Disclaimer: I have been subjecting the genie in this lamp I found to water torture, but despite my best efforts, I still don't own the plot or characters of the Marvel Cinematic Universe; I might try a car battery and jumper cables... anyway, until it decides to cooperate, this story is not for sale or profit.
AN: Bet you thought muse had killed me for being a slave driver and hidden my body in the meat freezer in the basement… Well, he tried, but I'm (slightly) smarter than him, and buzzing on caffeine in order to get this finished and posted (finally!). Long, dramatic, super boring excuses for why this chapter has been so delayed, so if anyone is still reading this, thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed so far, you are my sunshine, and you will find your apology for my shockingly bad behavior as a fanfic author below! Hopefully it was worth the wait. So cheers, please enjoy!
.
"You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You're on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who'll decide where to go..."
― Dr. Seuss
.
The Bifrost Bridge was the practical culmination of everything Jane had dedicated her life to studying. Last time she'd traveled through it, she'd been so surprised and that she'd barely registered the experience, much less given it the attention it deserved, and the trip had been over before she could do anything more than grin idiotically and gape like a tourist. Now, she took a deep breath and opened up all of her senses as the energies engulfed them, concentrating with all her might.
Her first impression was light, overwhelmingly bright, flashing and flowing within the definite edges of the event horizon so fast that it almost looked white. If she flicked her eyes quickly enough she could just glimpse flares of color; gold, blue, green, red, more and more and more, all the shades and hues of the rainbow streaming together into a dazzling torrent of liquid brilliance. There was a swooping sensation in the pit of her stomach, though not nearly as drastic as it might have been – Energetic compensation? Gravity bubble? Quantum molecular compression funnel? – and then the ground was simply gone.
A moment later, so was the Earth. The light flared blindingly, accompanied by a sound that was something between the hiss of rushing water, the roar of distant thunder and the shriek of tearing metal, then burst like a bubble into overwhelmingly absolute darkness and silence. The blackness seemed to last only an instant, but it left Jane feeling oddly displaced, almost as though the void had lasted longer than she had perceived. She wanted to analyze the startling lack of sensation, but there was no time. Her eyes filled between one instant and the next with the streaking light of a trillion, trillion streaming stars careening past too fast for thought.
She tried to hold on to rational scientific detachment, but it was useless. After a moment, a burst of pure wonder left her grinning like an idiot, and she could only surrender to the experience.
"Nearly there," she heard Olafson murmur a few moments later. The sound of his voice was strangely warped and modulated, as though bits of it couldn't keep up with their speed and were being left behind to drift, lost, in the depths of space. Jane opened her mouth to reply, curious to hear how her voice was affected.
The blue light slammed into her without warning. Ephemeral as a dream, no more than a wavering gossamer film amongst the flashing stars, it barely touched her, and her mind jarred as though it had been hurled against a brick wall. The stars twisted, writhed, turned in on themselves, and she felt time grind horribly to a stop. She hung there in an infinite instant, forever if it was a moment, caught amongst the frozen stars. Confusion and questions tried to set in, but before they could even take shape, a sensation stole over her, like hairs raising on the back of the neck, hitching her breath as wonder and curiosity dissolved into a surge of alarm.
She was not alone in the light. Something...something... was behind her.
Jane swallowed hard. She didn't want to look. Like a child who hides from the monster in the closet by burrowing deeper under the covers, she suddenly felt as though, if she didn't look, then… it… wouldn't find her. It wasn't rational; it was instinct. And it didn't matter. Because she was Jane. She had to look.
A little tickle of foreboding tightened her gut as she turned her head to peer over her shoulder, gasping she twisted her body – or was it her mind? – around to face what was behind her. And looked.
Two phosphorescent orbs, burning like twin suns in the night of the universe, resolved into a pair of luminous blue eyes, scanning across the vast empty light years to pin her against the blue curtain like an insect to a cork board. They gleamed with hideous intelligence and indolent curiosity, and as they examined her.
Jane was an analytical being; she prized her faculties of logic and rationality. All of that abandoned her in the face of whatever it was that looking at her. Her very being recoiled from it as it reached towards her with a coldly curious, incorporeal touch.
An almost tangible presence filled the front of her mind, seeping inside, probing and groping, seeking, she felt, for some foothold to anchor itself there. But it was as though her mind were a sieve. Her forehead began to tingle and the gaze poured its presence into her, tried to fill her, only to flow out just as quickly, leaving only the memory of the vaguely sickening touch of its passage through the antechamber of her consciousness.
The glowing blue eyes narrowed with interest as it perceived her immunity. Their curiosity sharpened, and they reached for her. They were impossibly far away, and yet Jane knew, could feel, that they were but inches away from reaching out to touch her, and if they did... if they did...
No!
Jane didn't know if she'd shouted it word, or just thought it so hard that it caused an auditory hallucination. She only knew that that gaze must not touch her. Either way, her command echoed down through the fabric of space-time like a force of will.
The blue spider was beside her before she could finish the thought.
The manifestation of the Tesseract was so abruptly present beside her that it somehow occurred to Jane to wonder if it had been there all along. She might have run in fear at the chittering of its mandibles, the scuttling of its too-many legs, the ravenous flash of its countless beady eyes; but she had no concentration left to spare for anything but the terrible blue eyes. She was helpless as a ship sucked between Scylla and Charybdis, and just as doomed…
Jane cringed as both entities struck at the same time.
The force of the eyes hurled towards her like an oncoming bullet train.
The blue spider lunged forward.
And flung itself between Jane and the hideous blue gaze.
It broke against the blue spider like waves crashing on rocks. Jane had no time to be shocked. There was a sonic crack, and a hiss of furious noise, like a monstrous roar of outrage heard from across a vast distance. Lights clashed dazzlingly, a gold brilliant as sunrise rushing in to snatch her out of the cold, frozen blue. Jane was hurled backwards out of the that endless moment, and into the warm, safe embrace of a golden curtain of light.
Time lurched back into motion, and suddenly Jane was stumbling forward on a polished expanse of golden floor.
The Bifrost platform.
Asgard.
Jane gasped, and the influx of air seemed to steal all the strength from her legs. She dropped gracelessly to her knees, dizzy, and willed glittering golden room to stop spinning.
What the hell was that…
"Are you unwell?" came Olafson's voice, stiff with reluctant concern, from a few paces to her left. His leather boots and green cloak came striding into view. When Jane looked up at him, he cocked a wary eyebrow and studied her down the length of his nose, as though worried she might suddenly drop dead and leave him unable to complete his assigned duty. "What ails you?"
Jane shook her head, bemused. "Didn't you see that?" she asked.
From the way he narrowed his eyes at her, as though he thought she might be slow in the head, it seemed clear that he didn't know what she was talking about. Beyond him, on the raised dais in the center of the room, she caught sight of the gold-plated mountain of a man that was the gatekeeper, Heimdall, watching her steadily, a measure of grave concern for her well-being echoing in his unfathomable golden eyes. Otherwise, neither showed any sign of alarm.
Neither of them had seen those chilling eyes or blue spider.
Jane frowned and shook her head again, wondering if she'd imagined it. Of if perhaps it had all happened in her head, as the visions of the gray tunnel and the aurochs had been.
It didn't matter, she swiftly reminded herself. They hadn't seen it, and she couldn't tell them what she'd seen without telling them all sorts of things she didn't want to reveal. About New York, and he Tesseract. And Loki.
For a precarious moment, she almost spoke up anyway. Those eyes had been... malevolent. And the Tesseract… she'd thought she'd severed all ties to it; to see it that horrible shape once again was enough to make her insides squirm. It worried her…
But really, should it? What possible frame of reference could she claim for how her connection to the Tesseract operated? She had just traveled half a universe closer to its physical location. She could feel that it hadn't reclaimed its grip on her mind; that knowledge was enough to set her mind at ease. There was no good reason to believe there was any realdanger. Certainly no reason to jump the gun and give up all her secrets the first instant she faced a challenge. She had to be braver than that. She'd made herself a promise.
And she had to be stronger as well. She couldn't begin her adventure on her knees, not if she wanted to prove herself to these superhuman beings. So she made herself smile and shrug sheepishly, as though nothing in the world were amiss.
"Nevermind," she said to the Asgardians' questioning looks, struggling to get her feet back under her with as much dignity as she could muster. She glanced around. "Hey, where's my stuff?"
Olafson frowned at her for a moment, then reached down to help pull her to her feet with a hand at her elbow.
"It's been sent ahead…" he said, sounding annoyed and perplexed.
Jane nodded in grave approval and made a show of brushing herself off, taking a moment to put her mind in order and push aside all thoughts of the incident until later. She smiled brightly up at Heimdall.
"Hello again!" she said, and found in the forced cheerfulness a growing resurgence of her resolve. It had been an inauspicious start, but she wouldn't let this little hiccup put her off her game. She craned her neck up, and up, and up to look the gatekeeper in the eye, trying not to stare. Standing this close to him, it was impossible not to be impressed. "How have you been, Heimdall? I hope you weren't in too much trouble after you helped me escape."
"I am well, my lady," Heimdall replied, his voice so deep and resounding that it made even simple pleasantries sound like profound revelations. "Welcome back to Asgard."
Olafson stepped up onto the first ring around the dais, unclipping a small golden ornament that had been affixed to his collar.
"Arild Olafson, Magic Master of the Archive, returning by order of the Allfather with Jane Foster, Science Master of Midgard," he reported in a dutiful tone,
"Asgard receives you, Master Arild Olafson, Master Jane Foster," Heimdall replied with the same air of duty, as though they were reciting from a script or acting out a ritual. "Be welcome on our shores."
Olafson passed the golden token it into Heimdall's outstretched hand.
"What is that?" Jane asked, eager for both information and distraction.
"Special dispensation to travel off-world," Olafson answered.
"Asgard is closed, my lady," Heimdall explained more patiently. "By order of the king, none are to enter or leave the realm without the Allfather's express permission. On pain of death."
Jane's eyes widened. The blue light flashed through her mind, but she dismissed it. No, she thought... this was more likely to do with the reason Odin had brought her here. Some kind of plot or treachery from a faction within the Archive... so the king had them pinned in, she guessed, but needed a spy to root them out.
Her.
Jane shivered involuntarily with trepidation, and a guilty little thrill of excitement. This was serious; Asgard was locked down, just as Earth was about to be. It wasn't a game. But despite her rocky entrance into this brave new world, the tide of eager determination was rising in her once more, and she could scarcely wait to get started.
She might have liked to speak longer with Heimdall, but Olafson, apparently eager to have done with this unpalatable duty, took her by the arm once more, so that all she could do was offer an apologetic smile and a friendly wave at the golden guardian as the magic master marched her towards the exit. Jane didn't resist. She was almost as eager as him to get moving, albeit for different reasons.
"What was that?" he asked as they approached the arch leading out onto the shimmering kaleidoscope of the bridge. "Why did you faint?"
"I hardly fainted," Jane replied evasively. "I just… stumbled. Don't Asgardians ever lose their balance?"
"What did you see inside the Bifrost?" he asked her pointedly.
"I don't know what you mean," she said.
"You asked what I had seen. I saw nothing unusual. What did you see?"
Jane barely hesitated, swallowing down her distaste, and then plastered a big grin on her face. "All those stars! Did you see how fast they rushed past? It was amazing!"
Olafson paused to look at her, his eyes narrowing. Jane could practically see his mind working, watched his knowledge of her gained over the past few weeks clash with his preconception that humans were all lesser beings that really were that labile and foolish.
That's right, Jane thought as his lip curled slightly, Give in to that prejudice. I'm just an alien bumpkin from a backwards little backwater planet, impressed by the big, scary universe that you think of as your backyard. Go on, take the bait…
"If you're as fragile as this," he commented coldly after a long pause, "you may as well return to Midgard now and save yourself the humiliation. This is not a world standing ready to suffer the weak, as the rest of your triad can attest."
Jane tried not to grin in relief. Odin was right, they'll underestimate me, and I can use it! Maybe I can be a spy after all! Then she frowned.
"My triad?" Jane repeated. "What's that?"
"That is us!" a new voice exclaimed as they stepped out onto the glittering crystalline expanse of the rainbow bridge. Jane turned, shrugging out of Olafson's grip, which he relinquished with an air of infinite forbearance, just in time to see two more Asgardians approaching, leading four horses.
Jane's first thought was that there could hardly have been a more mismatched pair of individuals anywhere.
The speaker was a woman, possibly the tallest Jane had ever seen. She strode towards them with a confident air and a wide friendly smile on her pleasantly pretty face, blond hair streaming out behind her, her bright green eyes sparkling with real pleasure and warmth, an earnest energy in her every movement. Jane noted she was dressed in simple brown leather jerkin and trousers, a black mesh shirt underneath, and a long red cloak trimmed in white flowing down to her ankles. The masculine simplicity of the clothing did nothing to disguise the curvaceous figure underneath. Despite her broad shoulders and sturdy build, she exuded a clean, wholesome sort of unabashed femininity, the kind you couldn't teach or learn to fake. It was a quality of character that radiated off of the woman.
Beside her, hanging back near the horses stood a small man, barely taller than Jane. Where the woman was fair-haired with bronzed sun-kissed skin, the man was dark-haired and almost unhealthily pale. Dark, suspicious eyes were set in a narrow, sharp-featured face that seemed permanently pinched with worry. He shifted restlessly from foot to foot, fidgeting with the bridles in his grasp, and far from confident, his movements bespoke a skittish, almost resentful reserve the likes of which Jane would never have believed possible in an Asgardian. He was dressed in a wide-sleeved green tunic belted with a gold studded sash and black trousers, a cape to match the woman's hanging from his thin, hunched shoulders, except that it was in green rather than red.
Neither looked like they could be older than twenty; even so, Jane had a sneaking suspicion they were much older than her.
After her revelation last night about the way Asgardians viewed humans, Jane had prepared herself to be shunned, insulted, ignored, maybe even attacked by the locals. She was ready for any and all sorts of reactions to her arrival.
Or so she had thought.
"Jane Foster!" the woman greeted boisterously, striding right up to Jane and enveloping her in a bone-jarring hug. Jane couldn't quite stifle her little grunt of surprise as the woman squeezed the air out of her lungs before releasing her. "Norns! A genuine Midgardian! And lovely as can be! I should have expected that. Prince Thor could never be faulted for taste. Welcome to Asgard, my dear! Oh, we are truly pleased to meet you, aren't we Finn?"
"Certainly… yes… quite pleased…" The man gave her a small, strained smile and half a wave, before feigning sudden intense interest in the rings on one of the horse's bridles.
"Ignore him," the woman advised conspiratorially, drawing a look of exasperation through his sullen timidity. "Everyone does. He really is as pleased to see you as I am. After all, you're our third!"
"I'm, uh, happy to meet you," Jane said, rallying, "but you've kind of lost me… um…?"
"Oh! I do forget myself sometimes. I'm…"
"Jane Foster," Olafson interrupted, his tone bored, clearly having used up his entire supply of tolerance for the day. "May I present Hilde Vargsdatter and Finn Braggison. Newly admitted novices of the Archive like yourself, a pair thorns in Master Amundson's side –"
"Because we never gave up applying, no matter how often we were denied admittance!" Hilde interrupted with incongruent cheerfulness.
"—and the two remaining members of your triad," Olafson finished, unfazed.
"Nice to meet you," Jane said with an amicable nod. "Still don't know what a triad is."
"Novices of the Archive are assigned to train in groups of three," Olafson explained with an air of strained patience. "One from each of the principle disciplines."
Jane rose her eyebrows.
"You didn't tell me about that…" she murmured, trying to keep any hint of accusation out of her voice, and suspecting failure.
Olafson raised his own eyebrows in a studied expression of innocence.
"I was not to know that Prince Thor did not see fit to share such fundamental information," he retorted, a glimmer of vindictive amusement glinting in his eye.
Jane scowled at him, then pursed her lips, not wanting to seem standoffish, but genuinely troubled. So she had a… what? Team? Squad? Study group? This could change things. What was her role in such a group? What were her responsibilities? And what else are they going to spring on me that nobody told me about?
"The idea is that you will fill in the gaps in each others' knowledge," Olafson added in an apparent show of mercy. "Or in this case," he muttered, "drag each other down in equal measure."
"Right!" Hilde exclaimed, determinedly ignoring Olafson's pessimistic prognosis, whirling around and rushing back to rummage in one of the saddle bags. "I've entered the Order to study the Battle arts. Finn wants a Magic mastery. And since Midgardians are well known for being rather too breakable for proper combat, and have no magic to speak of, that makes you…"
Hilde pulled a bundle from the saddle bag and turned. She shook out a blue cloak trimmed in white, then whipped it around and draped it ceremoniously around Jane's shoulders. Red, green and blue, the three of them now looked like a set, albeit a strangely mismatched one.
"…a Scholar!" Hilde proclaimed triumphantly.
She beamed at Jane, fastening the cloak at her neck with a little silver clasp and adjusting it thoughtfully. Jane looked down at it, surprised, pleased, but nonplussed at the sudden presence of the light, high-quality fabric that now enfolded her. It was the same blue as the gown she'd worn home with her last time she'd visited Asgard. She pinched the fabric between her fingers experimentally. It was such a kind gesture… She wasn't used to such an open and ready welcome into anyone's circle, much less amongst people she'd been warned would ostracize her; to her shame, rather than making her feel better, this warm acceptance left her feeling vaguely vulnerable and exposed.
"Lovely!" Hilde pronounced, looking Jane over. "Though it doesn't quite match what you're wearing… not that it matters, we'll have Novice robes to wear soon enough. Does everyone on Midgard dress that way?"
"Um…"
"Fascinating as I am sure that discussion would be," Olafson interrupted once more, "there will be time enough for you to trade inane chatter later. Right now, I am to deliver you to the palace." He strode over and took up the reigns of one of the horses, swinging up into the saddle with practiced ease, and cast a cool glance towards Hilde and Finn. "The pair of you are free to follow as you will, but Jane Foster is expected. Presently."
"Oh, we're coming!" Hilde declared, slapping Finn good naturedly on the shoulder, hard enough to make him stumble. She swung up into her saddle, and smiled at Jane. "Sooner we get Jane's affairs in order, the sooner we can start training!"
Jane smiled reflexively at Hilde, then frowned hard, eyeing the remaining horse as
Finn climbed, somewhat less enthusiastically, but no less skillfully, up onto his.
"I... I don't exactly know how to…" The three Asgardians turned at her words and favored her with blank, expectant stares. "Um…" she gestured lamely at the horse. "I've never ridden…"
The three went on staring for longer than Jane felt was really called for, as though she'd just told them that the sky was purple and they were trying to figure out if she was being serious. She swallowed hard, and suddenly, awkwardly, felt like she was back in high school, the nerdy weirdo that nobody sat with at lunch unless they needed help with their math homework, who always got picked last for the team in PE, and who regularly had to stop in the bathroom between classes to pick the spitballs out of her hair.
That old familiar insecurity, piqued and amplified by Hilde's easy acceptance and fascination with her, left Jane feeling, irrationally, like she'd already let these people down. It was one thing if she tried and failed. Jane had never minded setbacks. She'd learned to turn them into fuel for her determination, and to come back twice as strong. As long as she was taking the punishment alone, she could run up against as many brick walls as need be to make the world take her seriously.
But if she had a team depending on her…
Jane fidgeted, her stomach tied in knots, and glared helplessly up at the horse. How was she supposed to get anything out of her study here, if she couldn't eve do something as basic as make it to the Archive? Five minutes since I stepped foot on this world, and I'm already confirming their prejudices against my race…
And they were still staring. Olafson sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as though it was really all just too much. Hilde gaped at her openly. Finn blinked a few times, finally looking directly at her; oddly enough, her awkward admission seemed to have eased a measure of his discomfort. Jane's cheeks burned.
After what felt like hours – though in reality it was likely less than thirty seconds – Hilde seemed to give herself a little shake and come back to her senses.
"Truly? Never?" she exclaimed, blinking owlishly as though still trying to wrap her mind around the concept of not knowing how to ride; she acted as though people were born knowing how to handle a horse. Though in fairness, to look at her sitting astride the saddle so tall and sure that the horse seemed to be a part of her, Jane found she could imagine that Hilde actually had been. "How do you get around on Midgard? It's supposed to be a big place. You can't possibly walk everywhere."
The words were laced with astonishment and careless amusement, and made Jane want to bristle in her mortification. But just as she was about to snap something defensive in reply, Hilde swiftly swung down from her saddle, and going down on one knee, beckoned Jane over to the remaining horse and laced her fingers together to boost her up. She offered Jane an encouraging smile.
"I... oh..." Jane said softly, the fight going out of her at the influx of a pathetic amount of relief and gratitude. To her horror, she actually felt the prick of tears trying to start, and gritted her teeth, categorically refusing to humiliate herself that way.
"Don't fret," Hilde said, her voice softening with reassurance. "If you've never done it before, you can hardly be expected to know how it's done."
"Uh… th-thanks…" Jane managed, smiling weakly, but sincerely, as she came over and let the bigger woman help her climb clumsily into the saddle. Hilde lifted her easily and then rose to steady her as she found her balance. She moved with an ease that bespoke not only physical strength, but thoughtless grace; the kind she'd seen in Thor and Loki when they were fighting. A warrior's finesse.
As she found her seat, she turned to see Finn walk his horse up close to hers. Leaning over, he touched his fingertips to her horse's bridle. It flickered with green light, which seemed to soak into the leather and iron.
"That should do for now," he told her. "I've bound your horse's bridle thaumatergically to mine. It will go where I go. Just hold onto the pommel and keep your balance. The spell will do the rest." His smile was small, sharp-edged, more hesitant and difficult than Hilde's easy grin, but not without its own charm, and he was looking at her now as though she really were something like a welcome sight.
"See?" Hilde said brightly as she remounted her horse. "I told you he was happy to see you."
"Don't misunderstand," Finn muttered, a hint of dry sarcasm entering his voice as he allowed Hilde to draw him out. "They say you are already a master on your own world, Jane. So… of course, I assumed you couldn't possibly have any use for a pair of rejects like us. I'm merely comforted to know that there is at least one thing you're hopeless at. It means there's something we two hopeless rejects might be able to teach you."
Jane's eyebrows shot up at that. She thought she really should have been offended somewhere in there, but something in Finn's wry, familiar tone softened the oblique criticism, and she found herself laughing quietly instead.
"I don't think either of you can be as hopeless at anything as I am on a horse," she chuckled. "Honestly, I find you both rather impressive."
"Oh, I really like her," Hilde commented in a faux whisper to Finn, who rolled his eyes and smirked. A little bubble of warmth bloomed beneath Jane's breastbone, and she felt herself smiling broadly before the Asgardians kicked their horses into motion.
Maybe this wouldn't be so difficult after all.
.
"Has she arrived?"
"She approaches the city gates on horseback with her escort and the other members of her triad," Master Grete Dahl replied.
"Very well. See to it."
"Yes your majesty... but if I may ask..." Dahl glanced from where they stood in the high, shadowy alcove of the upper gallery, down into the bright, airy expanse of the throne room far below. "…how much of what you've told me does she know?"
"Less. And more."
Dahl took a deep breath, her jaw clenching for a long tense moment, then nodded.
"I see," she said.
And she thought maybe she even did. She was told what she needed to know to play her part; no more. It was practical. Even wise. And more than that, it was his prerogative as her ruler, and not her place to question it. Even so, it left her uneasy. She didn't know how much she trusted the royal in front of her. How much she could trust him.
Dahl had been a Master of the Archive for five thousand years. It was where she had learned to think, and to question. She questioned now.
But she was first and foremost a citizen of Asgard. If even a fraction of what he'd told her was the truth…
She fisted her hand over her heart.
"It shall be as you command. Prince Loki."
.
At Hilde's instruction, Jane quickly grasped the importance of gripping the horse's flanks with her knees, as well as the pommel of the saddle in a white-knuckle stranglehold. The horses had taken off at what Jane could only describe as breakneck speed, and it had been exhilarating. The salty-sweet spray of the waves crashing below caused the air to shimmer dazzlingly around them in the colored light thrown off by the crystals under the horses hooves, and the wind caught her hair up off of her neck and whipped it out behind her in an exhilarating rush as the horses thundered headlong down the glittering path. It was magnificently surreal. Certain that death was probably only a single twitch of the horse's neck away, but by the time they reached the towering golden gates of the city at the end of the Rainbow Bridge, Jane found herself laughing breathlessly in spite of herself and hardly caring how silly she sounded.
Though she could already tell she was going to be sore tomorrow, she couldn't complain; she was too grateful for Finn's assistance with steering. Between her two new teammates – her triad – at least she wouldn't look like a complete fool riding through the streets. Not to mention, the spell freed from trying to control the horse, and let her concentrate on gaping eagerly at her surroundings.
On her last visit, Thor had flown them directly from the Bifrost platform to the palace doors in his hurry to find out what was wrong with her, and so much had happened so quickly that she'd had no chance to see anything of the land Thor called home except from high windows and balconies. Now she was immersed in the streets and lives of the people she'd only ever seen from above, and her senses were eagerly devouring every sight and sound and smell. Men and women, all elaborately dressed and uncommonly graceful to Jane's eye, moved along the granite flagstone, cobbled byways and seamless marble thoroughfares, under graceful arches and amidst soaring towers, sprawling green courtyards and all manner of buildings constructed in bold, elegant design. People called greetings to one another, merchants did business in store fronts, music and laughter drifted out of open doorways. Despite Jane's unabashed sense of wonder at this new glimpse of an alien civilization, there was an air of relaxed normalcy to the ritual happening all around her. There was a rhythm to the motion of Asgard's daily life, a heartbeat, almost as though the citizens were going through the motions of a dance perfected over ages of practice - comfortably predictable, but beautiful, and never boring.
A strangely incongruous pang of homesickness left a bittersweet ache in the center of her chest. This was the world that had produced Thor. She wished he could have been here with her, to show her the familiar sights and sounds of his home. Such a wonderful place, even at its most mundane; a thousand years in this world, amongst these people, had shaped Thor into the man he was today. No wonder he was such a remarkable man, so much larger than life.
Loki, too… her mind whispered traitorously. She ruthlessly reigned herself in, reminding herself once more that Loki had no place in her thoughts, especially not here and now. Even if some stupid, selfish, possibly insane part of her was harboring some kind of morbid fascination with the man, he was no longer a factor in anything to do with her. He no longer mattered…
If that's true, then why am I so reluctant to think about him? And why is it so hard to stop?
Jane didn't have an immediate answer, and the path her thoughts had to take to search for one made her intensely uncomfortable, so she shoved the question to the back of her mind and made herself refocus on the stunning tableau before her.
It wasn't hard to find a useful distraction. When she wasn't watching the citizenry of Asgard with wide, analytical eyes, she was trying to keep up with Hilde's cheerful chatter. The warrior was ever ready at a moment's notice to talk about anything and everything. She was constantly firing seemingly random questions at Jane, curious about the apparently alien and incomprehensible Midgardian realm. Jane had, in the space of their ride so far, explained the differences between cars, planes and boats, confirmed that Earth was spherical and had only one sun and one moon, attempted to describe an ice cream cone, and assured her that "turning green with envy" was just an expression. By now, Jane felt that she'd earned the right to a few pointed questions of her own.
"So," she ventured, glancing between Hilde and the mostly silent Finn, "how long have you two known each other?"
"Let's see...it must be at least ninety years by now!" Hilde grinned over at Finn, who managed to quirk his lips up in return before the blonde turned back to Jane. Jane distracted herself from the fact that this meant the 'teenager' in front of her was easily over a hundred years old by focusing on the tinge of color that asserted itself high on Finn's cheeks after Hilde looked away. Interesting... "We were both applying for entry into the Order for the first time when we met. The Master of Masters has been denying our petitions every year since." She laughed brightly. "You can only face so much rejection together before you become the best of friends!"
"That is some seriously ironclad determination," Jane marveled. She knew a little something about rejection in academic circles, but not even she could face almost a century of constant rejection and maintain that level of optimism.
"Of course! I have vowed to succeed, and upon my honor I will not fail! I don't know how it is on Midgard," Hilde confided conspiratorially, "but here on Asgard it's generally frowned upon for women to take up the blade. Even so, come what may, I shall become a battle maiden renown throughout the realms!"
"Women aren't allowed to be warriors here?" Jane asked, confused. "But… I met a woman, Sif, and she was an amazing fighter…"
"Lady Sif is Hilde's idol," Finn interjected. Jane detected a hint of acid in his tone, though Hilde seemed not to notice as her expression grew wistful.
"I adore everything about her," Hilde readily confessed with a dreamy sigh. "Beautiful and bold, every virtue of a woman and a warrior. It is my bad luck that she is not a lover of women, and so I have no chance to catch her eye. But it will not stop me from following in her footsteps! If I cannot win her heart, I can at least earn her respect."
She winked at Jane, who was glancing in rapt fascination between her and Finn. Finn, meanwhile, was glaring down at the back of his horse's neck like it had done him personal harm, his eyes full of sullen, unrequited longing. Poor guy… Jane thought, rapidly putting two and two together. She had once had a crush on a guy who turned out to be gay, but it had only lasted a few months. Finn appeared to have been nursing this hopeless one-sided flame for quite a bit longer.
"That's why I'm so glad you're here!" Hilde gushed on, oblivious. "No offense, but you're exactly what Finn and I needed – someone they think just as flawed as us."
"Well… thanks," Jane said noncommittally. "…I think."
"It's true enough," Finn joined in, shaking off his maudlin and rallying at Jane's questioning look, "Not to discourage you before we even reach the Archive, but the reason we've finally been admitted - and you with us - is almost certainly because the Master of Masters expects one or all of us to fail." He smirked sardonically. "Likely in spectacular and entertaining fashion. You see, Hilde is hopeless as a Scholar, and a woman seeking Battle mastery besides. For myself, I have almost no talent for Battlecraft at all, and therefore I am automatically a failure as far as any Asgardian will ever be concerned. And you are Midgardian," he added with a shrug. "Hilde and I won't hold that against you, but don't look for understanding from anyone else."
"Thanks," Jane muttered dryly, remembering only too well her confrontation with Olafson last night, as well as her easy deflection of his suspicion earlier by playing on his preconceptions; she glared at the man's back as he rode several meters ahead, doing his best to pretend that the rest of them didn't exist. "I'll definitely remember."
"It's just all the more reason that we must get to the Archive and begin training to pass standard straight away!" Hilde insisted.
"Pass standard?"
"A test," Finn explained patiently. "We will each be given the subject of our individual examinations upon arrival – which may or may not fall within our chosen discipline, by the way - and a given length of time to prepare. Once we pass standard, we're given full admittance as Seekers, and standing membership in the Order for a period of twenty years, to learn independently or seek instruction as we choose. Within that time we will have to pass mastery; what that entails depends on the discipline, and task the masters of the Archive decide upon. It's different for each Seeker, and if the Seeker cannot pass mastery they lose their membership."
"Okay… but what happens if you don't pass standard?"
"If one member of the triad fails, all three are summarily expelled," Finn deadpanned, causing Jane's eyes to snap to his in alarm. He shrugged. "That's the way of it," he said unapologetically. "Even you, with the Allfather's patronage, won't be able to avoid that tradition. It applies to royalty and commoners alike."
Jane grimaced and turned her eyes forward, thinking hard. Where the matter of the triad had merely made her uncomfortable, this little development was a real complication. Odin's letter hadn't mentioned any of this; how was she supposed to carry out his orders if she couldn't even get past this first hurdle? But he had said that he believed she was up to the challenge. Was this the challenge he meant?
This, or the fact that I'm going to have to spy on these people and report back to him… She frowned harder, and bit down on her lip. That kind of duplicity hadn't sat well with her in principle when she'd thought about it back home – though she'd found it comparatively easy with Olafson. But she didn't much like the man; now that she had met Hilde and Finn, who had been so kind and accepting, her earlier discomfort was compounded exponentially. They seemed like good people; how many more good people would she have to lie to and report on before she was free to pursue her research in peace?
I lied to Thor over and over, she reminded herself miserably. Surely I can manage to betray the trust of a few polite acquaintances… Jane closed her eyes briefly against a wave of self-recrimination. The evidence was definitely piling up. I'm completely heartless.
"What did I say!" Hilde exclaimed, startling Jane out of her morose thoughts. Reigning her horse up next to Jane's, she leaned out over the distance between them and chucked her gently under the chin with the knuckles of two fingers. "Don't fret! They may underestimate the three of us, but won't that make it all the sweeter when we prove them wrong?"
Jane scowled and pursed her lips in the face of Hilde's insurmountable optimism. She might have had something cutting to say to that – and the sour, skeptical look on Finn's face said he might have agreed with her - but fortunately for everyone, the horses rounded a corner, and the golden edifice of the palace loomed up, impossibly immense, before them. Though she'd seen it before, Jane's breath still caught in her throat, her eyes shooting up the dizzying heights of the structure's fluted spires. Craning her neck until her shoulders started to ache, she forced her gaze up towards the soaring pinnacles gleaming in the sunlight. There were surely wonders of architecture throughout the universe, but she could imagine none that could rival this view of Asgard's gilded seat of power. Crouched in its golden shadow, Jane could almost believe, as her ancestors had, that it was the home of gods.
They passed through the beautifully crafted golden palace gates, which appeared to be more formal than functional – no one in their right mind would storm such a monolith on foot – and rode up a wide marble thoroughfare lined with trees and surrounded by formal gardens to reach the main entrance. There they dismounted, Jane nearly tumbling off her horse and saved from broken bones only by Hilde's steadying grip at her waist. Once they were all on their feet again, their reigns handed over to a small fleet of young grooms all eager to be of service, Olafson took off up the broad white stairs towards the massive doors without a backward glance. The triad had to hurry to keep up.
Jane remembered this walk from her first visit, but the grandeur and scale of the palace was not something that diminished with familiarity, and she had to work hard to keep from staring at the scale and grandeur of the place in naked awe. She felt slightly better to see Hilde and Finn making an effort to mask similar reactions, both gone suddenly, conspicuously quiet, and it occurred to her to wonder if either of them had ever been here. After all, commoners didn't generally come to the king's home unless they had some business, did they? It was an odd thing to think that she might know this grand place than they did.
They made their way in silence through a seeming labyrinth of soaring marble columns and gold-lined corridors before they reached the great gilded doors to the vast, cavernous space Odin called his throne room. Here Olafson halted, turning on his heel to face Jane with a thoughtful look.
"This is where we part ways, Jane Foster," he said, his tone indecipherable. "My orders were to deliver you to the doors of the throne room. You go on alone from here. Alone," he emphasized, glaring particularly at Hilde as she made to step towards the heavy-looking doors, before turning his eyes, verdent with cool challenge, back to Jane. "I can only wish you luck henceforth," he said, and Jane heard, to her honest amazement, a note of sincerity in his brittle tones. He swept into a stiff bow, and smirked sardonically at her as he rose and brushed past her, heading back the way they had come. "You'll need it."
"Don't let him rattle you," Hilde muttered sotto voce as he disappeared around the bend. "He's not always so bad, but he's stuffy as they come, and full of himself. No one to heed."
"Brilliant mage, though. Naturally gifted and really quite strong," Finn added with wistful admiration. "What?" he demanded petulantly as Hilde turned a baleful glare upon him. "He is!"
"Go on, Jane," Hilde said after rolling her eyes and turning her nose up at Finn. "Best not keep the Allfather waiting. Tomorrow morning we shall meet you at the palace gates and set off for the Archive. We'll make a day's journey of it, and teach you a bit about horsemanship along the way!"
"It's not in the city?" Jane asked, surprised.
Hilde smiled fondly at Jane, as though she'd said something funny.
"It's not even on this plane! See you tomorrow!"
On that cryptic note, the two Asgardians departed, Hilde chattering excitedly to Finn, Finn following after her with a quiet, watchful air and eyes only for her.
Left alone, Jane looked up and down the deserted corridor, then sagged against the great gilded door to the throne room and took a moment to just breathe, trying to catch up with the nonstop flow of new developments. There was more to this than she'd quite bargained for; and she had an uncomfortable suspicion that she was being led about like a donkey chasing a carrot on a stick. But she couldn't let that matter. Regardless of the games everyone else had her playing, she had her own agenda; she was here now and she had a real opportunity in front of her.
And the man with the answers - and possibly the one holding the stick - was just through these doors. Odin made her incredibly nervous; he also had a penchant for making her angry. She was not looking forward to this. But she was going to have to face him sometime.
"I'm not a pawn," she reminded herself quietly. "I'm a queen. I can move in any direction…"
Denying herself time to be nervous, Jane braced her shoulder against one of the heavy golden doors and pushed. It slid open soundlessly, and fell deftly back into place after Jane had slipped past it into the throne room.
Once again Jane found herself gaping around like a tourist as she moved up the central walk between fat marble columns, feeling like an ant that had strayed too far from its little hill. Literally everything was made of gold and white marble, both so pure that they fairly glowed with their own perfection. Banners of the most delicate silk hung from the ceiling, worked with Asgardian emblems and dyed in such rich, vivid colors that they flashed and winked like precious gems in the breeze of her passing. The ceiling arched even higher here than in the corridors or along the colonnades and her footfalls echoed in the fast empty space, making her feel small and drab and alone, an intruder in this hallowed hall, treading with profane feet on sacred ground. She shivered, and forced her shoulders back and her spin straight, refusing to be cowed.
They are not gods, and I have every right to be here.
Even so, she was half way to the foot of the great golden throne at the far end of the hall before she dared to raise her eyes to it. It stood empty. Jane let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, then pursed her lips, annoyed as much as she was relieved. She came to a halt at the foot of the throne's raised dais, and stood their for long minutes, wondering what she was supposed to do.
Odin had arranged all this. He'd told Olafson to deliver here. Where was he...?
Jane startled at the abrupt advent of quiet footfalls breaking the silence. She turned, eyes scanning the broad expanse of the room, and catching on the approaching figure. Tall, pale, dark haired, arrayed all in green…
For an instant Jane's heart leapt into her throat and the world tilted with a startlingly intense and worrying rush of emotion that lay somewhere between panic and elation…
But… but no…
Of course it isn't Loki! she scolded herself. He could hardly be here…
It was a woman; tall, regal, attractive enough in a severe sort of way, dressed all in the green and gold of a magic master. Her face was unlined, but her dark hair was just starting to streak with gray, betraying her age. She strode confidently forward, her pace brisk but unrushed, utterly at home in her own skin in a way that Jane feared she never would be. This woman looked like she belonged here. These people are too majestic for their own good, Jane groused internally. I'm going to develop a complex…
"Jane Foster, I presume," the woman said, stopping three paces away from Jane at the foot of the throne and sweeping shadowed, intelligent eyes over her before offering a small, diplomatic nod. "I've been looking forward to meeting you."
"Likewise," Jane said, trying to sound as casually inscrutable as the magic master, and winced internally, suspecting she sounded rather supercilious instead. She really was no good at posturing. "So, um, who are you, again?"
The woman smiled thinly.
"I am Grete Dahl, magic master of the Archive."
Jane felt her eyes widen. So this was her contact…
As she worked to assimilate that, Dahl stepped forward and slowly began to circle Jane, her eyes sweeping up and down, openly examining her from every angle before she completed her circuit. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and Jane felt like they might start to burn holes in her skin if she kept staring.
"What?" Jane finally asked, her voice uncertain and a touch more defensive than she'd intended.
Dahl flicked her eyes up to Jane's for a moment, and then twitched an eyebrow up in a gesture that might have been slightly sheepish.
"You must forgive my bluntness, but I confess I am trying to figure out just what it is that makes you so special to everyone…" Dahl murmured.
Jane frowned hard, her brow furrowing. What does that mean…? she wondered. Before she could open her mouth to ask, Dahl's eyes snapped up to hers once more, and the words died on her tongue. Where before there had been a soft curiosity, now her eyes were hard and cold as chips of ice, and full of unyielding demand.
"Tell me," she said, and though her voice was soft and quiet, her tone left no room for denial. "What did you see inside the blue curtain?"
Jane's breath caught in her throat, goose bumps raising to pebble her skin, and she couldn't quite keep from folding her arms around herself in a protective gesture. How did she know…?
"Tell me, child," the magic master commanded her.
"Eyes…" she heard herself whisper. It didn't even occur to her to lie, and once she'd spoken the truth, the relief of sharing her fear was palpable. All her rationalization suddenly fell away in the face of voicing it, and it no longer seemed nearly so innocuous as she'd made herself believe… "Glowing blue eyes, staring at me from… so far away…"
"Did they see you?" Dahl asked; she didn't seem at all surprised by the revelation, but her voice had dropped to a hushed almost-whisper as well, as though not even someone as self-possessed as she quite dared speak of it openly.
"I think so…" Jane said, her eyes losing their focus as she turned inward, recalling the horrible weight of that eternal gaze. "It looked at me… into me… but it couldn't get a foothold inside my head. So it tried to… sort of reach me, I don't know how else to describe it… but…"
"But you were protected," Dahl finished for her. Jane's eyes flew up to hers, wide, shocked, as she drew in a startled breath. The Tesseract had for so long been her enemy, the embodiment of all fear and horror, that it truly hadn't occurred to her to think of it in those terms.
The Tesseract had protected her…
It covets you… Loki's memory whispered to her and she shivered, feeling almost violated by the idea that she might owe the blue spider some measure of gratitude.
And under that, disturbed that Dahl seemed to know a great deal more than she should. Despite the intensity in her air and the gravity of her tone, she spoke as though she already knew the answers she would receive.
"How did you know?"
Dahl smiled at her again, and this time Jane had an idea that maybe this one was an echo of the real thing.
"That's not how espionage works, child," Dahl said, not unkindly. "If you want answers, you have to find them for yourself. Few will give them up for free. And in the future, neither should you." She cocked her head, watching Jane very carefully. Then she extended her hand. "I believe you have something for me?"
Jane stared blankly at her for an instant, then drew herself up as understanding dawned. Brushing back the concealment of the blue cloak, she delved into the pocket of her jeans and carefully retrieved the scroll Odin had sent her. The golden ring of the seal glinted in the ambient light reflected from the throne, gold reflecting gold, like calling to like. Jane swallowed hard, her eyes bouncing between the scroll and the magic master's outstretched hand. The moment seemed somehow disproportionately significant, and it made her hesitate. So many new variables had already been introduced, and who knew how many more lay in wait to trip her up. But she hadn't come this far for nothing.
Jane took a deep breath, gritted her teeth and handed it over.
Their fingers brushed as the scroll exchanged hands.
Green lightning erupted all around them.
Dahl snatched the scroll away from Jane, retreating several steps with a hiss of surprise, pain and dismay as Jane's world dipped and swam alarmingly out of focus for a long instant. Memory rose over her like a tidal wave, the acid green electrical storm in the dark quiet of the hotel room, the amulet a cold, heavy presence against her breast bone… Loki…
No, she shook her head hard, forcing herself to think around the knee-jerk panic that threatened to steal her sense. No. It doesn't just protect against Loki… that's not what it does…
As everything came back together, she was intensely and uncomfortably aware of her own physical presence in relation to her surroundings. Everything was suddenly too nauseatingly real, and she didn't just know that she was in the throne room on Asgard, she knew that she was on the throne room on Asgard, clutching the edges of her blue cloak, the rune pendant around her neck glowing and sparking angrily. It was more than the subjective knowledge of her own experience; it was an objective truth, observed from the outside. The result was a kind of dizzying double vision. She swayed on her feet.
…it protects against unwanted influences. Secret spells. Uninvited magic.
Through the odd twist in reality, Jane glared at the magic master, suddenly too furious to be cowed.
"What have you done to me?" Jane asked, her voice rising. Dahl's mouth was pressed into a hard, flat line, and she watched Jane with a wary, troubled expression. "What did you do!"
"A locator spell," Dahl replied, her voice calm and placating. It only needled Jane further. "It tells the spellcrafter where you are at any given moment. Nothing more. Nothing harmful."
A locator spell. Nothing harmful. But it was harmful, because it was a violation, an invasion of her privacy. She was tagged like a dog with a GPS chip; Dahl and who knew who else would be constantly tracking her movements, constantly watching... Jane shivered.
"Get rid of it," she growled between gritted teeth, her voice hard as nails. "Now!" she shouted.
Dahl just looked at her. At the pendant.
"I'll tell the king," Jane threatened.
"The king told me to cast it," Dahl said evenly.
Jane felt herself blanche, working hard to keep still, as each significant movement caused her perception to shift devastatingly. Everything had spiraled out of her control with frightening speed. She was tempted to hyperventilate, but that would solve nothing.
"Where is he?" Jane demanded softly, the words frigid with outrage.
"Unavailable."
Jane felt like shrinking in on herself under the weight of helplessness closing over her… But she had to be braver than that. She grabbed hold of that cloying fear with both mental hands and fed it into her anger, and instead of collapsing under her own uncertainty, she made herself take a reality-bending step forward. She could feel herself moving through space and time. It was an oddly revolting sensation.
"Remove it," she said, and she hardly recognized her own voice, so full of dangerous command. "Now."
Dahl faced her across the few paces that stood between them for a long, precarious instant. Then she made a beckoning gesture with her hand, rotating her wrist, and her fingers folded into a fist as though wrapping around something that had flowed into her palm. The pendant flared, a green haze burgeoning from it to dissipate into the golden light refracting through the throne room. Without any further warning, Jane was suddenly back inside her own skin, seeing reality from only one point of view. A shuddering sigh of relief escaped her, and it was a feat of concentration to keep her knees from buckling under her for the second time that day.
Dahl was still watching her with steady inscrutability when she'd collected herself enough to open her eyes. Jane watched her tuck the scroll into a fold of her green cloak.
"Let us call this your first lesson, Novice Jane," Dahl said, calm and pedantic as if the confrontation had never occurred. "That pendant is really rather remarkable for a Midgardian artifact. But magic is a fact of life here, and it may not always be enough to protect you. Especially if someone is determined to reach you. You must be always on your guard."
Jane opened and closed her mouth several times, at a loss. Was this woman really going to stand there and pretend that had all been an object lesson…? Dahl ignored her impression of a fish.
"You depart for the Archive in the morning," she said, her tone turning brisk. "Master Arild has sent your possessions ahead. The king has left orders that you have leave to seek hospitality in the palace for the night. Seek out Halvard, the king's retainer, he will see to your needs. I suggest you rest well now; the day ahead will be arduous."
"When will I speak to Odin?" Jane made herself ask. She tried valiantly to match Dahl's easy, matter-of-fact civility, but her voice cracked with the tightness in her throat.
Dahl frowned. "While on Asgard, and an inductee of the Archive, you will refer to his majesty by title and with proper decorum and respect. And the king is a busy man. You will speak to him when he has the time and inclination to speak to you. Not before."
The words echoed Olafson's demeanor from the night before so eerily that Jane didn't have it in her to doubt that it was the truth, or question it further. Asgard wasn't Earth, she reminded herself. The rules were different here. Really, really different…
Unlike Olafson's demeanor last night, Dahl now offered Jane a small, rueful smile that Jane found somehow both insulting and oddly comforting.
"Welcome to Asgard, Jane Foster," she said, an unapologetic note in her voice as she turned to go, heading towards one of the narrow side doors in the shadows of the columns that Jane hadn't noticed before. She paused briefly on the threshold. "A word of advice, Novice," she called over her shoulder. "Keep that steel in your spine. You're going to need all of it where you're going." She glanced back at Jane as she departed. "I do hope you know what you're getting yourself into."
Jane stared after her for long moments after she was gone.
"Yeah…" she whispered glancing up at the empty throne. "So do I…"
.
Loki remained secreted in the shadows behind the throne, back pressed against the far side of one of the great stone pillars, as Grete departed, the tips of his fingers still sparkling with a lingering green glitter of magic. As expected, the spell he'd given her had set off the magic of the protection charm Jane wore in spectacular fashion. It was a perfect distraction.
He smirked as he felt the lingering sheen of green light glimmer on the back of Jane's neck and vanished without a trace. The spell he'd given the magic master to cast had been like a sledge hammer against the pendant's protections. The one he himself had simultaneously cast from his hiding place, hidden amidst the flare of defensive lightning was gentle as a whisper, wonderfully subtle and all but invisible beside the first, slipping past the magical ward with absurd ease.
The runic pendant's charm was, admittedly, a rather excellent one. But with sufficient time and creativity, magic that could not be overpowered could always be outmaneuvered. And the day he was outwitted by some Midgardian hedge witch was the day he bowed down and kissed Thor's boots. He'd set his spell to hover in the spaces between the individual hairs at the base of her skull. As long as Jane didn't shave her head – which he thought unlikely given the fashions he'd observed on Midgard – the spell would remain with her, though it never actually touched her, circumventing the charm's effects.
And with it in place, Loki would be able to track her whereabouts with a thought. That was an essential piece in the game he was about to set into motion.
Revealing his true identity to Dahl was another piece he'd lain on the field, and one he was none too certain he should have played. It was a calculated risk. But no, she was too intelligent by half, too insightful to be ignored without peril, and too great an asset to leave in the Amundson's pocket. She could be of use to him, and not just in this. Even so it made him nervous, insecure, to be so exposed. Made his fingers itch for something to do. He almost wished he hadn't burned the detonator.
No... I can be worthy of you, Jane. You believe even a monster can make a good choice. I will choose to believe it too…
All was in place. Now, everything was about timing. And patience.
His self-satisfied smirk faded as the quiet beyond the pillar lengthened, broken only by the near-silent sigh of his beloved's slow breathing as she worked to calm her nerves. His fingers tightened slowly into fists against a sudden, painful surge of longing. She was right there, at long last, so close, and he could not go to her, speak to her, touch her… not yet.
Patience…
Swallowing hard, he made himself relax. Watching her fire erupt with her outrage, watching her, small, fragile, ephemeral, command a creature that was ancient when the gods of her kind were young, watching her bend it to her will and make it obey… It had been intoxicating. His eyes fell closed against the ache in his chest. My queen… She was magnificent, and he wanted her, every part of her…
And that was why he couldn't afford haste.
It was a delicate, many-layered trap he'd devised; one misplaced element could send the whole affair spiraling out of control, to the downfall of all. He would bide his time and in the meantime he would prove himself worthy of her through stoic endurance of this temptation until his trap could be sprung.
What was it Thor had told her about him? He was the kind to betray you for your own good, then make a joke when you were forced to admit he'd been right to do it. Loki's eyebrow twitched up in reluctant mirth. He supposed now he'd have to think of something appropriately amusing to say if Jane ever thanked him for this.
No… not 'if'. When. She will be grateful. Eventually. Someday...
Loki opened his eyes and pressed his lips into a tight line against a welling of uncertainty; that was something he could afford even less than haste. If only he could...
A terribly reckless impulse stole over him, and before he could talk himself back to sense, he slid silently away from the pillar, turning slowly with every trick of stealth he knew. Carefully, hardly daring to breathe, he peered around the stone pillar into the light of the throne room.
Her back was to him. Her head was bowed in thought, but though her shoulders sagged, her back remained straight, unbent by her consternation or troubles. A secret little smile played on his lips. It was ridiculous to worry that harsh lessons might break her. Jane was stronger than that. Stronger than him, certainly. Stronger than she herself knew…
Her soft brown hair lay in a shining curtain on the vibrant blue of her brand new cloak. It suited her, he thought. But then, he would find her beautiful in anything. Without really meaning to, he took a step forward, his hand across his body, pressed against the cool marble of the pillar like an anchor, hoping against hope to see some hint of her face, even in extreme profile. It was madness, but that was, after all, what she drove him to… another step… then another… almost… almost...
His boot scuffed against the floor.
The room, the enormous, gods-cursed room, caught that tiny sound and echoed it back like thunder.
Jane's head whipped up, turning this way and that, searching.
Centuries of practice and battle-honed instinct were the only thing that kept her from seeing him as he spun back and vanished behind the pillar, holding his breath, gritting his teeth, listening with half an ear for her movement, the rest of him concentrating berating himself for a thrice-damned fool.
"Hello?" Jane called softly.
Loki's gut tightened with a little thrill of panic as the sound of her voice told him she was facing his direction. She could not discover him here… But his only escape route would take him directly through her line of sight. He might be able to use an invisibility glamor, but there was no guarantee it would conceal him from her with that blasted pendant still hanging around her neck…
She was so small, her tentative footfalls hardly made any noise at all as she paced closer to his location.
"Hey... is someone there?"
Loki edged with infinite caution around the column as she paused on the edge of the shadows, peering into the relative gloom, close enough that she could reach around the column and touch him if she stretched out her hand…
He could hear her breathing rate increase, imagined it rushing between her parted lips with a jealous clarity, wincing as he all but heard her decide to venture further into the shadows…
The door to the throne room swung open with enough force to rattle it on its hinges. Jane gasped and spun away from the shadows to face the sound. Loki didn't let himself hesitate. Quicker than a striking snake he darted across the space between one pillar and the next. He caught one final glimpse of Jane, her eyes lighting up with recognition of whoever had just come through the doors. Then he was closing the door to the storage room behind the throne, utilizing the noise of the voices beyond to shut himself in tightly and bar the door.
Turning, he leaned against it, willing his heart to slow before it beat its way out of his chest.
"Fool!" he hissed at himself, breathing hard as he came down over the edge of his panic.
Closing his eyes, he blew out a heavy sigh. Then he slid down the length of the door, and by the time he found himself sitting on the floor, knees drawn up to his chest, he was silently shaking with laughter.
"Never a dull moment, my Jane," he whispered to the cobwebs, giddy with adrenaline and relief and the fresh memory of Jane's face, here on Asgard, here stepping into his web, right here, just where he wanted her.
It was a truth of Jane's existence – she drove him to do crazy, foolish things. And in spite of everything he would have it no other way. He could no longer imagine living on in a world where she wasn't there to drive him mad.
So his plan must not fail.
Behind his eyelids, he pictured the golden gleam of the Idunn's precious apples, and a final wash of nervous tension drained out of his frame. He nodded to himself in affirmation, still chuckling breathlessly, and let his head fall back against the wood, a serenely wicked smile lighting his face.
No more foolish risks, no matter how she tempted him. There was too much at stake, and plenty of necessary risks on the horizon.
Oh, Jane was certain to be furious when she at last discovered his schemes. But if he played his part correctly, it wouldn't matter how long it took her to forgive him. They would have all the time in the worlds.
.
TBC
.
AN: Loki, you naughty boy! What are you up to now?
So very sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. My computer got a bug, files were corrupted, and there are few things in life more demoralizing than losing your outlines and having to rewrite over 15,000 words that you were quite happy with the first time, thank you very much… and then there was work and work and more work, holidays gumming up all the gears, and a bunch of other nonsense that kept me from the really important things in life (fanfiction)… But as you can see, I am not idle, just very, incredibly, snail-crawlingly slow. I still have enough pride to be above begging, but the muse doesn't – he says to say, from where he's kowtowing on the floor, please don't give up on the story, we promise we're working on it!
Like I said, I lost my outlines (*cries*). I rewrote them, but if you notice any continuity errors, please point them out to me in between your furious ranting and throwing things at me for taking too long to post, in the review that I just know you're going to leave to tell me: Who do you think just joined Jane in the throne room? And what do you think Loki is planning?