Once, when Jane Foster was a child, before her parents died and the nightmares began, her mother told her that inside of everyone was hope. Every person, young and old, had hope...hope to become better, hope for tomorrow, hope that somehow, when things seemed most unsure, everything would be alright in the end.

She liked that idea.

So when she made her way down to the caverns where prisoners were kept, down the slippery stone steps of isolation and punishment...unbeknownst to Thor...she held onto that idea of hope.

Thor wasn't convinced that the pair could do anything for Loki. He rather thought that Odin was right. Loki was bad. He needed to be treated as such. A monster, even. His true identity had unleashed a prism of fire and rage, and there was nothing to be done about it.

But Jane was a silly sort, what for all of her fierce intellect and knowledge, her blind faith in the innate goodness of others was both endearing and foolish. But she also understood her power. She could persuade anyone to do almost anything given enough time. Her stubbornness held some of that responsibility, her heart another, and some of it was tied to loneliness...the sad result of being an orphan.

Jane turned the corner and saw the prince in his cell. He was lying prone on the tattered sofa, his right arm swung lazily over his eyes, his left hand on his stomach.

Jane's fingers intertwined in front of her as she crept to the front of the cage.

"Back so soon, mortal? I've not heard of my impending release. Perhaps you overstate your abilities."

"I never told you I'd have you out tomorrow. I said a few days."

"Semantics," and he sat up, swinging his legs around and smirked at her, all in a very impressively fluid movement. "I imagine Thor objects."

"Thor doesn't have much of an opinion of his own," Jane replied.

"Harsh words for your love, Jane Foster."

She smirked. "I meant in this particular instance."

He stood, and placed his hands behind his back. "Tell me, what are Thor's opinions on things? It must be intoxicating, the conversation the two of you enjoy...you are a Midgardian scientist, are you not?"

"Yes."

"Yessss," he hissed. "Thor's knowledge of the cosmos run deep...about as deep as a divot in the ground, collecting rain water."

"He knows enough," Jane protested. "I've had some conversations..."

He laughed. "Some conversations...indeed. Can he tell you of the sweep of the particles that hover and sway before a star is engulfed into the black nothingness and different planes of existence? Where they may go? What happens to a planet, when its own star is snuffed out? Can he tell you of Yggdrasil, and her depths and branches? Of the hidden treasures of the nine? Of her antiquity, her majesty, her power which pulses in her depths like the life blood which traverses your own mortal veins?"

Jane swallowed. "I don't know...I...no..."

"No," he whispered. He had moved quite close to her now, and was nearly touching the glass which brimmed with golden light. He was bent slightly forward, his gaze boring into hers.

Loki slowly rose to full height. "No..." he continued. "You'll forgive me, Jane Foster..."

"Jane."

His head cocked to one side. "Jane...I merely find it fascinating that you would seek company with my...ah...Thor...but, perhaps you too fell victim to his sinewy charm. His mind, though not utterly dull, is hardly a challenge to dissect..." he paused. "Which is why he refused to acquiesce to your request of an interview with Odin seeking my release."

"No, he didn't. So you'll need to provide me with more reason than you have."

"How utterly thespian, Jane. Truly, you are amusing to have around," and he sat on the floor at the far wall.

"I'm so glad I amuse you. It's been my design all along," she was sarcastic in her tone.

He laughed. He opened his palms up in a gesture of accepting any question she should pose. "I await your query."

Jane shifted, and looked to the floor. "Frigga loved you very much."

Loki's mouth clamped shut. His hands fell to the floor on either side. He didn't answer.

"Right...so...she loved you, and she wouldn't want to see you this way. Tell me, what would she have told Odin to get you out? You two were close...you would know," and Jane sat on the floor to await the answer.

His face was unreadable. Slowly, his eyebrows turned downward. He swallowed. "Frigga..." he resented her mention of her. He had steadfastly promised not to think on her. "...her influence over her husband was not so great as one may think...I believe..." he stopped and swallowed once more. "I believe that it had been her intention to not allow me to rot in this cage...but as to what she would've said to Odin, I know not."

"Use your imagination," and she smiled.

"She..." in the name of all things holy, he didn't want to do this, but he saw where she was going, and he thought it clever. "She would've played to Odin's guilt...reminding him of my unfortunate heritage and the lies fed to me my entire life. She would've reminded him that he is a merciful King, and that he would do well to remind me, his son, of his mercy by releasing me."

Jane nodded. "So...guilt the King...massage his ego..."

Loki smirked. "Tell me once more, in a bit more detail, why you are doing this, Jane."

"Because. I want to. And I suffer from guilt as well."

He shook his head. "No," he began. "No...there's something more there..."

Jane sighed. How could she lie to a lie smith? "Well...because Thor is unhappy, and also because I believe that everyone...everyone...is inherently good. Even you, Loki."

"Prince is ordinarily the proper way to address me, but since I'm a prisoner and you are my only means for release, I'll overlook your solecism for now..."

"You are too generous," Jane replied. "So...yeah...I guess that I just want us to be square, to have you get another chance...to be...I dunno...happy?"

He laughed heartily. "Happy?! Don't you know who I am? I'm doomed. You've read your Midgardian tales...and though I seriously doubt I'll bring about the apocalypse, the same does not hold true with other nefarious events. You'd be unleashing a monster, Jane. Think well before you proceed."

"I don't believe in fate. I believe in action. In the power people have on one another...in the good in the universe. You make your own choices, Loki. Sure, sometimes it seems like fate because no one can know all of the variables in any given situation...but you can choose. Choose your actions...your reactions...your emotions..."

"Did you choose to love Thor?"

"I...well...not exactly," she admitted.

"No. But you do."

Her head fell in defeat. "Yeah, sure."

"Convincing response."

"Thor loves me. He has said as much. I mean...I guess I just don't know him well enough to fully commit to such a strong connection."

Loki stood now. "You don't love him? Does he know this?"

"No. And if you know what's good for you, you won't tell him."

"You're teasing him...? Leading him on?"

"No! It's not like that...not at all!" Jane now rose to standing.

Loki laughed heartily. "Oh, I do like you, Jane Foster! You are such an interesting diversion. So much more so than the common mortal."

Jane rolled her eyes. "I wish you'd just tell me exactly what you think Odin needs to hear to release you."

"And be denied your enthralling company for a few days henceforth? Never," and with that, Loki turned and sat on the chair. He crossed his legs, steepled his long digits, and sighed. "You'd best be on your way, Jane. Thor is likely looking for you..."

"Is he really?" And she turned, looking a bit nervous.

"I'll never tell..." he whispered.

"Bastard," and she left.

God, he was impossible. Such a jerk.

But a funny and intelligent jerk.

And creepy and weird and a total murderer.

Also, not a bad looking jerk.

Murderer. That's all you need to know, Jane Foster.

Then why was she attempting to help him?

She knew the answer...because he had saved her life. And because Thor was sad. And...if she was being honest...he was fascinating to her.

If he was so fascinating, it'd be better to keep him there, locked away, and she could visit him and talk whenever she liked.

But she knew he would never condescend to idle chatter with her if she had nothing to offer him.

What the fuck was she doing?

Unleashing a monster. That's what she was doing.

And it felt thrilling.

Thor was talking steadily with Odin at the very large table. It was the Aesir dinner, about an hour before bedtime. Jane was distracted, not really eating. She fidgeted and fussed, only half listening to the conversation. Her mind was on the task at hand...and she thought she might plant a seed.

"Excuse me...All-Father..." she still had no common means to address him. "Do the Aesir believe in fate?"

"Fate?" replied Odin, and he looked to his son.

"That's a strange question, dearest. What makes you dwell on such things?" Thor smirked at her.

"Well...I suppose I was thinking today about all of the possible scenarios my life might've taken, and how I ended up here...of all places! And then I thought maybe I'm meant to be here," she paused. "But...I don't really believe in such things...but I thought I'd ask if you did...generally speaking."

Thor laughed a bit. "Yes, to a degree, Jane..."

"There are many paths we travel, Jane," began Odin. "Some are more possible than others. Some are nearly impossible, and sometimes the impossible is realized. What we know for certain is that we do make choices, but our choices are impossibly interconnected with who we are, and in that sense, we are fated."

"Wow," Jane said.

"Father always has such a way with explaining things."

Jane got up, "I'm tired, Thor...I think I should head up..."

He nodded.

She left.

Jane crawled into her lover's bed. They hadn't made love in days now...he had been so eager...too eager, really...and now his virility had stymied, and he was subdued.

She didn't mind, really. She was tired of it. He was methodical in his seduction...and though comfort was to be found in such a state, Jane desired a bit more...passion? She couldn't decide. Maybe it was her.

She heard him enter and she pretended to be asleep.

Before long, the Thunder God was roaring his slumber, and Jane rolled onto her back. She began to wonder how the hell she'd slept here with such a cacophonous noise.

She got up and went outside. Jane found a rather large garden and laid down on the grass to stare up at the alien sky above.

And she was walking along in the summer heat...the air was brimming with luxurious fragrance...she inhaled it deeply...

She headed toward a weeping willow situated along the banks of a smallish pond, it was lovely indeed.

She rested her back to the tree and sighed.

A presence was felt. Her skin suddenly prickled at the sensation.

She turned and saw him standing a few feet from her. His black hair whipped at his forehead as though he was standing in a violent wind, though she felt no such air movement.

He looked at her predatorily. He came to her, seized her face, and kissed her hungrily.

St first she attempted to escape, but his hold was too strong. His tongue was in her mouth, playing with hers. It was so deep a kiss that she felt as though he was swallowing her whole, and she couldn't keep up. Slowly, she slid down the tree trunk, barely able to breathe.

He released her.

Next time, I won't be so forgiving, he said.

Jane opened her eyes.

She was panting a bit.

Maybe she should stay away tomorrow.

Or maybe she should go to him right now.