Duplicitous
Chapter 1
Outlined by the dull golden glow of a distant Alfheim moon, in the midst of the princess' royal chambers, Loki stood with but a sliver of space between himself and Aedel. His gaze, openly showing his full intent, locked in hungry attraction with her curious, soft violet one. As if their thoughts were aligned, they both shifted their attention to the plain bronze band on the princess' arm.
From a small gesture Loki made with his wrist, swirls of shimmering green danced around her upper arm where the simple band rested. His hand slid up her soft skin and long deft fingers accompanying the thrall of the magic he was casting upon it.
He knew his hand trembled terribly, but he was much too preoccupied with budding hope to care. They watched in anticipation, as he slid the simple trinket down, over her elbow and then wrist. When he removed it completely, the princess released a shuddering, elated breath, and then vanished.
Loki didn't know how long he stood in that very spot after she had disappeared right before his eyes. Or how much time had passed before he noticed the room's deafening silence. His heart thudded so loudly in contrast.
He wiped the nervous sweat from each palm in turn onto his tunic as he passed the bracelet from one hand to the other. When he swallowed the heavy knot that formed in his throat it took up residence in the pit of his stomach. He should tell someone about this. And explain…what, exactly? That the princess had invited him back to her rooms?
And why not? It was true. A dreadful thought emerged then: what if they blamed him for what had happened? If anything had happened to her, that is? Then again, the only evidence that she had ever been with him was the bracelet still in his hold. After all, they had succeeded in keeping their time together secretive.
Could she be some sort of danger? A recent memory of her laughing happily at something he had said made his heart drop. Worry spurred his feet to move on their own to pace the wide expanse of the pointlessly lavish rooms. The present offered him no comfort. He fingered the edge of the now-useless piece of metal in his hand. Other memories trickled back – specifically from when he had first met Aedel. He stopped. The king had said something about the armband. Something…about her safety and protection.
He realized that he had never seen her without the bracelet. What if…what if she was in trouble? What if the Princess of Alfheim had been abducted?
Seeing the metallic thing in a new light, he turned the simple metal band around to inspect it. It was the bronze material that made it look unremarkable, but his magical senses honed in on it. Now without its host, it hummed as though perhaps it missed the contact.
Loki dearly missed the calm from the afternoon's negotiations, which were now achingly distant. The composed demeanor he had so easily shown in front of Thor and the King's Counsel, was gone and the immaculate, nonchalant second son of Odin was no more.
Now he was uncomfortable in his own skin, and his scalp prickled from nervous energy. He was no longer at ease, and felt constrained by his garments. In an effort to ease the tension that was now building behind in his forehead, he furiously wiped his face with a hand, and ran his fingers through his hair.
For the hundredth time, Loki went over the events in his head again. How could he have not foreseen the outcome to what he had done? How could he have allowed this to happen without considering the consequences? Had his feelings for the princess shrouded his brain?
He flexed his hands, again, and again, but the movement did no good to placate the growing anxiety that now roiled in the pit of his stomach. The luxurious surroundings mocked him. They served to remind him of what he had done and the potential danger she might be in. Without the Princess, they were imprisoning and suffocating.
Panic by itself, he could handle, but guilt was intertwined with it, and the latter pinched at his nerves. Loki thought of this pathetic emotion with disdain; he needed to do something of use.
How in Hel was he going to explain this to Odin? Because if Thor found out, he couldn't be sure his oaf of a brother could keep a secret. In the past millennia, Thor was always the one getting into messes, and Loki would always cleverly think up a way for both of them to circumvent the consequences. A scenario involving this role-reversal had never been tested. No, he was determined. Odin would never know and Thor would never find out.
Loki felt a wave of encouragement: he needed to rally his wits and think of a way out of this. He needed to located her and quickly, before the news of her disappearance became known.
It was already late evening and he barely had until the next morning to figure something out. Thor had charmingly dared the King and his Counsel to prove that their finest ale was better than Asgardian mead. This might gain him the rest of this night and then some as they recovered from their night of revelry. He was certain that no one in all the Nine could hold their own as well as Thor, who could drink barrels without appearing to be the slightest bit affected.
Loki stopped dead and peered around Princess Aedel's rooms to assess what he if to search the realms for her. The cursed bracelet could function as a locator. The only other thing he required was a faithful rendering: He took a small etching of her likeness from her bedside stand and sent both of these items into his personal, private little fold in space and time. He would locate her before any of this could come to light.
A wave of exhilaration washed over him. His heart raced at imagining a most glorious rescue. Then he and the princess could continue where they had left off.
And all would be forgiven.
A cool desert breeze teased Loki's mussed hair as he surveyed the deplorable, barren scenery with half interest. It was where his magic had led him, and he half-heartedly cloaked himself, somewhere between two structures he could only guess were dwellings.
The larger one on his left had tall glass doors, which were completely open giving him ample view of a room over-crowded with tables. All surface-area within was completely covered by some sort of paper, book or piece of primitive technology. Aside from the crude Midgardian devices, it vaguely reminded him of a particular reading nook in his own room.
But even with his capabilities, there were certain things that even his magic could not penetrate. The only obvious thing was a young woman with brown curls, standing just outside of the metallic structure to his right, repeatedly looking at something on her wrist.
Of all the places in the Nine Realms, why on Odin's beard did his magic bring him here, to Midgard?
A few more minutes passed, wherein nothing else occurred except for the Midgardian woman repeating this mysterious action. Loki groaned to himself, as he tried to ignore the small pang of concern. Could something have meddled with his magical abilities?
The God of Mischief was ready to depart to some other recess that called to him from the Great Tree, when he heard her. The voice followed the slam of a door on the other side of the nearby metallic structure.
Even in the distance, it sent a chill up his spine. That voice. The source was a petite, approaching shape that rounded the structure, eclipsing the intense amber glow of a setting sun upon the horizon – both voice and shape, familiar but initially limited to an indiscernible silhouette. Loki froze, and a wave of warmth swept over him. When he saw her, relief, joy and the need to confront her for this charade, fought for dominance in him.
He heard himself exhale in relief. When had he stopped breathing?
Well, he'd done it! He'd succeeded. He'd found Princess Aedel, who was now performing the odd Midgardian gesture of shaking hands with the woman who had been standing there alone before.
As the two women approached together, Loki could now see that the princess had made great effort to disguise herself. For what purpose, he didn't know. At least, he thought with relief, she looked unharmed.
She had donned some ragged garments to blend in with the Midgardian populace. He observed that even though they added a cunningly concealing touch, they offended his senses and did not suit her. As for the hair – she must have used her now-untethered magic to shift it into another shade, right along with those somewhat familiar eyes; although if Loki had to admit, the new colour of deep auburn brown of their depths, was most captivating and intriguingly addicted to observe.
An obscene noise pulled Loki from his reverie of triumphant satisfaction. Princess Aedel's hand was on her mouth – she had produced an undignified burp, one that had rivaled Volstagg's homages after eating half a feast.
And rather than being ashamed about this, Princess Aedel most casually admitted to making the noise, before continuing the dialogue, to introduce herself to the other woman…
…as Jane Foster.
Loki's jaw dropped.
No. No, no, no, no. This couldn't be.
This was an actual Midgardian before him, who was absolutely, resolutely not the one he was looking for.
It would seem that he had allowed himself victory too early.
By some strange twist of fate, this Midgardian, Jane Foster (a mortal!) Eerily resembled the princess of Alfheim.
He half listened to their dialogue, as panic encroached again. His relief was short-lived.
"Darcy Lewis, right? Let me make this clear. I need a competent assistant."
The Darcy woman took a look at their surroundings, and gave a peek into the enclosure
"And a filing system." Darcy added.
Jane Foster lifted a delicate brow at the other woman's brazen attitude, but quirked her lips nonetheless, "Yeah. How are your research skills?"
"I'm Google proficient and I like the Internet."
Loki didn't know what those things were, but he was more interested in figuring out his next course of action.
Jane move past the Darcy to a nearby table, to lift a random pile of messy papers and pull out a small, black book. Attached to it was a cylindrical instrument Loki deduced was for writing. She opened the book to a new page, removing a folded-up paper within and raised her eyes to her company.
By the time Jane looked back up, Darcy had already followed her into the enclosure and had allowed herself a glimpse of random notes she had found lying around. In one stride, Jane was there and snatched the paper out of her hand and most audibly cleared her throat.
That action was completely Princess Aedel…even if Jane Foster wasn't. Loki felt his brow lift at this observation.
"Learning curve?" Jane blurted.
The would-be intern didn't miss a beat. "Steep."
Jane Foster visibly considered this; her eyes narrowed pensively.
"It says here you study Political Science…why apply to be my intern?"
Darcy Lewis pursed her lips, and shrugged. "Administration messed up. And I went with it, because I really need the credits. Would've missed the deadline if I had applied again. Anyway, Political Science or other Science, they're both called Science, for some reason, right? Bottom line: I'm a smart cookie and I've got skills you need."
Jane sighed and gave a soft smile. On those familiar features, Loki recognized the look as one of resignation.
Perhaps Odin was behind all of this, because he knew what had conspired in that dark room. And Loki was being punished. And yes, this was the All-Father presenting events to prove a point, to teach unthinking, arrogant Loki so valuable a lesson for so carelessly using his magic, without considering any of the consequences. He cringed inwardly at what his mother would say about this.
He was loath to admit it, but this was his fault. Which was probably why he was having trouble finding a solution to this predicament. Perhaps his direct involvement with the events was dulling his resourceful wits. This was a dreadfully unfamiliar path. The way he fretted and crossed his arms to that to that conclusion reminded him of a younger version of himself.
As the Midgardian day came to a close, and Darcy had taken her leave, Loki was still at a loss for how to proceed. No amount of magic could make Jane Foster the Princess of Alfheim.
From a short distance, he mused about his plans as he observed Jane Foster's profile gently lit by the moonlight. He materialized near her to peer at her over her shoulder – she had fallen asleep at whatever task, her head resting on her arm. Yes, he confirmed it for the umpteenth time: The resemblance was astounding. The idea struck him – no, magic was not what he needed. This would require his silver tongue.
Naturally, some adjustments would be required, on her part anyway. Because there was no other option at this point.
But yes, she would do nicely. How difficult would it be to pass this creature off as a noble? Just until he found Aedel? Excitement slowly replaced the re-emerging anxiety and guilt from earlier.
Again, Loki eyed the Midgardian woman as he reflected on the changes she would need to go through.
As if on cue, she chose to stir and give another small belch, as if he needed further reminder of what she was.
The God of Mischief's face twisted in distaste. This wouldn't be easy and he should probably get started sooner rather than later. There was a lot of work ahead of him, and so little time to spare.
Yes, she was smart enough to learn. The question was rather, would she have the sufficient ability to fool Alfheim's court? In a moment of that now familiar panic, Loki idly wondered how difficult it would be to just vanish somewhere between the smaller, more obscure branches of Yggrasil…
No, this was an opportunity, and he was not a coward. If he ran, it would only prove the Warriors Three correct. No, it was no accident that he had stumbled upon this likeness…
Loki Odinson observed as Jane Foster dragged herself to a bed, all while lost in his thoughts. He convinced himself that he was thankful she didn't bother undressing before settling beneath her bed covers. She was asleep in very little time and Loki was left fully to his ideas again.
He was struck abruptly by her gentle, peaceful state. What he saw in Jane Foster overshadowed all doubts. Oh, he would make this work. On his name as an Odinson, even though the creature snored like a particularly wild beast they hunted back home, he would make this work.
He dreaded to think what was happening back on Alfheim at this moment.
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