Full Summary: The Avengers won, and Loki was captured. Thor wants to take his estranged brother home – but it seems S.H.I.E.L.D. has other plans. Jane makes a rash decision and goes to Åsgard – but is it all she had hoped and expected? And how will Loki be received by his family? Alternative ending to "Avengers". There will be Norse mythology, drama/battle and moments of shared silence. LOKANE romance. Loki/Jane, and a bit of Thor/Sif.

Author's Notes: This is my first Lokane fanfiction. I'm a hopeless shipper of Loki and Jane. It's my way of passing the time until "Thor 2: The Dark World" comes out. I grew up with Norse mythology and Loki was always my favourite Norse god. That did not change with the movies. I am taking some liberties with names and language, as I am from Norway, and some of the English names don't feel natural for me to use.
As usual, I rely on music as my inspiration when I write. In this story, I'm mostly using songs and artists that TH has recommended on Twitter. I truly hope you will enjoy this story.
First posted September 2, 2012.

The usual disclaimer: They're not mine, I'm just playing with them. For free.

Warnings: Some angst, some violence.

Music: For this chapter "Quiet" by This Will Destroy You and the "Thor" soundtrack.

If you like, please review!

Prologue

Such a deep silence surrounds me, that I think I hear
moonbeams striking on the windows.
In my chest,
a strange voice is awakens
and a song plays inside me
a longing that is not mine.
- Lucian Blaga

It had happened so fast, she barely had time to blink from the moment she saw the movement in the corner in her eye - far too close to her - to impact. She was supposed to have stayed hidden up on the small hill, out of sight, but somehow that part of their great plan had failed terribly. On the bright side, it didn't really hurt. Adrenaline and survival instincts kicked in, letting her only register a throbbing in her stomach and chest. She knew she was in serious trouble, but she didn't feel any fear, at least not yet. Because from the instant the long blade made contact with the soft flesh of her body and blood began to rush out of the wound, everything and everyone around her stopped moving. It was like the world was suspended in time. And then, movement came back, but slowly like fresh honey being poured from a glass. And she stopped feeling altogether - except for a detached sense of wonder and observation.

If anything else, a touch of sadness seeped into her being, at the exact same speed as her blood seeped from the gash in her belly and torso. Not that she could identify the sadness. Was it sadness over dying? Sadness over having failed? Or maybe sadness over the things unsaid and undone?

The most fascinating of it all was how her perception of time had slowed down and everything seemed to move in slow motion. Until that moment, Jane had thought the slow motion-effect was purely something Hollywood had made up as a cool effect in the movies. There was no way she could have imagined it being true. Because after all, death and war and fighting was not romantic or honourable. Being close to pacifism, she didn't believe in the glory of war. There is no glory in dying screaming and scared on a battlefield; that was what she had always told herself when watching those Hollywood movies about World War II and Vietnam. How she detested those depictions of the dark moments of human history – but now, she had the time to see the irony in feeling like she was in one of those movies.

Somehow, she was still standing in spite of having no feelings in her legs whatsoever. With something akin to calm, she half-registered the scenery in front of her. There was fog, creeping along the ground, with tufts stretching up and towards a brilliant golden sky reaching high, high up. Above the brilliant sunrise she saw the fading constellations of stars that she had grown to love almost as much as the ones she had been studying for years back home. Another morning was on the way. Suddenly grateful that she would still have a few more seconds of that view, she felt tears roll down her cheek. If she only ignored the fighting below, it was a stunningly beautiful view.

Whereas she had been freezing in her hiding place seconds before, she now felt warm - like she was emerged in hot water. It reminded her of the time she had gone to Mexico with some of her friends during spring break. They had drunk margaritas and lounged by and in the hotel pool for a week, and it had probably been the most relaxing week of her life, now that she looked back.

She wondered vaguely how it had come to this. Just a year ago, heck, a few months ago, she'd never imagined that she would be leaving life like this – and certainly not on a different world. She should be sad about ending her life somewhere unknown, and not back on her own planet, Earth, or Midgard as she had come to think of it. But in a way, being here felt right too. Her only regret would be that her friends - first and foremost her surrogate father Erik and her wonderfully outspoken intern, Darcy - wouldn't know that she was no more. Then again, someone would hopefully get the message across to them.

There was still chaos around and below her; shouting and screaming and clanging noises from weapons meeting with great force, but it had mercifully toned down to a hum – she couldn't make out the screaming anymore. That suited her just fine. She had never been fond of confrontations, especially of the more violent kind. But, she supposed, that was part of the deal when you where hanging out with warriors from a different world.

She realized that her vision was becoming blurred, and where there had been people – well, people? – fractions of a second earlier, there were only unrecognizable shapes now. Wow I'm tired, she thought as her knees gave in, and she sank down on the previously mossy ground. Now it was mostly mud, and probably blood. She would have preferred to be standing, but her body wasn't hers anymore, and she felt ever so tired. To sleep now suddenly felt like a blessing.

Then, through the dim, she heard her name being shouted out. It was an agonizing sound, full of despair and fear. "It's ok, I'm ok", she tried to call out, but it only came out as a whisper. She attempted to look ahead, and saw a dark and pale shape mixed with green and black come towards her. "Oh god I'm so sorry" she breathed. If there was anything about this particular moment she could change, it wouldn't be her fatal wound, or even the battle itself, or anything else. But his hurt, his loneliness. What wouldn't she give to see him happy and at ease. Those moments had been so few, far too few. And now she would be the cause of more hurt for him. She felt him close, more than she saw him. A strange, warm light had begun to creep into her vision and she could hardly make out anything of what was going on around her. But she'd recognize the scent of him anywhere, from worlds apart. He smelled like a cold winter night: like the northern lights, of pine trees and snow and crispy clear air.

"Jane, please Jane, please look at me!" His voice sounded muffled, like it was far away. She knew he was talking to her and that she ought to respond, but her lips felt numb, like she was sedated. "Loki… "she mumbled, with great effort. "I'm so sorry." And then she managed to force her eyes upwards and look into his clear green eyes. What she saw there, just past the fear and sorrow, past the anger and increasing panic – made her smile. I knew it, she thought, almost triumphantly.

And then everything went pitch black, and she saw and heard nothing more.

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