A/N: While writing this, I realized I keep making Christians out to be the bad guys. In reality, I'm just trying to portray these moments in history as they really were, so I hope no one is getting offended. This should be the last one to deal with any sort of religiously-centered dispute.
Also, I know some of these beginning chapters might seem slow, but hang in there. Things will pick up in the next chapter, I promise.
Another humongous thank you to Hr'awkryn for being such a marvelous beta!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything having to do with Marvel Comics or any of its creations. I can only appreciate the characters they've given us to work with.
Chapter Three
"The wolves are on the prowl – can you smell the blood? Today the sky will fall."
1349: The Free City of Strasbourg
"It's infested."
"The work of the Jews, no doubt. Their sins are polluting the town."
"More of them arrived just the other day."
"They carry death with them. Something must be done before they bring God's wrath upon us all."
"What should we do?"
The fine hairs on the muzzle of the horse tickled Jane's palm as he sought the carrot she held, but she barely noticed. Reaching up, she distractedly scratched the white line that ran between his eyes and gripped the harness a little more firmly with her other hand when he shifted, lowering his head to affectionately bump against her chest.
For all intents and purposes, she was doing nothing more than handle the horse as Christoph tended to his swollen hock. In reality, she was actively listening to the group of citizens that had gathered around the city well, their voices and the malcontent they held carrying easily across the courtyard.
Strasbourg was restless…
Another horse lumbered by and crossed her line of sight, pulling a cart loaded with planks from the saw mill. When it hit a hole in the cobblestones, the timbers cracked and shuddered loudly, making the horse in her hands jerk and side-step nervously. Jane quickly regained her hold on the animal, but not before his skittering knocked Christoph from the upturned bucket.
"Josefine, if you cannot pay attention, what use are you to me? I do not pay you to daydream and pet horses. Now hold him steady." He continued to grumble under his breath while he righted his makeshift stool.
The truth was that Christoph paid her very little, far less even than the other women who worked for him. Still, sewing new clothing to be sold to the general populace and, on rare occasion, to the nobles at the higher end of society was far easier than her stint harvesting hay, and her wages were just enough to provide the necessities. She had a roof over her head, a fire to stave off the cold winter, and food to eat, which was more than she could say for a great number of the people she'd seen sleeping on the streets when she'd passed through certain areas of France.
So instead of making a comment, Jane bit her tongue and walked the horse in a wide circle to calm him down, eventually bringing him back around to Christoph. Satisfied, he went back to wrapping the hock while she focused more carefully on the task at hand instead of the shouts from the well. She couldn't afford to let the horse get away from her again. If she did, Christoph would most likely send her home without pay.
"They're working themselves into a fury."
Jane glanced over her shoulder to the voice behind her and then to the well. "Again." As the man stepped up beside her, she turned back to the horse. "It happens almost daily now."
"It's to be expected." Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him nod. "Without the power of the town council to protect them, I suspect the city will rise up against the Jews any day now."
The unease had been steadily growing among the people as the pestilence spread throughout the land. There were rumors… dreadful stories of entire cities laid to waste, the people overtaken by a disease that caused them to vomit blood and covered their body in tumors that oozed death.
In the beginning, those rumors had only been the faint whisperings of fear when news of the tragedies that plagued other towns reached Strasbourg's ears by those traveling the trade routes. But all traces of those hushed discussions were over. With most everyone having seen at least some proof of the sickness, it didn't matter that the disease hadn't reached Strasbourg yet.
Originally, the populace's discontent was a weakly burning flame, something that could be contained.
Now, it was a towering pyre, one that demanded a sacrifice.
It had only been a few days, but there were times Jane could still hear the council members yelling as the rioting citizens pulled them from the parliament building. In the end, their stalwart defense of the Jews' innocence in the face of all the accusations had been their undoing. And the new town council was not nearly as understanding as their predecessors. Since they'd been placed in power, Jane had watched groups of Jews disappear into the town prisons and not come out.
Fear, it seemed, had become a dark knight that held the citizens of Strasbourg in his iron fist and pointed his warped blade of justice at the Jews.
Jane spared another glance for the horde. A man had stepped onto the rock that lined the well and alternated between pointing into its depths and gesturing to the far side of the city where the majority of the Jewish population resided. When he made a violent slashing motion across his throat, the mob screamed in support.
"I'm beginning to fear the same thing."
"Heinrich!" Christoph's voice put an abrupt end to their conversation as Jane immediately snapped to attention, head whipping back around to face the horse and hands tightening on the harness.
The man at her side, however, moved slowly, casually crossing behind her and extending his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. "Christoph!" Bravado was laced thick through his voice. "How are you, old friend?"
"I'm not your friend. And I'd be a lot better if my girls would actually get some work done." The last few words were yelled over his shoulder to the faces that had appeared in the windows of the shop at the sound of Heinrich's voice. "I swear, Heinrich, if you don't stop distracting my girls…"
"My apologies, Christoph." To his credit Heinrich didn't even appear to be fazed by the other man's impressive glare. "Considering your rather beautiful worker here has repeatedly denied my attempts at courtship, I was unaware my presence would have any effect on her whatsoever." He deliberately stepped between Jane and Christoph, and her eyes automatically came up to meet his. "Am I distracting you, my lady?"
But before Jane could do anything more than sternly shake her head at him – if he caused her to get sent home without pay, she'd hurt him herself – Heinrich yelped and moved away, carefully stepping over the bucket that Christoph had thrown at him as he rubbed his lower back.
"There's no need to resort to violence."
"I told you to stop distracting my girls! And she's not the only one I'm talking about, either." Jane tried not to stare at the confrontation but failed miserably when Christoph pointed at her. Apparently, she wasn't the only one that failed. The windows had once again filled with the rest of the seamstresses.
Heinrich borderline whined. "That's still not a valid reason to—"
"I said, get back to work!" The faces immediately disappeared, and Jane bit her lip to keep from smiling at the redness spreading across Christoph's face. "I'm going to make sure those empty-headed women are doing their job, and when I get back, you…" He poked Heinrich in the chest. "Better be gone."
With an annoyed grunt, Christoph stomped towards the building, leaving a grinning Heinrich in his wake. Jane, who'd been discreetly watching his retreat around the horse's face, jumped when he called back to her.
"Josefine, put the horse up and go fetch some water." Then he vanished into the structure.
Breathing a quiet sigh to ease some of the tension she felt, Jane led the horse to the stable. Having grown up together, Heinrich always knew exactly how to push Christoph's buttons. But while it was, without a doubt, amusing to watch, the confrontation between the two men only made her think of the unrest in the city.
"He's turned into quite the unpleasant fellow over the years, hasn't he?"
"I couldn't say. He's been that way since I first arrived." Closing the stable door, she grabbed the water bucket and began to make her way to the well. Thankfully, at some point during her preoccupation with Christoph and Heinrich, the mob had dispersed.
"Well, I can certainly vouch that he wasn't always… how he is now." Heinrich fell into step beside her. "But then, the times have grown dark as of late."
Considering how things had regressed just within Strasbourg, Jane could only imagine how gross an understatement that probably was in regards to the surrounding countries. "I take it things haven't looked promising in your travels?"
"No, they haven't."
Heinrich was notoriously well-traveled, his business dealings often carrying him from one country to another. He'd been from the southernmost point of Italy to the western shores of Spain and up to England. One time, he'd even regaled her with a harrowing journey into Russia. So the implication that the state of affairs was dismal everywhere else only confirmed her thoughts.
They were silent the rest of the walk to the well, but once they reached it and she prepared to draw a bucketful of water, his hand darted out to touch her forearm.
"Josefine…" Startled, her eyes darted to his, and as quickly as he'd reached out to her, he pulled away. He seemed so unsure, the swagger so common with him melting away into something far more real. "You need to leave this place. I don't say it simply out of a desire for your company but out of a genuine concern for your well-being. Something is about to happen. I can feel it."
It would be a lie if Jane said she wasn't surprised by his request. Despite how often Heinrich had shown an interest in her, she'd always been more inclined to write it off as playful flirtation and friendship. But personal interest aside, she knew he was right. Even though Strasbourg had yet to be consumed by the pestilence, it was already being consumed from within by its own people and their fearful rage.
"The rest of the land is in chaos. I wouldn't have you caught up in that when it arrives."
The use of when instead of if wasn't comforting in the least. Instead, Jane felt something ominous settle in the pit of her stomach. "If everything is as bad as you say, where would we go?"
"North." Heinrich broke their gaze to watch another man approach the well but continued talking, albeit softer. "It would be dangerous to make our way back through France, but if we can get to the English Channel, we can make it safely to Iceland."
Deep in thought, Jane picked at the metal rim of the bucket. She had no qualms about leaving Strasbourg. It was one of the few places where she hadn't forged any real emotional ties, which meant there was little that incited her to remain. But to journey back through France… things had been starting to disintegrate when she'd passed through two years before. Travelling through the country now would be to willingly court death.
Her immortality would do nothing to stave off disease.
But what other choice did they have?
The other man drew closer, and unwilling to be heard, Jane turned her back to the well and tried to appear casual as she stared back at the stable. Rumors of sickness weren't the only thing that had been reaching Strasbourg. She'd heard several accounts of people attempting to flee towns only to be killed under the suspicion of having been one of those bringing down the pestilence because of their sins. It wouldn't do for their discussion to be overheard.
Jane whispered under her breath. "When would you leave?"
"As soon as possible. My men are ready. They wait only for my word."
Heinrich spoke just as quietly, and she found herself wondering again at what all he'd witnessed. Had he seen people trying to escape only to be killed? Had he seen the sick houses that contained those succumbing to the spreading death? Had he seen the purported mountains of bodies piled outside town walls or the massive graves in which they were half-heartedly buried? Had he seen the scavenging animals dig the bodies from their shallow tombs to gnaw on the remains?
She was still contemplating her reply when the sound of footsteps stopped behind her.
"And what are you two doing loitering about the well? Seeing how your bucket's still empty, you're clearly not here to fetch water. I know you weren't tampering with the well."
Heinrich's eyes briefly flicked to hers. There was an edge to the man's voice, the last statement coming out in a dangerously suggestive drawl, but Jane turned to face the newcomer. Wendelin. The same man who had been stirring the mob into an uproar earlier. Immediately, a placation was on the tip of her tongue.
"I assure you, sir, we're only here to retrieve some water for Christoph, but while here, we became distracted with what your group was discussing earlier. We saw the gathering but were unable to join you. Is there any news from the council?"
She spoke smoothly, reassuringly. At some point in the past three centuries – between concocting stories of her heritage, her family, her very existence – Jane had learned to lie quite convincingly. However, her skills at deception could have been barely meager and it wouldn't have made much difference. The thought of bringing in more supporters to his crusade apparently made Wendelin willing to accept any excuse.
He nodded, face darkening at the topic. "Yes, I heard the council has taken more than one thousand Jews into custody. They're to be questioned."
"Questioned?"
"Have you not heard, girl?" The man eyed both Jane and Heinrich suspiciously for a moment but continued. "They're conspiring to put an end to the rest of us."
Lifting his chin to the left, he indicated to a group of Jewish women on the far side of the courtyard. Even across the distance, Jane could see their anxiety. Eyes trained on the ground, heads lowered, shoulders hunched in trepidation… they clung to the shadows next to the buildings as they discreetly made their way home.
"The Jews have been poisoning the wells in all the cities around here. It's only a matter of time before they begin to poison our water supply as well so they can watch us die."
It was a ridiculous notion. What sense would there be in the Jews poisoning the water if they had to drink from it also? Poison was poison, deadly to anyone and everyone that consumed it. They wouldn't be immune to its effects.
A motion caught Jane's attention, and her focus darted from Wendelin to a couple rats that scurried across the cobblestones. The rapid growth of the towns over the past few years had attracted the rodents, which were now nearly as plentiful as the humans, if not more so. They lived, scavenged, and bred among them, their population growing ever larger, and there was little anyone could do about it.
Fighting a disgusted grimace, she watched them disappear into the larders of a distant house. It wasn't the first time she'd had the idea that maybe – just maybe – the rats were more at fault for the spreading sickness than any believed immorality or religious bigotry. After all, they were literally everywhere. But it only took being scoffed at once by several of the townsfolk for her to keep the idea to herself.
Still…
"All the new law keepers need is a confession for them to face the consequences of their sins." Expression twisted in loathing, he spat in the well. "Filthy Jews." Then he turned on his heel and stalked off.
Jane silently watched Wendelin disappear into the crowd before leaning over the edge of the well. The reflection of the sky outlined her dark silhouette in the water below. She didn't know how to explain it, but she just knew the epidemic wasn't caused by anything humans had done, be it poison or sin. The only thing dirty about the water in the well was the spittle that floated on the surface, spewed from a prejudiced and intolerant mouth.
"Will you come with me, Josefine?"
The bubbles popped and disappeared, but the sentiment behind it remained. It festered, spread, devoured. The entire city was infected with it. She needed to leave.
"Yes."
Heinrich gave a curt nod of approval. "I'll give you the night to pack your belongings. We leave in the morning."
One of Jane's earliest memories was of her mother. It was indistinct, fuzzy from years of other memories piled on top of it, but she didn't need images to remember the hundreds of other details that comprised the moment.
The room spun around her as she bolted upright with a yell, heart racing with fear and hand clutching at her chest. Immediately, her mother was there, the cot dipping with her weight as she pulled her into an embrace. She sat there and listened to her mother's slow, steady heartbeat until her own heart calmed to match it. Only then, did she become aware of the murmured words and the comforting hand that gently stroked her hair.
"There is nothing to fear. The dreams are just dreams. They cannot harm you, nor can the darkness of the night. Never fear the night."
Gradually, her muscles relaxed, and as the tension seeped away, it left her boneless and sagging against her mother. Never ending the embrace, they stretched out on the cot. A piece of straw poked at her back through the fabric beneath them, but she didn't even care, just listened to her mother repeat the phrases over and over.
"There is nothing to fear. The dreams are just dreams. They cannot harm you, nor can the darkness of the night. Never fear the night."
The wind howled beyond the dwelling while the wooden beams creaked under its force, but the fire in the hearth crackled merrily. Its heat spread out to warm her face, and by its dim light, she stared up at the crisscross pattern of the thatching overhead. Fingers began to comb through her hair once more. Closing her eyes, she fingered the heavy wool blanket.
"There is nothing to fear. The dreams are just dreams. They cannot harm you, nor can the darkness of the night. Never fear the night."
They breathed in time with each other – rise and fall, rise and fall – and she mouthed the words.
"Never fear the night."
It was funny, in an ironic sort of way, how similar her first and last memories of her mother were. They were both in the same dwelling with the crosshatch roof and the cot that was her bed. They were both accompanied by the same sound of winter wind and popping fire. They were both set to the same words. Only, when Jane pressed her ear to her mother's chest that last time, she'd listened to the slow, steady heartbeat that had calmed her countless times through the years slow… and falter… and stop.
On her deathbed, her mother had told Jane to never fear the night because, after all, the dark was only caused by an absence of light. And that thought usually helped her when the weight of the past came up to haunt her.
But during that last night in Strasbourg, the dark churned with terrors.
All through the night, Jane tossed and turned as sleep eluded her. And the few times she did manage to fall asleep, she was immediately woken by nightmares that left her drenched in sweat. They were terrible things, full of fire and screaming and a weight so heavy it stole her breath. But as frightening as the nightmares were, wakefulness wasn't much better. Not when the silence of the night was torn apart by the intermittent screams of the tortured Jews.
The cries brought back raw memories, images and sounds cutting through her and ripping at her heart. Usually, she'd draw on the companionship of those around her to push away the past, but here in Strasbourg, she was alone. And being alone only made the pain of the past that much stronger.
There was blood-stained grass and the flashing edge of a sword and the wet sound of cleaved skin and a limp hand in hers, and all she could think was that three hundred hears hadn't changed the world in the slightest and that mankind could still be so very ugly.
So Jane laid there in the dark, unwilling to sleep and face the nightmares yet unwilling to remain awake and face the screams. She placed the pillow across her face, pressing the ends firmly to her ears to try and block the sound. Then, with her breath hot and moist in the narrow space, she whispered to herself.
"Never fear the night."
"Never fear the night."
"Never fear the night."
And if she truly concentrated, she could almost feel the soothing motion of fingers through her hair.
When the sky began to lighten with the first hint of dawn, Jane had never felt more relieved.
The covers were thrown aside haphazardly, and she stoked the fire to chase away the chill in the room before moving to the window to watch the coming daybreak. She was to meet Heinrich at the city gates when the sun had fully risen, which meant there was still time to waste. Nevertheless, she dressed quickly and attempted to tame her hair into something presentable, although those efforts were abandoned in favor of plaiting it into one, long braid when the curls refused to cooperate.
She'd just finished gathering the last of her things and had begun to tie the tails of her makeshift rucksack when she spied a movement in the shadowed corner of the room. Her hands faltered slightly, the fabric slipping through her fingers, but she resumed the task without looking up. She didn't have to. She knew who it was.
"What are you doing here?"
The shadows stirred, and out of the roiling stepped a familiar figure. Even in her peripheral vision, Loki was unmistakable. "I would think that fairly obvious. I'm certainly not here to admire the décor."
He moved to the small table in the corner, trailing a finger across the footboard of the bed as he went. She didn't respond, though. Instead, she silently looped the last ties of the rucksack into a knot and listened to him fiddle with the dishes on the table. When she finally straightened, he was holding her teapot and staring at her with an inquisitive expression.
"Are you well, Jane?"
The restless night had left her feeling bland, something Loki was clearly able to pick up on, but she was unwilling to discuss the particulars of why she'd been up all night with him. "What makes you ask that?"
"You seem… off." Lip curling, he glanced out the window. "Not to mention Midgard reeks of illness."
With a sigh, she dropped the pack by the door and began to straighten the bedcovers. "If you're wondering if I'm sick, the answer is no." Not yet, anyway. "Even if I was, I don't see why that would matter to you."
"In all honesty, it doesn't." Her eyes flicked to his, then rolled at the hint of a smirk pulling at his mouth. "But if you were to join the ranks of the dead, this realm would become significantly less interesting. As it is, the vast majority of it is dull."
Jane wasn't quite sure whether to be annoyed by his combined presence and backhanded compliments or grateful for the opportunity to focus on something else in the hopes that the lingering images in the back of her mind would disappear. In the end, she decided on neither and settled for indifference.
"Well, I'm sorry to say this, but I don't have time to entertain you today." A bright sliver of light cracked the edge of the horizon. Before long, the sun would be completely up, which meant she needed to start making her way to the gates.
With one last look at the room – she deliberately let her attention slide over Loki without focusing on him – she crossed over to the door and reached down for her rucksack. But just as she was getting ready to throw it over her shoulder, the church bell tolled and startled her so much that she dropped it with a thump, instantly looking to the window.
It was too early for any type of service to be held at the church. That wouldn't be until later in the day. So if it wasn't to announce the beginning of a service, then the bell was meant to call the citizens of Strasbourg to attention, which meant…
Jane wrenched open the door just as the first yells reached her ears. In the hallway, others made their way downstairs, some blearily and some with an excitement that made her apprehensive. She hesitated for only a moment before joining the stream of people. It wasn't until she'd exited the building that Jane remembered that she'd left both her belongings and Loki upstairs, but when she started to turn, a hand pressed to the middle of her back and urged her forward.
"Keep going."
Jane couldn't turn her head enough to catch more than a partial glimpse behind her, but apparently, Loki's voice was as unmistakable as the rest of him. There was no doubt it was him behind her.
"But I need to—"
"You need to not appear suspicious." Leaning forward, he spoke lowly in her ear as he steered them along. "If you leave now, you will only draw attention to yourself."
Part of her grudgingly admitted he was right, but another part called him a liar because if anything would draw attention to the pair of them, it would be Loki and his strange clothing. With a sharp motion, she whirled around, mouth already open and ready to chastise him for being a hypocrite, but it snapped closed when she came face to face with Heinrich.
She spluttered, taken aback. "Heinrich?" But his face twisted in a withering look that didn't belong to the man she knew.
"Please…" Heinrich might have been standing before her, but it was Loki's sarcastic voice coming from his mouth. In the future, she'd have to tell him not to take the form of people she knew. It was unsettling. "I don't think the rest of these mortals would take kindly to seeing me as I truly am." He spun her around and pushed her forward. "Now move."
They trailed along near the end of the crowd, passing through the city like a herd of cattle until they finally came to a stop in the main courtyard. With everyone in attendance, the bell pealed one more time before stopping, the air reverberating with its ringing sound. The mass of people effectively blocked her view, but Jane craned her neck anyway, trying to see the purpose for the gathering.
When she did, she almost wished she hadn't.
Between a woman's head and a man's shoulder, she was just able to make out a platform, the new leader of the city council standing in the forefront, and a horde of Jews tied up behind him. The councilman was speaking, but the particulars didn't register. Words filtered in through the noise around her.
Sin…
Poison…
Repercussions…
But all Jane could hear was blame, blame, blame.
As the man continued to speak, the people around her began to mutter among themselves. Soon, the mutters turned to talking and the talking turned to shouting and the shouting turned to wild cheering when another man appeared on the platform carrying a torch. The crowd surged, and Jane dimly felt Loki's hands steady her right before his chest pressed to her back when they were shoved together.
"They're trying to kill us!"
"God punishes the rest of the land for their transgressions!"
The vile statements filled the air while the mob pulsed with an energy that set her on edge and made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. The people were like rabid beasts, frothing at the mouth.
"Burn them!"
In a daze, Jane looked from person to person and saw nothing but panic. It wasn't hate that was driving them to act the way they were but a primal fear of the death coming for Strasbourg. The problem with fear was how quickly it could take hold and push away common sense, how quickly it could make people turn on others, how quickly it could make offering up an entire community of Jews seem like the logical action.
As the councilman stepped back, the man bearing the torch stepped forward and, one by one, lit the kindling beneath the stakes.
Her glimpses of the platform were interspersed, blocked by nodding heads and raised fists, but just the occasional view left her stunned and mute with horror. The flames rose to lick at the bound people, and Jane's hands rose with them, covering her mouth as she shook her head in disbelief.
Here, again, was the proof of how rotten people could be at the core, how wicked, and she absentmindedly wondered why anyone – mortal or immortal, human or god – would want to bear witness to it. Why was he even here? Why was she here? But then a different kind of scream began to pierce the air. And she wanted to turn and bury her face in Heinrich's chest but couldn't because it was Loki…
Her thoughts faltered.
Loki.
Then they took hold again.
With difficulty, Jane began to turn. Her elbows dug into the ribs of the people around her in a bid for more space, but they didn't even notice, intent on watching the scene on the platform. Still, she managed to rotate until she was facing the Heinrich that was Loki. Ignoring the improper way they were pressed together, she stared up at him.
"Loki, help them." He blinked once, looked down at her, then blinked once more and looked back to the platform. "Save them!" She was yelling now, pleading, clutching at the shirt he wore. "I know you can save them, so save them!"
Later, she would realize the jeering shrieks of the crowd drowning out her words probably saved her life. With their current mentality, had any of them heard Jane wanted to save the Jews, they would've offered her up to be burned alive as well. At the time, though, she didn't care.
"Why won't you save them?" A hard jerk on the shirt brought Loki's attention back to her. "Why?"
"You know I do not meddle in the lives of mortals."
Jane's mouth fell open. He didn't want to meddle with mortals' lives. Loki didn't want to meddle with people's lives. The hypocrisy, the insincerity, the absolute injustice of it burned at her, and before she could even second-guess her actions, she reached up and slapped him.
Instantly, her hand was caught in his crushing grip. It didn't matter that it was Heinrich's face she'd struck or Heinrich's hand that held her own. It was Loki's strength that threatened to pulverize the bones in her wrist.
"Careful, Jane."
And even though he sounded calm, the sinister warning in his voice was stark.
Over the past three centuries, Jane had begun to think of herself as a fairly intelligent person. Through careful observation and the occasional instruction, she was fluent in five languages and was probably more learned than any ladies who were allowed to attend studies. However, intelligence and wisdom were too very different things, something she demonstrated superbly when she continued yelling at Loki.
"No!" His chin lifted marginally, evidently unused to hearing the word. "You saw fit to meddle with my life! Why can't you do the same now?"
"That was different."
"No, it wasn't!" When she lifted her other hand to hit him, he arched an eyebrow, daring her to try. She settled for clenching her fingers into a trembling fist instead. "A life is a life, no matter if it's mine or theirs."
He watched her fist lower to her side before meeting her frustrated gaze with his own blank one. "What would you have me do, Jane? Don my armor and descend from the sky like the god all you humans believe me to be?" She swallowed hard, still unwilling to accept defeat. "I cannot save them without causing chaos."
"But how can you just stand there and do nothing?"
How could he do nothing when the screams were growing louder and the fire was burning hotter and the air was filling with the stench of burning flesh?
"Because I know not everyone can be saved. That's not how the realms operate." Releasing her hand, he broke their stare and lifted his head back to the platform. "You will learn that too… eventually."
Jane needed to do something.
She needed to scream. She needed to cry. She needed to sit down. She needed to run. She needed to live. She needed to die.
Something.
Anything.
But there was nothing she could do to help the people burning on the platform without ensuring her own death in the process, and there was nothing Loki could do without meddling in their lives. And in some small, reluctant part of her brain, she recognized the truth of his words. It wouldn't be right for her to go through life picking and choosing who gets to live and who deserves to die simply based on where she lived at the time. Saving the Jews in Strasbourg wouldn't prevent another town from rioting against them as well, nor would it prevent the rest of the country from succumbing to the epidemic.
She couldn't play God.
Without warning, a sharp pain flashed through Jane's skull and sent tears to prick at her eyes. The suddenness of it took her by surprise, and she struggled to comprehend what was happening even as she felt herself fall to the ground. The cobblestones dug into her spine while someone stepped on the tips of her fingers, but it was the rancid breath in her face that gathered her attention.
"Around here, women don't strike men unless they wish to be struck back." The unfamiliar man tightened the fist he had twisted around her braid. "Do you fancy a slap across the face?"
Still grimacing with the pain, Jane did the most inane thing she possibly could have done in that moment: rear back and spit in the man's face.
With a low chuckle, he wiped it away. "Seems like you need to learn a few manners."
But before he could say anything else, before he could even move, a pale fist connected with his head, snapping it viciously to the side, his crouched body following closely as he fell from his previous position above her. He tumbled against the legs of the people around them, but they only stared at the exchange for a moment before rearranging themselves around his now unconscious form and resuming their cheering for the fiery spectacle that continued.
Wincing at the sore spot on the back of her head where the man had jerked her hair and cursing her stupidity for hitting Loki – at least in public, her mind snidely corrected – she looked up to her rescuer and was shocked to see Loki.
Not Loki disguised as Heinrich, but the real Loki.
Speechless, she stared at him, taking in the harsh frown he issued to the man beside her. It wasn't until he looked back to her and noticed her shock that his face slowly slid into a look of disbelief, realizing his charade had slipped. He was still dressed as Heinrich, but the body in the clothes was his, the features all his own. Confused, now, he glanced between his hands and her on the ground.
"Josefine!" Jane blinked and saw Heinrich once again, only this time, it was the real Heinrich, looking worried, anxious, and utterly perplexed as he pushed through the last few people to fall to his knees beside her. "Josefine, are you alright?" His hands grasped hers. "Are you hurt?"
"I'm…" Using him as leverage, she pulled herself to a seated position. "I'm fine."
"If you wish to leave, I suggest you do so now."
In unison, they both turned to Loki. The look of surprise was gone, replaced with a carefully-crafted blankness, but Jane could see the remnants of whatever had bothered him so much in the uncertain glint in his eyes. Heinrich, however, wasn't nearly as caught up in that glint as she. Instead, he was helping her to her feet and checking her over for any more scrapes or bruises while she stared at Loki.
"Thank you." The words came out softly, her voice a little breathier than expected.
Loki dipped his head in a shallow nod of acknowledgment. Then he stepped aside to allow them a path out. Unwilling to wait another second, Heinrich's hand found her upper arm and began to pull her away, leading her through the wild fray to the abandoned city gate nearby.
And just before Heinrich ushered her from Strasbourg, Jane turned around long enough to see Loki still standing where they'd left him, staring at her intently, a motionless force in the middle of an angry tempest.
A/N2: History fact for this chapter – the citizens of Strasbourg were prepared to kill the roughly two thousand Jews that lived there at the time. They were arrested and forced into giving confessions about poisoning water supplies before they were sentenced to be burned at the stake on February 14, 1349. In the end, about half of the Jews were willing to be baptized and were allowed to live, but those that refused were killed. The people of Strasbourg did so thinking it would save them, but the plague struck regardless and ended up killing about sixteen thousand people.
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