Thank you all so much for your patience! I dearly hope you enjoy this next chapter!

For this chapter I listened to the Thor 1 soundtrack "Science and Magic" a few times, followed by The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe soundtrack "Lucy Meets Mr. Tumnus."

VVVV

CHAPTER SEVEN

"She had never known that ice could take on so many shades of blue:

Sharp lines of indigo like the deepest sea,

aquamarine shadows,

even the glint of blue-green

where the sun struck just so."

Malinda Lo

VVVVVV

Jane sat back in the armchair, wearily tucking her feet up underneath her and folding her arms. She sighed, her brow knitting as she leaned the side of her head against the wing of the chair. She gazed down at him, her whole body aching.

Loki lay on his back, parallel to the fireplace, his feet toward her. He'd sobbed in her arms for hours, senseless and completely exhausted, shaking so badly she felt like she'd literally been holding him together with her own hands.

Finally, he'd mercifully lost consciousness, and his erratic, panicked breathing had calmed down. She'd then lifted him, turned him, pulled him and nudged him, all very slowly and very gently, until he could lie down. Then, she'd found a pillow, carefully lifted up his head and rested it there. Then she'd dug out a blanket and draped it over him.

Tearstains still glimmered on his cheeks and temples. But the binding tension in his forehead and mouth had eased, and softened in the firelight as he slept. Years and scars and darkness lifted from him—almost like layers of dust and grime and blood from a splendid piece of armor—ennobling his features, giving them youth and color, until Jane could almost catch a glimpse of…

She sighed again, pressing her fingertips to her mouth. Then, she crossed her arms again and shook her head.

She didn't know this man at all.

And yet—she knew enough.

"Poor thing," she whispered. And that was all she could manage.

VVVVV

Loki slowly opened his eyes. Everything was hazy, blurring together with shades of dark and light…

Warm.

Soft.

He blinked, swallowing, and sighed drowsily, adjusting his head...

His surroundings focused.

And deep inside him, he frowned.

He was home.

In his own chambers. At home.

In Asgard.

He glanced down. He wore his loose white night clothes, his head rested halfway on a thick down pillow, and sheets and thick fleece blankets covered him up to the middle of his chest.

He knew the room in an instant. The smell of candle wax and cinnamon, the dark walls, green drapes, the four-poster bed with embroidered curtains, the balcony off to his left, thrown open to the morning light…

Except…

Wait.

A beautiful mahogany vanity sat just off there, against the wall to his right. Wooden-handled brushes and combs; vials and bowls of makeup, and sparkling jewelry covered it.

He frowned further. Then…

Humming.

Soft, careless humming.

A woman's voice.

He turned his head—

She walked through the room, away from him. Wearing a long, sleeveless white nightgown that rustled with her movements. Her doe-colored hair hung loose, a little disheveled. She hummed to herself as she picked a green velvet dressing gown off of a hook, swept it around her, put it on and tied the sash.

Loki swallowed again, staring at her.

She turned, caught his eye, and smiled radiantly.

Jane.

It was Jane Foster.

"Finally awake?" she asked playfully, sashaying back toward him. She caught hold of the post at the foot of the bed, leaned against it and cocked her head at him, her eyes sparkling. "You know it's almost lunchtime. Your mother will be up here any second to beat down the door."

Loki couldn't speak. His head spun—but he couldn't look anywhere but at her. Everything about her shone with fresh, well-rested, happy beauty. The way her uncombed hair fell across her shoulders looked absolutely enchanting, and the mix of white and green that she wore set off the glow of her skin and the brilliance of her eyes. She casually ran her hand through her hair, turned to the side and yawned.

"I'm still sleepy, though," she admitted, her eyes watering. She cleared her throat, came closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, next to his right hip.

Loki's heart started beating faster.

"I doubt either of us got to sleep before three in the morning," she sighed again, rubbing her face. She ran her hands through her hair once more—and Loki's heart stuttered before thudding again.

Something had flashed on her left hand.

"This routine is wearing me out!" Jane confessed, dropping her hands into her lap. "We need to make your parents take a turn."

Loki had no idea what she was talking about. But he still couldn't summon any words. She glanced over at him—considered him, and smiled, lifting an eyebrow.

"But look at you," she remarked. "I look like a wreck and you look…" she shook her head in disbelief, chuckling as she gazed at him. "What did I do todeserve such a handsome husband?"

Loki's heart stopped.

Then—

Jane reached out with her right hand and touched his face.

Thrills shot down through his whole body. He shivered, and his eyes fluttered as she caressed his cheek with her thumb, then gently stroked a strand of hair away from his face. His thoughts bumbled into each other, then got lost in an incoherent jumble.

The bed creaked.

He opened his eyes.

She was leaning toward him.

Loki's pulse skyrocketed. Her lovely, soft face neared his. She glanced down at his mouth.

His lips parted and his eyes widened.

She was not going to—

She pressed her warm lips to his.

She did.

And Loki drowned.

He reflexively pulled in a deep breath of her, then sighed as she pressed deeper, tenderly slipping her hand down to the side of his neck. Loki's heart hammered so fast there was no space between beats. Her hair fell all around him, brushing against his skin. She tipped her head, changing the kiss just slightly—sending jolts and sparks all through Loki's chest.

Oh, what was this? What was happening?

Dizzying—delicious—foreign—familiar

He couldn't think, his heartbeat thundered in his ears. Heat flooded his body—

Their mouths broke apart.

She withdrew.

No!

Loki's eyes flew open and he almost sat up, unconsciously mouthing the word "more."

She stopped, just an inch away.

That delicious mouth still smiling. Teasing him.

He lifted his gaze.

Her brilliant eyes twinkled as she looked right back into him—her long, black lashes fluttered once.

In an instant, he was overpowered.

Loki reached up with both hands and slipped them around her graceful neck, closed the distance and met her mouth with his.

He kissed her rapidly, five times, unable to get enough.

She leaned down into him, unafraid…

And began kissing him back.

Electricity fired through his veins and his mind reeled.

How—how did she know? But she did—she knew exactly how to taste and press his mouth with hers so that his mind exploded with white light and he lost his balance—like she knew his mouth, its corners and edges, by heart…

She lay down on his chest, he wrapped his arms all around her slender form, her hands tangled through his hair as they kissed feverishly, lingering and aching, leaving Loki's sense of reason and reality far behind him in the dust somewhere.

A sharp, gargling cry.

Jane's mouth came loose of Loki's and she sat up with a suddenness that almost made Loki fall out of bed.

"Oh, rats, there she is," Jane muttered, swiping her hair out of her face.

"Gah," Loki gasped, blinking his eyes back into focus as he battled to regain his balance. Jane huffed and got up.

"No use getting all hot and bothered right now," she declared. "The princess is awake!"

Loki pressed his hand to his heart, fairly certain it was about to erupt. Still half dizzy, he watched her as she trailed around the bed…

Toward a piece of furniture he hadn't seen before.

A beautifully-carved ebony crib.

Jane approached it, gazing down into it, a beaming smile of greeting lighting her face.

"Well, hello sweetheart! Hello, hello! Good morning, sweetie-pie! How are you?" she cooed.

A delicate giggle replied.

Loki's throat closed.

Jane reached down inside the crib and carefully picked up a slightly-squirming blanket-wrapped bundle.

"Good morning, good morning!" Jane continued, adjusting the blankets around the baby's head. "Want to go say hi to Daddy? Want to see Daddy? He can hold you for a minute and then we'll feed you, okay?"

Loki's heart staggered, and inexplicable tears stung his eyes.

Jane glanced up at him. Grinned.

He smiled back—though his lips trembled.

"Okay, come here," Jane said, lightly bouncing the grunting baby as she stepped back toward Loki's side of the bed. "Let's go see Daddy."

A tear trickled down Loki's temple. He tried to sit up as she drew closer, tried to lift his arms…

The room darkened.

Shadows fell.

Jane and the baby and the four posters and the curtains faded and disappeared.

Loki opened his eyes.

Stared upward at the black reaches of an infinitely-high room.

Fire crackled somewhere off to his right. Its warmth and light fell across him. The smell of books and dried flowers greeted him when he breathed in.

Reality sharpened.

He lay on the floor, covered in a single blanket, with a pillow under his head. All four walls around him were packed with books.

Oh, yes. The Elvish library.

Right.

His mind darted back—and he gulped. Hard. His stomach tightened as images flashed in front of his eyes.

What—?

He paused.

Heat. Heat on his breastbone. He lifted his left hand, carefully—hesitated…

Reached underneath his collar…

And his fingertips touched that pendant. That pendant he'd found in his cell.

The pendant with the impossible violet stone.

It was warm.

"What's the matter?"

Loki jumped. Glanced past his feet.

Jane sat in an armchair, cross-legged, holding a piece of cloth stretched in a circular wooden frame. She gripped the frame with one hand and a needle and thread with the other. She'd lifted her attention to him, and her brown eyes—firelight flickering across them—watched him.

Jane.

His heart skipped a beat as his lips burned. He cleared his throat.

"I…" Loki said, closing his hand into a loose fist. "…was dreaming."

She raised her eyebrows.

Suddenly, terror flooded him. He could still feel the Truth spell pressing on him. And following the rules of conversation, her next question would be—

Jane nodded, then turned back and pushed the needle through the front of the cloth.

"I'm not going to ask you what you were dreaming about."

Loki sat up onto his elbows. And his curiosity got the better of him.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want you to ask me that question," she replied as she worked.

Loki's brow furrowed.

Interesting.

What did she mean by that?

He bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't dare ask her. Not unless he wanted her to turn it around on him—and then what would he do…?

His face instantly got hot and he cleared his throat again, pushing the blanket off himself, turning and facing the fire. He winced. All his muscles panged with soreness, especially in his midsection. He folded one knee and laid it down, and bent the other, resting his right elbow on it. He glanced over at her. Looked back at the fire. Looked back at her. His gaze caught and lingered…

And a remembered sensation—like a warm wave—swept across him. Of her wrapping her arms around him as he sobbed helplessly here on the rug, of the softness of of her skin as he pressed the bridge of his nose against her throat...

He rubbed his hand across his face—feeling where his tears had dried. His legs instantly went weak, his insides liquid. As if the floor beneath him weren't quite solid.

He shifted in discomfort, stiffening, closing his hands. Avoiding looking at her at all costs. He stared fixedly into the dancing fire, his jaw clamped shut.

She didn't say anything.

For several long, silent minutes, only the flames crackled.

Loki didn't turn his head—just cheated a glance to his left at her, out of the very corner of his eye.

She stitched once, pulled the thread through, pushed the needle down, pulled it through, pushed the needle through, pulled it up…

"What are you doing?" he finally asked, unable to stand it.

"I'm ruining a thousand year old piece of needlework because I'm bored," she answered. Then, she broke into a grin.

Loki's eyebrows went up.

"What?"

She shook her head.

"This truth spell thing. It's entertaining," she admitted. "Even I don't know what I'm about to say."

"It's foul," he muttered, shifting again. Jane shrugged.

"I guess. Or…you and I can just say all the embarrassing things we want in here and then promise not to tell anybody else."

Loki studied her, weighing her words. His eyes narrowed.

"Really."

"The alternative is not to talk," Jane answered. "And I've been sitting here for a really long time without saying anything and it's boring. If my internal clock is right, and it usually is, you've been asleep for the equivalent of ten hours, if we were outside. That is a long time to be quiet."

"For some people," Loki said.

"For me it is," Jane said, setting the embroidery carelessly down on a table. "And I've really been wanting to show somebody this because it's really cool."

"Cool?" Loki frowned.

"It's fascinating," she clarified, hopping up from her chair. She stopped and lifted one foot, grimacing. "Ow, my legs are stiff…" She stretched briefly, then swung around the chair and started off toward another corner of the room.

Loki stared, baffled, at the place where she'd just been. He frowned. Glanced back and forth, keeping his head still and listening.

"Are you coming?" Jane called.

"Erm…" Loki frowned harder, tipped his head to the side, and flicked his fingers.

He hesitated.

Got up.

His muscles protested again, but he turned and searched for her. There she was, in the opposite corner, picking her way through the books and desks toward a table crowded with dusty vials and glass domes. Loki squeezed his hands shut, biting the inside of his cheek. He winced. The floor still felt unstable—and walking anywhere felt…unsafe. Especially

Towards her. At all.

Glass jingled. Jane whirled, found him—

And gave him that same, radiant smile.

Loki's stomach dropped through the floor, his face went ice cold, then hot.

"Come look!" she cried breathlessly. "You've got to tell me if this is real!"

"If what's—" he started—and his voice cracked. He blinked. And his face burned so hot it hurt. He cleared his throat and made himself speak evenly. "If what's real?"

"Come. Look," Jane insisted, beckoning. Loki clamped his jaw, his knees like jelly, and started forward. He fought to keep his breathing calm, even as the thoughts in the back of his mind blundered and crashed into each other.

His heartbeat accelerated with every step, and he yearned, with everything in him, to turn around and bolt the other way. Pin himself in a corner if he had to, armed with a pen, or a book, or any blunt or pointy object that could protect him from—

She turned and smiled at him again. Her eyes lit up like fireworks.

Loki's heart flipped twice.

"Look," she cried softly, closing the distance between them and holding something up in a large jar. "Is that what I think it is?"

Loki ripped his attention from her face and focused on what she held.

His sight sharpened. He leaned toward it.

"It's a fairy."

"It's a fairy!" Jane repeated with breathless, uncontrollable glee. Loki bent closer to it, peering through the glass.

"And it is…quite dead."

"Yeah…" Jane sighed, looking at it too. The little hand-sized being inside the jar looked very little like the lively, sprightly, sparkling things Loki had known all his life. This one had blue, withered skin, spindly limbs and little frays of white hair. Its arms were crossed over its chest, its head was bowed, its eyes closed. But it had beautiful, lacey wings that reminded Loki of frost.

"How dead?" Jane asked.

"Hm?" Loki said, glancing over at her. She met his eyes.

"How long has it been dead?"

"Erm…" Loki struggled to put his thoughts back together, taking the jar from her and lifting it up so he could see better. "I've…never seen this kind of fairy before. It's probably extinct. So I would say…more than two-thousand years dead."

"And…nothing can bring it back to life?"

Loki turned to her, canting his head.

"No…?"

"Oh," Jane said sadly. She smiled weakly and shrugged. "I tried clapping my hands…"

Loki considered her, unsure.

"Does that…bring fairies back to life on Midgard?"

She shrugged again, shyly.

"…I've…heard stories." She took a breath. "But it only works if you believe in fairies."

He frowned again.

"Why wouldn't you believe in fairies?"

Her eyes flashed up to his. And she smiled once more. Slowly. In surprise, and delight.

It stunned him.

She gazed up at him, saying nothing…

And all at once he felt completely, helplessly exposed. As if she could see straight through him. Every muscle clamped. His heart raced.

Any second now, she was going to say something. She was going to mention his tirade, or Balder—his collapse, his sobbing like a child, his—

"Oh!" Jane cried.

Loki flinched back.

She snatched the jar from him and set it down on the table with a clank, then grabbed another one and held it up.

"What is this?"

"I…" Loki gathered his fractured wits and made himself focus. "It's a green dragon-werm from Helheim."

"It looks mean," Jane made a face, turning the jar over.

"It is," Loki answered. "It burrows under your skin, and then those spines there on its back shoot down into your muscles so you can't pull it out—"

"Oh, ew, ew, ew," Jane exclaimed, hurriedly setting it back down.

"It's…quite dead, as well," Loki assured her.

"Good," Jane declared. "Okay, what is this?" She snatched up another one. Loki's brow furrowed. He inched closer to her, canting his head. He peered hard at it.

"I…don't know."

"You don't know?" Jane said in disbelief. "Wow, it must be really old, then."

Loki lifted an eyebrow and glanced at her sideways

"It sounds insulting when you say it like that."

Jane ignored him, pulling the jar up to her face.

"What are those? Legs? Arms? Where's its head?"

Loki shifted around so he stood across from her and bent down a little, so he could see better.

"I believe its head is in the middle of its body."

"What? Where?"

"Just there," Loki poked the glass. "See? Eyes. And…a mouth, if I'm not mistaken."

Jane turned it so he couldn't see anymore. He glanced at her through the jar—her image twisted and warped.

"Oh, yeah!" she realized. "Three eyes! One in the middle! And…Look! Little hands!"

"Where?" Loki demanded.

"Look," Jane said again, stepping nearer to him to point. "Look, these top four appendages. One, two, three, four little hands!"

"So it stands on the other four limbs," Loki realized. "And the other is a tail."

"Ooh, the one with the spikes," Jane said. "Yech. And you have no idea what it is?"

"It may be some kind of pixie," Loki ventured, straightening up and clasping his hands behind his back. "There are several ugly breeds that only live underground. And this kind looks poisonous."

"Yes, it does," Jane agreed, putting it back. "Oooh, and what about this one…?"

And as Jane darted away from him toward another jar—Loki suddenly realized that they'd just been standing shoulder to shoulder—touching—and never once had she shied away from him.

VVVVV

Jane explored every single jar and vial, demanding answers from Loki, ravenously devouring every sight and sensation, unable to believe any of it. Loki trailed after her, answering her questions willingly enough. She rounded the corner of the table, passing some tall shelves—

"Ahhh…ves heill."

Jane jerked and spun around.

Right at her eye-level sat a full-length portrait of a beautiful young Elf warrior. He wore silver armor that gleamed in the pale light; his hair flowed like snow down around his shoulders, his face was sharp and refined, and his eyes a piercing, striking blue. He posed easily, with his head high, a flowing cape draped over his left arm. Rocks and majestic mountains formed his background. And he looked at her. And spoke.

A long, delicate sentence, in a deep, lilting tone.

"Oh my gosh!" Jane cried, backing up against the table. "He…it…said something!"

The Elf grinned, and flashed his eyebrows at her. And said something else. Jane watched in fascination as his mouth—his painted mouth—moved, and sound came out.

Loki stalked around the table, lowering his head, eyeing the painting.

"Not just something," Loki growled. The Elf's smile vanished when he saw Loki, and he haughtily lifted his chin. Said something short and clipped.

Loki answered—biting out the foreign words. The Elf batted his hand, as if dismissing Loki, then spoke again, pointing at Jane. He met her eyes, and grinned again—devilishly.

"What is he saying?" Jane wanted to know.

"My mother would not approve of my repeating it," Loki muttered, tilting toward Jane and narrowing his eyes at the elf.

"What?" Jane yelped.

Loki's jaw clenched—and Jane remembered the truth spell.

"He says…" Loki said through his teeth. "That you look to be a fair young maiden, and he longs to take you out to the fields and make you his bride and…other…things…whether you want him to or not."

Jane's whole face turned hot. The Elf spoke again—insistently at Loki, and suggestively at Jane.

"Yes, that's all very interesting, but why don't you just shut up?" Loki shot back. The Elf's face turned red, and he barked out some sort of command. Loki strode forward, grabbed the picture frame, picked the whole thing up and turned it around, shoving it against the bookcase.

"There," Loki huffed, letting go and dusting his hands off. "See how he likes that view for the next thousand years or so."

Jane broke into giggles and covered her mouth. Loki turned and shook his head at her.

"It's not funny," he insisted. "If you'd understood all of what he'd said, you'd—"

"It's a painting," Jane giggled, hardly able to control herself. She pointed at it weakly, then pushed her hand over her mouth to stifle herself. Loki watched her a moment—and his regard softened. One eyebrow lifted just slightly, and he almost smiled.

"Yes. I suppose you could have just punched a hole in his little paper head."

Jane burst out laughing—she had to catch herself against the table. Loki ducked his head, and hid a smile.

"Okay, stop, enough of that," Jane waved both her hands and then wiped at her eyes. Still letting out sporadic chuckles, she maneuvered around to a little podium with a thick green book on the top. "I…I saw this one earlier, but I didn't open it. It's pretty though. Look at the gold edges."

She felt Loki draw up behind her, but not close. She reached out, and carefully touched the top cover. She lifted it, and opened it to the fourth page.

"Oh!" Loki suddenly said. "It's a—"

And the next second, green leaves spilled from the binding, and stems sprouted up…

And dozens of purple violets bloomed. Their scent filled the air.

Jane stared at them, transfixed, then reached out her hand and fingered the delicate petals.

"They're real!" she gasped. "What is this?"

"It's a…There isn't a word in Midgardian that you'd understand," Loki answered, stepping closer now—she could feel him next to her shoulder as he studied the book. "It is a kind of…dictionary. Used for sending flower messages. I…learned the language from the Light Elves, and introduced it among the Asgardian court."

Jane spun around and stared up at him.

"Flower messages?" she repeated. "We…We used to do that! I mean, people in Victorian times. I took a class on it in college!"

Loki glanced at her, then avoided her eyes and studied the flowers.

"These are purple violets," Jane observed. "So, what do they mean in Asgardian?"

Loki's mouth tightened, but he answered.

"They mean 'You are ever in my thoughts."

Jane gaped.

"That's what they mean on Earth, too! How is that possible?"

He glanced down at her out of the corner of his eye—and gave a minute, mysterious smirk.

"Where do you think Queen Victoria learned it?"

Jane's mouth hung open, but she couldn't think of a single thing to say. His smirk remained, and he looked down, then clasped his hands behind his back and stepped around the podium, running his attention across the spines of the thousands of books on the shelves. Jane watched him, baffled and disbelieving—but he didn't offer any more. Curiosity burned her. She opened her mouth.

Something creaked.

Something tiny, down next to her feet.

She paused, then knelt down. Went still.

"Ohhh…" she breathed.

There, sitting on the base of the podium, was a little decorative ship, under full sail.

And the sails moved. As if blown by an invisible wind. And the tiny rigging creaked and swayed, and the little anchors swung back and forth.

"Ha!" she murmured, smiling giddily. Very, very carefully, she reached out and picked it up.

Movement registered on her left.

She twitched around to see—

"Gah!" she cried.

She dropped the little boat and fell back onto her rear. The boat crashed on the ground. She barely heard it. She stared straight ahead of her, her heart hammering against her ribs.

There, resting on the floor and leaning back against the legs of the table, stood a long, clear mirror. And she stared right back at herself—right into her own wide brown eyes.

Only…

Her reflection didn't look any older than ten years old.

She wore light jeans, pink sneakers, a pastel-striped shirt and a pink zip-up jacket with white drawstrings. Her hair looked a lot darker—straight and short, only jaw-length, and she had bangs. She had such big, bright brown eyes and fresh, startled features. She was ten! She couldn't be any older than ten!

"What is it?" Loki demanded.

"I…" Jane tried—and her ten-year-old mouth moved exactly when hers did. She froze. So did her little reflection.

She lifted up her right hand.

Her reflection did the same.

She wiggled her fingers.

Her reflection answered.

"I'm fine…" Jane whispered, unable to manage any more volume. Very, very slowly, she sat up, and carefully crossed her legs. Of course, her reflection did exactly the same thing.

"What did you find?" Loki asked, winding around the table again and coming up to her left. "Did something break?"

His boots intruded on the reflection. Stopped beside her.

Little boots. Little brown, scuffed boots next to Jane's pink jacket.

"Sit down," Jane whispered, unable to take her eyes off those feet.

"Why?" Loki demanded.

"You'll see," Jane assured him, motionless.

Loki did nothing for a long moment. Then, gingerly, he stepped in, crossed his ankles and easily sat down in a cross-legged position beside her.

And Jane stared.

Stared straight across at the reflection of a little black-haired boy, with large green eyes and a pale, soft, serious, adorable face—expressive, dark eyebrows, perfect nose and a shy mouth. He wore emerald, trimmed with dark brown leather. Every inch the tiny prince.

A prince who had just caught sight of himself.

Loki went totally, completely still. He didn't even breathe. His hands, on his knees, slowly closed. Jane watched the little one as his eyes widened further, and his lips parted. He blinked once, and lightly shook himself, then kept staring. Jane realized she was holding her breath, too.

Then, gradually, Loki's eyes drifted over—and caught sight of Jane's reflection.

Which meant that his reflection stared straight out at Jane.

The open, startled, innocent gaze hit her in the heart.

He closed his mouth, and swallowed. Jane could hear the gulp just to her left, but she couldn't pry her attention away from the green eyes in front of her.

His glance flickered back and forth, then—and so did hers. She swallowed.

"It's…us," Loki murmured.

"Mhm," Jane nodded, staring first at her little self, then Loki's little self. His boyish brow furrowed, and his reflection met her eyes again.

"You're very small," he said.

Jane sat up straight.

"Did you hear that?" she cried—and verified it that second. "I heard it! There! It's like…an echo. A high pitched…"

"It's our voices," Loki realized.

And it was. A double tone. Their adult voices double-toned with higher-pitched, childish voices.

Jane released an uncontrolled burst of laughter—watching her ten-year-old self light up like a hundred birthday candles—and hearing a girlish shriek echo her own. Loki snorted—twice, at the same time.

"This…is amazing!" Jane gasped, grinning like an idiot—and for some reason feeling on the verge of tears. "How…How old are you?"

The little boy stared straight out at his counterpart, very thoughtfully.

"I don't know," he answered carefully—the boy's voice just as loud as the man's voice, now. "I haven't…It's more than a thousand years ago."

"Really?" Jane breathed. "I'm ten."

"Ten," Loki said flatly—the little boy giving her the exact same bored/indignant look that she'd seen dozens of times now.

"What?" Jane demanded—watching her little self straighten up.

"You're an infant," Loki declared.

"I am not," Jane retorted. "We're the same age."

Loki's mouth opened—and then he frowned. Looked at her, then at himself. Then at her, then back at himself. He closed his mouth.

"Maybe," he murmured. Then, he tipped forward, and rubbed his chin with his finger, his eyes narrowing.

"What?" Jane wondered.

"I…It's before the snakes," Loki decided. "I don't have a scar there."

"The snakes?" Jane repeated—hearing her interested little voice quip right along. He nodded, his young expression darkening.

"Thor and I were out playing where we shouldn't and I fell into a pit of snakes. I hit my mouth on the rocks as I was falling, and then I got bit by one later in the night. In the rain."

"Ow," Jane made a face—and Little Jane made a worse one. She turned to her own reflection, scooted closer, and tilted her head.

"When I was ten, I fell down the stairs at school and landed on my elbow on the sidewalk. Took all the skin off…" She pushed her sleeve back, watching her reflection push the pink sleeve up.

"Yep, there," Jane said—and on her elbow was a large, scabbed scrape. Of course, on her adult arm, there was only a scar.

"What are you wearing?" Loki wanted to know—his little voice strident.

"My favorite jacket," Jane huffed, pushing the sleeve down. "I got it from my grandma."

"You look like a clown," Loki remarked.

"And you look like a—"

"Ha, don't even try," he waved it off. "I've been called more names than you've ever even thought of."

Jane stopped. Her brow knitted.

"People make fun of you?"

"Of course," Loki shrugged. "I don't look anything like anybody else. Everybody else has blonde hair. And even though I grew fast, Thor grew…faster."

"I was always tiny," Jane sighed, gazing forlornly at herself. "Dad never thought I'd grow. Kept feeding me vitamins. He was afraid I'd turn out to be a dwarf."

"Dwarves have beards," Loki remarked.

"Exactly."

He laughed. The little boy did it best—giggling brightly and pushing the back of his hand to his nose. The man next to her uttered a rusty, broken sound. But a laugh, nevertheless.

Jane's grin faded to a small smile as she kept gazing at the two reflections, utterly captivated.

"This is so weird," she murmured, watching every movement on her own face. "I haven't looked across and seen that for such a long time…"

"I know," Loki whispered…and Jane watched as a very mature, very deep and masculine expression of sorrow cross the little boy's face. It suddenly looked strange—and made her chest twinge.

"What did Thor look like?" Jane asked—then bit her lip in a wince. Her stupid, nosey curiosity…

But Loki didn't snap back. Instead, he tilted his head thoughtfully, his eyes going distant.

"He has freckles on his nose," he answered—and Jane heard the little boy's voice most clearly. "Short hair, like me—but his is like straw. Very big blue eyes, and a gap between his front teeth. He's a little taller, with wider shoulders."

Jane grinned.

"Cute boys," she said.

Loki blinked, and looked at Jane's reflection. At her.

"Cute?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Jane nodded—and her little self practically twinkled. "Thor sounds cute. And you look cute."

Loki flushed red instantly. Jane tried to suppress a grin, but it didn't work. Loki dipped his head and did little flicking motions with his fingers. Jane felt a warm, pure, pleasant wave wash through her—along with a little, refreshing jolt of silliness.

"Do you go to school?" she asked.

"Mhm," Loki nodded, keeping his head down.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes," he said quickly, looking up again.

"Me too," Jane said, nodding as well, and rocking slightly back and forth. "Everybody thinks I'm weird."

"Me too," Loki agreed, wrinkling his nose. "So what if I like to read instead of go out onto the yards with the other boys and beat each other up? I pass my exams and all they get are black eyes."

"Haha, yeah!" Jane agreed, grabbing her knees and still rocking a little. "The other girls in my classes just want to talk about boys, or…I actually don't know what they talk about. I never pay attention to any of them. Sometimes, when I'm just sitting there trying to read, they'll grab my books and throw them down the aisles between the desks. One time, when Stephanie McQueen did that, I got up and called her names and she punched me in the nose."

Loki's face flushed again and he frowned at her.

"You should have turned her into a lizard."

"I would have if I could!" Jane insisted. "But I wouldn't know how to do that—and I'm half her size."

"I could have taught you," Loki muttered, fiddling with the toe of his boot. Jane considered him.

"You think I could learn?"

The boy's reflection looked at her reflection. Into Jane's eyes. Looked at her for a long, long time, his frown deepening. He took a breath.

"Maybe," he said, nodding once.

"That might come in handy," Jane said.

"I know it would," Loki agreed seriously.

"So what do you and Thor do for fun? When you aren't in school?" she asked.

"Oh," Loki sighed, shrugging one shoulder. "We go riding a lot. I have a horse, and he has a horse. Our horses are brothers. And we go looking for unicorns and white deer in the forest. And we catch fairies. Aaand…we go fishing, and rock-climbing, and when it rains out we do puzzles, and we draw, and go down into the dungeons even though we're not supposed to, and we play in the armory…"

Jane smiled.

"That sounds fun. I wish I could come."

"We would let you," Loki said quickly. He stopped, and swallowed, but held her gaze, then shrugged again. "I'd talk Thor into it—even though you're a girl. But only if you could keep up."

"Keep up?" Jane cried. "Looking for unicorns and catching fairies? You bet I'd keep up!"

"That way, the three of us wouldn't need anybody else to play with," Loki continued. "We wouldn't let Tyr come, even if he wanted to, because he's a moron—"

"Or Stephanie McQueen," Jane added.

"Not Stephanie McQueen," Loki agreed, becoming eager. "And maybe, with the three of us, we'd be brave enough to go all the way through the Willendane Forest, across the river to the Fens of Egenothen. There's a ruined castle there I've always wanted to see, and Thor is sure there's a dragon in the cellars. What weapons have you learned?"

"Um…" Jane searched. "I can throw rocks pretty well…"

Loki frowned and shook his head.

"No, we'll have to teach you how to shoot first, then I'd probably have to teach you a couple spells—Fire-Finger first, and then the Snap-Claps. That's what I call them, anyway. Practical magic…" He trailed off—and an odd expression crossed his face, as if a portion of fog had cleared for a moment.

Jane didn't want it to clear.

"What would we do about the dragon?" she asked.

Loki blinked, and looked at her again.

"Nothing. Just see what it's got."

"What it's got?"

"Treasure!" Loki cried, as if she'd lost her mind. "Gold, jewels, magic things—but if we'd take anything big, it would notice. We'd just have to take little things, like coins or cups or one book. That is, if it didn't wake up and incinerate us right away."

Jane shivered.

"I'm not sure I'm brave enough."

"You would be," Loki insisted. "If I was there with you."

She looked at him. He gazed back honestly. Jane smiled. And nodded.

"Okay," she said, facing herself and sitting up straight. "I'll go. As soon as I learn…What did you say? How to shoot, and do Fire-Finger and the Snap-Claps. I've always wanted to see a dragon. Just like Bilbo Baggins in The Hobbit…" She trailed off, suddenly realizing that Loki's reflection was looking at her. Not into her eyes, at her reflection—but sideways. At her.

She went still. Her stomach tightened.

She turned away from her reflection, from Loki's reflection…

And looked to her left up at him. At the grown man.

Straight into his fathomless green eyes as he gazed back at her.

And she saw it.

Behind the sorrow and weariness that marked his handsome features…

She saw within him what she had almost glimpsed when he lay asleep by the fireplace.

That little boy.

A smile stole across her mouth.

He studied her lips for a moment, as if surprised. Then met her eyes again.

And smiled quietly back.

To be continued…

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