A/N: OK, this chapter…this is a fun one. But there's another A/N at the end that is really important for a lot of you. So keep that in mind!

For now, though, I just need to tell you guys thanks again. Partly because I actually started posting this fic on another site, and it's been ... well, less positively received, shall we say. So I want to make sure you all here know how much I appreciate you still reading this. All right, on to the show...

Clara's feet hit the marble floor, causing her to totter in her heels. Regaining her balance, she took off in a direction chosen at random. She would have done better, of course, going in her bare feet, but her mind was too focused on finding Thor even for that obvious consideration. She had no idea where to find him at this time of evening—for it was evening in Asgard, too—but if she had to search the entire palace, from the dungeons to the towers and then back again, she would do it.

The frantic clatter of her heels should have called more attention than it did. She passed two guards and a maid, but although they all recognized her, none of them knew where to find the prince. At the end of the corridor, she turned right. A few seconds later, above her own noise, she heard her name echoing. She stopped, once again almost toppling over, and turned to see Thor approaching quickly.

Her mouth went dry, and the words she had rehearsed in her mind melted away into nothingness. She froze in place until he was close, towering over her, his expression anxious.

"Clara," he whispered.

She saw exactly what she had hoped to see in his face—or was it because she hoped for it that she saw it? Steve's words came back to her; she knew she could not leave any room for doubt.

"I came to tell you something," she said. Fear passed across his face before he composed himself. "Maybe you guessed already, maybe it wouldn't make a difference, but I…"

Stop now, while you still have your dignity.

No, don't lose your nerve!

"I'm in love with you. However you take that…I need you to know it."

He was stunned into silence, but she could not immediately tell if that was a good thing or not. She was that close to going back instantly to New York to save face. Before she could touch her ring, however, he had one hand to her shoulder and the other to the back of her head, pulling her into a kiss.

She dropped her pocketbook and wrapped her arms around him, not minding the cold, hard armor against her bare skin. All she could feel was his mouth, his breath; all she heard was the rush of blood in her ears. When she broke away, she finally noticed the metal, and shivered involuntarily.

"What about what you said…about being cautious?" she asked. She was attempting to be coquettish, but she could not keep her very real concern from seeping into her words.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, her breath stilled.

"To Hel with caution," he said before he kissed her again.

She pulled back. "But what…do you have to say? To what I told you?" She tried to keep her smile warm but her words firm.

He stared at her intently, his jaw so firmly set that she was afraid she had made him angry.

Instead, he said, "We are of the same mind, Clara." He stood up straight again and enclosed one of her hands firmly in his. "Come with me," he said.

She wondered at first if he was taking her to the throne room to receive Odin's…what? Blessing? It was unlikely that the king was still holding council at this hour. Plus, they were not taking the correct route. This corridor was unfamiliar, and that left only one other option she could think of. Finally they stopped in front of a set of massive double doors of heavy wood.

Her hands were clammy and her stomach was performing elaborate gymnastics as Thor opened the doors. They stepped inside a large sitting area. Dark, wooden walls were covered with intricate tapestries, and a richly-colored rug was spread across the marble floor. Tall candelabra glimmered in every corner. In one wall, an enormous stone fireplace opened into the adjoining room. The fire radiated not only heat, but a sweet smell something like incense. Before the hearth stood a pair of chairs. Above the fireplace were mounted the heads of several beasts, including an enormous wild boar and a vile creature that could only be described as a dragon with antlers.

Clara's mouth was too dry to ask about anything before she felt Thor's hand slide across her shoulders. She shivered, even though his skin was warm. She closed her eyes, inhaling the smell of the fire as she tried to collect herself. The hand moved from her back and traced the line of her jaw. She turned her gaze up at him, seeing the golden glow reflected in his armor and his eyes. Nervously she pressed the fingertips of one hand against her lips. There was no use in being coy at this point. It was exactly what she wanted, and somehow more than she bargained for.

Oh, well, what's one more rash decision?

She let her shoes and clutch fall to the floor when he embraced her again. Quicker than she could react, she was lifted into his arms and carried into the next room.

Her arms encircling his neck, she twisted her head as far as she could to look. Here, as expected, was his bedroom, similarly decorated. Along with the same fireplace, it shared the sitting room's warmth and fragrance. The marble floor was scattered with rugs made from animal pelts. Against the far wall stood an enormous canopied bed, hung with brick-colored draperies.

"It suits you," she said.

He stopped, still holding her comfortably, as though the weight was nothing. He seemed to be hunting for something in her expression. Clara, already nervous, became downright terrified. But what was there to be terrified of? How long had she agonized over her feelings? How long had she wanted this, exactly as it was now unfolding?

He crossed the room and settled her on the bed before he began to remove his weighty armor. She watched him awkwardly, wondering if she should help. But she didn't know the first thing about the fastenings, and her hands were probably shaking too badly to be any use. Detaching the last of it and setting it aside, Thor grinned, apparently taking her wide-eyed observation as a compliment. In a close-fitting shirt and trousers, he was no less formidable, but he looked far more human.

So why couldn't she settle her unease?

I don't want to take back anything I said, she thought. That much, she knew for sure.

The mattress sank under his weight. He was above her now, kissing her. The chignon Safia had so kindly arranged was coming undone…

Her fingers tangled in his fair hair, her mouth exchanging kiss for kiss as she inhaled his scent—musky and wild and altogether captivating. How could her body be so strained, when it wanted him so much?

Yet somehow, in a burst of unwanted awareness, memories of the past weeks flooded her mind. She thought of Heimdall—doubtless getting an eyeful right now—her first sight of Thor in the restaurant, his and Odin's offer, the agony of her decision, the hassle she'd faced since then. She thought of her interrogation by S.H.I.E.L.D., Loki's taunts, her last interview, and every other piece in the series of dominoes that led to this moment.

And where would the next piece fall?

I can't think about that now, not when I have exactly what I want.

His lips were caressing her neck, one hand in her hair, the other on her hip. She felt her skirt moving upward against her legs.

I don't want to look ahead, I don't care what happens.

But she did. She knew she did.

Dammit! her libido screamed at her frontal lobe. Why did you have to bring all that up right now?

With something between a gasp and a moan, she pulled her arms under his chest and shoved. She struggled to sit up, further pushing him away, until she sat back against the pillows, tucking her legs under her. She dug her nails into her scalp and ruffled her hair until it was completely undone.

"I can't," she said, her voice strangled. "I can't do this now."

"Clara?"

She almost changed her mind at his hurt expression. She reached out, but he drew back.

"I'm sorry," she said. Had she just undone absolutely everything?

"What is your meaning?" He was surly now, and insulted. This was not good.

She shifted her position, but he did not move away again. She grabbed his shoulder with one hand and placed the other against his cheek.

"I want to. I want you. But I'm…" She took a deep breath and swallowed back an ill feeling. "I've been making some crazy decisions lately. I meant it when I said I love you, but I'm not ready for this yet."

"I do not understand," he said crossly.

"I don't think I do, either. I do know that I love you, but that has to be enough, just for now." She lowered her hands, but not her eyes, from his face. "Please."

His wounded, offended expression became sympathetic. His brow furrowed, he brushed strands of hair back from her face. "Have you never…?"

She clenched her teeth. Why did he have to ask? Her stalling was not an act of innocence, and she was not too eager to rehash her history, such as it was.

"Yes, I have," she said, grinding out the words. She refused to reciprocate the question; she didn't want to know. Trying to relax, she said, "I just…need to be sure…this time."

In spite of the hurt, she saw the desire in his eyes, accentuated by the firelight. She tried to steady her breath as her pulse refused to settle. She watched and waited, reminding herself that she trusted him, though the fingers on her right hand almost unconsciously brushed against the ring on her left.

Finally, with a sigh heaved at least partly in frustration, he lay on his back beside her. Relief cascaded over her, almost pushing out her remorse and passion. Almost. The tension leaving her shoulders, she leaned over to kiss him.

"Thank you," she murmured, stroking his hair. Her lips brushed his again, but he jerked his head away.

"You do not make this easy," he said, pushing himself to a sitting position. The humor had gone from his face, leaving a tightness that seemed a warning.

"Right," she said, turning to get up from the bed. "I better go."

Before she could set her feet on the floor, he covered one of her hands, pinning it to the sheets. Her heart jumped to her throat. Was she about to learn the price of refusing a prince?

"Stay," he said.

Her heart nearly broke. It was not an imperious command, but a humble request.

"Of course," she said. She fluffed a pillow and flopped onto it with some deliberate comedy, hoping it might lighten the mood. She turned over on her side toward him, wondering if he would follow suit, but he stayed sitting up against the pillows and headboard. "As long as you like," she added.

He was quiet as he looked at her. She remembered how confident she had been about her appearance at the restaurant, and wondered about the effect that disheveled hair and flickering light now had on the whole arrangement. It hadn't done Thor any harm, at least.

"Why did you come tonight?" he finally asked. She wondered if there was an accusation in the question, or if it was as genuinely curious as she hoped.

"Steve Rogers gave me some advice," she said, "and I couldn't wait any longer. I mean, to tell you."

There was another pause before he spoke again. "How long did you wait?"

She couldn't help grinning. "I guess it hasn't really been that long. I liked you immediately, obviously, but…that day we rode out to the vineyards…that was when I couldn't brush it off anymore."

Thor looked regretful. "I thought you'd been overcome with sentiment. You were melancholy that day."

"Yeah," she said. "I was homesick."

"I became convinced that your interest was nothing more than flirtation. I had no intention of cultivating it into more, for fear it would hinder you in your work, helping the realms reconcile. That is my great concern, you understand."

"I understand," she said. "You didn't want us distracted—I get it. But Steve told me how he loved someone, and never told her. I couldn't let that happen to me."

"I'm glad you didn't," Thor said softly.

"You are?" Clara asked, her voice lifted several notes higher with relief and hope.

"It seems that refusing my own feelings is no less troublesome than acknowledging them. But you left so abruptly, I did not know what to make of it. Heimdall told me you were safely home and back to your work. I did not want to chase you down; I thought you must have had your reasons."

"Oh, I had my reasons, all right," she said. She clenched her eyes shut, feeling nauseated at the memory of Loki's derision, his insinuations, and when he nearly lost his temper and grasped her face. She shuddered to remember those hands on her chin, the strength that could have broken her if he wished.

Thor sighed. "I know what my brother said to you," he said. "I am more sorry than I can say."

"Wasn't as bad as blowing up a city," Clara said bitterly. "And why do you call him that? He's not your brother. He's not even Asgardian. Why should you care if he lives or dies? No one else does."

She was not looking at him, and so missed the change in his expression, a shift from tenderness to defense, affection to indignation. She heard it in his voice, though.

"I do not appreciate you speaking so. Your hatred is justified, but I will not hear his being maligned, either. My affections for you do not negate my love for him, or my hopes for his…recovery."

There was that royal tone of voice that never ceased to confuse and exasperate her.

"Okay, noted," she said, opening her eyes. "But I still don't understand why he matters so much."

His face held its stern expression until he saw that she really did want an answer.

"For all he's done—the violence and theft and deceit—it is not easy to erase the years of our upbringing. Our times spent playing and fighting and confiding in one another cannot be so quickly undone. Fighting together in battle, for our people and our realm, has tied us together in ways you cannot fathom if you have not known it yourself. I cannot simply abandon him to his fate after all that. You have a sister—would you not think as I do, were you in my place?"

Clara frowned. "But I'm not—and I never will be. My sister got a DUI. I know it was incredibly stupid, but she wouldn't deliberately hurt someone, and I don't know if I could defend her if she did."

Thor still looked sour; she had not reacted quite as he had expected. She raised her hand to take his. "Never mind," she said. "I get it now." She did, really, though she still thought Thor was ridiculous to still care about Loki. Plus, she was tired of the subject—and just tired. "We feel the same about each other, and that's what matters right now."

He lifted her hand and placed a lingering kiss against her fingers.

"Yes, we do," he said, not letting go of her. "And I am not so deluded as to believe that you and he could be friends, or that you could care for him as I do, or even that he is not dangerous. He still harbors a prejudice against your people. Unwarranted, of course," he added with a smile, trying to mollify Clara, who had thrown him a scathing look. "Until I have every assurance of his restoration, I will protect you. From whatever, from whomever, threatens your safety."

Including S.H.I.E.L.D.? she wondered, but did not ask aloud. Instead, she sought certainty elsewhere.

"So…what Loki said about you and Sif…?"

Thor's smile widened. "Is that what really troubled you?" He chuckled. "Sif and I have known each other since childhood. Our bond is that of two warriors who have prevailed together against enemies, and that is all it has ever been."

"But you two do make an attractive couple," Clara said, pulling her hand away. "I guess he"—she could not speak his name at the moment—"was telling the truth about that."

"Put it from your mind," Thor said gently. "There is no magic, pain, love, or threat that could keep Loki from mischief entirely, even if he repented of his past actions."

There was one other thing that tugged at her mind, but she could not put it away.

"He was right about something else. I was flirting with Fandral to try to make you jealous. I couldn't tell if it was working much, but someone knew what I was doing. Even before I think I really knew."

Thor startled her by breaking out into a full laugh. Clara blinked at him and sat up, surprised. It resonated in her own chest, like the drums in a parade.

"Is it that funny?" she asked.

He grinned roguishly. "I assumed you hoped to vex me after I…spurned your advances."

"You knew?"

"Of course! As uncertain as I was about your affections, I never once entertained the notion that you might prefer Fandral instead."

She responded with a pillow to his face, which he easily caught and tossed to the floor.

"Hey! I was using that."

Thor leaned down to pick it up. Clara held out her hand, but he tucked the pillow behind the others that he already lounged against and looked at her challengingly.

"Fine," she said. "Guess that's my cue to leave." But once again he reached out and caught her, lightly grasping her wrist to prevent her departure.

"You said as long as I like," he reminded her. "I would not like you to leave yet."

"I still have the ring," she said, balling her hands into fists in case he got any ideas. "I could go back to New York this very second and get away from you anyway."

"You could not," Thor said. He tugged on her wrist, gradually pulling her back toward him. "Anyone who makes physical contact with you as you turn the stone is transported with you."

Clara raised her eyebrows, surprised and a little put off that he had neglected to share that detail with her before. But then, it made sense—she only had to hold on to Thor, not the Tesseract, the first time he brought her to Asgard. She looked down at her hands as Thor took hold of them both.

"And you would not care to go back in your bare feet, would you?" Thor added.

She had forgotten that her shoes and purse were in the next room.

"So I have no escape," she said.

"None at all," he said with mock seriousness.

She pretended to look peeved, but then moved closer to kiss him once more. He let go of her and she curled up against him, her head resting on his chest.

"So, which one of you is the god of mischief?" she asked. She felt his deep chuckle in response. Her question was rhetorical, and she did not mind the silence that followed. She closed her eyes; the late hour and her own fatigue were catching up to her, but she was not ready to go yet.

"We taught each other a few things over the years," Thor finally said.

"Not too much, I hope," she murmured.

There was another lengthy pause.

"Not nearly enough," he said sadly.

A/N: Awwww, cute, right?

And now a note to my fellow Loki fans (I say "fellow" fans because I AM one of you, despite any and all evidence to the contrary). Whatever happens between Thor and Clara, Loki will remain an important part of the plot, and you will want to stick around for that. That's all I can say without giving it all away, but as I said before, trust me. (And my fellow Thor fans [pfft yes, I go both ways], you need to trust me too.) Look, just everyone, hold out to the bitter end and see what happens, OK? "I've come too far for anything else."