RATING: K+
GENRE: Alternate Universe ("Comfort" Universe)
SUMMARY: Jane is in the library when the dark prince of Asgard oddly seeks her company.

A/N: This is a sequel to Comfort (previous chapter).

PEACE

Jane recalls with stark clarity the moment they came for her—ethereal beings clad in gilded armor. The leader with molten copper in his gaze as he announced that she had been chosen as tributary—not just to serve the Aesir, the self-proclaimed protectors of the nine realms, but to earn her place among them. She recalls standing in the gleaming throne room of Asgard, heart thrumming, tears she refused to weep stinging in her eyes as the Queen walked a lazy circle around her, taking her measure before declaring Jane worthy.

The twin sons of Odin stood on the dais, a contrast of shining day and starless night. One smiling, the other giving her a cursory glance under the guise of apathy. She had little idea that one day the latter would become both her foe—with the cruel pranks he called "harmless"—and a surprising ally when the skies over the Realm Eternal foamed in the rage of Rebirth .

She idly drifts through the stacks in the library, fingertips caressing the ageless leather tomes as memory prickles her skin with electricity. She no longer counts time, the days, the weeks, the years that pass her by—not since she bit into the bittersweet flesh of Idun's apple and her mortality slipped from her like water from a sieve. She can't say how long it's been since the God of Mischief and Mayhem circled his arms around her and held her against his chest, soothing away the leftover fears from her human life.

He said nothing when she slunk into his rooms the next night and the one after as líf skepna carried on their violent nocturnal displays. Such a reckless gambit that had been, asking for Loki's generosity without first establishing the cost. He has yet to call in her debt, but she still believes the truth she told him—that his price will likely be more favorable than the one his guileless brother would have required.

There. She pulls a thick volume from the shelf, no longer noting the absence of dust with surprise, though she doubts this book has been touched in centuries. Too little is foreign to her in this world. She remembers Midgard— Earth —in abstract now. Ephemeral images of chasing after anomalies in the twinkling night. She barrs other specters from her thoughts before they can crush her with grief, the faces of those she left behind, and makes her way to one of the recamiers near the wall-to-vaulted-ceiling windows.

She flips through the tome, a thorough discourse on light bending with seidr . There is still enough of the scientist in her that she cannot accept that this power, this magic simply is . She wants to understand it, quantify it, no matter how Frigga sighs with long-suffering and Loki laughs in derision.

Footsteps whisper in the cavernous room with a measured gait, and she glances up from her studies, air congealing in her chest. Loki stops a foot or two short of her, the picture of beleaguered warrior, obsidian hair wild, face streaked with crimson and ash, leather armor scratched, gouged. She whispers his name, and he shakes his head at the concern in her tone.

"The rebellion in Niflheim has been dispatched," he says. "No doubt Thor will regale us all with his heroism at tonight's banquet." Bitterness licks in his words as it always does when it comes to his brother.

With a frown, she examines the red marring his features. "Are you hurt? Have you been to the healers?"

His mouth curves in a vinegary smile. "What's this? Compassion for your tormentor? Don't grow soft on me now, Jane." It's a taunt, meant to set alight the oil that flows between them—a misdirection from the exhaustion and pain that rings his pale eyes.

She'll play his game, not that there has ever been a choice. "You're telling me that you've come to me like this—" she waves a hand toward him, "—so I can gloat over your injuries? That's unexpectedly considerate of you." In truth, she can't begin to guess why he's presented himself in such a vulnerable state. There is undoubtedly a reason, some new ploy he's conjured in that cunning mind of his. That he may have finally come to trust her is an absurd notion.

And yet, she almost hopes for it. What a strange revelation that is.

He drags his tongue over his bottom lip, huffing a dry laugh, and settles next to her on the lounge. A beat passes in silence and then another, and then he lets out a long, thready breath. Her heart jumps when he sags against her, head on her shoulder. Nudged by long-dormant instinct, she tips her head to his, hand questing to his back, to rub lightly at the corded knots beneath his armor. She blinks at a startling well of tears; she's forgotten this kind of ease, this simple comfort between friends. Even when she'd sought him those nights some time ago, it had been a foolhardy decision to embrace a viper while hoping that she would survive his eventual bite.

This, however, tastes faintly of true camaraderie.

When she reaches up to brush through his dark locks—crusted with sweat and the grime of battle—he grasps her fingers, twining his with them with another weighted sigh.

Later, after she's called for cloth and a basin of warm water, he lays in her lap, reading from the book as she gingerly washes the caked blood from his face.

"Mastery requires first that you see beyond natural sight..."

Jane smiles. That is her Gift, the reason she was stolen from her home—to see what others cannot. And she thinks, for the first time, she sees him .

~FIN~

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Reviews are better than chocolate! XD