge then turned around to grab a bowl and spoon. A hand grabbed Tom's shoulder yanking him into an embrace as another hand thrust a dagger into Tom's abdomen. Tom gasped in pain and surprise.

The attacker embraced him a moment longer before slowly pulling away. Tom looked at his side. All that was visible of the dagger was its gold hilt. The crossguard was engraved with Celtic symbols and the handle a subtle chevron pattern of black and gold. He recognized that dagger. Tom lifted his head to meet the smiling eyes of the man who'd stabbed him. They were his eyes and the attacker's face his face. "Hello, Tom" Loki smiled back at him.

Tom's eyes snapped open. He gasped, clutching his stomach where the knife had been. It had been a dream, but what he was seeing now somehow made even less sense.

Tom had entered the shop but there were no books, no bookshelves, there wasn't even a bookstore. Instead, Tom was standing in a field. Frosted grass crunched under his feet and country air whipped past him. "What?" he barely whispered. Tom whirled around to look behind him where the shop door had been and surely still would be. He could just go back out the door he had come through. Then once again standing on a familiar London sidewalk, he could freak out all he wanted.

No door, just more fields and mountains beyond them. He took in the cold morning air with quick shallows breaths. This is not possible, am I going mad, did I have a mental breakdown? It was becoming increasingly difficult for Tom to breath. He sank to the ground … I need to get help…