Chapter 14

"Thor!" a male voice called.

Along with Jane and his fake-brother, Loki turned to see who it was. Rogers didn't look up from the tent pole he was hammering in place. The new camp was mostly set up, appearing not much different than the previous one, albeit smaller and more defensible.

A young soldier ran to them followed by several older ones. Those nearby stopped their tasks to watch the newcomers. This, of course, included Sif and the Warriors Three.

"We've just returned from patrol," the young man said as soon as he stood in front of Thor, "and Loki was right about the northeast. Jotunns are there. Many of them." He glanced at Loki and nodded in approval.

Loki wasn't quite sure what to think about that, let alone how to feel. The positive attention was enjoyable, and yet it made him want to slink away. He didn't need any more eyes on him than he currently had. Sif already watched him as carefully as a cat stalking its prey.

"Aye. I did not doubt the word of my brother." Thor slapped Loki's back. "From now on, he is my top advisor. Heed his orders as if they are my own."

A murmur swept through the growing crowd, some surprised, some questioning. The Council was the loudest. Sif merely whispered in Fandral's ear.

"He may be mortal and a banished prince," Thor said, addressing the crowd, "but he is here, sent by our Queen, to help fight our enemies. I, the Crowned Prince of Asgard and commander of this army, have faith in him, and so should you all." He stared at those closest to him as if waiting for another bout of dissent, gaze falling on the head members of the Council more often than not. They glared at him but said nothing. "Let us make haste in finishing the camp before nightfall."

After lingering looks at Loki, especially coming from the magi, everyone turned to go about their business. Everyone except Sif. She and the Warriors Three walked to Loki.

Thor smiled at his friends before putting his attention back on Rogers and the tent they'd been constructing.

"Congratulations on your promotion," she said, the hint of vinegar barely disguised in her honeyed words.

Jane stood, a silent observer. Although, based off her rigid stance, she was more a sentry.

"Why, thank you, Lady Sif. You are truly a dear friend." Loki gave a curt bow, then gestured for Jane to take leave with him. The last thing she needed was to stress over these brainless twits.

But Sif was not done with him. At her intake of breath, he sighed and faced her as she went on to speak.

"Out of everywhere you could have patrolled, it is quite fortunate you just happened to go where the Jotunns are."

"The Norns must have finally decided to grant me a kindness. Now if you'll excuse me." As he turned to leave, a firm hand on his arm stopped him.

Sif leaned closer to him and pitched her voice low enough for no one else to hear. "I will find out how you killed Kurse and how you knew where the Jotunns would be."

"You can choose however you waste your time. As for me"—he pulled his arm free, careful to not display his Jotunn strength—"I will escort Jane back to her tent before my next patrol."

"Maybe I will go with you."

Loki stared into her hard, dark eyes. "Maybe you should." Cold pulled into his hands, the accompanying sonorous whisper barely registering. He could then easily blame her death on a Jotunn attack.

Jane flinched as if she'd heard his thoughts. The action snapped him out of the anger-filled moment and, ready to explain and apologize, his gaze shot to her. She wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were screwed shut in a grimace of pain, fingers curled around the edge of that blasted red cloak, pulling it tighter around her.

Forgetting about Sif, he shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the cloak. Green suited her coloring much better than red.

Jane's eyes popped open in surprise.

"It's only a coat," he said. "You will not owe me a life debt."

Her eyes managed to widen even further. "You guys do that sort of thing?"

He chuckled, and her look of wonder melted into a glare. Riling her up was easy and the perfect way to make the pain release its hold on her.

"I should've known better," she said, but there was no heat behind her words.

"Shall we go now?" He held out an arm for her to take.

She did without pause. That she didn't attempt to hide her fatigue made his insides twist into heavy knots. Her decline seemed so sudden. At this rate, he didn't know how much longer she would last.

"You have that crease between your brows again," Jane said as they walked. "What are you thinking about?"

"You." Honesty had never been easy for him, but he would do what was necessary to win her heart.

She laughed. "Me? You have much bigger things to worry about than me."

"You are no less important than winning this war or me becoming a prince again."

"Until you're able to cut the soulmate bond, that is."

She thought he was concerned only for his life should she die. The fool woman. "You know me better than anyone, yet you do not scorn me. That is more precious than any crown."

If she had looked surprised earlier, then he was sorely mistaken. Her lips softened, mouth falling open slightly, beckoning him. He had to force his gaze onto her wide eyes.

"You are always surprising me," she finally said.

He hesitated before asking, "Does it annoy you?"

She shook her head and trapped her lower lip between her teeth. He wanted to tug it free with his own.

Someone walked by, offering a greeting that sounded distant and garbled in his ears. All of his senses had been focused on her. He found himself leaning closer to her, his arms gripping her tighter. His body demanded he maintain their position, but Loki eased the tension by returning the greeting to the faceless man. With his gaze off her and his head turned away, he could breathe again.

How much truth could she handle? Would she scorn him if she knew he loved her? Would she willingly stay with a monster?

"Loki?" Jane asked.

He looked at her, fearing the worst. "Yes?"

"We just passed the tent."

Loki jerked to a stop, which yanked Jane back from her forward momentum. Half of her kept going, hair swirling around her face, then ended up bent over her middle, nearly hanging off his hold.

He quickly righted her, afraid she'd been hurt. It would be just his luck for him to nearly kill the person he was trying to save. He apologised and offered self-effacing comments that rolled off his tongue in a very non-Loki manner.

Still using him for support, she stood with lips pressed together, her shoulders shaking from repressed mirth. Then a chuckle escaped. The laughter grew until she hung on his arm, gasping for air between guffaws and leaking tears.

His brows drew together as he held onto her, refusing to let her collapse to the snow. "Are you laughing at me?"

Several people watched them, all of which he tried to ignore.

"No. Maybe," she answered, straightening herself. "I haven't laughed like that in years." She wiped at her eyes, still chuckling. "I can only imagine what that looked like. And then you with your ridiculous concern—" She looked at him and her laughter died. "You were serious? I thought you were teasing me."

"Your well-being is no joking matter. I would rather cut off my arm than hurt you."

She looked on the verge of laughing again as her expressions warred between disbelief and confusion.

"I am serious."

"Because of the bond." Her words were a cross between a statement and a question.

He growled in frustration, and her brows shot up. His might have as well. He'd never made such a low, guttural sound before. He couldn't help but wonder if it was his Jotunn nature trying to break through the magical Asgardian disguise.

He glanced at his pale hand in relief.

"I would've told you if you started to change," she whispered.

His gaze shot to hers—brown eyes filled with sincerity and compassion—and warmth flooded his body, bringing life back to his numb core. He yearned to tell her how he really felt, but it was too soon. Their conversation was proof enough.

"I know you would." Because he trusted her, more than anyone, more than himself. He glanced down at her neck and pulled the cloak and his jacket tighter around her. "Whatever you do, do not stay warm and, most importantly, do not rest."

Her eyes narrowed, and he couldn't stop the snicker from escaping his lips.

"Reverse psychology will not work on me, mister."

He smiled. "I had to try." His fingers itched to feel the softness of her cheek, the smooth curve of her jaw. One day he would do that and more. "I will fix everything, Jane Foster. This war will end, you will be well, and—" The soft bells announcing change of patrol cut him off.

"And?" she asked, slightly breathless.

You will understand the depths of my feelings for you. "I will have my magic restored."

She blinked, as if coming out of a daze, then nodded halfheartedly.

The bells tolled the final time.

Loki turned from her and walked several paces before catching sight of Thor watching him. His fake-brother shook his head, and Loki could practically read his mind: you are wasting your time, brother. She is bonded to another.

If he only knew.

Loki slipped out of the camp and in the direction of the Jotunns, careful of Sif or of one of the Warriors Three possibly following him. It didn't take long. The snow and ice seemed to bolster him, instead of weigh him down. The energy and vitality he had felt when he'd first arrived on the realm finally made sense. His body was at home here. And yet it gave him no pleasure.

He passed the hidden sentries, the guards in front of the shifting ice wall, and the people working inside the fortress, acknowledging no one until he stopped in front of Laufey, sitting in his shadowed throne, holding the Winter Casket. With a dip of his head, he knelt and said, "My King."

"Rise, my son."

Loki stood and waited for the next move. He knew how to play this game. And losing was not an option.

"I gave you information. Now it is time for you to return the favor." Laufey leaned forward in his throne and rubbed his pointed chin. "Where is the Asgardian camp?"

What a foolish thing to ask. "If you attack so soon, they will know there is a spy. Our advantage will be lost."

"If we kill them, we will not need your spying. We will be able to focus on ridding Yggdrasil of the Asgardian menace once and for all."

"Respectfully, sir. Do you not wish to—"

Laufey slammed his fist on the armrest producing a crack that reverberated in the cavernous room. "Asgardian blood will flow this day."

"Then might I suggest eliminating a patrol party?"

He sneered, contorting his face into an even more dreadful version of itself. "Why would I waste my time?"

"Because they know the general location of your fortress. If they find it, your true mission will fail."

"How could they know such a thing?" The suspicion lacing his words was thick, intended to intimidate.

Dropping his gaze, Loki let a slight tremble enter his voice. "As much as it pains me to say, they do have a modicum of intelligence, at least when it comes to war. Lead them away from here." He gestured with his hands, putting on a show. "Take out the patrol as a misdirection. It will buy me more time to retrieve the Aether for you. Before the Dark Elves return."

"If we storm the camp, we kill the Asgardians and take the Aether from the mortal's dead fingers. Yggdrasil will be ours."

Loki did his best not to grind his teeth. "Last time you tried that, she almost escaped. The mortals have a way to teleport now."

He jumped to his feet, gripping the Casket with both hands. The temperature plummeted. "What?"

This time, Loki dropped to a knee and bowed his head. "They have the Tesseract and have unlocked its secrets."

Laufey growled, just as Loki had with Jane, making him even more agitated. He was not like these bloodthirsty fiends.

"But I have convinced her to stay," Loki added, looking up. "Give me more time, and she will hand you the box personally." He would kill them all before they got within two feet of her.

Laufey paced in front of the large throne. Each footfall was a clomp that shook the icy ground, bouncing the broken shards and flecks of frost. Loki waited patiently. He could outwait a rock if need be.

Finally, the king stopped and swung to face him. "Give me the patrol's location and size." He stepped to Loki, lifted his chin, peeling away the Asgardian magical disguise, and said, "Prove yourself true, and I will announce you as heir to the throne of the greatest realm in Yggdrasil." His grip on Loki's chin tightened, sharp nails digging into his skin. "Prove yourself false, and I will kill you myself."

oOoOo

Jane repositioned the mechanical pieces of the brazier she'd broken; it worked now, after many failed experiments resulting in much frustration and even some minor burns. With the pieces in the proper place, it produced a soothing heat, as it was designed for. But that was not why she'd asked for it to be brought to her instead of it being discarded with the other trash.

"Dr. Foster?" Steve asked outside her cloth door.

Finally. She put the brazier pieces to the side and sat up straight. "Come in."

The red cloth peeled back to expose a tall, broad-shouldered man with the face of an innocent babe. She was going to have to somehow convince him to sneak and steal. "You know you can call me Jane, right?"

He nodded, standing like a soldier at ease, with his legs spread and hands clasped behind his back.

"Has the patrol come back?" She didn't mention Loki, certain Steve knew exactly who she meant.

"No. But some intense weather has moved in, so it could be slowing them down."

She shoved away her unease—Loki was fine. He was a Jotunn, after all—and pushed herself up out of her chair. Her wobbly legs made her unsteady and appear frail, something she chose not to hide.

He was at her side in an instant, buttressing her with an arm. "You don't have to stand for me."

"I need your help. It's for the Einstein-Rosen Bridge."

"The Tesseract?"

"Yes. Remember when you said your buddies from war kept mementos of loved ones back home?" He nodded. "I know which personnel have spouses in Asgard. All we need to do is see if any have a stray hair we might use to teleport SHIELD to Asgard so they can repair the Rainbow Bridge."

His face brightened. "Someone agreed to let you go through their things?"

"Not exactly."

His smile fell.

"It turns out Asgardians are very private when it comes to personal matters and artifacts."

Now his brows lowered. "What are you planning?"

"I need you to help me sneak into a tent." When his eyes widened, she quickly added, "But you don't have to do anything. Maybe just stand watch. I'll look for what I need." He started to shake his head, but she went on. "It's for the good of everyone, Steve. Without a functioning Bifrost, without Earth and Asgard working together, we lose."

He sighed. "Where's the tent?"

She would've jumped in joy if her legs weren't made of week-old jello.

oOoOo

"It's just over here," Jane whispered to Steve.

They passed several people, all of whom she smiled at. Was she being too friendly? Was everyone watching them?

"Relax," he said out of the corner of his mouth.

"I am." She wasn't. She totally lied...to Captain America. Did that qualify as a sin?

They stopped at the tent she'd told him about earlier. It was in a more secluded area, away from the rec and food tents. Plus, he was a newlywed, by Asgardian standards—one hundred years was not what she would call new—and said to be recovering from the Jotunn attack in the medical tent. It was perfect.

"All clear," he said after a surreptitious look around.

Without a backwards glance, she slipped inside and paused to breathe. Her heart beat far faster than it should and her palms were clammy. Her gaze swept the pristine tent: a made bed with linen pulled so taut they looked painted on, a perfectly arranged, unadorned chair and desk, and two simple chests. She made her way to them.

The first held clothes and a kit to repair them. The second had shoes, toiletries, and containers full of different types of gunk. She sniffed them, shrugged, then put them aside. At the very bottom, was an ornate wooden box.

Thrusting her hands inside the chest, she pulled out the box and placed it on her lap. Letters from the Asgardian's ancient language were carved on the top. She lifted the lid and found a thick golden ring and a note written in the same masculine scrawl that lined the box. But no scarf, no shirt, not even something more private.

Closing her eyes, she let her shoulders sag. There were other soldiers, of course. She would just have to try again.

"Hi," Steve said from outside, loud enough for her to hear. Jane jerked upright. "I'm Steve Rogers, I don't believe we've met."

A reply came next, muffled but definitely male. He sounded calm, not at all alarmed.

Was it a random passerby? Or the owner of the tent? Regardless, she slammed the box shut and shoved it inside the chest just before the tent flaps opened.

Jane froze, bent over the chest with the soldier's boots and containers in her arms.

"Wait!" Steve said as if the person was about to walk off a cliff. "I'm actually lost. Can you point me in the right direction to Thor's tent?"

"Of course," the soldier said before the tent flaps closed again.

Jane breathed out and placed the bundle into the chest, then looked around. How was she to escape? There were no window flaps, no open edges.

She tiptoed to the entrance and listened. Sure enough, Steve and the soldier sounded slightly further away. She eased back a flap and peeked out to find the soldier's robe-covered back facing her. He was a big man.

Glancing back inside the tent, she sighed. It was a shame he hadn't kept anything of his loved one. Her gaze landed on the desk, specifically the drawers.

She looked back outside and caught Steve's eye. If he saw her hold up a finger for him to wait, he showed no reaction. He just asked the poor man another question, sounding even more confused than before. The layout of the camp wasn't all that complicated. A child could've figured it out. She would've laughed if not for her heart clogging her throat, beating a frantic pace.

Racing to the desk—more like slowly shuffling—she opened the drawers. There were knickknacks, some sort of watch, a knife, and a book. Leaning on the desk, she cursed under her breath. Nothing. Damn it.

On the verge of closing the drawers, she noticed something hanging out of the book. At first, she brushed it off as a ribbon placeholder, but now that it was staring up at her, it looked like something else. She opened the book and found a lock of smooth, dark hair bound together by string.

A long wail pricked her ears and made her stomach drop. Something was wrong. Quickly pulling out a strand, she placed it in her empty container of cream, and escaped the tent while everyone's focus was on whatever was happening. Jane moved through the snow as fast as she could to reach the source of the lament, her heart in her throat. Was Loki okay?

A large group had gathered near the camp's entrance, obscuring the disturbance. Hushed whispers tried to soothe the person making the sad sound, only to be swallowed by outraged cries.

Ignoring her rapid breath and aching chest, she urged her body to move faster.

The crowd bumped into her as she worked her way forward, nearly knocking her back, but she finally broke through the wall of people to discover a line of people carrying bodies into the camp. The missing patrol. Maybe even Loki.

She stood on her toes and stared at the body of each man and woman that was marched by. There had been five, and none had included the God of Mischief. But there was one she hadn't gotten a look at: the first soldier carried in. Jane wrung her hands and made her way to the back of the crowd.

Would she have felt his death? She wracked her brain for some piece of information on soulmate psychic connection. Loki had certainly felt her emotions. He'd said so back on Earth, but he hadn't really noted them since, hadn't been aware of them since, she realized. Otherwise, he would've known she wasn't romantically interested in Thor.

Which meant he could've died, and she wouldn't have had a clue.

"Have you see Loki?" she asked the person closest to her.

The magi, a woman covered in a hooded robe, looked at her blankly, like Jane had spoken a different language.

Jane turned from her, walked several paces down, and then asked a man holding a basket the same question.

He shook his head.

"Was he—was he—" She couldn't bring herself to ask if he was one of the fallen.

Regardless, he seemed to understand and merely shrugged before turning back to watch the procession.

Picking up her pace, she hurried toward the front of the line. Loki could've been the first one brought in. He was the brother of the crowned prince, after all.

As she passed people, she asked one of three questions, sometimes all of them jumbled together: "Have you seen Loki?" "Is Loki one of the dead?" "Did Loki come back from patrol?"

Everyone answered no in some form or manner.

She was at her wits' end and the line seemed miles long. The snow might as well have been quicksand. But she had to find out if Loki was the first one brought in.

"Have you seen Loki?" she asked a vaguely familiar man carrying a basket.

He looked at her askance, and she recognized him as the same person from earlier. Jane glanced around to find all of the people she had passed, now passing her. Tears stung her eyes.

With legs that refused to budge, she was a rock in a stream of people flowing around her. She'd stopped asking about Loki, but she didn't stop worrying about him. Every face she saw, she made sure it didn't have penetrating green eyes lined with dark lashes, thin lips that always seemed to hold secrets, a face that embodied sin.

She searched until no more passed. The tail of the procession moved deeper into the camp where Thor would surely be.

About to turn away, she noticed someone strolling toward the entrance of the camp. Jane straightened. Someone tall and slender. She held her breath. Someone with long black hair that danced in the wind.

Jane smiled.

Loki walked through the magical bubble that surrounded the camp. He watched the mournful procession with a gaze that held no surprise or sadness, no anger or loss. He was perfectly stoic with eyes made of ice.

Movement across the street caught her attention. Sif and the Warriors Three looked at each other knowingly, then darted around a tent and out of sight.

Jane blinked. Loki couldn't have had anything to do with the patrol's death. Could he?

AN - this is for the guest who mentioned there wasn't enough romance. I hope this chapter quenched your thirst. ;) And I took no offense. This story is definitely a slow burn. I want Loki to earn her love, rather than relying on the soulmate bond, and he's finally getting there.

Thanks for reading!

And thanks to my sister and Mercury97!