A/N: Unashamedly AU and set after the end of Avengers. Title and quotes are from Recessional by Vienna Teng which is a completely gorgeous piece that you should all go listen to right now.
Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I don't own anything having to do with Marvel Comics or any of its creations. I can only appreciate the characters they've given us to work with.
And She Dreams Through The Noise
"Who are you, the stranger in the shell of a lover, dark curtains drawn by the passage of time?"
There were many wonders in the Realm Eternal for her to experience, so many that it would take two of her lifetimes to fully enjoy them all.
During her first visit to the gardens, she'd fallen back into the mess of flowers and breathed deep their exotic scent for hours. When she first went to the sea, she'd meandered up and down the shores before she'd sat down, buried her toes in the fine grains of sand, and watched the ebb and flow of the water as it came up to just brush at her feet. And the first time she saw the vale, her breath had hitched at the beauty of it.
Thor had described a variety of different places he wished to take her, but had also told her their trips would be few and far in between as he was still busy tending to the unrest that had broken out in the other realms. A few weeks back, he'd spent time in Alfheim; now, he was in Vanaheim. She had been sullen over his absence at first, at least until he'd gently reminded her that such were the demands of a Prince of Asgard.
However, even though she missed him, having all that time alone hadn't been all bad. She'd grown close to the Lady Sif and the Warriors Three – even taking part in a few lessons on swordplay – while Frigga had taken it upon herself to introduce Jane to the ways of Asgardian courts and balls. The only downside to being alone was having too much time to think. And lately, more often than not, her thoughts had strayed to the depths of the castle and the person that was held there.
Thor had never expressly told her not to go to the dungeons, but he hadn't exactly encouraged it either.
And it was with that thread of reasoning running circles through her mind that she threw back the covers and sat up. Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, she paused to stare at the swaths of moonlight shining through the far windows. She'd stood at those windows with Thor not three days ago staring at the stars… but then determination burned deep in her belly, something that had been steadily growing the past few weeks, the desire for closure of some sort. So with hurried movements, she slipped on her robe, shoved a well-worn item into the pocket, and exited her room.
It was late, now, well past midnight, and only a few Asgardians were still out, which made avoiding them easy enough. She padded softly through the maze of hallways where people slept, maneuvering only by the faint light from the torches lining the walls before passing the entrances to the great hall, the throne room, and a variety of ballrooms. Near the back of the main hallway, she took a sharp left and found herself at the head of a stairwell that descended into darkness.
After a quick glance around to ensure she hadn't been followed and a brief moment of hesitation – because what the hell was she doing? – she took a deep breath and stepped lightly down the stairs. A lone sentry stood at the bottom, blocking her path. As she approached, he issued a warm smile.
"You must have taken a wrong turn, Lady Jane. Where is it that you need to go?" Of course he would assume that she'd mistakenly ended up here.
"I was looking for the dungeons."
Immediately, his smile fell. He was clearly uncomfortable as he shifted from foot to foot, eyeing her warily. "You should not be here."
On her own, she had no authority in the Realm Eternal; it was only because she was with Thor that most of the Asgardians respected her. Now would be her first attempt at using that position to her advantage. She schooled her expression into something that hopefully resembled righteous judgment. "There is a criminal somewhere down here that attempted to destroy my home and control my realm. I have a few things I wish to say to him."
A lie shrouded in truth.
Who was it that said a half-truth was the darkest of all lies?
The guard continued to stare at her anxiously. "I still do not think the prince would approve of you visiting the dungeons."
"Then don't tell him, and it'll be our little secret."
And with an uncharacteristically bold smile, she stepped around the guard and entered the dungeons. The room itself was vast and open, filled with cells upon cells, some containing prisoners while others did not. Halfway into the room, she glanced back and was relieved to see the guard had remained at his post, although the strength of his stare was a weight upon her shoulders that only lifted when she rounded a corner and moved deeper into the dungeons.
It was in the far corner that she found him.
His cell was similar to the others, but where the others were white and empty, his contained a smattering of personal belongings and a few pieces of elegantly crafted furniture. The entirety of Earth paled in comparison to the splendor of Asgard, but it was almost tragic how the room that would house an intergalactic murderer for eternity was nicer than the best apartment she'd ever been able to afford.
Despite the late hour, he wasn't sleeping; instead, he relaxed on a chaise lounge, book in hand. The large glass pane that was the wall of his cell glimmered with a golden sheen, speaking to the enchantments that held him captive. And although she knew he was aware of her presence, it wasn't until she stopped in the middle of the opening that he acknowledged her.
"The fair Lady Jane. How the Norns must favor me, to be graced with your presence this evening." With a careful motion, he closed the book and looked up, finally meeting her gaze with a slight smirk.
"I always imagined seeing you again, but never quite like this."
She mentally congratulated herself for managing to sound so calm even though her heart felt like it was about to burst from her chest with the intensity of its pounding. Graceful in a way that she could only hope to be, he set the book aside and stood. The familiarity of him brought a swift ache to accompany her racing heart. He looked so much like she remembered…
"Life is full of surprises." That smirk was still playing at the corners of his mouth as he moved around the chaise lounge and approached the wall. "What brings you to my humble chambers?"
"I couldn't sleep." Which was only the half of it, really.
When the wall of the cell prevented any further progress, he stopped and stared down at her. Even on level ground, she'd always been much shorter than him; now, standing in the sunken walkway, he seemed to literally tower over her.
"And you could find no way to pass the time? Few women would willingly leave the crown prince alone at night."
"He's in Vanaheim." She ignored the petty jab aimed at her insecurities. While she didn't exactly enjoy thinking about it, she wasn't naïve enough to think that Thor had been chaste in the thousand or so years he'd been alive before they'd met. "He's been gone a lot lately…"
"So of all people, you seek me out. For some reason, I doubt Thor would approve of his fiancée spending the late hours of the night alone in the dungeons with his bothersome and troubled brother."
At his words, she issued a breathy, humorless chuckle. "I see there's nowhere gossip can't reach."
"Indeed. The castle staff is notorious for it even when delivering food to prisoners." But his flippant tone was belied by the newfound wrinkle between his brows that marred the carefully-crafted, suave appearance from before. "Rumor has it Thor has asked for your hand in marriage."
She hadn't had any real plan of how the conversation would go between them, but the last thing she wanted to do was discuss Thor. Still, his intense expression told her there would be no edging her way around the question.
"He has."
His head inclined almost imperceptibly, lips thinning into a narrow slash as his jaw tightened. "And?"
At that, her gaze faltered, dipping to his chest then back to his eyes for a moment before falling to her own hands clasped in front of her waist. There was apprehension in the way her shoulders curved forward and disquiet in the way her thumb brushed a repeated path over the knuckles of the opposite hand. And her voice was soft when she responded.
"I accepted."
The tension in the air snapped and swelled until it was a palpable thing. She refused to look up, but that didn't prevent her from sensing the harsh weight of his regard, the choleric strain of his being. Then, just as quickly as it had ascended, the tension fell. But instead of easing away, it continued falling, plummeting past the point of normal and into sarcasm.
"Then I offer my congratulations to the future Queen of Asgard."
Her head rose, eyes snapping to his. "Loki…"
"I wonder if you have explained the details of our past." His eyes were hard, narrowed in accusation. Her silence confirmed his belief. "Of course not… why would you when it would only risk your happy ending. Tell me, Jane, are you hiding the truth to spare Thor's feelings or to spare your own?"
"Please, don't."
"Or is it nothing more than the fact that you are ashamed?"
"Don't say that."
"I doubt anyone would blame you." His voice rose, bordering on shouting. "Why would you not feel ashamed to have given so much of yourself to a monster?"
"Stop it, Loki!" He fell quiet at her heated cry, although he still wore the sneer that had worked its way across his face as he spoke.
She tried to focus on the way her hands were fisted furiously at her sides, on how her teeth ached from the pressure with which she ground them together, on the sharp bursts of her exhales. But all she could really feel was the way her body trembled with something that could not be attributed completely to anger and how her mind repeatedly screamed at her to refute his statement… to tell him…
(I'm not ashamed of what I did or what you are or what we were or what we had – I'm not, I'm not, I'm not)
And…
(You're not a monster or the things they say about you or the things you've done – you're not, you're not, you're not)
But the words stuck in her throat, reworking themselves until what came out was drastically different from what she originally intended. "You obviously don't care much for Thor's feelings. Why haven't you told him yourself?"
"Perhaps I am waiting for the most opportune moment in which to ruin his happiness with you."
She took a deep breath; let it out in a long sigh.
"I think you're full of shit."
There was a long moment of unbroken silence in the wake of her statement. Then his expression softened, the corners of both their mouths turned up in a sardonic smile, and she broke their stare to look unseeingly at the rocks that lined his cell. With slow motions, she ambled closer to him, moving up the steps and across the path to lean against the stone.
"Does he even know you?" A heartrending pause. "Really know you?"
She looked up to see that he'd turned away. With him facing the interior of the cell, she took a moment to study him; the way his longer hair waved slightly at the ends, how his tunic – typically green; he would never change – outlined the lean expanse of his back, his strong stance.
"He knows who I am now, the person I've become over the years." The only movement was the slight twitch of the fingers clasped behind his back. And when she sighed again, it sounded more wistful than anything else. "But I don't think anybody will ever know me like you."
"That is because I knew you long before you ever caught Thor's eye."
"I don't even remember how old I was anymore…" She trailed off, thinking about the years and how they passed so quickly.
"Twelve."
"That's right." A tiny smile tugged at her mouth. "I was twelve and you were somewhere closer to twelve hundred." The thought had been just as staggering then as it was now. "I remember how I thought you were some kind of avenging angel. You looked so regal, appearing out of nowhere in your battle armor to save me."
The words pulled forth a vision so strong that, even after all these years, she could still feel the rain on her face, hear the wailing sirens in the distance, smell the metallic tang of blood in the air, and see the bruises left on her arms from her would-be attacker.
"I still can't believe you took that bullet for me."
"It was not your time to die."
She exhaled a soft sound of amusement. "So you were nothing more than a god playing God."
Slowly, he turned to face her. "I suppose." His voice was brittle, as if she could break him with words alone, and in his eyes was memory, the weight of their years together. "I was your god for the longest time."
"Don't give yourself too much credit." The playful tone she adopted further eased some of the solemnity from before. "It doesn't take much to win the favor of a teenage girl. Between a little undivided attention, some fanciful stories of other realms, and displays of magic, it's pretty much guaranteed."
"Is that also what convinced you to share your bed with me?"
"I was drunk that night." Very drunk… then again, that kind of thing was expected considering it had been her twenty-first birthday.
He crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow at her dismissal. "And the nights after that? I seem to recall more than one."
"I was desperate."
"Of course."
She narrowed her eyes in mock annoyance before pointedly ignoring his casual, knowing smirk. It was difficult to fight the heat she felt creeping up the back of her neck and staining her cheeks. He was right – there had been many nights. And no matter how many excuses she issued, they both knew that each night they shared had been of her own free – and often eager – will.
"You always did look lovely when you flushed."
"Shut up."
"I was merely pointing out…"
"I know what you were pointing out and it wasn't merely anything." It was humiliating enough that she was blushing – God, it was like she was still twelve – she didn't need any innuendo-laced comments about… other things… as well.
His now wide smile was genuine, something she hadn't seen in so very long, and her heart stammered at the sight of it even as she smiled back at him. It had been a long time since she'd seen his smile and even longer since they'd shared an easygoing conversation. But then she caught herself, remembered herself, and looked away. She stared at a crack in one of the rocks near her feet as if it were to blame for both her embarrassment and her feelings and petulantly shoved her hands in the pockets of the robe. Then, her fingers brushed cool silk and she was reminded of the item that had been hastily shoved in there earlier.
They both watched as a green-checkered scarf flowed from her pocket, drawn out by fingers that trembled ever so slightly.
The stones were cold against her bare feet, and she absentmindedly wondered as to how she'd remembered to grab the scarf but not slip on her own shoes. Clearly, there was something wrong with how she placed her priorities, but she couldn't really find it in herself to care.
"Do you remember when you gave me this?" When he didn't answer, she glanced at him through her lashes to see him staring intently at the scarf. "I do… I don't think I could forget if I tried. You said you wouldn't be able to visit for a while, that it would give me something to hold on to until you returned." The material flowed over her hands like water, but the memory burned at her like fire even after almost four years. "You didn't come back, though. And the next time I saw you, you were attacking New York."
Through carefully worded questions of her own, Thor had explained what all had transpired during that time – the moments before his banishment, the cause of his return to Asgard, his brother's time in the Void and on the distant planet. But knowing why he hadn't returned to her didn't make it hurt any less. Then, her heart twinged painfully for another reason altogether.
"It's hard to un-see the things you did on Earth. So many people died…" And the most painful thing was knowing it had been by his actions.
"It is impossible to turn back time, Jane." She looked up again, and this time, his eyes were on her. "No one can change what was done on Midgard… and you should not think back on bitter moments. I prefer to dwell on other, fonder memories."
His gaze beckoned her like a moth to the flame. Pushing away from the wall, she walked to the middle of the glass once more, stopping when she stood directly in front of him. "Like what?"
"Times from before." He spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "From before I knew the truth of what I am."
"Who all is in these other, fonder memories of yours?"
And his eyes were dark and fathomless – she felt like she could sink into them, drown in their jade depths, if she let herself – when he responded. "Isn't it obvious?"
Her heart beat painfully, profoundly.
There was something to be said for the power of memories. They could be so warm, pulling people together with uplifting tenderness. But then others could be so incredibly cold. Those painful ones were the kind that tore people apart, ripping through them and leaving them in pieces. She had so many fond memories, even ones that didn't include him, and it broke her heart to know that so many of his fond memories had been tarnished by previously hidden truths.
"Loki, why haven't you told Thor about us?"
She needed to know.
"Because those memories are ours. I have no desire to share them with anyone else because they belong to us."
His voice was low, filled with a thousand and one things she couldn't name or describe. There were layers of sadness and anger and despair topped with pride and resolve and purpose covered in a regret-tinged hunger – a need – for respect and notice and kindness and love and all she could think was…
"It is a cruel mask that you wear, Loki."
"It is a cruel mask I've been given, Jane."
And her heart broke all over again at his response.
So many people claimed he was lost, consumed by the darkness of his own heart and his wicked ambitions. But no one knew… no one understood the things that drove him, the hurts of his past, the betrayals he'd endured. And although it wasn't an excuse for the things he'd done, it gave her some small amount of comfort knowing that the man she once knew was still in there. Because she knew he was.
It may be buried deep…
It may be hidden beneath layers of cynicism…
But it was there.
He was there.
"Do you love him?"
The question pulled her from her own thoughts, and she refocused on him. On eyes that she'd first seen as a frightened child being attacked in the middle of a thunderstorm, on arms that had held her when her father died, on lips that had drawn out sensations in her that she'd never imagined possible, on hands that had roamed over her body time and time again, on a chest that she'd buried her face into more times than she could count. And it was with a heavy heart that she answered.
"Yes."
But…
Her mind screamed the word.
But…
God, he looked so resigned.
But…
But her lips didn't speak what her mind insisted. One day, her heart and her mind and her mouth would all get on the same track; maybe then she'd be able to properly say the things that were most important.
"Thor will make you happy."
He was right.
And she knew that he knew that he was right.
Thor was a good man, an honest man. He would protect her, provide for her, and love her in the way that all young girls dream about. And he was always so happy and warm and strong. And really, he was just like a prince charming from a fairytale, only his title was the God of Thunder instead.
But…
But not all prince charmings were blonde and blue-eyed with bulging muscles and a beaming smile. Some were more subtle, quiet and reserved, and showed affection in little ways like the soft touch of a hand or the hint of a smile or saying 'Isn't it obvious?' instead of clear affirmations.
Eyes still locked on his, she lifted her hand, pressing her palm flat against the impenetrable wall of his cell. It wouldn't shock her, not from the outside. And even though the words were loud in the confines of her head, she whispered.
"You could have made me happy." Her brows knitted slightly with despondency as she remembered how happy they once were.
"You shouldn't say things like that."
But there was something about the way he spoke the words – the tight line of his mouth or the downcast glint in his eyes – that said something completely different.
"I shouldn't mean things like that…"
Not when she had been with Thor for almost three years now. Not when she could remember the way her heart had pounded when Thor had dropped to one knee in front of her. Not when she could still see the ecstatic look on his face when she told him yes. Not when they were to be married in only a few, short months.
"But I do."
Loki blinked once, twice before his eyes lowered.
She absentmindedly thought how that was the first time he'd ever been the one to break eye contact. Then, she more purposefully thought how it would also be the last.
His eyes moved rapidly, never settling on one object for too long. The ground between them, the lone guard in the distance, her bare feet, the far wall, the green-checked scarf that was now looped around her neck… but then his gaze landed on her hand that still rested against the impenetrable wall of his cell. There was a certain type of gravity to his expression, but it was more of an intense weariness rather than the cynicism she'd seen in the beginning, like he'd finally thrown aside the disillusioned persona he always displayed, as if he also knew that tonight would be the last time they saw each other.
She watched him swallow, tracked the motion of it down his throat. Then slowly – so very, very slowly – his hand came up. Long fingers stretched out towards her before straightening vertically until he was holding his palm out in a mirror image of her own. His hand was a hairsbreadth away from the wall so as to avoid the shock that would come with the contact, but if she closed her eyes, she could almost… feel…
They stayed there for a long moment, motionless. Jane memorized his features – the planes of his face, the contours of his body, the wry quirk of his lips, the exact shade of his eyes – and something about the way his eyes roamed and consumed her made her think that maybe he was doing the same.
The silence was a tangible thing, as real as the enchanted glass that prevented them from closing the distance to each other. No more than two feet separated their bodies; no more than two inches separated their hands. But maybe it was better that way. The memory of his touch – the echoes of his body near hers – was hard enough to bear. If it were to become a reality, she wasn't sure her resolve would hold.
So they stood there, unmoving, in the dungeon.
And there was truth in the stillness.
She watched the play of it in the depths of his eyes, felt it within her own. In the silence, in the quiet, in the seemingly endless moment before she issued a wistfully sad smile and turned away to return to her room, the truth of things that had never been and could never be stretched out between them.
The truth was…
(I won't forget you)
The truth was…
(I loved you first)
"And I know I don't want this. Oh, I swear I don't want this. There's a reason not to want this, but I forgot."
fin.