Chapter Seven

The forest was safe. The trees shaded them from most of the rain apart from the occasional trickles which plopped down on them, usually going down Jane's back actually. That was a spot of mischief on Loki's part. Who could blame him? It was amusing to watch her shiver and complain. Besides, he meant no real harm. When it became too much he used his magic to draw out the wet and warm her. Eric and Darcy had not followed them, so he didn't have those two mortals to play with. But there was a benefit to that. He didn't have to worry about keeping them safe or cope with any extra complaining. Jane was proving a less than amiable companion.

"We've been walking for hours!"Jane complained and Loki stopped, giving a sigh.

"Don't you mortals have any stamina? I've been in battles that last longer than this walk and I tend to avoid having to fight," He commented, looking up at the still thundering heavens. "And some of those were even battles that where between warring factions of you mortals,"

"Stop with the whole past thing. We've moved on from then," Jane said, sounding frustrated after being dragged through the forest.

"I need to check that we are going in the right direction, stay," He ordered the mortal and he became a squirrel in an instant, running up the trunk of a near by ash. He moved swiftly, heading towards the top of the branches and emerging midst the leaves. His fur was black and his eyes held faintly glowed green as he gazed out. The thunder rumbled ominously, building up. He had been spotted.

Suddenly, he dove back down, letting go of the tree and morphing into a bird, taking flight away from the tree. Jane saw this and ran. Just in time. Thunder hit the tree and the bark exploded, flying off and the tree burst into flame. Loki let out a strong curse as he was forced to resume human form, cradling an arm that had been struck when it was a wing. The flames was not good. Not in a forest.

The trickster pulled himself straight, staring at the tree. He had an expression of grandeur as he remained, silent and solitary, leaving the loose arm to hang there by his side. His face was pulled into a grimace of pain at the dead weight that his dislocated arm provided but he was tough. He was of the line of Odin, he was one of the men from the North. To die in battle was an honour to them. If his brother's rage was enough to destroy a forest in angry fire then his calmness would be enough to quench it.

The flames grew slower and clung to the tree, held in place, unable to spread and eat everything with the many hungry tongues that fire had, desperately searching out food to feed it's ever growing form.

But it was not enough. Fire was willful and although it was in his domain (well, more of his own creation than others).

Then the water began to slip down from the leaves of the trees. Large drops of water that slowed down and hung in the air just above the head of the raven haired man. His green eyes stared at the fire that he was struggiling to control. A pattern of water drops formed above them, covering a good few square meters. Then the pattern became a thin sheet which widened and widened. Teeth were gritted together and then he flung the water on the flames.

The fire hissed in protestant, giving out it's dying gasp and Loki stepped towards it, kneeling besides the tree.

"You, flames, were created by the wrath of my brother, brother in all but blood, Thor. You have ended your life at my hands, the hands of Loki, son of Odin. Now tell me, tell me with your dying, arid breaths. Tell me why my brother wants my death that he would send such sparks of lightning to destroy me," He whispered to the dying flames, green eyes intent on the flames.

You are in hisss way. The fire sighed as it died down. He knowsss that he isss a Frossst Giant. He wantsss your throne. He wantsss to prove himssself. He sssaysss that thisss isss not how the world ssshould be. Then the flames were silent and spoke no more. The trickster bowed his head.

He had been clouded before. Delighted to find himself king. Desperate to return to help his brother with the new revelations that Jotunheim had brought out. He had allowed himself to be clouded. Of course this was wrong. He shouldn't be sane. He shouldn't be good. This was not who he was. This was just borrowed time.

He was meant to be Loki Laufeyson. He had tried to destroy Midgard because his brother loved it so. He had killed his own father. He had tried to kill Thor. He had lied. He had cheated. And it hadn't been for fun. His games had brought the death of his mother. And in the end he had gained the throne by faking his death. And because of this, Thor somehow had changed their places.

And now he had to find a way to swap their places once more. And he didn't want to. He wanted so badly to live in this dream, to live the false life and let someone else take the fall. He wanted this life so badly.

Jane looked up from where she lay. The scientist's clothes were torn and blood pooled from gaping wounds in her skin. She hadn't been able to get far enough away from the tree to avoid the bark which had acted as shrapnel. Her eyes looked up at the raven haired god. She took in the fact that he looked exhausted, kneeling against the ground. He looked like he was about to collapse, as if on his back he held the weight of the world.

She tried to find her voice but no sound came out. She was too weak. Her mortal mind, clever though it was, could not cope with the pain. And it would not understand that this was not the world meant for them. She never could.

"Please," She finally managed to say. Loki's head rose at the soft sound. He turned to look at the fallen woman with her blood staining her clothes. He rose to his feet and stumbled forwards, collapsing by her side. The fight with the flames had taken a lot out of him. The truth had taken the rest out of him.

"We could stay here, forever," He muttered, fingers moving to take the bark out of the skin. Some chunks remained lodged in her flesh. She cried out.

"It's not that bad of an idea, is it?" He asked, almost sounding like he was talking to himself.

"But... your... brother," Jane managed to pant out in her pain. Loki pressed down on the largest wound. It wouldn't be enough. She would die if he didn't seal the wound quickly.

"He's tried to kill me. He doesn't want me back. But this forest is good. It could be our home," He muttered.

"What... do.. you mean... ou..?" Her voice was fading and her eyes were slowly closing.

"To not have to live with others. To not have to struggle. To escape from what we should be. The world pulls you into a life with my brother. Waiting for him to return, unable to take another man. And my path is darker. But we could escape this. We could stay here and never have to taint ourselves," He said, bringing out a knife. Jane didn't notice. She was too far to hear the soft sounds of drawn metal. She could barely hear his words, let alone respond. Tiredly, Loki set the blade glowing golden and then he pressed the scalding metal against her skin.

Again and again he repeated the action, the burning waking Jane up and leaving her screaming. But he held her down and continued until they each and every wound had been sealed and the smell of burning flesh hung heavy around them. Jane breathed heavily, trembling dreadfully against his chest.

"I can't allow you to die. Not yet," He told her, green eyes staring ahead and into the distance.

"I'm going to set things right. You won't have to live long with this." He continued with a sigh. In the true world he may not be a hero but this was his one chance to be pure. To be a hero. He would save Thor. He would put the world alight. He would sacrifice himself to villainy and madness. For once, he would truly save the realms.