A/N: This chapter plays very heavily on the Norse myth "The Treasures of the Gods" and Loki's past bet with the dwarves of Nidavellir. If you haven't read it, check it out-it's a great one.

Jane awoke with a groan, her limbs throbbing with pain as she lay crumpled on the cool dirt floor. A dim light met her eyes as she lifted her head to glance about at her surroundings. A line of mounted torches held flames that flicked shadows against the walls until a deeper darkness to her right swallowed them. She did not know how far she had fallen or how long she had lay unconscious, but it was clear that these tunnels were nothing like the ones in Álfheim. They felt blacker, earthier, more sinister. These were not mere works of nature left in peace and darkness—they had been carved out to be inhabited.

Jane pushed herself to a sitting position and winced as her muscles achingly complied. Vaguely she remembered falling down a yawning tunnel that had opened beneath her feet. A whirling cyclone of dirt had choked her as she tumbled straight down from the caves, her shoulders bruising with every hit as she was thrown from side to side. Perhaps she had fallen for seconds, or maybe hours before the portal had spit her out violently out against the tunnel wall, knocking an iron torch from its hook. Jane reached for it now as she rose slowly to her feet, then lifted the torch to relight it with the flame of another. The metal felt cool against her palm as she shifted the light away from her and pointed it forward.

She wished Thor were here by her side, warm and protective, ready to whisk her back to Asgard's sunny realm. She had been a fool to mix herself up with Loki, and anger suddenly roiled within her at the thought of him. She knew he would be manipulative, but the way he had twisted her presence on this trip was beyond anything she could ever have expected. To be the stand-in for his once-living love was a sick perversion, and she felt nausea stab her stomach. All she had wanted was to see the universe, and all he apparently wanted was to see Sigyn. She nearly laughed aloud at the absurdity of it all: that Loki, the self-appointed, destructive god of New York was still a slave to his lovelorn past and now she was mixed up in it. When she found him, she would make him take her back to Asgard, and that would be the end of it all.

She had only walked forward a few steps when she noticed something gleam along the tunnel walls. Pausing to look closer, her eyes widened as they took in the skeins of color that spidered from the ceiling to flash before her. They were the same ethereal lights she had seen flow through Yggdrasil, neon blues, greens, and purples glowing bright in the recesses of rock. Reaching out her hand to the spaces between the stone, she felt the light pulse around her fingertips before melting into her skin. Immediately she felt a jolt of energy as the warm colors raced through her veins, taking with them the pain from her violent fall. It did everything the Aether had not, leaving her healed and new. Jane smiled as she watched Yggdrasil's light retreat back into the crannies of the rock to continue its flow into the deep places of the world. She would have to capture some of the World Tree to study it more closely. Perhaps—she stopped and shook the thought out of her head. Ridiculous.

"Unhand me!"

Jane jumped as Loki's voice echoed sharply down the tunnel. Her first reflex was to hide, but there were no adjoining caverns in which to seek shelter.

"I thought you were silenced the last time we met," said a mocking voice that scraped the air like coarse gravel. "Your stitches must have loosened."

"Faen ta deg!" Loki snarled savagely amid the rankling of chains.

"Aye, and the same to you."

There was a scuffle and growling in foreign tongues, but soon the sounds were lost around an unseen corner. A thick silence fell heavily behind them like a curtain.

Jane was stunned, standing frozen with one hand gripping the fissures of the rocky wall. Loki had fallen too like she had but was now should have brought her relief, but instead panic began to wrap itself around her like a constrictor. He was her only lifeline in this forsaken place, her only hope of ever seeing Thor or Asgard or Earth again, and he was slipping away with every second that she hesitated. She was selfish, she knew, but so was he. Thrusting the torch out before her, she began to stumble down the rocky passage until she felt the cooler air of a bisecting tunnel race past her. The voices had seemed to have gone to the right, and a quick lowering of the brazier toward the earth revealed two sets of shuffling footprints heading in the very direction. Heartened, Jane began to follow them as she picked her way over jutting rocks and stony steps, eyes fixed on the ground.

The passage branched into two tunnels and Jane uttered a noise of frustration. This was how it always was, two tunnels. Both had been well traversed by a great many boots that had left layer upon layer of rough prints stamped into the soft earth. Jane's eyes darted between the two shafts, her ears straining for any noise of Loki and his captor. Nothing. Sweeping her torch to the left, a glint of silver caught her eye. Jane rushed forward and reached down until her hand closed around a smooth hilt. She gasped as she pulled Loki's knife from its sheath of dirt and let the torchlight play along the edges of the sharp blade. It was the same one he had given her back in Asgard and the same he had taken back in Álfheim, as if in time to leave her this vital clue.

Jane started forward, wincing every time her boot scraped loudly against an unseen rock. She didn't know what creatures lived in these tunnels, and even a knife seemed little protection against something that could bind and hold Loki. She picked up her pace, her light pointed downward as her steps raced. The path took a sharp drop downward and seemed to be winding into the very bowels of the earth. The air lost its earthy scent and was replaced by the acrid stench of sulfur and iron. After what seemed like half an hour, Jane caught the distant rustle of chains echo dully ahead. A triumphant smile caught her lips as she continued forward.

Suddenly the tunnel opened before her into a wide cavern. The looming space was lit with great fires that crackled within the bowels of several large cauldrons. Smoke hung in the air like a pall, drifting slowly up a vented tunnel to the world above. The smell of sulfur was stinging now, and Jane covered her nose with the hem of her sleeve to breathe. Crouching low, she skittered past the great columns of stone that ran from the ceiling to the floor along the path. The din of hammers striking metal and the roaring rush of furnaces filled the room as Jane found a clearing in the air in which to watch what went on below.

A gruff shout halted the hammers. "I have found an old friend, and one who owes us a debt!"

There was a murmur of voices as a small group of stooped creatures gathered around the one speaking, who in turn yanked Loki forward from the shadows. He made no effort to free himself from the heavy chains that cascaded from his wrists. An eerie blue glow glinted off the metal, and Jane wondered if a spell that held him captive had also robbed him of his powers.

Loki raised his chin and spat in the creature's face. "There is nothing in the realms that I owe a filthy dwarf or his kin."

The creature growled as he wiped at his face. "You do not remember our last meeting?"

"How could I forget, Brock?"

"Then you still owe us your head, Trickster."

Loki chuckled. "You may notice that I still have a neck, and I only bet you my head and nothing more."

"That matters little now," said a new voice.

"Ah, Sindri," said Loki. "The great forger of Mjolnir and Draupnir. You will be delighted to know that Gullinbursti, the boar you also forged of gold, has spent a good part of the morning trying to gore me. "

"That is better than you deserved. It is a pity you escaped."

Even from her distance Jane could see the bemused grin flash across Loki's face. "I always do."

"There are no Aesir to help you now." The gravelly voice sent a chill down Jane's spine as she watched the smile drop from Loki's lips.

"It was a simple bet and you lost on a technicality. Don't tell me your dull minds are still mulling over revenge."

The dwarf called Sindri looked him over for a minute. "It was fortunate that we found you lying in our tunnels. We mean to take it as a sign."

"A sign of what?"

"That the Liar of Asgard cannot escape his due punishment forever."

Loki's voice was hollow. "You risk the wrath of Asgard if you do, dwarf."

The other dwarf, Brock, barked out a laugh. "There is not one in Asgard who would argue for your head, Trickster." He moved closer to the prisoner and cocked his head as he looked up at him. "No one still left alive, that is."

Loki did not move, but Jane heard a sharp hiss escape his lips. The sound suddenly rose into a string of full-throated curses that he spewed in their faces, the foulness of the words drawing fury out of the faces of the dwarves. They glowered at him with beastly sneers, tools still clutched tightly in their fat, gnarly fingers.

After a particularly vile insult from Loki, the dwarf Sindri struck him full across the jaw with his hammer. The crack of the blow made Jane wince, and yet she remained frozen in place between the two columns of stone. Loki snarled like a wounded animal and was met with another blow to the face. Something burned deep inside Jane, yet she could not identify the feeling. Was it satisfaction that the murderous brother of Thor was getting what he so rightly deserved? Jane thought about the destruction of New York, about the Avengers bloodied from war, about Coulson slumped over and bloody. Loki deserved an innumerable amount of pain for the lives he had left in pieces and the ones he had ended in the name of heartless conquest. The more Jane thought about it, the more her cold anger rose until she felt her fingernails clawing the warm earth at her knees. Below, Loki remained defiant after every blow, though blood was now flowing freely from his mouth and nose. Hit him again. Jane blinked at the thought, though her anger did not subside. Did she really wish such torture on another? You bet I do. The odd burning in her chest now welled up, and Jane finally recognized it as sympathy; a desperate, passionate sympathy. Save him. You are bound to him. Jane's eyes widened. Where the hell had that come from? It felt like the voice of another, a forgotten voice, but one part of her nonetheless. The thoughts warred within her head, pity and justice, compassion and righteous fury, while Loki crumpled to his knees under the crack of something metal to his head.

"You have made a mockery of us, Trickster," Sindri was saying, his rough voice grating the air like a rockslide. "You have swindled us out of treasure and have lost us much respect from the gods for countless ages. You have made our race a laughingstock in the great mead halls, and have robbed us of our pride in journeys abroad. You have laid us low for the last time."

Loki sputtered before flashing him a bloody grin. "It is a pity your fair gifts do not reflect fairer faces."

"There will be no beauty left in yours," said Brock. From his belt he drew out a large nail of metal before handing it to an unnamed dwarf with a whispered instruction. The other withdrew to the shadows that pulsed with the fitful glow of smithing fires.

"I can heal," Loki said. "Strike me again."

Brock laughed. "Frey has also sent word. He wishes to have your treacherous tongue cut from your head."

Loki tilted his chin, then licked at the trickle of blood dribbling down his chin. "I will curse to Hel the creature who tries."

"Frey did not say when he wished it done. We may wait on the matter."

"Then you may have it at Ragnorok."

"We will have your silence before then."

The dwarf returned from the shadows with the steel nail, now red hot from the forge's flames. A string of glinting gold trailed from its head where it was looped through like a needle and thread. Loki's eyes widened as they brought it forward. He tried to push back on his knees but was held firmly by four dwarves, two at his shoulders and one at his neck. The latter one yanked Loki's hair down sharply, forcing his chin upward.

"It seems the thread we used last time did not hold as well as it ought," said Sindri, who took the strung metal from the other dwarf. "For all the gold you have tricked out of us, this is one gold thing we will willingly give you, Loki of Asgard."

Loki's scream stung Jane's ears as his mouth was pierced with the red-hot needle, then again and again as they looped the gold thread through and around his lips. Each stab brought another tortured cry from Loki's throat as he tried to writhe away only to be hauled violently forward as Sindri pulled another stitch through. Through it all, the needle never lost its glowing heat as it seared its wounds deep into his skin. Jane watched in horror as the dwarves finished sewing Loki's mouth closed before giving the thread a hard, final tug that trapped a gurgling screech in Loki's throat. His breath now came in harsh spurts as his nostrils flared, and the blood from his nose seemed to renew its flow as he hung his head, his limbs twitching from shock.

Then the dwarves were dragging him to his feet and Jane watched, sickened, as they led him from the chamber. The pitying voice had grown stronger in Jane's mind, and she quickly swallowed her dying anger. She still craved justice for what he had done on Earth, but she could not stomach any more torture. He deserves it. Jane rubbed her temples with a groan. He deserves more. Suddenly the image of Loki pulling her from the depths of Alfheim's lake, away from the fiery claws that threatened to consume her, filled her mind. He had saved her. Only so he could use you. Jane considered the thought. For whatever warped purpose, he had never abandoned her. She could not do the same to him now.

Gritting her teeth, Jane rose to her feet and felt her way slowly down the steps of hewn stone. You'll be caught. Hide out a while. This voice was gentler, and not quite her own-it was the pitying voice again. Jane squeezed her eyes shut. She must be losing it now if two different voices were roaming around inside her head: her own reckless, angry tone and the other, more tempered and compassionate. Her conscience must be working in overdrive today.

She shifted away from the stone columns and ran her hands along the rough rock wall on her left. She took another step down, felt the wall again, then another, and again. Finally Jane's palm met nothing but air as her other hand reached out to gauge the width of the wall's fissure. It was just big enough. Squeezing herself and her pack into the space, she crouched down and waited in breathless silence. The hours dragged by, and still the dwarves worked the steaming forges, their hammers clanging through the thick air as heavy metals scraped across the surface of countless iron anvils. Time passed under their relentless rhythm, and Jane felt herself lulled to sleep in the dark recesses of the cool cave.

She awoke to a smoky darkness: the fires had sputtered into embers and the metallic beats had long since ceased. The hours had passed silently, leaving her muscles aching from stooping so long between the rocks. Jane listened for a few minutes, her ears straining to catch any movement in the cavern below. Nothing. She wriggled out of the fissure and back onto the stairs, which she took painfully slowly in the dim light. As she rounded the corner at the foot of the stairs, the floor of the forge spread out before her, orange light pulsing weakly from every direction of the room. It was just enough to see the ground before her, and Jane kept to the wall on her right as she inched her way down the side of the abandoned chamber.

Voices rumbled ahead and Jane swung back to flatten herself against the wall. The words grew louder as they rounded the corner, and Jane's breath came in shallow gasps as every nerve in her body seemed to stand on end.

"How does the prisoner fare?" said the voice of a dwarf.

"He is asleep, the filth," replied another.

"And his magic?"

"He can cast only illusions. The runes on his cell will block the rest."

The first voice laughed. "How long until his execution? Did the Master Forger say?"

"Tomorrow evening, as the sun falls."

"It is not soon enough."

The first dwarf muttered something else and the voices dissolved into ugly laughter as two figures shuffled past Jane, unaware of her presence. When she was certain they had gone, she rounded the corner into a deeper darkness and made her way quickly along the edge of the wall. They would kill him after all. Would that not be the ultimate justice, a life for so many? Jane bit her lip as the gentle voice defied her thoughts. Help him like you always have.

"I've never helped him!" Jane hissed under her breath. The voice went silent.

The cavern narrowed into another tunnel that Jane followed for what seemed like ages. The passage then took a sudden turn and there, illuminated under the fire of a dozen torches, stood a hall of shadowed cells. A sheen of translucent blue rippled between the iron bars like an electric flag flapping in an unseen wind. Jane felt her heart leap to her throat as adrenaline raced through her veins; the dwarves could catch her at any time, and she half-felt their squinting eyes peer out at her from the darkness. She didn't dare think what they might do to her. But something pushed her forward, though she was careful not to touch the flowing force field. Each cell she passed was empty, and she began to despair until she stopped before the last block and saw him sprawled across the floor on his stomach. His head rested on his forearm, his other arm flung forward toward the door in a reaching gesture. Dark purple bruises had begun to peek out from beneath the dried blood that now caked much of his face. The dust beneath him stirred as he laboring to breath through his nose.

Jane swallowed and forced her voice into a whisper. "Loki."

He stirred immediately, and Jane wondered if he had even been truly asleep. His dark lids fluttered open and peered up at her, unfocused. He merely cocked his chin against his arm, studying her, as if trying to remember her face.

"Loki, it's Jane," she tried again.

Recognition flared up in his eyes as they quickly gained lucidity. Loki struggled to push himself onto all fours, his green eyes inscrutable as they looked her over in disbelief. The golden thread glinted in the torchlight, crisscrossing his mouth like the horrid smile of a scarecrow. He lowered his chin and caught her eye again, and Jane felt the intensity of his gaze give way to a sullied delight upon seeing her. Then the expression was gone and his eyes hardened at the sound of boots scuffing down the passage.

Don't move, Jane.

Jane nearly cried out in shock at the sound of Loki's voice in the back of her mind. She glanced at him, and was even more surprised to see a look of confusion in his eyes. His breathing quickened as his wide eyes continued to stare at her, his eyebrows drawn together in a pained expression.

Jane, answer me.

"What do you want, Loki?" she panted, her eyes darting between him and the dark passage to her right.

Answer me. I need to know if you can.

"I'm here," Jane whispered in a trembling voice.

Not out loud. His thoughts snipped each word out. Answer me.

Jane gasped as she felt the gentle, pitying voice rise up to join with her own thoughts. It sounded nothing like hers. I'm here, Loki.

Loki's voice was broken. Sigyn?