Author's Note: Short chapter taking care of business, set-up for the next sequence of events, etc. Sorry if there's a delay before the next chapter...this next one will be hard. It's not the Big Cliffie; it's just different than what I usually write. It's a bit tricky.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"Jane, how the hell is it that you pick a boring, no-frills, mustard-colored dress and still manage to look like more of a princess than me?" Darcy said, trying fruitlessly to make the neckline of her gown stop creeping downwards.

Jane blushed. "I don't look like a princess," she mumbled, fidgeting with the bodice of her dress self-consciously.

"Is she always so modest?" Thor asked, smiling as he walked in the door.

Darcy waved her arms at him. "Dude! I said no peeking!"

He shrugged. "I grew bored waiting outside," he said lightly. He stared at Jane in the mirror, his smile still refusing to go away, even two hours after he had finally been reunited with her.

Darcy grumbled, tugging on the lacings at the back of her dress uncomfortably. "If you two really can't be separated for a few minutes at a time, why don't you go on to dinner? I'm still trying to figure out this stupid corset thing."

Thor nodded, winding his fingers with Jane's. "That sounds reasonable." He glanced at her uncertainly. "Are you sure that you can find your way around the palace? It can be a bit of a labyrinth."

Darcy waved a hand at them. "Go, you crazy lovebirds," she said, laughing. "I'll figure it out."

Jane shrugged, and Thor took that to be agreement. With a parting nod to Darcy, he stepped out of the room with Jane on his arm. The two were already deep in a new conversation before the door closed behind them.

Darcy sighed heavily, untying the back of her dress for the tenth time. This wasn't going to work. From the handful of dresses that a servant had delivered, she was resigned to the fact that all Viking women came in two sizes: athletic and slim, or enormously voluptuous. Maybe normal sized girls were just supposed to stick with pants.

She did a double take in the mirror, noticing for the first time a flash of color in her peripheral vision. She turned around to find the object in person: it was another dress, one she had skipped earlier…with good reason.

She held it up skeptically, trying to imagine herself wearing such a thing. First of all, it looked like Easter. She honestly couldn't think of a name for the color that didn't involve flowers or pastel-colored candies…wisteria, purple Peeps, lilac, orchid maybe. Definitely not the sort of color she would pick off the rack. Secondly, the cut was ridiculous. It looked like the demented spawn of Renaissance Faire and some sci-fi fantasy costumer's dream, with huge flowing sleeves that cut back over skin-tight sleeves and a skirt that would brush the floor on someone her height. If the sort of little girl who wanted to be a fairy-ballerina when she grew up designed wedding dresses, this could pass for one of them.

She heaved a tiny sigh of surrender. Maybe the off-the-shoulder thing would provide her a little more cleavage-cover.

Loki walked through the hallways of the palace silently, listening to the sound of his solitary footsteps echoing on the stone walls. He reveled in the quiet, as he had so often when he was younger. It was his haven; during supper, when most everyone else in the palace was feasting in the Great Hall, he would slip away and take advantage of the silence. He could actually hear himself think instead of having to waste his mental energies filtering out the background noise. He could invent new spells, work through difficult problems, privately sort out whatever events of the day had troubled him. It was a chance for him to explore the grounds as well, discovering new hiding places, new nooks, new chambers where he could hide if the need (or impulse) arose.

He needed the quiet now. What was he going to do with his life, now that he was exiled? Perhaps he could make a home on one of the neutral realms. At the very least, Hel should let him take shelter in her world temporarily while he dealt with his affairs. He could probably work out some spell that would extend his life longer than that of a mortal. He certainly had enough raw intelligence and skill that he could make a living somewhere, somehow. The only question was…where? And doing what, specifically?

He was so lost in planning that he nearly failed to notice others approaching further down the gallery.

"Brother!"

Loki turned to give him a perfunctory smile. "Good evening, brother," he said absently. He dipped his head politely. "Jane."

Her cheery expression faded. She seemed to sense something awry in his speech—or maybe she noticed that his smile did not reach his eyes. "Loki," she said curiously. "What's the matter? We didn't see you at dinner?"

"I often choose to sup alone," he said, half-truthfully. "I find the noise of the Great Hall is not usually to my tastes."

Jane did not seem fully satisfied with his answer. Clever woman. But Thor, sanguine as always, took no notice of her reaction.

"What of your meeting with Father?" he asked, obviously expecting a positive answer. "Is everything sorted out?"

Loki paused. "Yes," he said carefully. "Everything is…arranged."

"What happened at the meeting?" Jane asked bluntly, cutting straight to the heart of the matter.

He sighed. There could be no evading the truth now—not without lying directly, anyway. He let the smile fade from his face. "Well, I spoke with the All-Father, and…" He trailed off, unsure how to say what he needed to diplomatically.

Thor seemed to catch on. His brow furrowed. "And?" he supplied. "What of it?"
Loki folded his hands behind his back. "Odin has forgiven me my transgressions," he said stiffly. "However, he will not give me the Aesir blood I seek, for I have directly heightened pressures to the point of another war with Jotunheim."

"He cannot," Thor burst out. "I shall speak with him…if I intercede, perhaps he will change his mind."

"Thor, you know as well as I do that the All-Father's decisions are never biased. He has chosen to do what is necessary to maintain justice. I told him what occurred on Jotunheim, and he ruled—rationally—that I was responsible for a crime, and as such, punishment was needed."

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that something seemed to click in Jane's eyes. She excused herself from the conversation quietly, mumbling something about needing to check on Darcy. Loki let her leave without comment, his focus directed towards preventing Thor from doing anything characteristically imprudent.

"This is not justice," Thor said angrily. "This is madness!"

"You have said that about a great many things, brother," Loki pointed out with a wry smile, "and, once again, I must point out that you are mistaken. I have created a situation that is dangerous to the safety of all Asgard, and as such, my immortality will not be returned to me." He sighed. "I do not like it any more than you do. But reason is reason. And I will not allow you to take action against the All-Father again, especially not for my sake."

Thor shook his head, visibly struggling to argue with Loki coherently. "It is not right…"

"Debatable. But it is fair."

"You are my brother!" Thor said furiously. "Whether you were born of another race or not, you are my brother, and I will not permit you to die." He paused, and reached towards his sheath for a small knife. "If Odin will not give you the blood you seek, then I shall."

"No."

"You cannot stop me."

"Please, brother, don't waste your time mutilating yourself," Loki said, exasperated. "It is not a matter of you giving blood; it is a matter of me refusing to take the blood." He shook his head. "Don't you understand? This is not about lacking access to what I seek. This is about choosing not to obtain what it is that I need because the All-Father has ordered it so. If there is one thing I have learned over the years, Thor, it is that a half-truth is just as powerful as an outright lie. Likewise, taking advantage of a loophole may not be technically dishonest, but it is still untrustworthy." He stared at the wall. "I will not be a villain any longer."

Thor curled his hands into fists at his side. He seemed at a loss, unable to understand how he should behave once deprived of his ability to change a bad situation. "I…" He groaned. "I must consider," he said gruffly. "Tell Jane if she is looking for me that I am sparring with the Warriors."

He stormed off. Loki was left once again in silence…but for once, he had no thoughts to fill it. His mind was completely, utterly blank. He was not scheming, planning, coming up with ways to arrange for the downfall of whatever enemy was most pressing at the moment. He was free. In the space his villainous thoughts had once occupied, there was only silence.

It was deafening.