Chapter 4:

By the time they begin to set up camp, the sun has set, and Jane feels like she might die from exhaustion.

She isn't used to this.

She's always prided herself on being in fairly good physical condition. She works out regularly. Takes at least 30 minutes a day on the treadmill, five days a week.

But this…

After being ill, not five minutes after she and Thor had completely humiliated themselves hurling their insides out, Thor and his brother had gotten into yet another, vicious argument, which Jane had been sure this time would escalate into blows, with her trapped in the middle.

Whatever her curiosity, she has no desire to see two gods battle it out.

Thor had pulled some sort of thin fetter from his belt, one which caught the low light and seemed to actually glow within it.

The moment Loki had seen it hanging loose from the thunderer's thick fingers, his face had hardened, and such absolute rage had flit across his eyes, Jane had unconsciously stepped back and away from him.

The fetter, Thor had announced with no small hint of trepidation as he locked his gaze on his brother, was for the trickster god's wrists, to bind his magic, and Loki had erupted into unchecked protests, screaming at the Crown Prince so intensely, his voice had broken and pitched what seemed several octaves higher.

"You would leave me powerless?!" He'd asked incredulously. "As we traverse across these lands where it is only with certainty we will be attacked before reaching our destination? You would rob me of my seidr once more, when we come to face others of my ilk?!"

Thor had gone on to explain that he couldn't trust Loki, that he couldn't trust him not to turn on them and leave he and Jane abandoned in this world. He had pulled rank, and ordered Loki to obey, or their bargain would be rendered void. He had promised to remove the fetter if and when they found themselves in battle, and a roar of anger had escaped past Loki's lips, before he'd turned away, gesticulating wildly as he muttered to himself that there would be no time in the heat of battle to remove the binds.

Jane hadn't spoken a word, paralyzed to the spot, watching it all unfold.

And when finally, seeing he had no choice, and Loki had submitted himself to Thor, letting his wrists be bound together, Jane had felt the sudden urge to protest against it. The thought that Loki was their only, real defense. The only magic user among their party. The only one who would understand and know how to fight against these elves…

But she hadn't said anything, too afraid, too uncertain.

Afterwards, Loki had fallen eerily silent, leading them on their trek, several paces ahead, his balance compromised for how his hands were bound before him.

Thor had walked with his arm around her, holding her close and protective.

Several hours later, Loki's pace hadn't once slowed, and Jane found herself wondering at the impossibility of his endurance.

After seeing his emaciated, painfully thin body earlier in his rooms, she hadn't thought what ever strength he had would hold out through anything overly, physically vigorous.

But God, had she been wrong.

Thor's own endurance held out the same, but that wasn't any sort of surprise. Thor looked like he could lift a mountain, he was so unbelievably muscular and thick.

But eventually, Jane had felt herself growing faint, her breath wheezing through her lungs in strained huffs, her feet stumbling in weakness beneath her.

She had begged Thor for them to stop, and she had felt her face burn with humiliation when Loki had turned and glared at her accusingly, and then at Thor, his expression clearly conveying the apparently universal 'I told you so!'.

But Thor, blessed Thor, had insisted they stop for the day and make camp, and Loki had only muttered indignantly to himself that at this rate, by the time they reached the city, Malekith will have already mounted his forces fully and been well on his way to sacking what remained of their precious Asgard.

But he had allowed it then without further complaint, and now, the three of them sit awkwardly in silence around a small fire.

It is freezing here at night, and Jane is grateful for the warmth. Even more grateful for Thor's arm around her, holding her close, and the heat of his body. Loki sits across from them.

Alone.

Thor had somehow managed to fit an entire tent into that canvas bag of his, and had promptly went about setting it up, the small structure erected now beside them.

Loki had built the fire, and Jane had found herself watching him in almost mesmerized fascination.

He had gone about, gathering kindle, disappearing for several minutes into the surrounding trees, emerging with his arms filled with strips of wood, all, somehow, almost equally measured.

And with the deftness of experience, he had built the pit and stacked the wood, setting it alight with two stones like it was nothing, coaxing the tiny flame until it had grown into a well established fire.

Jane had realized, watching him, and at his earlier show of endurance and seemingly tireless will to move forward, he was used to this.

She knew from what myths she had read that adventures and quests were a regular thing amongst the gods. Most especially between Thor and Loki. But still, it took her by surprise.

They were, after all, royalty. She'd never had the impression that people in such positions of power and privilege would ever be accustomed to these sorts of hardships, or understand so well how to survive on so little.

Jane has never considered herself privileged, having had to work tooth and nail for everything she's ever accomplished, but she knows she wouldn't last two hours out here on her own.

Watching Loki, she realizes, he could last months out here without a single other soul to aid him.

And somehow, all at once, that both reassures and scares the hell out of her.

Somewhere in the interim he had set up a snare and caught a rabbit, skinned it within seconds, and set up on a pike over the flames, which Jane had watched with a feeling of queasy dismay, and which Thor had simply accepted and partaken in without word, as though he'd expected Loki to catch them their dinner and no thanks was required.

That had rubbed Jane the wrong way. But Loki hadn't reacted at all to Thor's lack of verbal gratitude, or to his tearing one of the poor creature's legs from its body and sinking his teeth into it, and so she had kept quiet about her feelings.

There seemed to be some sort of established dynamic between the two brothers, she was beginning to realize. Loki was their guide, but Thor was unmistakably in charge, and it didn't escape her notice that Thor often spoke to and handled the younger Prince with something akin to dominance. He was rough with the mischief god, and at times what some might call unkind. She had thought perhaps it was due to what Loki had done, what he had become, but Loki's reactions to the treatment, or rather, lack thereof, the sort of quiet, resigned way he took it, it spoke of someone who had long since grown accustomed to such regard. Like it was what he expected, and that had left a distinctly unpleasant feel in the pit of Jane's stomach.

But, she reminded herself grimly, Loki really deserved nothing better. Did he? He was a mass murderer, a would be fascist dictator, an invader, and totally, utterly insane. He didn't deserve to be handled with kid gloves. He'd denied himself the privilege of common courtesy when he'd tried to take over her planet.

So she kept her mouth shut.

Eventually, after sitting still as a statue for long minutes, Loki had reached out and ripped his own leg from the rabbit, Jane watching with an expression of ill-hidden disgust across her features, expecting him to sink his teeth into the meat the way Thor had done not long before.

And so she had blinked in confusion, and stared startled and wide eyed as he'd held the leg of meat out to her, watching her face intently.

Her eyes had flicked up to his, swallowing against the way his already terribly sharp features were thrown into such stark relief in the glow of firelight and darkness around them. He looked like some kind of ghost, pale and ethereal and harsh.

She had swallowed, frozen, and he had leaned closer, holding the offered food nearer, nodding his head.

Again, her gaze had dropped to it, feeling her stomach protest at the sight.

"I… I don't really…" she had begun to stammer. She was starving, having not eaten since earlier that morning, before the attack, the remnants of which she had expunged from her system hours before. But the sight of the meat in Loki's hand, the memory of him skinning the poor creature of it's fur and laying it onto a sharp stick… it all added up to conjure her apprehension and disgust. "I don't think I can eat that." She had finally managed.

And when she'd dared to look up at the trickster god, his face had been one of, at first, blank confusion, and then incredulous annoyance as he'd leaned back and dropped the leg onto the rocks surrounding the fire pit.

"Fine then." He'd spit, not bothering to cover the anger in his voice. "Starve for all I care."

And then he had fallen silent again, sat unmoving across from her and Thor, eyes fixed away, and Thor had reached out and taken up the dropped leg of meat, handed it to Jane, whispering quietly to her that she had to eat, or she wouldn't last.

And finally, Jane had accepted, and once she'd begun eating, it had been remarkably quick she'd finished the meat off.

Only later, when most of the rabbit was gone, did she realize, Loki hadn't eaten anything at all.

And now Thor is dousing the fire, plunging the world around them into greater darkness and taking her gently by the arm, helping her to her feet, speaking quietly against her ear that they should get some rest.

Loki has yet to move from his spot on the ground.

"Brother," Thor begins, voice unusually quiet. "will you not come to bed?"

Loki isn't looking at them still, eyes fixed away, at some distant point across the open space around them.

Several seconds pass before he answers.

"Perhaps later." He replies at last, voice near soundless.

And Thor simply nods, guiding Jane then towards the tent to retire until morning.

She glances back at Loki one last time before moving through the tent's flap, and sees him, knees drawn up, elbows hooked loose round them, still staring off into the distance.

/

Jane starts awake, she doesn't know how many minutes or hours later. For a moment, she is disoriented, and fears grips her as her mind races to catch up to memory, trying to determine where she is.

She feels the warmth of a body at her back, pressed securely against her, the rise and fall of deep, steady breaths, and she remembers…

Thor.

The rest falls quickly into place, and she feels the beat of her heart slow, the burgeoning panic dying in her breast.

She blinks, eyes taking a long moment to adjust to the dark, and she realizes, as her gaze lands on the barely visible crack of the tents flap, and sees nothing but black beyond it, that it must still be night.

And then she recalls him.

Loki.

And in a surge of unease, she sits up, eyes moving about the small enclosure, searching for his resting form, finding nothing but empty space.

Irrational fear takes her.

Thoughts of abandonment, of being trapped on this hostile, alien world. Thor's words from earlier, unable to trust Loki not to turn on them and leave them alone here.

What if he had? What if he'd left them, and they now had no way of escape?!

Thor had told her only Loki was capable of bringing them to and from this world. That the Bifrost had no anchor point here. Could not reach them. That Heimdall could not see them.

Without thought, Jane struggles to her feet, fear threatening to turn again to consuming panic, and she stumbles thoughtless towards the opening.

She has no idea what she's doing. Doesn't know what she'll do, if she finds Loki gone, and her and Thor left on their own.

Doesn't know…

Breathlessly, she grabs at the flaps edge and pulls it back, lurching forward to the outside.

Immediately, her bare arms and the skin of her face are assaulted by the freezing chill of the wind whipped air, and she stops, paralyzed a moment, eyes running over the darkened landscape ahead, tinted blue against the too close stars and three moons above.

And then she sees him.

And both shocking relief and sudden unease take her at the sight.

He is sitting in the same place as when she and Thor retreated back to the tent, staring out towards the tree line, unmoving, but it is darker now outside, and she can tell by it that it has been at least a few hours since.

She watches him a few, long seconds, debating viciously within her mind as to whether she should say anything, or simply go back and lay down beside Thor, try to fall back asleep.

Her debating comes to an abrupt halt when his voice suddenly sounds, making her flinch violently in shock.

"Rest alludes you this night, fair Lady Jane." He says, so softly she just barely makes out the words.

It isn't a question.

She swallows thickly, trying to regain herself, her nerves suddenly prickling with discomfort.

"… How'd you know I was there?" She asks shakily, hating herself for how afraid she knows she must sound.

She can practically hear Loki smirk.

"You will find, Ms. Foster," he says. "that there are very few individuals in the Nine who possess the required stealth to sneak up behind and catch me unawares."

And then he turns, and his eyes are very nearly glowing in the dark of the night, and Jane feels herself tense with further anxiety.

It's just another reminder that these men she's with aren't men at all.

That they're something else entirely, and that thought causes greater unrest in her than she would like to admit.

He gestures elegantly as he can with his hands bound towards the log she and Thor had earlier been using as a seat.

"Please," he says, tone perfect politeness. "will you join me?"

Jane hesitates, scrambling for a reason to refuse.

She doesn't want to be alone with Loki. She knows Thor is just right inside, and if his brother should try anything, all she has to do is call out. But still…

"It's kind of cold…" she tries lamely, and Loki smiles at her. And expression which tells her he knows just exactly how full of shit she really is.

"You needn't be gentle with my feelings, Ms. Foster." He says. "I've endured far greater insult than the refusal of my company. You do not trust me, as well you should not. But please, I should like to have words with you. If you will do me the honor of your conversation, you will have won my gratitude for at least the passing of a day."

He doesn't even try to hide the sarcastic tone of his voice, or the absurdity of his promised appreciation. And yet, somehow, Jane finds herself more desiring to grant his request and sit with him, to talk. She has no idea why.

There is charm in his delivery, she thinks. Improbable, impossible charm.

He is a master of getting what he wants through speech alone.

And without even realizing it, Jane at once finds herself stepping fully from the relative safety of the tent and lowering herself onto the log across from him. Seemingly of their own volition, her arms come up, wrapping around herself in some vain attempt to protect from the cold.

"Here…" Loki says, reaching up and undoing the clasp positioned just below his collarbone, releasing the cloak which lies across his shoulders. It slips from him, and he gathers it up, handing it out to her. "Put this around your shoulders. It will keep you warm."

Reluctantly, Jane reaches out, her thin fingers burying in the soft material, marveling at the fineness of the fabric, and the deep shade of its color.

She stares at it a long moment, before glancing up to the trickster god, who nods in her direction.

"Go on." He says.

She really is cold out here. More than just uncomfortably so. The wind bites, stabbing into her exposed skin like tiny needles.

Taking a deep breath, she at last consents, turning the cloak in a whirl, and letting it fall over her back and shoulders, doing up the clasp. The thing is made for a frame much larger and taller than her own, and it drapes across her arms, encompassing her almost fully.

And, as the seconds pass, she realizes with a start that she can actually feel heat radiating from the cloak, soaking into her chilled skin. Her shock must show on her face, because Loki is grinning at her.

"The cloak is enchanted to keep its wearer warm always and no matter the environment." He explains, sounding, she thinks, almost proud. "There is none other like it in all of Asgard."

Absently, Jane pokes her fingers from underneath the material, running them along the exterior of it, again admiring the plush softness and wondering at the possibilities of something so thin and light being able to exude this kind of heat and keep the outside coldness so well at bay.

"Thank you." She murmurs softly, and Loki simply inclines his head.

They fall into silence for some minutes then, Jane feeling awkward and uncertain.

She keeps stealing glances at the mischief god, but he isn't looking back at her, his eyes once more fixed on the tree line in the distance.

She wonders what it is he's seeing, if he's seeing anything at all.

Her eyes flit to where she thinks he must be looking, and all she can make out is the vague outline of the trees, and darkness.

Shifting her eyes away again, she swallows, pulling the cloak tighter around herself, though she feels no cold now except against her cheeks.

Loki had said he wanted to talk to her, but he hasn't said a single word in several minutes, and she's beginning to wonder if he will at all.

There is an intensity to Thor's little brother which leaves her feeling anxious.

Thor carries no lack of intense presence himself, but it is wholly different from the vibe she feels off of the younger Prince.

Thor is powerful, and charismatic. The sort, she knows, who steals the attention of all upon entering a room.

But Loki causes in her a kind of trepidation. The sort one might feel in the presence of some predatory animal. The way your hair stands on end when you just instinctively know danger is near.

And again, there are his eyes.

In Jane's field, she's had the honor and privilege of working with many an intellectually gifted individual.

But never has she encountered eyes the likes of Loki's.

There is frightening, vicious intelligence there. So sharp, and so clear, she has found it impossible to hold his gaze for more than a few, fleeting moments before she's forced to look away, unsettled.

His perception feels exposing. She can see in the depths of his regard an ability to glean truth from whomever he's turned his attentions on. Ironic, she thinks, for one dubbed Liesmith.

He isn't the sort you want to engage, she's sure. Not if you have something you wish to keep hidden and secret. And everybody has things they don't want known.

She figures that's where the mistrust must come from then, among the other Aesir.

That too obvious intelligence along with Loki's apparent panache for mischief.

And something about that strikes the physicist as unfair.

To be condemned for being too smart?

That has always been one of the great tragedies of human nature, she's thought. To spurn those whose minds worked differently from the general.

She's dealt with her own, fair share of strange looks and dismissive rudeness to know of it firsthand.

Apparently, it is a condition not simply limited to mankind.

"We are being watched."

Her thoughts are disrupted by the sudden sound of his voice, and her eyes snap to him.

"What?" She asks, alarmed.

And she sees Loki nod in the direction of the tree line he's been staring towards all night.

"There, in the trees." He offers. "A lookout party of six. They've been trailing us since our arrival."

"What?!" Jane exclaims, eyes going wide, head snapping in the direction of the woods. "They've been…"

Her eyes search desperately for any signs of movement, any outlines. But she sees nothing.

"How can you see them in this dark?" She asks, confused. And she hears Loki chuckles softly.

"Have you not heard, Ms. Foster?" He asks, sliding his gaze towards her. "The Aesir will have markedly superior eyesight to any mortal, of course. Ah, but I am not Aesir. I am Jotun. A Frost Giant."

He doesn't even attempt to hide the disgust from his voice at the words which fall from his lips.

"A fact I only just recently had brought to my attention." He goes on, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Oh, I did so often wonder and pride myself in the one, physical superiority I had over Thor and all his companions. I should have guessed something amiss at the absolute impossibility of it. But, alas, childish hope and the like. You see, Ms. Foster, the Jotnar hail from a realm far darker than the one we now find ourselves."

He leans forward slightly, almost conspiratorially, as though getting ready to share some great secret with her.

"In Jotunheim, there is perpetual night three seasons out of the year, and what little sun there is, is provided by a white dwarf star, hardly able to penetrate the thick cover of the realms atmosphere. Keen sight is a trait essential for survival in such a harsh, cold world."

For a moment, Jane isn't sure what to say, staring back at him, her unease suddenly growing. He's staring back at her, with no indication of looking away, and finally her eyes slide back to the tree line, and she swallows nervously.

"Are…" she starts, cursing herself for her inability to keep the slight tremor out of her voice. "Are they going to attack us?" She finally asks.

And finally, Loki leans back, his head shaking.

"No." He replies easily, confidently. "The task is not theirs. They only are meant to report back on what they see of us."

"Well, shouldn't, I mean… shouldn't we tell Thor, or…" she tries, frightened despite herself.

And again, Loki shakes his head.

"I think not." He says. "Thor will only insist we engage them."

"But…" she looks back to Loki now. "if we don't stop them, they'll tell everyone that we're here!"

Loki nods.

"Aye. And while normally I would have little qualm in pressing the attack against unarmed opponents," he grins at her, and she feels a chill run down her spine at the expression. "Thor will be less so inclined, because, you see, it would not be the honorable thing to do. But still in his blundering entitlement and confidence, he may reveal to them our plan and position, or unintentionally goad them into attacking us, wasting both our time and energy. We will be faced with more than our fair share of trained warriors and bandits on our journey there. There is little need to worry so over what otherwise will remain a non-threat."

"But, if they report back to their leaders about us…"

"They remain oblivious to my own knowledge of them." Loki cuts her short. And then he bows his head slightly, never taking his eyes from her, a faint smile along his thin lips. "They will be taken care of. I will see to it." He promises.

Jane stiffens, at the not so subtle implications of his words, in trepidation at the prospect of being attacked and, as it sinks in, affront at the way Loki speaks of Thor.

"You really think we'll be attacked?" She asked, deciding it safer to focus away from her indignation.

"It is a certainty." Loki replied quickly. "A matter not of if, but simply when. I would estimate within the coming day."

And at that, Jane feels her face blanch slightly, a queasy feeling blooming in the pit of her stomach.

She doesn't relish the thought of encountering the kind of violence she was exposed to back in the palace again. Not ever. Why the hell did Thor bring her on this trip again?

"The prospect frightens you." She hears Loki say, eyes snapping back to him.

His expression gives nothing away, neither happy nor sad, nor angry. She can't read him at all.

"No." She blurts, unthinkingly.

And then he smiles.

"Come now," he says. "lies are my life's blood. There is little enough use in trying to deceive me."

She looks away again, feeling her face burn in embarrassment.

"A little…" she at last admits. "I guess."

Loki nods.

"I told the oaf not to bring you. But rare has it been he has ever heeded my advice."

Jane feels that same anger reignite in her.

She's had it just about up to here, listening to Loki insult Thor.

She glares at him, frowning.

"Why are you helping us Loki?" She asks, her voice a little more agitated than she would have liked. "I mean, it's clearly not for your brother. And I doubt you give two shits about me."

A small smile tugs at the corners of the trickster god's mouth, sardonic, his eyes sliding away from her.

For a long moment, he is silent.

And then he says…

"There are many reasons for the things I do."

"Yeah?" Jane asks, suddenly emboldened, though she doesn't know why. "Thor says it's for your mother. Because of what happened."

At that, Loki's eyes shift back to her, rapidly, and she sees the first, true hints of anger in his gaze since she met him.

Immediate apprehension fills her.

"Thor is a fool." He says simply, tone caustic and bitter.

And like that, the apprehension goes, replaced once more by the anger.

"Call him all the names you like." She spits back. "But he's the bravest man I've ever known."

Loki's expression is no longer the blank, indifferent mask she's used to seeing on him, but hurriedly shifting into something viciously mad. Something dark and chaotic swirling through his vividly green eyes.

"So easy…" he says, and his voice is nearly soundless. "to sing the praises and virtues of one you've known but an instant. Surely then, your appraisal is of far greater value and accuracy than my own. One who has grown and lived with him for eons of your time."

"I know enough." Jane shoots back. "I'm a good judge of character."

Loki scoffs, turning away.

Jane barrels on.

"I was there." She says, not knowing where this newfound courage is coming from. Not really caring. "I was there when the Queen was killed."

Loki visibly stiffens, going frighteningly still.

"I saw her bravery. The way she fought back. And I know enough about Thor to know he got his courage from her. Which seems like more than you probably ever di…"

Abruptly, Loki is standing, so fast, she hadn't even registered the movement, and he is inches from her, hands reared back, as if ready to strike. His face is twisted in a scowl of such pure hatred and fury, that Jane feels her breath leave her, her voice choking out in a startled and terrified gasp, falling back, expecting the blow to land, to take her head off with it.

But it never comes.

Loki is stood there, frozen, glaring down at her, eyes alight and too clear in the dark.

"You know NAUGHT of what you speak!" He hisses. "Of the Queen, or of Thor, or of me. You will hold that tongue of yours, you insolent whelp, or I will tear it from your mouth and eat it whole myself. Do you understand?"

Jane nods frantically without even thinking, eyes wide and thick with unshed tears, her terror having forced them up in an instant.

She's sees the seriousness of his threat. She sees he would, no matter the consequences. No matter if Thor had threatened to kill him for harming her. He would do it.

"I… I'm sorry." She manages to stutter out. "I'm sorry."

He stares down at her a long moment, unmoving, expression the same, teeth bared in utter contempt.

Before at last, his stance relaxes, his arms dropping.

And he turns from her, stepping away.

She watches, silently, as he sinks to his knees, onto the frozen ground, very nearly slumping forward, head bowed.

"I think it best you return to Thor's side now." She hears him mutter, voice low and tired.

Again, Jane nods, though his back is to her, and without hesitation, she rises, eager to get away from him, back to the safety of Thor.

She begins to fumble with the clasp on his cloak, intending to give it back to him.

"Keep it." His voice stills her movements, and her head snaps up, gazing at his still sagging form. "You have greater need of it than I."

She is about to protest, to tell him it's his. But his voice again stops her.

"Frost Giants, after all, never feel the cold."

And then he falls silent, and Jane says nothing in return, simply stepping back, her eyes locked on him a few moments longer, before she hurries back, into the tent.

Back beside Thor, who hasn't moved an inch in her absence.

She hardly sleeps for the rest of the night, something sick and twisting weighing down in her stomach.

Something which feels too much like guilt.

/

AN: As always, a huge thank you to all of my readers and reviewers. I appreciate you all so much. Apologies, again, for not getting back to all of you, but just know that I read every single one of your reviews, and treasure them. Let me know what you thought of this chapter, and thanks so much again!