A/N: OK, so ... I said in the last A/N that this chapter would make up for a lack of canon characters in the previous chapter. I wrote that with the intention of including Loki in this chapter, but for the sake of the narrative I rearranged some scenes and his next appearance has been postponed. Sorry about that, but this is still a good chapter, and a major turning point in the story. You'll see. (Writing it gave me serious Thor feels.)


"Something troubles you, my son," Frigga said, standing in the doorway.

She had been watching Thor pace back and forth across the veranda for several minutes. He was plagued with troubles lately, but it was not concerns about his brother or the Dark Elves that caused such restlessness now. It was something different; the queen had already guessed what.

Thor smiled sadly. "A prince always has one trouble or another, I suppose. Is it not the way of things?"

"Does it have to be?" Frigga asked. "Might I be burdened with a portion of it too, for your sake?"

Thor sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He stared out at the city, blazing golden in the last light of day, before it yielded to the evening's soft darkness. From where he stood, he could hear the waterfalls below. Someplace distant, a horse whinnied. He had little time to enjoy the view of his homeland, but on the rare occasions that he had a moment to pause, it called Clara to his memory, particularly her first visit to Asgard.

Then, he had thought of her only to the extent that she appealed to his vanity and seemed useful to his realm. Quickly she had become an object of amusement and fascination, and then…he did not know when his heart had given way to affection, but it had followed soon after. It was not only the sight of her that he missed—her playful smile, her untamed curls—but her very presence, the mere knowledge that she was nearby. Gone but a few days, she had taken his heart with her to Midgard.

He longed to see her eyes widen in awe and delight at each new experience in his world. He thought of her brow, wrinkled in serious thought, and the unsightly twist of her lips when she was fearful, arousing his protective instincts. It was that instinct that had led him to send her away. Now, he wondered if that instinct had been wrong.

"Clara," he finally spoke aloud. He did not look at Frigga, not wanting to see the pitying look he knew she wore. "She is not here."

"And you wish it otherwise," the queen remarked.

"Yes," he said, seeing no point in denying it. "I fear that it may never be safe for her to return."

"Is it truly dangerous for her?" Frigga asked, approaching her son until she stood beside him.

Thor nodded, still gazing outside. "Alflyse could hardly stop her rage that Father had appointed a mere mortal to his court, when other realms have been excluded. It was hardly less insulting than his decision against granting her the Tesseract. My regard for Clara must have offended her, as well."

"Will she act on it?"

"Father is convinced that she—and all the Svartálfar—have neither the strength nor the resources to truly threaten us. But Heimdall has seen their craftsmen at work, forging weapons greater than anything Svartalfheim has boasted for many an age. But for those in direct service to the queen, the Dark Elves remain isolated in their separate clans and villages, suspicious of each other as much as any outsider. If Alflyse creates a means to unite them, they could be a danger beyond anything we might anticipate."

"The Allfather does not believe that could ever happen," Frigga said.

"He does not. Yet…I wonder. If she cannot impel her own people to action, who is to say that she will not seek out others—the Jotuns, perhaps? And we do not know by what course the Svartálfar arrived here at all. We do not truly know what powers Alflyse possesses. Father is wise to withhold the Tesseract from them, but we might be better prepared for the consequences."

"You must speak with the Allfather of your concerns," the queen said. "Even if he does not agree, he would not want you to keep them from him."

"I have done so," Thor said. "In part, at least. I do not wish to appear as I was: a hot-blooded boy who longed for a battle he did not understand. I know the consequences of war, and I would exercise caution, above the highest honor and the dearest treasure, if it means the preservation of this realm and the lives within." He paused to compose his tone, not wanting to sound impatient or disrespectful. "Father has permitted me to order new weapons, and to train new soldiers, but more than that, he says, is unmerited."

Frigga laid a hand on Thor's arm. "And you wish to keep Lady Clara from all this?"

"She is safe where she is," Thor answered. "Midgard is out of the Dark Elves' reach, and Heimdall sees her. She is well. She has been in the company of the Metal Man, and her own father. She has no need of me at this time."

"She does not have to be in need of you for you to miss her."

Thor chuckled. "That seems to be the truth, is it not? But until Midgard requires my aid again, my duty and attention must be here."

He paused, considering his next words; he could not keep them inside. He exhaled softly and lowered his head, as though ashamed. "Mother, I have brought her nothing but troubles."

"That is not true, Thor, as well you know," the queen scolded. "She loves you, it is not to be denied. That is worth every trouble. If it is her position in court you speak of, she chose it willingly. Perhaps your meeting was born out of tragedy, but not one of your making."

"She was better as she was," he said. "My own pride encouraged Loki's thirst for vengeance, and his siege on Midgard, on Clara's own city. It is true, we met in calamity, and I bear some responsibility. Even now, my foolish youth mocks my present love."

"And now, knowing her, would you choose to regress to the past?" Frigga asked. "Would you turn the direction of time, letting it take your love with it?"

"Such a thing is not possible," Thor said. "Even if it were, I could not choose to erase her presence from my memories."

"I daresay she thinks the same of you," Frigga said. "Accepting the bitter for the sake of the sweet. As you say, what is done is done, and such tireless censure does you no good. If you cannot change the past, you must look to the future. If you wish Lady Clara to be a part of that future, think of that—not of mistakes that have already taught you what they can."

"What am I to think of?" Thor asked. "I would not wish for a single moment apart from her, and yet her safety—I daresay her life—improves in my absence."

"Is that a certainty?" Frigga asked.

"She agreed," he said. "I told her that she did not have to return to Midgard if she wished, but she bowed to my advice and wisely chose her safety. She may have affection, a desire for my company, but she is also no fool. With time, she will see even more clearly, I think."

"Surely you could ensure her safety in Asgard, of all places," Frigga said. "Is that the only concern?"

"There are other matters to consider," Thor said. "I know that our worlds, our ranks, and our lives remain vastly different. Her place in court makes open favoritism less than respectable. I have already erred on that count. Our lives are separate, and I ought to make a claim on her protection only insofar as I claim protection over all of Midgard. Then, there are those who would see my protection of an individual Midgardian—a mortal woman—as an aberration at best, treason at worst. Whatever my feelings for her, every perspective forces me to conclude that, however much I wish to shield her from danger, she is not mine to shield."

"Then make her yours," Frigga said.

Thor stared at her silently, with something akin to wonder.

Frigga hesitated, then continued. "For all this talk of impropriety and treason, fate has brought you two together. An alliance would resolve many of your concerns."

Thor was still stunned by the idea. "You speak of a marriage alliance," he whispered.

"Rightly are you surprised by the suggestion," Frigga said dryly. "These things are usually arranged over a longer span of time than the two of you have had. Its success requires that your regard for each other be a lasting kind, not a passing infatuation. You cannot bind yourselves together merely to offer her brief sanctuary. She must also be consulted. We do not know how marriages are conducted on Midgard—that must be learned. But if she is favorable to the idea, there is no reason not to proceed."

Thor listened to her advice with a heady combination of gladness, anguish, and longing. In Asgard, more so among royalty, a marriage alliance was permanent and weighty—not considered frivolously, and not easily dissolved. It bound the participants together to share their lives, their resources, and their loyalty, as well as their love. Thor had always meant to choose a queen in time, and a small part of him might have begun to hope that he had. But there were always so many other things to consider.

"Such an alliance would join your separate lives, make her rank equal to yours, and make your guardianship entirely acceptable. As for those prejudiced against her Midgardian birth, well…I suppose there is nothing to be done about that. But you love each other—and doubtless she would conduct herself with more decorum than Alflyse. That may make her royalty enough."

Thor finally allowed himself to smile. "I had not realized you liked Clara so much."

"Not so much, if I am to be honest," Frigga said. "My hopes were on Sif for quite a while. But you would be the one to marry her, not I. If you would ask me to love Lady Clara as your wife, as my daughter-in-law, and as a future queen of Asgard, I will do it all, and with all my heart."

"Your heart is too good," Thor said, bending down to kiss her cheek.

She could feel a tremor in his touch. Nerves? "Did you never consider this before?" she asked.

Thor paused to think seriously before he answered. "I did not dare."

They stared up at a night sky brilliant with constellations, entertaining their own silent thoughts.

"But how could I suggest it to her now?" he finally asked. "I have placed her in danger, and then sent her away like a child to remedy it. Yet I would dare to offer her a life in a dangerous realm, and a life for which she is unprepared. How could she trust my attachment to her in all the tumult—and in so little time as we have had together?"

"You make only excuses now," Frigga said. "Why do you not set the idea before her, and only proceed to address the difficulties once you know her answer?"

Thor pondered silently for a few more moments.

"I fear that an alliance appeals to me only because of my selfishness. If I truly loved her and wished for her good, I would release her from her obligations to Asgard, and set her free in her own realm."

"And if she truly loved you," Frigga said, "she would accept the risk for your sake. If you 'set her free,' as you say, when she still wanted to be with you, that would be a callous act against you both."

Thor gave the queen a tiny smile. "You seem more certain of her answer than I," he said.

Silent, Frigga placed a tiny arm around Thor's waist as though to console him. He paused, then cleared his throat and threw his shoulders back.

"If you will excuse me, Mother," he said, "I have a visit to make this night."

"You will speak to her now?" Frigga asked, eyebrows raised. "That is well, but perhaps you should bring the matter before the Allfather, at least. Especially if you may lose him an emissary."

"I would speak to neither of them yet," he said, his face pained. "There is… something else to address."

Confused, Frigga watched Thor walk off the veranda. She realized what he meant and called after him.

"If you seek his blessing, I am afraid you will be disappointed," she warned.

Thor paused in the doorway. "I am not fool enough to ask so much," he replied.


Clara felt lighter, immensely relieved that she no longer had to worry about S.H.I.E.L.D.

Unfortunately, she was also reminded why her childhood had been difficult, despite its privilege, and why she had not bothered to keep in contact with her father for two years.

Before the plane was in the air, the senator was at his paperwork and several mobile devices, talking to aides and colleagues and ignoring Clara. She wondered, too late, if he had only been playing the concerned father. She pulled out her laptop and looked through some of her pictures of Asgard. The photos of Thor were painful to see. She put her computer away again and stared out the window.

What was going on in Asgard? She had not heard from Thor. She chewed her lip in thought, wondering if she should have gone back to the palace, even if just a few minutes, to tell him what was going on. Surely Heimdall could see her now, and even overheard the conversation with her father. She hoped Thor would not think she was trying to avoid him, when he did come back to Earth. If he came back.

Why can't I just have a normal boyfriend I could be texting right now?

She thought of the ring, tucked in a pocket of her bag, and wondered if it would still work in D.C. If Heimdall did tell Thor where she was, would he come back for her there? She smiled at the thought of him summoning lightning and thunder and landing at the top of the Capitol. She frowned again, wondering how long it would be before he even looked for her. Thor had not given her a specific timeline, only that he would come back, but somehow she had expected—or hoped—to hear from him before now. The curiosity was killing her. But if she went back to Asgard, wouldn't she be in danger?

"Don't be nervous."

Clara started. Her father was smiling vaguely, cell phone in hand, but he was looking at her.

"What?" she asked.

"You looked nervous," he said. "Don't be—you'll do great."

Her time in Asgard should have prepared her for the preferential treatment as a VIP in the District. Indeed, she tried to summon both the memories of her advantaged upbringing and the reminder that she was still Odin's ambassador. Even so, she felt a bit bowled over as several security officers escorted them from the plane to the car that took them to her father's D.C. apartment.

Despite the beautiful fireplace, polished wood floors, and marble countertops, the luxury flat was plainly furnished. Evidently her parents did not do their own entertaining here. Clara concealed her disappointment that her mother apparently had stayed in California. Suddenly she realized that she did not even know if her mother knew of this arrangement. Clara would have to call her later.

"Dinner out tonight," Senator McKenna said when Clara dumped her stuff off in the guest room. "Thought it might be nice for you to meet a few people right away. You'll do great," he repeated.

An hour later, Clara found herself sitting at the table in her cobalt-blue cocktail dress with a half-finished mojito, completely ignored by her father and the other politicians.

If 'doing great' meant being useless and bored to death, I am so there, she thought.

He had made it sound like she was vital to whatever they were trying to accomplish. Even that was still foggy, but no one offered any explanation. In fact, no one spoke to her directly after her father made introductions. The three men and one woman exchanged stories about their families, complained about their staff, and swapped gossip, not bothering to gloss over more salacious details.

Clara felt ill; no one was asking her about Asgard, or extraterrestrial life, or S.H.I.E.L.D., or even about what had happened in New York. It was as though no one else was aware that anything had happened, that any of it existed.

I know that Capitol Hill is oblivious to the rest of the world, but this is ridiculous.

She looked at the hand that played with her drink glass. It was still bare; her ring was still in her bag, back in her father's apartment. She smiled absently, wondering if her dinner companions would notice if, had she been wearing the ring, she used it to teleport back to Asgard.

What do we even vote for these people for? she wondered, before remembering that only two of the people at the table even held an elected position. The woman worked for some defense contractor, and one of the other men was some kind of FBI agent. It was a little disturbing, now that she gave it more thought, that the most powerful people in government were never elected.

"So what do you think?" Senator McKenna asked her when they were in the car back to the apartment.

"Of what?" Clara asked. "Nobody even spoke to me."

"Give it time, sweetie. You're not used to the D.C. environment anymore, and not everyone knows about you yet. I figured you've already been dealing with S.H.I.E.L.D.'s harassment. I didn't want you to get overwhelmed."

She supposed it made sense, and under different circumstances, she might have appreciated it. After a few days of it, however, she got bored.

Despite his talk at the Four Seasons, she never seemed to meet anyone important. A few people she met had known her from before she moved to New York, and probably remembered her only as a politician's spoiled brat. On her father's orders, they gave her behind-the-scenes tours of the Capitol and the Supreme Court, as though she were an eighth-grader on a field trip, which did nothing to change her reputation. Soon she was grasping at moments of solitude by meditating in the National Portrait Gallery, practicing her photography at the botanical gardens, and going for early-morning runs around the tidal basin.

After a week in the District, they arranged to meet for lunch at a restaurant downtown. As he did every time, the senator promised more interesting company. By now, Clara had come to doubt him, and gave it little thought when her father left for his Capitol Hill office.