A/N: I've been gone far too long. I could waste word count detailing you lot, but I figure you just want the chapter. If you're curious as to why, please see the Author's note in Afterlife of the second chapter. Know that I'm very sorry, and that it won't happen any more if I can help it.

Disclaimer: If you believe that this fandom, this franchise, or these characters are mine, you've been thoroughly Loki'd!

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"Better three hours too soon, than a minute too late."

~William Shakespeare

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Loki was furious. Of course, the god of mischief sourly reflected. Eyes wet, the prince of Asgard stalked toward the Relic Room. Frigga tried to pull on his cape lightly as he had practically ran out of the throne room. Not even she could lift the burden of a broken heart. Not now.

Since boyhood, the man clad in green had felt out of place—bitterly so. Growing up in Asgard had been easy enough, but thriving under the false nurturing of Thor's shadow had broken his innocence long ago. Now, a darker, primal need to show father Thor's true character had awakened.

When the two brothers played together as boys, their friends worked with Thor against him, reasoning that Loki had access to magic they would never be able to understand. In his maturing youth, he recognized that notion as a refusal to understand man he was at all.

He recalled when his father, Odin, had taken him and Thor to the very room he fled toward. There had been such promise of equal standing in the Allfather's voice. Yet today, when Odin had named his heir, his authoritative eyes had scorned Loki.

"In the name of Asgard," Odin had spoken tragically slowly, "it is in this morning that I shall name my heir."

Upon those words, Loki had known it would be Thor.

Loki had spent his entire life pleasing his father. Thor was the true troublemaker. He only did things to seek out what little attention Loki so deserved. Once, when Loki had been bested by a serpent bite while training. Thor had released it to see if Loki's magic could compare to his natural brute strength.

The mischief maker had been injured tremendously with its venom. Mother had been the only decent one in the House of Odin to see her ailing son. Instead, his father had spent all of the two weeks his dark-haired son was bedridden to punish Thor.

The envious Asgardian released his compressed emotions- -including love, patience, and virtue- -through his throat as he wailed, his back against a wall in a dark, lonesome corridor. While he inhaled, vengeance, hatred, and pain invaded his senses. His whole body shook. Eyes once carrying the moisture now released the collected beads of tears rolling across his pale skin.

To be truthful, Loki did not desire the throne. This part of reality made him appear to be a selfish, spoiled little snot. No, he did not crave the power in the Allfather's staff. Power already flowed in his veins. Loki yearned to be favored over Thor. This was his most potent, most vital and best kept secret. Loki's existence was based over this primal, pure intoxicating need to best his brother.

Thor was a trite, lowly member of the threads of fate, and he certainly did not deserve the throne. Anyone who arrived late to the very announcement of the highest responsibility and honor in all the nine realms certainly deserved no honor.

Every breath was a torturous feat. Every truth was now a lie. Every happiness was now a wrath. He cried out again, the silence too familiar and intimate for him to endure. His knees buckled as his back slid down the glistening red wall of the hollow hall. He shouted. He moaned. He sobbed.

Nothing would stifle his empty, broken existence. Nothing could heal his heavy heart. He soon began to hyperventilate, chest caving in on itself. His breath was quick and brief. He clenched his jaw shut, teeth grinding against each other so painfully he winced. His erratic breathing turned hiss-like, air only able to escape between the small spaces between the curved edges of each tooth.

His regrets soon evaporated until they shifted into reason, motivation. He would break Thor's world apart. He would no longer stand for being a supplement to Thor. His brother would know the identical pain Loki had endured since infancy.

With that thought, the mischief-maker reinforced his legs to stand. He made his way to the Relic Room. The familiar corridors drenched in darkness due to the nocturnal nature of the hour could not conceal his vibrant and radiant wrath.

Dried tears tightened the skin on his cheeks, yet determination frantically held him in an unbreakable embrace. His resolve was unyielding to the natural want to do what was right—for the good of his family and for Thor.

Such trivialities mattered not. Especially now.

Upon arriving, he stood in front of an iridescently white round stone perched atop a dark marble-like pedestal. His firm, steady hands rose toward it. His father had once told him about such an artifact. This very object controlled the alternate realities. If touched, the very fabric of reality would be forever changed.

So, without further thought, his hands cradled the glow of the globe. And instantly, he felt home flood through his heart. And then, darkness.

"AHH!" Loki violently howled through the stiff darkness. His chest heaved angrily as his heartbeat threatened to burst through his bones. His hands moved to ruffle through his thick, black hair.

Tremors collaterally victimized his spine as he sat with an impatience he'd not ever known. While his heart rate did soothe out to a pace that matched the lull of silence, Loki pondered what had triggered such a memory.

Not since his first night alone in the universe when he'd dropped from his brother's hold in Asgard had he thought or even recalled of the moment. Reflecting on the memory now, he realized that he'd been foolish to pursue the path of villainy. Not only had he nearly lost his mother, but also his father and thick-headed, favored brother.

Perhaps if he'd seen reason instead of the madness that still labored through his veins, he could have found a way to save his mother when she'd been attacked during the durst attack. He could have been at her side defending her against Thanos and the Chitauri. They'd nearly taken what he held closest to him. He clutched at his heart, the fabrics of his under clothes stiff concealing a small pendant given to him by a guard when imprisioned.

The artifact had been his mother's trinket given to her by her on mother on the day she was wedded to Odin. The swirl of the metal and the bend of the emerald embellished by unending magic as beautiful as the Asgardian sunrise. The stone gleamed even in the dark. Pushing away at the fabrics covering his chest, Loki bent his hand to guard the pendant.

Slowly, he guided his fist up to his lips and gently placed a sad, slow kiss over his fingers. Asgard held no purpose for him any longer. He craved no throne Asgard could offer him.

"Jane," he whispered as his mouth was brought to an unfamiliar smile. The woman had surprised him tremendously. He'd thought her weak in the company of his own kind. He'd thought her dull in the company of the wondrous, exotic splay of people in his superficial circle.

But then he'd discovered that she wasn't at all like anyone else. More or less, she'd admitted to being put out by the fact that he'd not taken her mind over instead of her colleague's. Loki had become alarmingly curious of who she was right from the very start. And upon first being introduced to the lady, she'd struck him, proclaiming that the gesture was only for New York City and indeed not for his actions toward Erik Selvig.

From the beginning he'd been so drawn to her strong ambiance. And now, she'd finally confirmed her interests in him. Their kiss had done more than uplifted his ego. Finally, someone craved him over Thor. And yet his intentions toward her were so much less vile than that positive quality.

She was incredibly courageous, despite having a knack for finding trouble. Jane was entirely mystifying, despite being open like a book on his shelf. He found the fact that she would never be claimed by anyone entirely enticing and challenging.

Loki soon realized that his breathing and pulse had calmed down in his thinking of Jane. She brought him peace of mind and reassurance of life: two qualities he'd long lost.

Quickly, he moved so that he was in a sitting position as he heard footsteps drawing close. As the door moved slowly, Loki stood up, preparing to have another confrontation with his brother. But it was Jane that emerged from the shadows of the hall.

"Jane," he spoke stoically.

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Jane's body lurched straight up, her torso stiff and tight. Her breathing was quick and nearly suffocating. Her covers were splayed over the mattress haphazardly as she struggled to calm her raging heartbeat.

Had she indeed heard a vulgar cry of fear? Her senses told her she should explore the possibility, yet she found herself at odds with her instincts that urged her to stay in her room until someone else could be heard from within the manor.

Taking impulse instead of reason, the anxious woman slowly urged herself out of the comfortable bed and onto the rough, wooden floor. Quietly opening the door, Jane bit her lip and turned to the open darkness of the hall outside. Clad only in a pair of shorts and a tank top, the scientist rubbed her arms when she thought she felt her skin tightening with goose flesh.

Abruptly, she recognized herself not as cold, but as afraid. Closing her eyes as if to reign in her reason, Jane stepped forward and edged toward the stairs. Her steps were quick, abrupt; yet, they were also languid and cautious. Jane took a deep breath and blinked slowly. Time seemed to slow down as she descended the wooden steps.

As soon as she was able to, she hunched down to see if anyone was downstairs eating in the low light of the dimming fire embers. Seeing no one, Jane approached the last step hastily and maneuvered her back to the nearest wall, hands out. As she remained where she stood, her hands began to glow lightly, providing her with a bit more visibility in the cluster of darkness.

Exhaling, she placed her left foot before her and stepped away from the wall. The gauntlets felt heavy over her wrists, but she pushed forward carefully. Privately, she did not want to run into Thor. They'd had a few strained days of avoiding each other. Deciding to shirk off any thoughts of him, she shook her head and heard noises from within the library.

The scientist approached the pair of heavy doors and began to slowly open one of them, noticing the nature of the room: lights were off, but a candle still burned by the couch placed in the center of the room. The flicker of the candle allowed her to see Loki. A part of her desired nothing more than to bolt back to her room, but she remained and even entered the room, quietly shutting the door and locking it behind her.

He greeted her by saying her name.

All she could think to do was nod briefly. Jane bit her lip to release some of the tension in her head. He appeared so tall in the large room. Jane began to step towards him and was halted when he raised his hand level to her waist. Her breath caught and her hands dropped to her side as she felt the power slip aaa from her fingers.

"You disrupt my slumber by noisily walking about the manor, enter my only private place, and ignore me as I greet you?" Loki said, an intolerable, boisterous impatience glossing his tongue.

Jane released her lip and crossed her hands over her chest, "You've done far worse the past four days! You've ignored my existence. I've tried to be cordial, Loki. After what you did to me, I've made my intentions with you clear. I don't see what's going on."

"So you miss our conversation only?" he retorted quickly.

She released a heavy breath from her lungs and walked toward him, only taking four steps. She was still a few feet away from him. "Loki, you've only just been released from incarceration for nearly killing millions of my people. You tried to kill me when Thor was in New Mexico. You don't have any idea of how far I've overcome to be here. Aside from my work and now this endeavor from your long lost grandmother, I can't have any distractions."

Not moving an inch, he smirked playfully, his brow raising as if taunting her, "I can be the best sort of distraction, Miss Foster."

Jane moved closer to him: now only four feet away. "Tell me why you want to be a distraction for someone apart of a race you so nearly dearly hate?"

Still not moving an inch, Loki aimlessly added, "I beseech you to inform me why you would not wish to be distracted by someone as scandalous as I?"

"Quit joking around. You know why, Loki. Don't make me say it," Jane murmured. Instinctively, her feet guided her closer to him. She was now only two feet away and very much in arms' reach.

"What if I needed to hear the reason why? Would you tell me? Do you have the courage to face this as I do?" he inquired, nearly breathless.

"I have no earthly idea what you want me to say. Loki, my abilities are as stable as Darcy's relationships. I don't know how to use them, and I'm expected to keep you and Jotunheim safe. Beyond that, I'm worried about what Thor would think," she admitted. Quickly, she raised her hand to interrupt his rebuttal. "Loki, Thor was a man I thought I loved. At the very least, I owe it to him to be a friend. I think he still wants us to be together. I need him to be at his best and so do you."

"I have nothing quite left to lose, so excuse me if I don't exactly share your sentiment regarding my brother," he spat, quickly turning away from her.

Jane instantly closed the distance between them and leaned her head against his strong back. Her hands lifted and clutched the fabric of his under clothes. As she closed her eyes, Jane replied, "I'm asking you to respect that I have things left to lose. I'm asking you to see life through my eyes. All I have to lose is Darcy and..."

Loki's chest was heaving as if he could barely control himself. "And?"

She bent her head down in order to shield her expression from him, swallowing briefly before glancing up once more, "You." Jane moved away from him as he extended his arms where she stood, shying away from his embrace. Instead, she guided herself toward the faint fire, sitting down on the couch. Leaving enough room for him to join her, she seemed to be dazzled by the quiet, fading glow of the burning embers.

"Ever since I arrived at Asgard, you've been so unstable in how you talk to me, how you treat me, and how you carry yourself. I admire your ability to remain so stoic when you've caused a great deal of scars toward the people around you. At first, my feelings were a brief, frustrated interest; then you began to open up, and I saw someone else," she explained nervously.

"What are you saying, Jane?" Loki patiently queried, taking a seat next to her. He snatched her hand despite a light resistance on her part.

Jane's breathing intensified, her chest pacing rapidly, "Are we so different? Every night I hear so many voices telling me to kill, destroy. I've had nightmares about Jotunheim, and I've seen the reason why Thor was banished from Asgard. You were so different, and you appeared less lethal. I can't decide whether or not you're good for me at all."

A heavy sheet of moisture gathered in both of Loki's eyes. Clearing his throat, he tightened his grasp over her hand. "What more have you not expressed regarding your new abilities?"

"Loki, there's so much I want to tell you, but I can't explain them. I'm only human, and I've never had to withdraw from my own thoughts before...not to this extent," she replied, lingering tension in her thick, heavy voice.

"Show me, Jane," he commanded.

Jane only shook her head as her orange-tinted hues pleaded for something unknown, "I can't control it. The last person that used the casket was you. I think the anger and pain that you experienced while using the casket branded the artifact altogether. I feel so angry all of the time. What else would explain this?"

"Magic is increasingly difficult to tame. The power that you feel poisoning you right now will always seem stronger than you; however, you must trust me that that is not the truth. Jane, I will aid you. I will protect you, help you."

"Two nights ago, I sleepwalked into Thor's room. I don't recall even leaving my room, but when I came to consciousness, my hand was extended out toward Thor's hammer. It was shaking, Loki. The hammer even lifted off of the ground. I could have killed him, or injured him. I-" Jane confided. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and exhaled calmly, "If ever we find a way for me to get rid of these powers, promise me you'll see whatever means to do so. I don't think I'm meant to have these powers. What if Konafis intended on bestowing them to you, but saw that you'd only use them to destroy?

"More than that, I don't want it. I promised to protect Jotunheim, but I think I'm supposed to protect you for some bigger purpose she has for you. Now more than ever, do I want to just be Jane Foster: the astrophysicist. I want to go back and never meet Thor."

Instead of replying, the mischief maker simply brought her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He accommodated their position by turning toward her. His whole body shook. Power had been something he'd once craved so deliriously. Now, all he wanted was to stifle her fear, her pain. He closed his eyes as he gently pressed his lips against her soft hair.

He whispered her name like a priest in worship. He glided his fingers over the exposed flesh upon her arms and onto her shoulders. And she responded to his touch by murmuring his name against his tattered under clothes.

"I beg of you to never repeat such a ridiculous statement again. Had you never met him, you'd not be here now: in my arms. Do you regret this?" he hungrily uttered in her ear.

As she shook her head, he lifted his head so she could see him fully, "For my sake, you mustn't say such things. You're the only thing that's allowed reason to settle within my thick, debauched head in a very long time."

Silence cast over them like a cloud in the sky. Neither spoke, and eventually, they both fell asleep.

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Chapter 11 will not be delayed as this chapter was. Review, so I know none of you lost interest?