Chapter 5

The wonder and beauty of Asgard seemed to counteract the bitterness she had against being used as an agency's hunting dog. After all, S.H.I.E.L.D. could not reach her here. The air was fresh, free of earthly pollutants. So, with the air and sunlight warming her skin and filling her lungs, she did not bow to the Asgardian queen. Sif was a person like any other. Irene Adler did not believe royalty deserved more respect for their titles than their subjects.

"Loki. I assume you're here to pay for your crimes." Her dark eyes narrowed. "Who is this woman Heimdall brought along with you?"

"Merely a prisoner of war, your Majesty."

Sif turned her eyes upon Irene. They practically scorched her skin, they were so full of the law. "What is your name?"

"Irene Adler."

"Agent?" She was obviously acquainted with Earth's organizations, and recognized the S.H.I.E.L.D. attire.

Irene shook her head. "Prisoner and slave. S.H.I.E.L.D. took me in as a weapon." Queen Sif tilted her head. Her locks caught the light with a brilliant glare.

"She must be a dangerous woman to be captured and used." The queen extended a hand. "Come, sit with me." She couldn't look at Loki, but she felt he approved of her ascension as she approached. A servant carried a stool from a side table and placed it a step below the throne's platform. Irene didn't show it, but she didn't like that seat. She hated being below anyone. "You have my respect, Midgardian. At least, for now." Why, thank you.

She said nothing, however. Sif turned her attention back to Loki and the Warriors Three. "I want him guarded at all times until a court can be assembled. Place him in the seidr-proof cell, and listen to nothing he says."

They pulled him away. He was grinning. It looked fake. "What will happen to him?"

"A bit of jail time before a trial. We have a verdict decided by more than thirty people. We aren't barbarians, you know." Irene knew what the verdict would be, though: guilty.

"And after the trial?" She did her best not to let her emotions show.

"Why do you ask?"

"An alien can't be curious about the culture she's been thrust into?" Sif did not answer the rhetorical question. She was probably smarter than her chosen mate by a good deal, hence her seat on the throne instead of his.

"If we decide him guilty, he will be an outlaw, returned to his people. He will be anathema to Asgard." Who are his people? I thought he was of Asgard. "It is the law that no one will assist him or associate with him. If other worlds take him in, so be it- but we are obliged to expunge him from every resting place."

Irene shuddered. She had been alone like that once, fighting the world in every country that was not her own. In some ways, she was still an outlaw: an international criminal with no hope of amnesty, except perhaps in obscure third-world counties…and other worlds. It isn't so bad here. As long as I never face the law, I will be safe for the rest of my life. And for her own reasons, she decided to stay in Asgard for as long as she could.

"So…your Majesty, might I take a peek around your great realm?"

…

Irene hadn't expected the queen to take her around the city personally. Perhaps she was patriotic, or perhaps she needed a break from being so queenly. Either way, they both relaxed as they exited the throne room and the palace from the back. Once the gold gave way to green and the clank of armor to the sweet strains of street musicians, Sif handed her circlet and metal mantle to an attendant just before they entered a well-tended garden. The golden gate (was everything gold in this medieval-biased place?) was closed, but it opened as they approached. No one dared question the queen and her human visitor.

The lanes outside the gates grew steadily narrower, as Sif travelled down a familiar but increasingly marginal route. To her surprise, the roads became dirty, tarnished, even a bit seedy. The various edifices diminished to mere hovels in some places, and when taller structures blotted out the sun, the smell of rot and damp undercut the relative splendor with the familiarity of the underground. I suppose every city must have its slums, she thought to herself, though she said nothing aloud.

"I know; taking you to through the underbelly seems contradictory for a proud queen." Startled, she looked up. Sif's rich clothes and shining armor clashed with the grey filth on the walls and ground. The sky was as brilliant and cloudless as it had been, but the sun had moved somewhat.

"Then why show me this?" It was against all her expectations of Asgard to have an impoverished sector like this.

"I want to show you that even if Loki were innocent of all wrongs, his trial would be lost from the start." Her blood ran cold at this. She had seen awful things, justice gone wrong even in her birthplace, but never a rigged game. He's a bit of an arse, eyeing me and getting into my head, but he doesn't deserve to be an outcast here. He's done little to harm Asgard.

But I have hurt Midgard. Dear brother Thor didn't like that. She was a little annoyed that he'd broken in on her like that, but she still replied.

It's not you; it's the principal of the thing. Irene could almost hear his playful tone.

Liar. He knew she'd grown a little attached to him and couldn't hide it. At the same time, he was affectionate enough to tease as he now did- something she was sure he never did to anyone else, at least not within her lifetime.

Look who's talking, god of lies. Now don't interrupt; the queen's attempting to lecture me.

Very well. Come and visit me later.

I will, she said without thinking, and immediately regretted it. What if she couldn't visit? He was probably locked up in a cold, bare cell somewhere. She shook the thought from her mind to focus on the present.

"Do you know how Asgard came to be?" Sif touched the stone, and through the grime it seemed to shiver at her fingertips, alive with a dormant energy.

"Your people did not build it?" This came as a surprise to Irene, but on second thought maybe a warrior race wasn't quite smart enough to invent inter-dimensional travel and nanotechnology that looked like magic.

A savage-looking urchin raised a long, curved knife over his head, murderous intent in his eyes. Before Irene could cry out, Sif had sidestepped the would-be killer and knocked him to the ground. The man whimpered and shielded himself with dirty hands. Sif knelt and held out her hand in a gesture of forgiveness. The man didn't take it. Instead, he gathered himself and ran.

His skin was pale, almost translucent, and he had a glow about him- faint, flickering, but there all the same under his rags. His features were fine, thin-boned, and his stature was small. He wasn't like other Asgardian males. He had no bulging muscles or facial hair, yet his eyes were old.

He reminded Irene of Loki. Are you seeing this?

Of course I am.

Who was he?

A Vanir. She didn't get to dwell on it, however. Sif was running her fingers through her hair, sighing like the wind.

"My people have done a great disservice to the Vanir tribe. I suppose as Odin's kin we were doomed to ruin others and ourselves."

"What do you mean?" Sif started walking again, towards where the alley ended in the same warm sunlight that currently was so lacking.

"We call him the Allfather, yet he has destroyed far more than he has created. When the giants became numerous and only he and his two brothers were Aesir, he destroyed Ymir and an entire race save two."

"Why?"

"What happens on Midgard when a small group feels threatened?" Her mind flashed back to the Mutates, cornered and fighting for a chance to rule Wakanda. It wouldn't be long before they overran the place if S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't intervene. "The giants were once a great civilization. Now they lie in a frozen wasteland covered with the blood of their ancestors. Only I and the eldest Aesir were taught of our origins. When Odin found he couldn't rule as a tyrant, he remade himself in the image of a leader and father."

Irene let out a low whistle. "And you wonder why they don't like you."

"Oh, it's worse still," Sif said, laughing low in her throat. It wasn't a joyful laugh. "In our own greed, we used the Vanir's sorcery for gain, and blamed them for the resulting divisions in our family. Our war was bloody and long, and when at last it was ended, we assimilated them. But magic and warfare never mix well." She gestured around her at the shoddy hovels and the muddy ground. "The Vanir are a marginalized people, shunned by untrusting Aesir. It is a clash of values as well as history, for they are refined and intelligent, and us Aesir are simple, lovers of the fight and feast." The queen shook her head. She was a seasoned warrior, but this sorrow bowed her head. "They built this city and this is how we have repaid them."

Irene grimaced. "Your people could learn a thing or two from Earth. As much as there is conflict, there are people willing to change." She hardly believed it herself, but a simple race division couldn't be so hard to bridge. Even the stodgy, stubborn U.S.A. had managed to overcome that obstacle.

"Things aren't so simple when everyone lives for millennia. You humans can change so quickly, die so fast." Then she remembered what the original subject of the history lesson was: Loki's trial.

"What does this all have to do with Loki?"

"Loki-" Just then an image of Loki fizzled into existence. His green and gold robes were unfamiliar to Irene. She could only stare. She knew it was an illusion, but he looked…well.

"Now, no need to tell her what I could tell her myself." Sif pursed her lips and sneered.

"I'll not have you deceiving an innocent." The mirage clucked.

"Why, just a moment ago you were describing me as a victim! And believe me, she is far from innocent." His eyes ran over her with an unnervingly real delight.

"You, unlike the Vanir, have proven yourself untrustworthy. Begone!" She sliced the hologram in half. It grinned toothily and melted away. The warrior queen sighed. "He was never like the Aesir he was raised with. We have twisted him into an evil thing, but an evil thing he is."

Irene ran her tongue over her teeth. I think I'll see that for myself, thanks.

Loki's smugness reached across their link. I knew you'd like me eventually.

Shut up. It's only that I don't think anyone deserves to be an outlaw, as she put it. It's an awful life.

It certainly is, he agreed. He seemed to know something more than she. At any rate, feel free to visit me down in my cell. It's actually quite comfortable. This was sarcasm: from the image he flashed her, she knew it was a dark, cold place, with tight bonds and a muzzle to prevent him from casting seidr.

Hm. Kinky.

You are such an optimist, he drawled. Best catch your tour guide before she wanders off.

Of course. By the way, what did you do with my switch? I do love that little thing.

…

After a walk through an open air market, a stop for lunch at a tavern, and a clothes shopping trip (Sif was obviously in want of female companionship and Irene thought it advantageous to oblige), Irene was being guided by Loki's instructions. Currently she was deep within the dungeons, flirting with a guard. Without her crop or the advantage of seidr, all she really had was her mind- but she was sharp enough to get into a heavily guarded room.

Loki watched her activities through her own eyes. She was talented with manipulation of the mind and the body. It didn't take much, simple-minded as the guards were. Within a few minutes, they would have done anything for her. The engraved stone doors cracked open, and he saw what had, in part, allowed her deception. In her eagerness to win over a female compatriot, the queen had dressed Irene Adler from her pale feet to her dark crown.

And she was magnificent. She'd donned gold and jewels, let her hair flow loose. The neckline of her red tunic was a bit too loose, but that was no flaw.

Stop your lechery, I'm trying to act. He could feel her faltering. After all, he looked awful. He couldn't cast seidr, so he was as blue as the ocean in his true giant form, with ridges and scars all over. His hair was quite mussed, and his captors hadn't even allowed him to tie it, so it hung in his eyes like rags. Her eyes travelled over him. Her face was proud and a little sadistic, but her mind was sorrowful.

Why? She almost couldn't believe this was him.

Because this world is a cruel place for tricksters. Without warning (just to make the situation a little more realistic), he bared his teeth and lunged at her like an animal, forcing her to step back. His breath was icy. The guards chuckled at her fright. She turned away, but not before she saw the fine welts lining his lips, pale against the deep blue of his skin, almost if the flesh had been…punctured. And for a second, there they were, heat and cold, light and dark.

The guards roared as she ran out in apparent fear. A fine act, he said a little vindictively.

I'm not afraid of you.

But you don't like what you saw. She couldn't say anything in reply. He had always wanted to be bigger and stronger. Then, when he discovered his true form and was scarred further by altercations and the aftereffects of his endeavors, he hid himself. And when she refused to reply, she confirmed what he already knew: his form was hideous.

Now do you see why I am outcast?

Confidence is everything, you know. This response bewildered him. She was hurrying up and down the halls towards the library, one of the least used places in the city, and one of his favorite.

Do you mean that if I was confident, you would not mind my ugly nature?

I mean that confidence is beauty.

You Midgardians are truly strange. When she didn't reply, he kept talking. What will you do now? The day is almost done, and the evening feasting will begin.

I want to know what you are. You didn't feel the need to begin explaining, so it's clear that you won't tell- but as long as you're in my head, I will have the truth.

You could have asked. There's a reason I asked you to visit, you know.

Besides ogling my breasts in this ridiculous getup, you mean?

Yes, besides that. Though I must say, your figure is a delight.

If she could have slapped him then, she would have.

She stopped a maiden on her way with a hand on her shoulder. The maiden, startled, shrugged the hand away. Her lips moved, and there were sounds coming out, but Irene couldn't understand. It sounded like Icelandic, or some other far northern dialect.

"Pardon?" Then the girl spoke again, and she could understand. I've heard of this. This is Allspeak, the universal language. The other must be the true Aesir language.

"You're that mortal!" This took her aback.

"Isn't everyone?"

The girl shook her head disbelievingly, backed away, and ran. What?

It isn't good for your reputation to associate with me. And yes, technically speaking, we are immortal if we consume Idun's apples.

Are you going to tell me why you called me to see you? Or shall I go again and beat it out of you?

Idle threats, he affirmed. You couldn't hurt me. You wouldn't. The truth of his words reverberated within her. She could not hurt him because he had already been hurt. Anything she did besides that was child's play.

You couldn't hurt me either, she asserted. I gave up my life and my identity to Fury, since there was no reason to keep it. She reached the library doors and pushed. They swung open on hinges that never rusted. The library was obviously not often used. Some tomes there had to be thousands of years undisturbed. Of course, they were Aesir books, not Vanir, for if there was Vanir literature they would not have been marginalized. Loki was keeping track of her thoughts.

Even if there were books, the Vanir would have been distrusted still. Asgardians are small-minded and intolerant of people who do not share their ideals.

She was tired of having his commentary, so she snapped. Get out of my head! Or at least shut your mouth, you're tiresome and you say anything but what I want to learn! He went completely silent then. She could still feel the bond, that had not been undone, but it was almost as if he wasn't there.

She found looked around the cryptically labelled sections and wished she hadn't snapped at him. For all her intelligence, she couldn't read Old Norse.