This is my first FF about Loki and Jane (spoilers, yeah?), but I've recently become quite obsessed with the pairing. Honestly, I am a little in love with the anti-hero, and I think that Loki falls into that category (at least, in my head, he does…). I also love Spike (BtVS), Zuko (AtLA), and Draco (HP). It's a problem at this point… kinda… not really…

It's a work in progress, and I really suck because I have this dreadful little habit of going back and changing things around every now and then. Yeah, I know, shame on me, but I have no Betas, so I am my own Beta for now. :)

Well, enjoy, and let me know what you think. Rating is, at the moment, for caution.

*Insert Standard Disclaimer About How Poor I Am, No Theft Intended, Blah, Blah, Blah.*


"People have to really suffer before they can risk doing what they really love."
- Chuck Palahniuk

Chapter 1

The palace of Asgard was awash in flowers, frills, and the sound of laughter. Hues of creme and lilac adorned every column and window in the form of sashes and petals. The palace staff bustled noisily through the halls, winding between guests as best they could to get to their destinations, and the visitors sauntered along, cooing at the decor and chattering excitedly. It took every strength Loki possessed not do something that would spoil the splendor of the day. He'd woken up that morning to the overwhelming stench of flowers invading his senses, and ever since, he had been unable to escape the noxious odors. He'd taken to holding his breath for extended periods of time, but that had only caused him to become light-headed.

He suspected that ruining his brother's wedding day would be the best way to be banished once again, and that wouldn't be beneficial to him at the moment, so he stalked through the palace halls, searching desperately for an area where Frigga had not demanded for there to be decorations placed. After well over an hour of prowling, he finally decided that no room was free from Frigga's villainy.

And they call me the God of Evil.

He was preparing to leave the confines of the palace for the fresh air of the grounds when the fiend herself made her appearance.

"Loki. I have been looking everywhere for you," Frigga said, strolling briskly to his side. "I expected that you would still be in your chambers."

Loki pasted a grin upon his face as she held her hand out to him.

"I awoke to the aroma of your lovely decorations and found that I could not bear to lie about for another moment."

Frigga stared at him for a long moment, and he fought the urge to fidget under her gaze, choosing instead to kiss her hand in completion of the greeting.

"I am glad that you appreciate my work," she said finally, "though I do think it is time for you to be preparing yourself for tonight."

Loki nodded curtly and bowed before turning and striding off toward his chambers, leaving Frigga to watch him in his wake.

#####

Loki did his best not to glower through the ceremony. As a member of the royal family, Loki had no choice but to be present throughout the entire ceremony. He struggled not to yawn and tap his fingers impatiently against his leg through the wedding procession, complete with small, sauntering children dressed in a dreadful paisley color.

Thor certainly appeared the gallant prince in his white finery. Mjölnir gleamed at his hip, and his hair was no less lustrous, freshly washed and coiffed. Thor's hands were clasped behind his back, he was the picture of refinement and perfection.

Loki sneered, and his thoughts turned to the future as the procession dragged on beside him. He was the Trickster; the thought that he could "reform" was a joke. He was not, could not be, Thor. Mischief and deceit were in his nature, not thunder and righteousness. The Allfather surely would not ask Hel to stop being the Goddess of Death, so it made no sense to demand Loki to stop being the God of Mischief, under the threat of yet another banishment. His mouth thinned as he thought about it, and repressed rage began swirling in the pit of his stomach as the AllFather began the introductions. Odin's words were a dull humming on the edges of Loki's consciousness as Loki tried to contain his irritation.

"The bride and groom have prepared their own vows for each other."

Loki's eyes lit up, and his tension melted away in preparation for Thor to stumble over his words. He caught a glimpse of Jane, her face obscured by the frame of her veil. Next to Thor, she looked almost Elfin in stature. Loki was certain she looked the epitome of the blushing bride, the picture of perfection next to her white knight. She would make a decent addition to Asgard, though he still couldn't decide yet what she would be the Goddess of.

This is most certainly her doing. The oaf has no love for words.

Thor pulled a piece of crumpled paper from his breast coat pocket and smoothed it out between his oafish hands.

"Jane-"

The doors to the Great Hall slammed open from a gale of wind. Every head turned to discover the source of the disturbance.

The woman in the doorway was captivating by the essence of her being. Her hair was as black as night itself, and the tendrils flew around her in wild abandon. Even from his poor vantage point, Loki could see that she was tragically beautiful, and he could feel the power and, to his surprise, hatred rolling off of her. He felt his own magic pulse and dance with thrill in response. Her most striking feature, however, was the wide spans of black feathered wings spread out behind her, as if providing a backdrop of midnight despite the relatively early hour of the day.

Her eyes surveyed her surroundings in cool calculation as she made her way into the room with the graceful power of a panther on the prowl, tucking the massive wings around her like a cloak. Her gaze came to rest on the trio situated above the rest. As she came closer, Loki saw that her eyes were the same deep black of her hair and wings. They seemed to shine with an inner light, as though reflecting the stars. His magic crept out unbidden, testing and tasting her own cautiously. His eyes widened.

Nemesis...

He watched as the goddess Nemesis stopped before reaching the steps up to the AllFather, Thor, and Jane.

"Odin! Thor," she said, a sardonic smile gracing her plump lips, "how wonderful that you should see fit to invite me to this joyous occasion."

Loki could taste the sarcasm dripping from her lips.

"You know we intended no disrespect, Olympian."

Thor took a step forward, attempting to place Jane behind his bulky frame. She maneuvered herself to the side and continued to watch the Greek Goddess. Thor made a noise of displeasure in the base of his throat, but his gaze remained locked on Nemesis. Nemesis' smile grew frigid.

"Your intent here means nothing to me, Thor Odinson," she spat.

Thor's brow furrowed. "Then what is the meaning of this interruption?"

"I have come bearing a gift for your blushing bride-to-be," Nemesis said, her smile returning as she locked eyes with Jane.

"What would that be, Olympian?" Thor crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

Nemesis sneered. Loki held his breath; his bother was courting disaster.

"Jane Foster wishes to rise above herself and become a God. Jane Foster has succumb to hubris and does not understand her place."

"Hold your tongue, Olympian. You overstep yourself." Thor took another step toward Nemesis, hand reaching for Mjölnir, before freezing mid-stride.

"No, my old friend, you overstep yourself. You are the God of Thunder. It is not in your nature to question or analyze. Knowledge of these matters is my responsibility, and your slights against me shall not be forgotten."

Nemesis stepped ever closer and stared at Jane.

"Jane Foster, l grant you this gift: the gift of slumber, from which only one can wake you. Your trials will be great, Jane Foster. You would do well to keep your eyes open."

Nemesis' gaze returned to Thor.

"Thor Odinson, hopeful bridegroom, you have learned little humility in your time in Midgard. You will learn the agony of futility, as I have. You will search far for the cure to this curse. Your travels will seem never-ending. The answer is sometimes in the most unexpected of places."

Her wings extended suddenly and a great staff appeared in her hands. Loki was struck by the image. She looked like the Angel of Death; a vengeful, jealous Siren in the throes of passion.

"So it shall be."

Her voice boomed with power at she slammed the staff down. Deep purple waves of magic crackled along the ground swiftly, enveloping the room in blinding light. The last thing Loki saw before his sight was stolen were the depths of Nemesis' eyes staring at him.

When he regained his wits, the first thing he saw was the crumpled form of Jane Foster, lost in the tufts of silk and lace she'd been so carefully dressed in, surrounded by the members of his pseudo-family.

Nemesis was gone.


I'm sorry if you've read all of this before, but I was looking back through and noticed how pitifully short my chapters were for no apparent reason, so I'm going back and trying to catch all of my midnight coffee typos. :)

R&R!