Jane didn't sleep that night. By the time dawn—true dawn—rose bright and clear in the sky over the palace, her eyes itched with weariness and her muscles burned from the endless pacing her restless mind forced on her. Half her mind was devoted to anxiety about the task Thor and his mother had placed before her earlier that day. The other half was still screaming in uncontrolled excitement.
Asgard was not what she had thought it would be. She had been reading up on Viking lore—what little of it was available in the Hilo library, that is—and had been imagining halls staffed by hundreds of servants, primitive (if glamorous) chambers, and a roof thatched with golden shields and lined with the spears of the victorious. It seemed foolish now, but she had not thought of alien technology as part of the Aesir's daily life.
Boy, was she ever wrong.
There were servants, of course. There were servants, underservants, and probably servants to serve the servant's servants. They waited at tables, guarded the doors, handed her things when she dropped them, and stood ready to give directions at a moment's notice. However, the sensation of being observed by at least ten pairs of eyes at any time was new and really, really disorienting.
However, her being wrong about the last point made the servants' jobs different than her expectations. She had—in some romantic corner of her mind responsible for conjuring visions of Asgard—imagined them hauling pails of water for baths, lighting candle chandeliers, and endlessly polishing gold and silver flatware. Even after a single afternoon and evening in Asgard, she wanted to blush over the stupidity of those ideas.
Why had it never occurred to her that a society capable of building and maintaining a stable wormhole generator would ever need to bother with such menial chores?
The palace was subtly pervaded with technology that made daily life as effortless as a dream. Platforms in the floor rose smoothly and silently to bring one from the ground floor to the observation deck in the highest tower. Decorative panels in the wall flipped to reveal smooth-screened interfaces that could pull information from the deepest reaches of the libraries of all nine Realms. The bathrooms—large enough in Jane's room to encompass her entire bungalow in Hilo—housed bathtubs the size of swimming pools, which filled with water pre-heated to any desired temperature, and scented with one's choice of dozens of essential oils.
Jane hadn't even seen the laboratories yet, but it didn't matter. She could happily spend many weeks dissecting the laser-edged swords and spears in the training yard, the hovering watering machines in the gardens, or the trackers imbedded into the spine of each book that automatically replaced the volumes on the shelves when the reader desired.
All of it was staggering. The struggle not to show how amazed she was by what everyone around her considered matter of course was exhausting, and after an hour, Jane gave it up. Thor wasn't embarrassed by it—indeed, he was only too happy to describe whatever she didn't understand—and if other people stifled smiles or even rolled their eyes at her questions, well…she'd been laughed at plenty of times in the past. Being afraid of ignorance was only self-destructive, and Jane had no intention of wasting a single second of her time here to learn, and learn, and learn some more.
The afternoon and evening had been spent getting her bearings and then meeting—or reacquainting herself with—Thor's friends. The feast that night was smaller than what Jane gathered was normal, and she silently thanked Thor for understanding her awkwardness and anxiety over meeting so many new people at once. The banquet hall and table had still been enough to blow her away, however tiny others might consider it, but the conversation had been fun and accessible. Jane struck her friendship with Volstagg back up—he greeted her with a hug strong enough to lift her off her feet—and even Sif and Fandral had gone out of their way to make her feel welcome. She missed Hogun, but understood that after a skirmish on Vanaheim he had remained with his own people to serve as a liaison with Asgard.
They reminisced about the battle of Puente Antiguo, questioned Jane about her research and Midgard in general, and remarked with admiration on how much Midgard had changed since their being there last. When the conversation shifted back to Asgard, Jane sat back and listened with wide-open ears to all they said about their past exploits, adventures, and many misadventures.
After quite a bit of strong mead and a stomach stretched to bursting by delicious, unknown dishes—Thor had seen to it that there were plenty of vegetarian options for her—Jane had thought she'd conk out as soon as her head touched the pillow. And yet, as the sky out her window darkened and lightened, as stars crossed the sky in their smooth, slow dances, and as a quick rainstorm had dripped each flower in the gardens with fragrant dew…Jane had seen it all.
As usual, it was her brain that kept her from rest. She could not forget the fact that she would see Loki that day. She and Thor would tour the palace, and then he would bring her down to the dungeons to see Loki.
Every time that thought crossed her mind, her eyes opened wide again and sleepiness vanished. Her stomach churned and she could only find relief for her stress in endless pacing. So she wore a path in the smooth inlaid floor of her beautiful room over the long hours of night, and thought of Loki while desperately trying not to think of Loki.
The face of the astronomical clock in the corner across from her bed was slowly lightening and the stars vanished. Though she didn't understand the symbols that covered it, the sun outside told her that day was approaching, and if she wanted to look presentable, she'd better get a move on.
Pushing her limp hair from her eyes, Jane crossed the bedroom (again) to the gargantuan bathroom. She started the tub filling with steaming water—the tub filled silently, from jets in the bottom rather than from a spout—flavored with an oil picked at random (it smelled like fresh grass and mint), and stared out over the city. There was something about Asgard…in any mood, at any time, it just seemed so full of exuberant life. In the gardens below, Jane could see men about their work, trimming the hedges and pruning the flowers. On the streets beyond the palace's walls, faint cries and laughter echoed up into the wide sky.
She stepped into the tub, sighing luxuriously as the hot water soothed her tired muscles and the smell gave some peace to her restless mind.
"Oh my God," she sighed, giggling at the irony at invoking God in this city, "this is the only way to start the day."
The tub was large enough to swim in, she found, and did several laps to stretch her legs and arms. The water slapped merrily against the stone ledge and some water slopped to the floor, quickly drained away by gutters that soundlessly opened at the tub's edge. Jane shook her head at such efficiency, then—unable to indulge herself as she wanted with such a task lying before her—quickly washed her hair and brushed it, then scrubbed herself down and rinsed off.
It seemed like sacrilege to leave such a bathroom without an hour of pampering, but she forced herself to. If the job she was here to do was as challenging as it seemed to be at the moment, she would have plenty of late nights or early mornings to enjoy the small comfort of a hot bath.
A button near the mirror started gentle fans of hot air that dried her and her hair after a few minutes of standing in the stream. She laughed at the feeling, at the fact that she was really there, in Asgard, after so long dreaming fruitlessly about it, and soon she was just standing naked in the bathroom, giggling like a child.
She picked a robe from the array on hooks in the bathroom, and strolled back into the bedroom, wondering where her bag had got to. She had spied some of her books and her tablet on a desk in the study (her room was actually a four-room suite) but had seen neither hide nor hair of her jeans and tee shirts. The dress she'd worn to dinner last night was still where she'd left it, artfully draped over the chaise at the foot of the bed, but she had no idea where it had come from.
Well…it wouldn't hurt to ask. She pressed a button on her end table—the one Thor had showed her for summoning the nearest servant—and had only approximately thirty seconds to get nervous before a knock sounded on the door.
She opened it herself, momentarily wincing when the woman's look of surprise told her she just should have called for her to come in. The woman was well-trained however, and dipped a low curtsey before saying, "What may I help you with, Lady Foster?"
Jane's inner Disney princess and proud American argued with each other about whether or not to contradict such an elaborate title. The princess won out, and preened just a little at the fancy-schmancy title.
She stepped back and let the woman enter. "I was just wondering where my clothes were. I guess someone unpacked my bag, but I couldn't find them."
"Of course, my Lady," she replied, and gestured back towards the bedroom. "Please."
After shutting the door, she led the way into the bedroom and pushed a panel on the wall next to Jane's bed. A quiet whir later, and the entire wall slid away to reveal a dressing room. Jane bit down on her lip to keep herself from bursting out laughing when she saw her three pairs of pants, seven shirts, two skirts and one dress hanging in shabby glory…surrounded by hundreds and hundreds of fine Aesir outfits. The myriad shades of fabrics hurt the eyes—pinks and reds, silvers and golds, blues and purples—and the number of styles was bewildering.
The attendant smothered a smile as she looked back at Jane's amazement. "May I help you dress, my Lady?"
"Uh, no thank you," Jane replied, certain she wouldn't stand the embarrassment of having someone help her put her clothes on, "but you could tell me…" she gestured vaguely and then laughed, "which of these I should wear."
"The breakfast gowns are here," the woman said, gesturing towards the wall nearest the door on their left. For a summer morning such as this, I might recommend…" she trailed off, moving down the row of gowns and finally selecting one the shade of a robin's egg and lightly ornamented with gold embroidery, "this one. Queen Frigga's favorite color is blue."
And it might not hurt to be on Queen Frigga's good side, Jane thought, filling in the blanks. "Thank you," she said, taking the dress and clutching its soft billowing folds against her chest. It felt like holding a cloud.
"Will that be all?"
"Yes, thank you," she said, stepping aside to let the maid pass. Just as the hem of her cream-colored gown was about to vanish, she called, "Actually, what's your name?"
"You may call me Gyda," she turned and smiled, dipping a curtsey, "and I was selected by the Prince to be available to you at any hour of the day or night. All you need do is send for me. It is a pleasure to meet you, Jane Foster."
"Thor picked you for me?" Jane didn't miss the nervous flutter Gyda gave at her casual use of Thor's name, but she wasn't about to start calling him "the Prince". "Why?"
"He thought I would be best suited to make you comfortable," she replied, "I have often served on the wives of foreign dignitaries when they wait upon the All-Father."
"So if I do something weird or wrong, you'll let me know?"
"My Lady?"
Jane shook her head and clarified. "I don't want to embarrass Thor or his mother. You'll let me know if I'm about to do something stupid according to Aesir mores, right?"
Gyda smiled broadly, her motherly face crinkling at the corners of her eyes and mouth. There was something about that smile that made Jane feel instantly comfortable. "Of course, my Lady. Might I suggest, then," she cleared her throat, "that I help you dress and tend your hair? There still remains an hour before breakfast."
"Just enough time to get presentable," Jane said wryly. "Well, I'll get dressed, but you can stay and let me know if anything's in the wrong place."
"Very good, my Lady," Gyda curtsied again and withdrew. Jane unfolded the dress and tried to figure out where exactly she should attempt entry. The bodice was stiff and didn't seem to have an opening anywhere, and the diaphanous layers of the skirt baffled her.
"Underwear first," she sighed, and fetched her own laundry from the closet for that. Then she laid the dress flat on the bed and started studying it like an engineering diagram. After a moment, she found her way in through the six layers of skirt, and slid the gown over her head, wriggling like a fish to get her shoulders through the narrow waist.
Once it was on, though, it felt comfortable as her own skin. The silky skirt whispered against her legs and was delicate enough to waver in the faint breeze from the open window. The blues ranged from robin's egg to the pale blue of a midwinter sky, and the gold embroidery not only covered the bodice, it also ranged down the top skirt to mingle in the folds. Jane stared at herself in the mirror and almost didn't recognize the slight elf-like creature who stared back.
Then she stuck her tongue out, and felt like herself again. "A jay in borrowed plumes," she murmured. It would take more than a nice dress for her to feel at home in Asgard. Still, she enjoyed a few giddy twirls before going out to meet Gyda for hair and makeup. She could get used to being treated like a princess.
If just putting the dress on made Jane feel royal, it was nothing compared to when Gyda declared her finished and turned her so she could see the final product in the floor length mirror next to the vanity. The exact right amount of makeup brought out her cheekbones, made her lips smiling and plump, and accentuated her eyes, which now seemed to shine like amber. To mirror that, she wore a heavy torc of what felt like solid gold and a bangle of the same material, hammered thin as a sheet of glass. The silk slippers on her feet were beautiful, flimsy things; in them she walked absolutely silently.
She looked great. She looked beautiful. And she felt so awkward it was painful. This was not the first time an Aesir had dressed her up and made her feel unlike herself. Memories crowded in on her, thick as a bramble bush, and she longed for a sword to slice cleanly through them.
"Gyda, this is…amazing," she said, trying to feel the happy joy in being well dressed. "You work magic, you really do."
The woman smiled, still looking her over with a critical eye. "The first impressions are always the most important. Today is your first day in Asgard, and I don't mind telling you that many people are curious about whether or not our first mortal guest can manage herself properly."
Jane swallowed. Of all the things she had not wanted to hear…she tried to smile and said, "Do you think I'll disappoint anyone?"
"Those who were ill-bred enough to look forward to your failure will be very disappointed. You are lovely, my Lady. And I know another who will think so too."
After a whole day in Asgard, Jane had hoped she'd be beyond blushing, but no such luck. Her cheeks went fiery as she murmured, "Does everyone know about…about Thor and me?" And just what can they know, Jane thought, when I hardly know what it is myself?
"It was the talk of the city when our young prince returned from Midgard such a changed man, and it did not take long before the party responsible was discovered. Prince Thor has always been very free with the affections of young ladies of the court, but of late he has been quite restrained," a smile played around Gyda's mouth that suggested she didn't think restraint to be such a bad thing. "Unfortunately, you must prepare yourself for a deal of scrutiny from those women who feel themselves scorned on your behalf." She smiled at Jane and started clearing up the vanity table with quick, efficient movements.
Jane stood back and breathed a deep sigh. "Oh well," she said, lightly as possible. "Can't do anything about it anyway, right?" not waiting for a reply, she went on, "I guess I'll just head down. Thank you Gyda."
"You're very welcome, my Lady. Enjoy your breakfast. It is tradition," she said to Jane's quickly retreating back, "to change for each meal, as well as using an afternoon dress for the time between luncheon and supper. When you return, I will be here to assist you."
"Great," Jane wanted to laugh, but swallowed it in the face of her maid's earnestness, "I'll be sure to do that."
Gyda returned to her chores, and Jane hurried out of the room. But she found no privacy there either. The two guards outside her door bowed respectfully, as well as those stationed outside each and every guest bedroom up and down the corridor. Jane felt like she was walking in a hall peopled with moving statues, like something out of Beauty and the Beast. She still wanted to laugh—wearing four dresses in one day was a bit silly—but didn't want to offend anyone doing it. So she settled for shaking her head in the relative privacy of the glass-walled elevator and stifling a chuckle in her hand.
She really wasn't in Kansas anymore!
A servant, liveried in the blue and gold robes of a butler (so she gathered) met her as she stepped off on the seventh floor, where their dining hall had been the previous night.
"Lady Jane," he bowed, "the Prince asked me to escort you to the breakfast parlor."
"The breakfast parlor?" she repeated, fighting the irrational urge to laugh once more. What had she fallen into, a period drama? "Okay then," the man's lips puckered at her slang, and she tried again, calling on all her memory of Jane Austen and the Bronte sisters. "Very well. Please show me there."
He bowed again and gestured her back into the elevator. "The sun rises over the mountains behind the palace," his voice settled into a well-worn, pedantic tone that Jane surmised was used to educate tourists like herself, "and the Queen enjoys the light on the facing terrace. Her morning room faces the same way as well."
"It is a beautiful view," Jane replied politely, having already seen the same thing from her room twenty-three stories up.
"Indeed," he said, "favored guests such as yourself are given the east-facing suites. Your room in particular is highly prized, as the balcony faces south and is comfortable even on the coldest days in Asgard. Many a dignitary and royal guest has remarked on its favorable orientation."
Jane knew she was exhausted, but the man's voice was soporific. She couldn't pass out in the elevator! She had to do something to keep herself awake. "I was looking at the stars last night," she said, forcing some brightness into her voice, "and I was wondering…" she trailed off as they stepped from the lift onto a glass-walled skywalk between four towers. They were higher by far than her bedroom, higher than she had yet been. All of Asgard was spread beneath them, flowing out like a shimmering pond from the roots of the palace, and Jane lost her breath.
She pressed her hands against the glass, staring at the glistening buildings in their haphazard patchwork pattern beneath them, a sensation of disbelief threatening to swamp her as she looked. Jane could have lingered on the bridge for hours soaking in the view, but the butler was already several steps ahead of her, chattering about the view in a way that told Jane it had been years since he'd actually looked at it. She swallowed her question and her irritation—like everything else that morning—and hurried after him.
The man had just enough time to finish describing some public building or other by the time they crossed the walk and entered the tower on the northeast corner. A pair of double doors—gold straight-edged patterns etched into gold studded with lapis—opened to reveal the breakfast parlor, completely walled by glass, just like the skywalk. The sunlight stretched brilliant and liquid over the smooth marble floors and turned the blue velvet on the chairs and sofas black as midnight. Jane winced in the light and wished she'd brought her sunglasses up, regardless of how they would clash with the dress.
Thor turned at her arrival and crossed the room to take her hand and press a warm kiss to it. "Good morning Jane," his smile made everything better, "all of Asgard pales before your radiance." She might have scoffed at those words from anyone else, but Thor's eyes gave the truth to his compliment. Her heart gave a blissful flutter as he tucked her arm under his and escorted her across the room. "How did you pass your night?"
She swallowed the truth. "I slept like a rock," she said, hoping his exposure to the Avengers had given him enough understanding of Earth idioms to cover that one, "although how I managed that in such a beautiful room is a mystery."
"I'm glad it pleased you," he said, "for likely we will both need our strength for the challenges of the day."
Jane managed a laugh. "What? You mean taking a tour around this incredibly huge and beautiful palace straight out of a fairy tale? Yeah, that's pretty exhausting. In comparison," she forced herself to go on without a hitch, "talking your brother into helping us is gonna be a piece of cake. After which," she finished, "we should probably have cake. In fact, I'm pretty sure I'm going to need cake. I'm babbling," she shook her head and sighed, "if you can't tell, I'm a bit nervous."
"By my husband's beard, Thor," Frigga's voice came from nowhere and made Jane jump, "at least let the poor girl have her breakfast. There will be enough time for us all to get nervous later."
"Good morning, my Lady," Jane said, turning to offer a half-bow half-curtsey in Frigga's direction. The woman sat on a long bench facing the sunlight, her hair and skin almost uniform white in the pure glow. She nodded graciously back.
"Good morning Jane," she said, "You must excuse that I have already eaten. The older I become, I find, the less sleep I require, even after a feast. My son, however, would still sleep till the sun is high had he nothing to rouse for," she smiled wickedly, "If I had not been convinced of his affection for you before, I should certainly be so now."
"Mother," Thor gave an embarrassed chuckle that made Jane want to burst out laughing, "surely you might wait until later in your acquaintance before you begin to malign me so. Many are the mornings when I rise before you to attend the garrison in the training fields."
Frigga exchanged a mischievous look with Jane that might have seemed mere friendly conspiracy had she not seen it on Loki's face before. Her own smile froze solid as she once again ran against their similarities and her confusion. Thankfully the glance lasted only a few moments, and she was saying, "I did say, my son, when you had nothing to rouse for. It is true that you have never been derelict in your training duties. I remember many mornings, however, when you used your royal title to reschedule those morning appointments to a time more suited to your aching head."
Loyalty to Thor kept Jane from cracking up, but she had to bite her lip and turn away to hide her smile. The idea of Thor, grumbling and cross in the grips of a hangover, snarling that he'd be at the field in the afternoon was hilarious. And yet, it was strangely at odds with all she knew of him…the Thor she knew didn't pull rank and never seemed lazy. Well…save for the first day and a half after he'd landed on Earth.
Clearly, there was a Thor both Frigga and Loki knew that Jane had only a passing acquaintance with. No wonder Thor was embarrassed.
She turned to him, smiling and pretending not to have heard a word of what Frigga had said. "I'm gonna need your help today to navigate around the breakfast table," his annotations on each dish had been invaluable last night, "You know my feelings about bacon, after all. Just point me in the direction of fruit, some coffee, and maybe some bread and butter."
Frigga laughed, "Yes Jane, save him from his terrifying mother!" but Thor smiled back at her, clearly grateful for the distraction from her teasing. But he had no time to reply. The door to the parlor flew open and cracked against the wall behind. Jane started, turning to see the same butler who had escorted her up. The man was panting under his heavy silk robes and his eyes were wide, wild.
"I beg your pardon—my Queen—" he dropped to his knees and pressed his forehead to the floor, "You know I would not dare intrude were it not for the most dire, the most severe—" he pressed a sweaty hand to his chest and stopped, panting.
"Do collect yourself," Frigga said, not unkindly, but there was an edge of steel in her voice that made Jane tense on the man's behalf. "The intrusion is forgiven. Tell us what is the matter."
"Yes, your Majesty," he said, dabbing his forehead with a silk handkerchief, leaving greasy streaks on the cloth. "It is a matter of your son, your Majesty."
"If there is anything the matter with Thor I am sure I would have noticed it by now."
"No, it is your other son of whom I speak."
"I know," she said, sighing, "Well, what is it?"
"He…" he paused, swallowed, and tried again, "he has…spelled one of the guards, your Majesty. The man is being held against the prison cell—in considerable distress—and the prisoner says he will not release him until his demands are met."
"That is impossible," Thor said, shaking his head. "Loki has never been able to perform magic in the cell. No one can. It is a trick."
"If it is, my Prince," he replied, "it is one without equal. You know what prolonged exposure to the cell's barrier can do to a man. I do not believe anyone would voluntarily undergo that agony."
"However he's doing it, isn't it more important to stop it?" Jane interrupted. "What are his demands?"
"I…hesitate to mention them, your Majesty," the butler ignored Jane and spoke directly to the Queen, "as they involve your honored guest. Perhaps I might speak in your Majesty's private ear?"
Jane huffed, and the tone of Frigga's voice sounded similarly exasperated. "For goodness' sake man," she sighed, "just tell us."
After another moment of panting hesitation, he finally said, "He wishes a private audience with Jane Foster."
()()()
Jane's footsteps were measured and even, but inside she was screaming.
One part of her wanted to run; run out of this dungeon, back up the six staircases Thor had taken her down, through the palace, out between the lovely gardens, and all the way down the Bifrost to the gate where Heimdall could shoot her back to Earth as neatly as she'd come.
The other—more logical—part of her mind tamped firmly down on this panic. She was here; she couldn't leave Thor without even trying to help him. If Loki could help, she had to try to make him willing to do it.
It still confused her why everyone seemed to think she could. Had she somehow gained a weird reputation as the Loki-whisperer? He'd kidnapped her and been thoroughly unpleasant to her for weeks! If she'd gotten him to do anything, it was probably only through guilt…at first. Jane tried not to think about it, but by the end…even she'd guessed that he'd been feeling more for her than that.
Despite all the time between then and now, however, Jane had never been able to figure out how she felt about that.
Before her, she saw a struggling figure dimly illuminated by orangey-yellow sparks flaring off an energy barrier. Loki's arm—she knew it was his because who else wore a combination of green and leather?—stuck through the barrier, unharmed, holding the man firmly in place. The guard's attempts to free himself were gradually growing weaker. Despite the legendary power of the Aesir to withstand pain, he was clearly reaching the end of his rope.
The sight quickened her pace as nothing else could. Loki had been right about one thing: she would never be able to watch someone in pain while knowing she was able to stop it.
Loki's face was bent, drawn in intense lines of concentration as he fought the combined powers of his captive and the supposedly impenetrable shield. Jane flinched as one of the sparks touched her bare arm, and rubbed the rising blister with a soft hiss. If just one spark did that…lasting contact with that thing would likely fry her!
"You might want to stand back, Jane."
"Yeah," she agreed, stepping backwards and to the side of the sparking shield, "I worked that one out for myself."
A tight smile puckered the corner of his mouth. "It's good to see you again," he said, eyes breaking away from his hostage for a moment as they darted up to meet hers, "even under such circumstances." He looked down again. "You look well."
"I might be better," how was it possible that she could so easily fall back into the semi-sarcastic banter they'd established over a year ago, "if I'd had my breakfast."
He barked a laugh, but Jane shook her head and ignored it. "Listen," she said, wearily, "I'm here. Let him go."
"Do you swear you will stay and talk to me?"
"Do you need me to swear?"
"I have been betrayed by some of those I trusted most closely."
She thought of Odin, of his natural father…and even of Thanos. "Okay, fair enough." A particularly brilliant spray of electrical sparks showered to the dark flagstone corridor, and the man moaned. Jane felt nauseated. "I swear to you Loki, I'll stay and hear whatever you have to say."
"And do you swear Thor and," he hesitated on the words, "my mother will let you stay?"
"They couldn't get me to move," she assured him, "but since I would have come to see you—with their permission—later on today anyway, I don't think they'll drag me off, if that's what you're worried about. Now," she repeated, overwhelmed by a powerful—and frightening—sense of deja-vu, "let him go."
He did. The poor man slumped to the ground, pale, shaking, and barely hanging on to consciousness. Jane knelt by his side, feeling his pulse flutter quick and faint against her fingers. But of course, she had no idea what that meant in an Aesir. Every time she'd felt Thor's heartbeat, it had always seemed fast to her.
"Can you stand?" she murmured to him. At his groan and shake of the head, Jane put her hands under his shoulders and tried to lift him up. Between his bulk and his armor, nothing doing. So she looked up again at Loki. The brilliant light of his cell, seeping through the walls and the ceiling, threw his face into deep shadow and she could not read his expression. "I need to call someone to come and get him. He needs help, and I can't carry him myself."
"Very well," he agreed.
He watched every detail of the guard's removal with a straight-lined mouth and unreadable eyes. Jane tried to avoid watching him, but it was impossible; she felt him watching her however she moved. How was it that she felt like the vulnerable one when he was (figuratively speaking, anyway) the one behind bars?
When they were left alone, and there were no distractions to keep her mind from the reality of seeing him again, of being dependent on his moods and whims again, Jane realized just how little her thirteen months away had done to shield her from the influence of his manipulative power.
She didn't wait for him to speak. "I wish I were back on Earth," she murmured, hands tugging nervously at her dress.
He cocked his head, and a faint gleam of teeth showed for the first time. "Why Jane, was Asgard not all you expected? Such a disappointment. Well, I cannot regret your presence. Not that I suppose it helps, but I was not lying when I said it was good to see you again. Anyone is a welcome distraction in this exile."
"What a compliment," she said as dryly as she could manage. When he made no reply, she swallowed and went on, "So…what did you want to talk to me about? You almost killed someone for the privilege—I'm not flattered, by the way—so it must be something important. I hope," she continued under her breath, "it was something important."
"Maybe it was for no other reason than to assure myself that Thor would not keep you all to himself during your first visit to our fair Realm," he said, turning from her and seating himself comfortably in one of the upholstered chairs in his cell, long legs crossed and arm resting on a low circular table. As he sat, his face—paler than usual and with eyes so bright they seemed to burn like twin stars—came into sharp relief. Jane stifled a gasp at how much thinner it seemed, how much more…vengeful.
The harsh, thin lines of his lips reminded her of their first few encounters in Stark Tower, and Jane—in addition to being angry, uncertain, and tired—was now afraid.
He saw it; of course he did. His smile grew sharper.
"Poor Jane," he said, sneering, "You thought you would be able to ignore me, didn't you? You thought you could come to Asgard, consort with the Prince, Queen, and King, and never have to think about the demon in the dungeon, didn't you? You thought," he leaned forward and snarled the words, "that you could forget me, didn't you?"
Her throat was too dry to answer; her stomach roiled with panic. This ravenous monster, this vicious creature was a Loki she had almost managed to forget. How could she have been so stupid?
All at once, his rage disappeared. He leaned back and smiled softly at her. "Oh Jane," he said, "how is it that for such a smart woman, you can sometimes be so foolish?"
How it happened, she would never know. All she knew was that, in the next moment, she was staring blankly at an empty cage as Loki gripped her throat from behind. She screamed, struggled, but he had lost none of his strength in the past year and she had never been a match for him anyway.
"Thor!" he yelled, hand sliding upward to stifle Jane's cries, "if you value her life, you will do precisely as I say!"
()()()
Gasp! An on-time update? I can hardly believe it myself, but here it is!
So…Loki's got some frustrations to work out, clearly.
Quick life update: PhD program in Glasgow didn't work out. I only got into the Master's program, and it's over $28,000 for one year, gah! Not worth it, when I could find an American school that might give me a better deal. So I'm looking into ESL programs in China, Korea, and am even considering coming back to Georgia for a year, while I dig into other schools. Keep your fingers crossed for me!
As always, your reviews and encouragements are my life. Please…keep 'em comin'!