Disclaimer: I do not own Thor or Marvel, and this story is not for profit.
Chapter 11: Forgeries
"Show me one more, before I have to leave!"
"I think you've had enough magic for one morning, don't you think?" Loki said, raising his eyebrow at the scientist sitting in front of him.
They were sitting once again in his cell. She on the edge of his bed, with her hands in her lab, utterly absorbed, while he stood in front of her. It was a few days after her midnight-visit to his cell.
They had not spoken about her visit, but there was a tangible difference in the air when she visited him now, as if a barrier that was between them had been broken, and now they were less a jailer and a prisoner, but a young man and a young woman who understood one another.
"I'm surprised that the trickster believes in such a thing as too much magic?" she said teasingly. She knew he never tired of her asking him to show her what he could do with his talents. It always improved his mood significantly, and she enjoyed watching what he had to show her.
"Ok well, here," he pulled something round out of his coat that resembled a marble. "Watch closely."
He took the marble and did a few fancy tricks moving and rolling it around with his fingers, then opened his hand, closed it, moved it around a little, opened it again, and it was gone. Then he reached behind her ear and pulled it back out.
"Charming." She said taking the creamy white marble he was offering her. "Quite different from your other tricks." she added, inspecting the object in her hand.
"Perceptive of you. That trick was done without the aid of magic. Anyone can trick someone Lora, make it seem like they are performing magic, with a careful technique."
"I will keep that close to my heart and mind," Rolling her eyes she added with uncharacteristic sarcasm.
He was in a surprisingly good mood today, considering she had told him that his brother was back in Asgard. When she had told him, he had just shrugged and said that now being in his cell away from the palace was twice as much a good thing.
He was in such a good mood, she wondered if he wasn't up to something.
He came and sat down on the bed next to her.
"That is actually a Midgardian trick there." He said while juggling the marble she had returned to him. "Charming indeed, but simple enough for their limited minds to conjure up."
"You think the humans are stupid?" She asked surprisingly.
"Well… yes. Of course. Their minds are not as highly evolved as ours; their lives are insignificant and meaningless."
"You don't like them." It was not a question. "I just figured after…well…you know…" She did not specify his defeat on Midgard at the hands of the Avengers after she saw his face darkening… "Well I thought you would have more respect for them. As a race I mean."
"Yes I was defeated by the humans, but that only makes it worse, because they are worthless and wretched. Their lives are a joke. They are a joke." She noticed his voice getting louder and angrier as he spoke. "Fighting so hard against me when all I wanted was to rule them. They can't rule themselves; they aren't capable. They needed me to rule them."
She looked at him blankly. "You hate them." Again not a question.
For once he said nothing.
She stared at her hands that were resting in her lap. "I admire Midgardian culture. You know, there are black market Asgardian smugglers who know secret ways to get between the realms, and that have been to Midgard. And I have listened to their tales. They say amazing things about what humans on Earth have accomplished. They are artists, many of them, and they have built magnificent cities to rival our own. In some ways, they are most talented of all the realms. They've made incredible technology, and they live their lives with, I don't know, a fire. A fire that is missing from many of the people of this realm.
Loki looked at her haughtily. "The fire you speak of is there because they live for such a pitifully short time. All the spark, art, and technology is simply them trying to use up the time that they do have."
Noticing her expression, his look surprisingly softened and he relaxed the tone of his voice.
Taking hold of her hand he quietly said, "Don't look so melancholy, dear. I know you're too kind to think wickedly of anyone. But trust me, I know what I speak of. I have known the humans. They aren't like you and I."
She listened and let him hold her hand, but her gaze still fell to her lap, where their hands met.
He gently took his other hand to hold her chin; he raised her eyes meet to his.
"During my time on Midgard, I never saw a woman that was as smart, as brave, and as beautiful as you are."
He may have been the God of Lies, but at this moment he seemed dead serious. His voice had a quality that she recognized; it was a quality of voice men had when speaking to a woman that they loved, or desired. Lora had heard it several times, but she never thought she would hear it being used by someone speaking to her. It was low and soft, and incredibly alluring.
She held her breath and didn't blink as he, not breaking eye contact, moved his long hand from her chin to the back of her neck. The hand that held hers slid around her waist and slowly pulled her closer. She watched shocked still as he leaned his face down to hers and closed his eyes before he met her lips with his.
His kiss was surprisingly soft, and brief, because she turned her face away so that he was looking at her neck and not her face. Lora continued to look the opposite direction until she had composed herself, while he waited patiently, an odd feeling in his chest.
….
She walked quickly back to the university afterwards, remembering that she had agreed to go to an art gallery later with the twins who had to write about some of the pieces.
The atmosphere was animated when she was walking back. There were many people on the streets who were speaking loudly as they gossiped and spoke about the things that the community found note-worthy. In a city as big as the capital, there was always something new that Lora would hear people on the street speaking about, some scandal usually and often as not a complete rumor.
Today was more interesting than usual, because the topic was about the brother of the man who had just kissed her not 20 minutes past. People were saying that Thor had gone back to Earth and returned with a mortal woman. There were many rumors as to why. Some said she had a terrible secret, others said that Thor had brought her back to marry her and make her his queen.
Lora made a mental note to perhaps ask Loki about it, and although he was stuck in his cell, for some reason he always seemed to know the answers to questions like this. That is, she would ask him about it if she ever decided to visit him again. She wasn't so sure.
Thinking more about the prince she searched her coat pocket as she walked through the snowy streets and found the object he had given her.
"Here," he had said, opening her hand and putting the smooth white object into her hand, "take this. Something to remember what I told you. About magic and tricks."
"What is it?" She had said holding it up to her eye.
"Something I found on a trip to the sea once."
"Oh."
He had smiled but had not tried to kiss her again as he had shown her to the door of his cell.
What had happened weighed heavily on her mind, but to be perfectly honest, she wasn't completely surprised that it had happened. She had noticed the prince's growing affection for her and mostly for her visits, but she had hoped that nothing like this would happen. And especially after today, she was certain that continuing the visits would be an unwise decision. But it didn't make it easy; she had grown as fond of her visits to Loki as he seemed to be of her.
She let these thoughts go as she entered the university building where the gallery was being held.
She scanned her eyes through the crowd in the room before she heard someone shout, "Lora!" from across the room.
She spied her twin roommates walking towards her.
"Lora, finally you arrive! Do you know that you're-" Dagny yelled.
"Ten minutes late?!"her twin Erica finished for her.
"I'm sorry, guys, I got caught up in some work stuff." She said apologetically, although she couldn't help but be a little agitated about the attention to time paid by her uptight friends.
"Well, we suppose its ok-"
"-at least you showed up this time."
"Oh my gods, guys, I told you all I wasn't going to that stupid debate, how dare you be mad when I didn't show up. Dammit, sometimes you guys can be real jerks." She said and stormed off, leaving them open-mouthed and staring.
Lora wondered to a corner of the room where the more famous art pieces were kept. As she stood staring at a famous work of the battle of Jotunheim, a voice pulled her out of her abstract thoughts.
"Do you know that this isn't actually the original painting?"
"I'm sorry, what?"
"It's a fake." said a young man coming closer to her and leaning against the side of the wall observing the dramatic battle with her.
"A young female artist painted it shortly after the battle. It was very controversial at the time, depicting the horror of the battle instead of the All-Father's glory. Anyways, it was acclaimed by more freethinking Aesir, until it was stolen from the museum years later."
"It was gone for hundreds of years until news came out that it had been found again."
Lora remembered that much. She had been a child when she had sorted through a pile of papers at her grandfather's house to make a hat out of, and had seen something about some famous painting being found and returned to the museum. Two men who had found it apparently at an antique store.
"What makes you think the painting is not the original?"
"Well everything is the same, someone did an almost perfect job of reproducing the picture, but here, take your hand and feel that."
Lora tensed as the stranger took her hand and gently rubbed it on the surface, apparently of the opinion that a reproduction was not important enough to refrain from touching.
"What do you feel?" he said rubbing her fingers gently over the painting and looking at her expectantly.
"Paint." She said frowning and taking her hand back.
"Did it feel smooth?"
"I guess so. Shouldn't paint be smooth?"
"I wouldn't say paint should be smooth, but it usually always is. The only thing is that when the painting was made, supplies were rationed for the war and most artists had to make their own paint because workers and machines couldn't be wasted on paint. The homemade remedies at the time were made with sand, and the paint was very grainy. It often felt like sandpaper."
"If what you say is true, wouldn't someone have noticed this?"
"Not necessarily. People see what they want to see. No one thinks to feel a painting, or smell it for that matter."
"Not normal people at least." She said frowning.
"No I suppose not." He said matching her every frown with a smile.
"Why haven't you shared this information with the museum?"
"Why? Many people would argue with me, not everyone would be convinced; it would be more fuss than it would be worth in my opinion. And it brings people happiness, coming here and looking at what they think to be an original painting that stood for something noble once. It is not my place to say and disappoint so many people. This museum is meant to bring people joy. What does it matter that it is not the original so long as people think it is and it makes them happy?"
For a moment she didn't know what to say. The curator had made a point for sure. Lora enjoyed art, although she would not consider herself an expert on the original kind, preferring music more or her ice skating, but looking around the room she had a new appreciation for drawing, noticing the families smiling and pointing, the proud artists who were there today standing next to their work, and the lone, elderly Aesir who stood staring alone, what the work meant to them she could not even imagine.
"I suppose you are right." She said, her attention turning back to the curator. "That is quite… noble of you."
He gave a little mocking bow, smiling a little. "High praise, miss Haraldsdottir."
Before she could ask how he knew her name, he answered her question for her.
"Your grandfather donates often to the museum. He talks about you all the time. I recognized your name on a university poster and saw your picture under it. You had saved some children from a murderer-."
"Yes," she said, quickly changing the subject, "So you know my grandfather?"
"Yes. He is a good man. Smart and talented. Apparently it runs in the family."
"What is your name?"
"Aric."
"Good luck with your paintings, Aric."
