Chapter 4 - Jane
It had been days since Thor's last visit, though it was difficult to keep track of time when he was underground and the lights were always kept at the same intensity. Loki had slept several times, but he had a feeling that sleep was not coming to him in regular intervals. When he did sleep, his sleep was often interrupted by awful, vivid dreams.
Sometimes, he woke up convinced he had been falling through the void again, and that everything that had happened since he had stopped falling the first time (Thanos, the invasion, and his subsequent imprisonment) had been the dream. When he awoke from those kinds of dreams, he was glad that his cell was well lit, because if he had woken up in the dark, it would have been a lot harder to convince himself that he was no longer in the void, and that he was safe.
Other times, he dreamed of the invasion, or of those who had sent him to Midgard. Once he had dreamed about the Other, and when he awoke, he had been filled with the terrifying sensation that he had not been dreaming at all. In the dream, if it was a dream, the Other had been in his cell, demanding to know what had become of both the scepter and the Tesseract. He had thrown a fit when Loki wouldn't tell him, but Loki could not have answered if he wanted to; for some reason, he had been unable to move or speak at all. What made his paralysis even more terrifying was that the dream was still what he would have described as lucid—his mind had been awake, and he had been in control of his thoughts.
As a child, there had been times when he would wake from a nightmare and crawl into bed with his brother, who would comfort him until he fell asleep again. Back then, his nightmares had been brought on by the stories told to him by well-meaning adults, and featured frost giants who wanted to eat him, dark elves who wanted to steal the light from all the realms, or giant wolves and again-walkers who would rise at the end of time to bring about the end of Asgard.
"When I'm king, I'll destroy all the frost giants for you," Thor would tell him sleepily, or "The dark elves are all dead, brother—Grandfather killed them all, so you needn't worry about them," or "The end of time won't be for thousands of years, we'll both be older than Father by then. Besides, it will just be one last epic last battle, before we join our forebears in Valhalla."
He didn't need that kind of comfort now, but part of him wanted to tell someone about his dreams. He couldn't tell Frigga about them, and no one else visited him. After Frigga's last visit, he wasn't sure that she would be visiting again, actually—and he was nearly convinced that Thor had tired of him and would not come around anymore.
He could not blame his brother for that—even Thor could only take so much of abuse. He had been pushing his brother just to see how far he could push him before he washed his hands of him, and should not be surprised that he finally had.
Why did he even want Thor to come back? Recently, he had been unbearable, acting less like a brother and more like a doting parent. It was hardly the first time, of course. During their childhood, Odin's diplomatic duties had often taken him away from the palace, and the oaf had always taken it much too seriously when told to care for his mother and younger brother in his absence, never seeming to understand that it was just something said to make Thor feel better about his father's departure, and not a sacred duty that had been bestowed upon him.
Just once, Loki would have liked Odin to tell him to take care of Thor and Frigga in his absence. Instead, he was always told to "behave for Mother"—but that was beside the point. It had irked him when Thor had taken it upon himself to scold him for mischief he would have otherwise taken part in, or had tried to make him eat all his dinner, or had taken away his books and insisted he go outside to play.
Perhaps it made sense that Thor had started trying to parent him again, after Odin had disowned him. Once again, Thor assumed Loki needed someone to care for him in the All-Father's absence. But Loki didn't need a parent anymore. He could calm himself from his own nightmares. If he did not want to eat, he did not have to. He certainly did not need someone to scold him for not taking care of himself, when he was already being punished for far worse crimes and would be confined for the rest of his life, however long that ended up being.
Besides, Thor was only a few centuries older than he was, and Loki was certain he had actually surpassed him a long time ago when it came to intellectual and emotional maturity. After emerging from the void, he had certainly felt every one of his thousand and forty-nine years. Not to mention, the things he had done, whether or not he was entirely responsible for them, had gone well beyond childish mischief. Thor treating him as a child now was utterly preposterous.
(;´༎ຶٹ༎ຶ`) [(－－)]..zzZ
Just when he was certain he would never see Thor again, there he was, outside Loki's cell, holding a white paper bag in one hand. In his other hand, he held the hand of a small woman with brown hair—was that Jane Foster? No, it could not be, even Thor wasn't that stupid.
But Asgardian women did not wear blue jeans. Loki wondered if the All-Father knew yet what Thor had done.
Loki pressed himself up against the wall of his cell, near the barrier where Thor and Jane stood, hand in hand, looking up at him like he was a caged animal in a zoo. "Why brother," he said, smiling at Jane predatorily, "you have brought me a mortal for lunch this time. How thoughtful."
Jane startled and took a step backward, as if she thought he might actually leap out and devour her were there not a barrier between them. Thor did not seem impressed, however. His eyebrows knit together, as if he were puzzling over something. "Brother, drop your illusion," he ordered.
Loki wondered how his brother had been able to tell this time, but he dropped the illusion he had thrown up upon their approach. He had no desire to argue with Thor in front of a mortal, and he did not particularly care if she saw him as he was. Thor would have found out what he had done eventually anyway.
"Brother," Thor scolded, as he gawked at the state of his cell, "what has happened to you?"
"I suppose you could say I happened to me," Loki answered glibly. "You didn't come back for so long, I assumed you had grown tired of me and wouldn't return. I became a bit frustrated with the uncertainty of it all."
Jane's jaw hung open as she surveyed the damage. "You trashed your own cell?"
"I did, Lady Jane."
"How do you know who I am?"
How disappointing, Loki thought. Jane was a scientist, and scientists were the Midgardian equivalents of mages. He had expected her to be more intelligent. But perhaps one couldn't expect too much from even the most brilliant mortal minds; they had so little time to develop them. "You are my brother's only mortal woman, as far as I know. Is that not so, Thor? Or are there others?"
"Of course not, Brother," Thor said, as if the idea offended him. "Jane is the only mortal for me."
Jane eyed Thor suspiciously—had she suspected that she was not Thor's only romantic interest? Loki tucked that information away for later. He had no pressing reason to try to break up Thor and Jane's relationship at the moment, especially when the passage of time would do a better job of that than he ever could. (Idunn's golden apples might give your skin a radiant, youthful glow—they were exceptionally rich in Vitamin C—but unfortunately for Jane, they did not have the ability to grant immortality to mortals.) Still, it was always good to know things, so long as knowing those things wouldn't get you killed. Loki smirked at them and pointed to the bag in Thor's hand. "Is that what I think it is?"
Thor sighed, making a show of acting put-upon. "Yes, I brought you chocolate eclairs. An entire bag of them. But you will not get any until you clean up this mess, Loki."
Was Thor seriously suggesting that he clean? Since when had either of them ever had to pick up after themselves? That was what maids were for—though he supposed he could not expect any of the palace servants to come into his cell, and the guards would sooner use the state of his cell as an excuse to throw him in a smaller, unfurnished cell, than clean up after him. He would probably have a cellmate—some monster or petty criminal who would seek to take advantage of the situation. Though perhaps if he were lucky, they would be stupid enough to put him in with Lorelei—the possibilities for chaos would be infinite.
But no, that would never happen. Years ago, he had advised them himself never to place magic users in the same cell. (The humans had a myth about how Loki, god of mischief, had invented fishing nets. He had then turned himself into a salmon, only to be trapped by his own invention. Even in a past life, I would never have been that stupid, he had thought when he had first read the myth on one of his early trips to Midgard.)
"Oh, very well—can I get a broom, in that case?" He would have made more of a fuss before acquiescing, but for some reason, he did not want to act like too much of an insufferable brat in front of Jane. (Perhaps it was simply years of having it drummed into his ear that he was to be on his best behavior in front of the representatives of other realms.) He looked about himself at the splinters of what had once been his dining table and chairs. "I am afraid some of the furniture will need to be replaced."
"I will inform Mother, but I am not so sure we ought to replace it, when you clearly did not take care of it. The other cells down here are not furnished, you know. That you have been allowed these sorts of comforts is more for Mother's sake than anything else."
Mother—had Frigga not told him that he had finally succeeded in driving her away, and that she was done with him? Perhaps they had not seen her yet, or perhaps she hadn't found it worth mentioning. "It's your fault, you know. You left me alone for so long, I thought you were never coming back."
"Your brother doesn't have to visit you at all," Jane told him. "And he certainly doesn't have to bring you food. You could try being a little more grateful."
"I never said I wasn't." Why was it every woman Thor ever dated thought it was her job to criticize him? Sif had done it too and had continued to do so even after she and Thor decided they were better as friends than as lovers.
"It truly upset you, when you thought I was not coming back?" asked Thor, somehow managing to sound both guilty and little hopeful.
"It did," Loki answered truthfully.
"Because you would miss me?"
"Because I would go insane," Loki told him, sidestepping the question. "Like most people, I don't do well in complete isolation."
"But I thought you always preferred being on your own."
"Spending the majority of one's time pursuing solitary activities and being cut off from all interaction with fellow sentient beings are two different things."
"Even if I didn't visit you, Mother would."
Thor didn't know what he had done, then. "I don't know. I'm afraid she won't come back this time."
"What do you mean, Loki? What happened?"
"We argued. I said something I have come to regret, though it was the truth."
"And what was that?" Thor asked, eyes narrowing.
Loki knew what he was thinking. Their mother did not deserve to be the target of Loki's ill humor, when she had done all she could to make him comfortable during his imprisonment. And he knew it was not in her power to do more than she had, as much as he had complained to her about his current predicament. "I said that she was not my mother," Loki admitted.
Thor frowned. "Why, Loki? Why would you say such a thing?"
"She asked."
Thor glared at him accusingly. "And what led to that?"
Loki shrugged. "She referred to Odin as my father, I pointed out that he was not. She asked if she were not my mother then, and—well what could else could I say?"
At first Thor scowled at him, but then his brows lifted and furrowed, the expression transforming into something that spoke more of pity than disapproval.
Jane looked a little uncomfortable, as if she felt like she was intruding on something private, but it didn't prevent her from commenting on the situation. "You know, you just need to apologize the next time you see her. I met your mother when we arrived just a little while ago. She seemed like a nice person. I don't think she's going to write you off just because you said something you didn't mean."
Loki wondered how much Jane knew about the particular flavor of their family drama. Was she aware that he wasn't even Aesir? "But I did mean it. It is the truth: Frigga is not my mother. Perhaps it is better this way. If I am to be executed, would it not be better for her not to lose a son?"
"Loki, I have told you again and again, you are not going to be executed. I will not allow it." Of course, Thor thought that by being stubborn enough, he would get his way.
"Father will do it while you're away," Loki warned. "Someday, you will go off to Midgard to see Jane, and when you come back, I shall be gone. And perhaps that would be for the best as well."
Thor turned to Jane. "Jane, do you think you could find your way back to Mother's quarters on your own? I need a moment to speak to my brother alone, I think."
Jane nodded. "I can find my way back. The stairs on the right, wasn't it? Take all the time you need," she told him, kissing him on the cheek.
As soon as Jane had gone, Thor entered the cell. Loki reached for the bag of sweets, but Thor held it behind his back. "No, Loki. Not until you clean this up. Really, when will you outgrow these tantrums?"
Loki took great delight in pointing out his brother's hypocrisy. "I recall that after I ruined your coronation, you knocked over a feast table."
"That was not my proudest moment," Thor admitted.
"I don't remember you having to clean it up, either."
"I suppose I didn't. We went straight to Jotunheim after that, and then Father banished me—I tell you what, Loki, I shall help you clean this up. Then we shall eat eclairs and speak of the future."
Loki scowled at him. "I have no future to speak of, Thor."
"Nonsense, Loki. You will not be locked up forever. I will—"
"You can't do anything about it."
"Truthfully, it depends on you. Help me to help you, please. There are things you are not telling us, I know it. Perhaps Father could show you a measure of leniency, if only you cooperated with our inquiries."
Loki turned away from his brother, so that he would not have to see the pitiful, beseeching expression that reminded him of a small dog. "How I wish you would go away and stay away! It would be better. Every time you come, it makes me feel as if there is hope, when I know I ought to resign myself to my fate."
"Don't be melodramatic, Loki. This is real life, not one of those awful plays you used to write and make us act out when we were children."
"Awful plays"—seriously, was this really the time to insult Loki's creative endeavors? He'd like to see Thor pen something better. His brother had no idea how much effort he had put into those scripts! He spun back around in order to confront him. "You just don't appreciate art. Besides, if you ask me, it wasn't the writing that was bad, it was the overwhelming majority of the performances."
Thor smirked. "I have to admit it was funny whenever Sif refused to play the fair maiden, and Fandral had to play her part instead. I daresay you could have played it better—as a shapeshifter, I mean."
"I always had to play the villain," Loki pointed out. "I was the only one who could pull it off with any believability."
Thor grimaced, though Loki could not tell if it was at what he had said or because he had looked down and noticed the state of Loki's feet. He had barely noticed it himself when he had stepped on a piece of broken glass, likely from the decanter that had once contained water. (If it had broken, that would explain why the floor was wet.) He had not been overly concerned about it himself, though there was a fair amount of blood coming from the wound—the floor of the cell was kept sterile by magic and he had the natural immunity of an immortal, which meant he wasn't likely to develop an infection. His brother's eyes scanned the floor of the cell. "Little Brother, where in the nine realms are your shoes?"
┬──┬◡ﾉ(° -°ﾉ)
Loki used magic to do the bulk of the cleaning, while Thor straightened up the remains of the furniture. Then, as promised, they sat down on the floor to eat the eclairs.
Thor could not think of anything to say that would not ruin the mood, which had grown almost companionable. Loki broke their silence first. "So why did you bring Jane here? She hasn't actually agreed to help me?"
"I haven't asked her yet," said Thor. "I wanted her to meet you first, to see that you were worth saving."
"Well, that backfired, didn't it? Now all she's seen is how pathetic I am."
"I don't know, Loki. That she has seen you at your most vulnerable might be a good thing. Jane is Midgardian. Midgardians, especially the women, do not seem to mind a little vulnerability."
"I suppose vulnerability would make one seem more human," said Loki, his mouth twisting up in disgust.
Thor shook his head. "You picked up that bias from Father, I think."
"Ooh, right," said Loki, putting on an air of innocent concern. "And what did Odin have to say when you brought Jane into the palace?"
"He was not happy about it," Thor admitted. "He likened it to bringing a goat to a feast table."
Loki grinned, but it was not a cruel grin at all—in fact, his face seemed to light up in a way Thor had not seen for some time. "Now that is one of my favorite Winter Solstice memories. Not that I remember much of it. We'd all had much too much mulled wine."
Thor returned the expression as he recalled how a group of them had dressed Toothgnasher up as the Yule Goat, and let him loose at the feast. The children at the feast had been delighted, even if Father hadn't been. "I still can't believe what you did, just to make Skadi laugh," Thor reminisced.
"It was worth it, just to see that sour expression of hers brighten for once."
"You had a crush on her, didn't you?" Thor teased. Loki denied it, of course, and said it would not have mattered anyway, given that he had still been betrothed to Sigyn at the time. Thor could hardly believe how pleasant their conversation had become. "Whatever happened to Sigyn?" Thor wondered aloud. "She seemed a sweet girl."
"She wanted more from the relationship than I did," Loki said cryptically. "Just between you and me, she wasn't nearly as sweet as she looked."
Thor was not certain what his brother meant. He thought Loki had intended to marry Sigyn, though both had still been young and it would be centuries before they could actually wed. What more could the girl have wanted?
"It matters not," Loki told him. "Odin never would have allowed me to wed before you took a wife. And seeing as you probably never will marry—"
"What makes you say that?"
"You cannot marry a mortal," Loki told him. "So if Jane is truly the only one for you—"
"Who says I cannot marry her?"
"Odin will say you cannot," Loki pointed out. "It would also be extremely impractical. You do realize that you're only about a decade away from people seeing the two of you together and assuming Jane to be your mother?"
Thor's response was automatic. "I don't care, Loki. Jane and I were meant to be together. Love knows no age."
"Fine, do what you want. Just don't come crying to me when—" Loki shook his head. "No, never mind, Jane will probably outlive me anyway."
Thor wanted to assure Loki again that he would live another four thousand years, but he could not bring himself to say that he would outlive Jane by nearly that long. He could not even bear to think it, so he decided to pretend that the subject had never come up.
He needed to get back to Jane anyway; it was rude to bring her all the way to Asgard and leave her all day with his mother. "I have to go, Brother. I have already left Lady Jane on her own for too long. But I will return tomorrow. I'll ask Father, perhaps he will allow me to take you outside for just a bit."
Loki's face fell, and Thor dared to hope that it was because he had been enjoying their talk and felt disappointment at his departure. "Don't bother," Loki told him. "Even if he allowed it, I would be in chains, with guards surrounding me."
Loki might be right about that, though he would try to convince Father it was not necessary. "Would it not be worth it to see the sky for a bit?" he asked.
"Odin won't allow it anyway. Not after you brought Jane to Asgard without permission."
Again, Loki was probably correct. "I'll ask Mother instead," Thor decided. Seeing his brother's expression fall further, he added, "And I'll tell Mother you regret what you said to her. I am sure she knows anyway."
( #-_- ).。。.(´ ▽｀)
Loki still did not know how Thor had managed it. Yes, he was handcuffed to his brother, which was far from ideal. But he was not chained and collared the way he had been when brought before Odin, nor did Einherjar surround them on all sides, though there were a few stationed around the garden.
For the first time in weeks, he was having a taste of freedom. Which made him a little nervous, actually; being locked up was not pleasant, but it did make him feel somewhat safe, even if deep down, he knew that safety to be a lie.
However, as the smell of Asgardian flowers and herbs washed over him, and the sun warmed skin, he nearly forgot how much danger he was in. The grass was his favorite shade of green, and he wanted to fall down on the ground and roll around in it. Or slither through it on his stomach—but he was certain the cuff on his wrist was meant to block his ability to shift into snake. Even if there were a way around that, it would be a bad idea to try it with his brother and the guards watching him. At the moment, he had no plans to try to escape, but he had no reason to alert them to weaknesses in their security.
They walked until they came to a bright yellow cloth that had been laid out underneath a willow tree. The tree stood on the banks of a pond full of goldfish. The fish swam close to the surface, so that even at a distance you could see them as blotches of orange, red, and white. "I thought we could eat out here," Thor explained.
Loki smiled and batted his eyelashes. "Why Thor, how romantic. I do hope you have remembered the wine. Won't Jane be jealous, though?"
"I thought it would be too early for wine, so I requested ale instead," Thor told him, likely determined to take Loki's teasing in stride. "And there is no need for Jane to be jealous, as she will be joining us."
Loki's good mood evaporated. He was not sure why he should be concerned for Jane's wellbeing, but it still made him angry that Thor clearly hadn't thought things through. He had not told his brother how the Other had projected himself into his cell, but Thor should be at least somewhat aware that Loki's mind might not be entirely his own—if he loved Jane, how could he allow her to come near him when he was not locked up? "Have you gone mad?" he asked.
"Mother will be coming as well."
As many times as he had made half-hearted attempts on Thor's life in the past, this time he was going to murder him in a way he couldn't bounce back from.
"Loki, Mother knows you did not mean what you said," Thor told him, misinterpreting his murderous expression, "and she will not broach the subject with you in front of Jane, so do not worry. We are simply going to enjoy a nice meal together."
"Why is Odin allowing this?" Loki demanded. "Does he not care for his own wife's safety?"
"Loki, quiet. Your words could be misinterpreted by the guards."
"Guards whose number is not sufficient to protect the Queen of Asgard from a dangerous criminal constrained only by a simple pair of handcuffs." He didn't care what the guards heard, he needed Thor to understand—what if the Other had a way of influencing him again, even without the scepter, and had only been waiting for the right opportunity?
"Stop it, Loki. The handcuffs suppress your magic, I thought you knew."
"I do not need my magic to be dangerous."
"You have no weapons, Loki, and you are handcuffed to the God of Thunder."
Loki arched an eyebrow at him. "Has it occurred to you that you have placed one of the cuffs on yourself? Go on, then. Bring on the thunder."
Thor blinked down at their conjoined wrists. He flexed his fingers. "Ah. I see what you mean."
"Besides, you still need Mjolnir to channel your powers, and I see you have failed to bring with her you. Norns, you are an idiot."
Thor straightened and stared down his nose to emphasize the couple of inches he had over him. "I could still best you in a fight, little brother. I have never relied overly on my powers." The insinuation was clear: Thor was a true Aesir warrior, unlike Loki, who relied on magic—or as Thor would say, "tricks."
Loki felt fully justified in pulling back with his free left arm and pouncing Thor in the jaw. Thor fell, bringing Loki down on top of him, and grabbed Loki's free wrist before he could punch him again.
Thor attempted to push him off, but he was not truly fighting back, Loki realized—which only angered him further, and he was not above fighting dirty. He had never been respected as an Asgardian warrior, so why should he adhere to their code of honor? He clawed at Thor's arms with his fingernails, ripping into him like a bobcat. He might have turned into one, but he still had enough presence of mind to think better of it.
Instead of being inspired to take the fight seriously, Thor stilled under him. "Loki, stop," he commanded. Loki stopped thrashing but dug his fingernails deeper into Thor's flesh. He sunk his teeth into Thor's shoulder, and tasted blood.
Thor flipped him onto to his back, putting his weight on top of him and pinning his shoulders into the ground. Loki hissed and bared his teeth. "Stop this," Thor repeated. "You are not some wild animal."
Loki briefly considered letting his primary glamour slip to reveal the blue skinned, red eyed monster underneath. But as satisfying as it might be to prove Thor wrong, he could not bring himself to do it. Thor would either flinch from him in horror or look at him with eyes full of pity, and he doubted he could tolerate either reaction.
He snarled up at his not-brother, but otherwise stilled, not so much out of choice but because he could not maneuver himself more than an inch under Thor's greater weight. As much as he hated it, Thor was correct. He could easily best him in unarmed combat, especially when Loki was out of practice and far from in peak physical condition.
He and Thor stared at one another for a while, and Loki eventually wondered why the guards had done nothing this entire time. Thor must have requested beforehand that they not move against him. Perhaps he had even expected something like this to occur. Of course he had; as much as he hated it, no one knew him better than Thor. He would have guessed that Loki would need to test his ability to keep Mother safe if something happened. He sighed, exasperated. "Can you let me up now?"
Thor smirked down at him. "Are you going to be a good boy?"
Loki arched an eyebrow at him. "When have I ever been good?"
Thor gave him a strained sort of smile and squeezed the back of his neck affectionately. Over Thor's shoulder, Loki saw Jane coming down the path.
He smiled coyly up at his brother. "I told you, oaf, this is all very romantic, but you can't expect me to be interested just because I'm the last one in Asgard you haven't rutted with," he said loudly enough for Jane and anyone else who happened to be within twenty feet of them to hear.
"Oh dear, have we interrupted something?" Loki cursed himself at the sound of his mother's voice.
Loki looked over his brother's shoulder again, and saw that Jane had stopped to laugh behind her hand—not because she had found what he said funny, but at his misfortune of having spoken crudely in front of his mother, no doubt. Frigga, who was standing beside her on the path, did not seem to be impressed in the slightest. She could not have been surprised that they had been fighting, but that did not mean she approved.
Thor sat up and pulled Loki up by the arm as well, nearly dislocating his shoulder in the process. He probably hadn't meant to hurt him, but Loki glared at him.
"It is not my fault," Thor told him, once again misinterpreting Loki's expression. "You would do well to think before you speak."
╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭
Author's Note:
I hope I didn't offend anyone when Thor caught Loki reading a certain Midgardian religious text in the last chapter, and Thor decided (after a quick scan) that it was inappropriate reading material. I assure you that I don't mean to poke fun at anyone's religion, nor are any of the characters in this fic going to be having a religious epiphany. "Pray" might be in the title of this thing, but it's just a bad pun on the title of the book/2010 film Eat, Pray, Love, and I only ended up using it because there were already two other fics with the first title I had in mind.
I can't seem to stay away from bad puns, so hopefully I don't offend anyone with those either.
I had a teacher once that told me I should never use semicolons in my writing. That seemed pretty arbitrary to me, and while I stuck to the "rule" for a while, I've now seen plenty of other people using semicolons in their writing, including award winning authors. So now I just want to use semicolons all the time ;)
Ever gotten writing advice that you later determined to be completely arbitrary? How do you feel about semicolons? Feel free to weigh in on the whole "Oxford comma" thing as well.
Or just post gibberish/emojis/anything to let me know there's still people reading and enjoying this.