She did not cry. She had not cried since she first arrived in Asgard two days ago, and even then it was only tears for Frigga, not for herself. She was being held up high in a large, beautiful (although rather isolated) tower that overlooked the water and Heimdall's observatory.
The tower consisted of several grandiose conjoined rooms. The first was a long room with massive windows and gilded walls that held nothing more than a banquet table and many chairs lined along the edge; the room she first arrived in. The second chamber harbored a lavish canopy bed with light, flowing drapes and an open balcony. She had found a closet full of magnificent robes and dresses that curiously enough fit her perfectly, with an adjoining washroom and a bath tub that was larger than her kitchen back home. The last room was a massive sunroom, the ceiling entirely made of windows, with antique telescopes and colossal bookshelves lining the walls; a place she could easily spend all day researching and studying. The fact that the place was so perfect made her even more uncomfortable. It was by far the most beautiful place she had ever been, despite the less than perfect circumstances.
For the second morning in a row, she woke to a bountiful feast of various fresh fruits, smoked meats, cheeses and breads splayed out on the banquet table. She knew he had been here again although she had not seen or heard him. The amount of food was laughable, as she was clearly the only person it was meant for, yet it could easily feed an entire army. Between her anxious state and her defiance, she had refused to touch hardly any of the food; she knew that the longer she went without eating the more likely he was to come, and although he was very much the last person she wanted to see, she needed answers.
After filling a goblet with water, she walked into the sunroom and sat down on an over-sized chair, staring blankly out the window at the beautiful grounds of the kingdom. She thought more on Frigga and of Thor, until her thoughts turned to Loki and her heart pounded. What a bastard, she thought to herself, feeling her anger rise. Her stomach tightened as she reluctantly replayed their kiss for the thousandth time over in her mind, the guilt surging within her. No, she was no longer with Thor, but she still felt awful. It made perfect sense that he would kiss her only for his own gain, but something didn't add up. Clearly if he had been able to travel to Earth without her help, he would be able to get back without it, "residual powers of the Aether" be damned. She felt nothing except complete hatred for him and she was certain he was equally repulsed by her, as she was the main reason his mother was now dead. What was most confusing about the entire thing was that in that moment, she didn't push him away. And despite the physical sensation of his cold lips against hers, his kiss was inexplicably tender. It was unnerving, to say the very least.
Loki stood in the doorway, watching her for much longer than he originally anticipated. He tried to make his presence known several times so as not to startle her, but when she continued to stare out the window, it was clear that she was too lost in thought to notice him. His eyes traveled over her small frame and he swallowed, trying hard not to notice the way the silken robe outlined her breasts or how the fabric was barely covering her thighs. He watched curiously for a moment as her eyes closed and opened peacefully, the warm rays of sunshine splashing over her face, her fingers rubbing absentmindedly against her lips. He wondered what or who she was thinking about while secretly envying her serenity. He ran his hand through his unkempt hair in frustration, unaware of what to do next.
A chill swept over her as she heard shuffling, and suddenly, she knew he was behind her. She was fearful only for a moment before turning her face slowly to look at him, their eyes meeting for the first time in days. She wanted to throw her goblet at him, to get up and pound him with every last bit of energy she had left in her overly-exhausted body, but the only thing she could do in that moment, was stare.
He stared back at her, leaning casually against the doorway, his expression dark. He could feel her disdain and her disgust scorching him from across the room, and for some odd reason, as he watched her cross her arms across her chest and pull her robe quickly over her, he felt embarrassed.
"I tried knocking," he muttered idiotically, sounding almost apologetic as he stared at the floor to give her a bit of privacy. He immediately kicked himself for sounding so weak.
"Yeah, well, I didn't hear you," she snapped, grateful for the fact that he was no longer looking at her so she could stand and properly fix herself.
"May I enter?"
"Haven't you already?" she replied angrily, pulling the robe tighter around her waist.
Loki straightened himself and walked further into the room, her harsh tone sobering him up. He walked around the room, glancing up at the many books while pulling random ones out to look at.
"You haven't eaten much…," he spoke nonchalantly, pretending not to care even though it bothered him. She watched him carefully turn the pages of a large book entitled "The Prose Edda"; a book having something to do with Norse Mythology, according to the spine label. He would like reading about himself, she thought.
"Forgive me for not having much of an appetite, I'm currently being held hostage by a psychopath."
Loki laughed, closing the book with a resounding thud and forced it gently back into its place on the bookshelf. He turned and leisurely walked towards her, his hands knit together behind his back.
"Tell me, Miss Foster," he inquired, placing a single finger to his lips thoughtfully while stoppinag to gaze out the large windows. "When would you say was the last time you spoke to that insufferable brute?"
"Haven't heard from him in a long time," she answered, almost a little too quickly, her arms crossed defiantly.
"Being truthful will only help you, I assure you," he replied irritably, clearly agitated yet not surprised by her insolence. "Now, I will ask you once more. When was the last time you spoke to Thor?"
"I told you the truth," she said through clenched teeth, determined not to give up the game. "It's been weeks."
Loki turned to face her, his eyes burning. "Not according to this," he spat, reaching into a hidden pocket of his leather tunic, pulling out a small silver phone.
"How did you- When did you-"
"Are you truly shocked?" he smiled darkly. "I have my ways, Jane. Don't test me."
"It doesn't matter when I talked to him last, I don't know where is. And even if I did, what the hell makes you think I'd tell you?"
"I think I could somehow persuade you," he threatened, knowing full well his threats were empty. He wouldn't hurt her. However, if she knew that, he wouldn't get any cooperation from her. As much as he loathed her, he didn't want to hurt her. Besides, Frigga's death would have been in vain if anything were to happen to her at his hand.
He started walking towards her once more but stopped dead in his tracks once he saw her frantically back away from him. She was frightened of him, whether she admitted it or not and surprisingly, he found he took no pleasure in the fact.
"So what," she said, grasping on to the back of another arm chair, her body clearly weak from hunger and exhaustion. "You're going to torture me? Kill me?"
Loki sighed. "Please eat."
"No."
"WHY NOT?" he growled, quickly growing impatient with her. "Is there something specific I can bring you? Something I- I can do to make you more comfortable here?"
"YOU CAN BRING ME HOME!"
"Not an option," he shook his head, placing his hands on his hips.
"Then LEAVE."
"THEN will you eat?"
"NO!" she yelled, and as soon as she did, she found herself grasping the back of the chair even harder, trying to steady herself as she began swaying back and forth. "Oh…"
"What is it?" Loki asked, his brow furrowed in confusion, his face suddenly alarmed.
"I think," she said breathlessly, feeling her forehead, her face growing paler with each passing second. "I think I might faint."
He was at her side immediately, catching her gently in his arms before she could hit the hard ground. She blacked out only for a second, waking up cradled against his chest on the floor. Her mind wanted to fight him, to push him away, but her body was far too weak. She sank against him instead, weakly grasping his leather collar while continuing to fade in and out of consciousness.
"Damnit Jane," Loki cursed under his breath, pushing her hair back from her face, holding his cool hand against her hot cheek while gently shaking her. Her eyes remained closed. He briefly began to panic, but as soon he broke away from her skin, she became aware once more and reached groggily for his hand. She pulled it back to her face, holding it there.
"You feel good against me," she whispered, barely conscious and so quietly that if there was any sort of background noise, he would have certainly missed it. Her soft, warm skin burned his rough, cool flesh. Too shocked by her sentiment, he did not move. Not until her grip on his hand began to weaken.
"I need you to eat," he stated suddenly, standing brusquely with her still in his arms, lifting her with ease. He began walking toward the bedchamber, making note of how light she was. He knew she was about a foot shorter than him, more or less, but he didn't realize until now just how delicate she was. He smiled to himself, knowing full well that if he confessed this particular thought to her, she would most likely be offended.
He sat her upright on the edge of the bed, holding her waist with one hand while he used his free hand to pull back the covers. He picked her up once more and laid her down carefully, pulling pillows behind her to get her to sit up more while covering her with the blankets. "You mortals and your weak forms," he muttered in pure annoyance, shaking his head.
Her eyes were opened more now, but she said nothing. She was simultaneously frightened and entranced by him, watching in pure mystification as he fussed over her. When he glanced once more at her, realizing she had been watching him, he straightened himself and stormed out of the room, his face marked with aggravation.
Several minutes later, he returned, carrying a tray of what looked like small bits of everything that was in the banquet hall. He placed it directly next to her on the bedside table. Jane stared at him, completely taken aback by his seemingly caring actions.
"The plums are good," he rambled, avoiding eye contact with her while running his fingers through his hair. "They're fresh. If you look out the balcony, there is a small orchard on the hill to the right of the estuary. They come from there. And this particular cheese is from the same merchant. It's just from this morning. Please," he said, in a tone that was neither kind nor cruel. "I won't sit here and watch you eat, but I'm not leaving the tower until you do. That should give you more than enough reason."
Jane looked slowly from him to the food. It looked amazing, and she was starving. There was no use carrying on with her front; she had gotten him to visit her which was the whole point of her charade. Besides, death by starvation was not a way in which she wanted to go out.
She said nothing to him, but nodded, and the instant she did, he left. She knew he wasn't gone entirely, as he would make sure she had carried out with her promise, but she knew he would no longer bother her. She reached over and grabbed a handful of olives, popping them quickly into her mouth. "Oh my God," she mouthed as she tried the cheese on a cracker, suddenly grateful Loki didn't decide to stay and watch her frantically stuff her mouth. She closed her eyes and sunk back into her pillow.
She took a long time eating, trying hard not to overdo it. It was a harrowing task not to, as each bite of food was more delicious than the last. There were fruits she had never seen nor tasted that made her sigh with pure satisfaction. He could be feeding her poison for all she knew and she wouldn't even care.
After a while, she made her way out onto the balcony in her room, staring at the orchard Loki had been referring to. She wondered to herself how a man so barbaric and murderous could so casually ramble on about plums. She briefly saw the look in his eyes when she first dropped to the floor and as much as she tried to ignore the fact that nagged at her, Jane knew there was a great deal more to him.
But she didn't care. She couldn't afford to. Not in this situation. This situation was about survival. This situation was about protecting Thor, to the best of her ability, and getting back home in one piece. Maybe that was it. If there was humanity in Loki, any at all, she needed to use that to her advantage. If she was kinder to him, if she feigned cooperation, there might be some slim possibility that she would find a way out, or he would let her go. It sounded crazy, but her attitude thus far had only made things worse. She had to try a different approach.
She wasn't sure if it was the food in her stomach or the realization she had just made (maybe a combination of both), but all hope was suddenly renewed. It was going to be extremely difficult not to lose her temper with him, as he had a way of continually getting under her skin, but she knew she had to try.
She walked out of her room and found him in the sunroom, reading at the desk in front of the bookshelves. She covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a laugh when she caught sight of him wearing a pair of gold-rimmed wire spectacles, looking studious. She never got used to seeing any sort of civilized side to him.
"Is something amusing, Miss Foster?" he said nonchalantly, continuing to read his book, trying hard to ignore her presence.
"Uh, no," Jane stuttered, making a mental note to remember that it was not at all possible to sneak up on this man. She walked further into the room to take a seat on a small couch opposite from the desk, folding her arms across her chest. "Just didn't know you wore glasses."
"I'm afraid there is much you don't know about me, Jane." He said quietly, removing the frames to finally look up at her. He swallowed, trying hard not to notice the orange and gold frock she now wore. He wanted to laugh at how pretty she was. "You look… well," was all he could manage.
"I feel well. I think it was the plums," she teased, trying hard not to laugh. She had no idea how she was managing to joke during such a terrible ordeal, but she missed laughing.
He smiled too, though he was trying just as hard to hide it. He realized she was mocking him, but he appreciated it all the same.
"I have to ask, do you always wear the same thing? Do you have a closet just full of those black, green and gold numbers, or what? Like Batman?"
"Who?"
"Nevermind," she sighed.
"I didn't know my wardrobe offended you."
"It doesn't," she said, shaking her head thoughtfully. She always admired the Asgardian clothing, truth be told, but between him and Thor, she had no idea how they wore that heavy garb all the time. "It just looks… uncomfortable." No wonder you're always cranky, she thought.
"You become accustomed to it," he replied mechanically, though he secretly continued thinking on it. He looked over at her once more, wondering what other things went on in that brain of hers. She was always telling him her opinions, and though he found it exhausting at times, it was also refreshing. She was small, but strong. She's strong in ways you'd never even know, he heard his brother's voice echo in the back of his head.
He suddenly stood swiftly from his chair, breaking his concentration, knowing it was best to put an end to their casual conversation as quickly as possible. "I will leave you to your… ever intriguing thoughts, Miss Foster," he nodded, straightening himself while noticing the uncomfortable weight of his leather just a bit more so than usual. He paused for a moment, as if he wanted to say something else, but instead started off in the direction of the main hall.
"Will you come back?" Jane asked, quickly standing from her seat as well, following closely behind him. She was confused by how fast she got up from the couch, putting it down to the mere desire to get her plan into action sooner rather than later.
"I assume you are smart enough to piece together that at some point, yes, I will be back," he replied irritably, almost at the door.
"That's not what I mean."
"What do you mean then?" he said, turning on his heel, his eyes boring into hers, his voice growing impatient.
Jane backed up, startled by the cross man hovering over her. There were times she forgot herself, forgot he was dangerous, but she continued to stand her ground. "You asked me before if there was anything you could do to make me more comfortable here. Do you mean it?"
"I do," he said, his voice resolved yet strangely turning soft at her inquiry.
"Would you - come back? For dinner?"
The look on Loki's face was a mixture of confusion and abhorrence. Surely, she was being facetious. Before he had a chance to come back with a nasty retort, Jane spoke again, determined to convince him of her sincerity.
"I-I'm alone for most of the day. I think if I had company, even for just a short while, it would make things better."
"Even if the company happens to be that of your captor?"
"Yes," she said, surprised by her own candor. "Even then."
Loki's brow furrowed as he scrutinized her demeanor very carefully, determined not to agree to her terms until he was certain she was not jesting with him. He stared at her, completely dumbfounded, for so long that she began to shift uncomfortably where she stood.
"Fine," he swallowed, nodding his head curtly after a moment while quickly turning around so that she wouldn't continue to see the befuddled look that plagued him. He wasn't at all convinced that she truly wanted to dine with him, but her unexpected request, at the very least, intrigued him.
"Fine," Jane said, turning around to leave, heaving a sigh of relief that he had agreed to come and that his close proximity to her had lessened. "Bring the plums."
Loki smiled to himself.