Big thank yous to all who've read, favourited, alerted or reviewed this story!

Big thanks to The-Lady-Isis for correcting that mistake, brainfog moment there!

Major brownie points to anyone who gets the (very subtle) Doctor Who reference :P

o

Chapter Seven:

You Can Call Me Efa If You Like

A loud crash caused Loki to look up from the book he was reading. It was one of the many dusty tomes left behind by Efanna's late mother, all of which appeared to be on the subject of the human brain and psyche. Loki had to admit, the subject had grasped his interest; these mortals could be fairly interesting creatures when studied. Their curiosity, in particular, intrigued him, for they seemed obsessed in finding a 'purpose' to their existence; yet what purpose could a creature have whose lifespan barely reached a century, and not even an Asgardian century at that? And yet the amount they managed to achieve in such short lives surprised him. An Asgardian of Efanna's age would barely be out of their cradle, however, though he was loath to concede it, her mind seemed to have matured at the same astonishing pace as her body. Though she was still remarkably young, even for a human, Loki was forced to confess that she could not really be classified a child.

On thinking of Efanna his attention was once again drawn to the noise which had interrupted him. The house had been remarkably quiet this morning until then, and he was surprised that he had not yet heard some response or exclamation from his energetic host at this disturbance. With a sigh he set down the book and ventured to investigate.

He heard a low groan as he entered the sitting room, and when he reached the kitchen he found Efanna hunched on the floor, apparently wrapped in her bedding, picking up what appeared to be the broken remains of a mug. She looked up as he entered the room and he noticed her eyes looked red and her skin sallow. Her dog was gently nuzzling her arm with concern in his eyes. Loki leant against the doorframe, crossing his arms, eyebrows raised questioningly.

"I tripped," she explained, tersely, "Help me pick this up will you?"

Loki's eyes raised further at her tone, but he bent down and scooped up the remaining pieces of smashed pottery. She gave him a wan smile in thanks and stood up, wrapping her bulky purple duvet around her shoulders. Beneath, her legs were bare and she seemed to wear an overly large, grey t-shirt emblazoned with large blue letters.

" 'I'm confused'?" he asked, peering at her chest to read the words as he deposited the remains of the mug in the bin.

" 'It's a big club, we got t-shirts'," she responded indifferently, "Don't worry, you won't get the reference yet."

He raised his eyebrows again with a small smirk, leaning against the counter and about to question her further, only to be interrupted before he could say anything.

"Oh, piss off Loki," she muttered, "I'm not in the mood for mardy Asgardians who think they're smart."

"I was under the impression that I was the only Asgardian here."

Efanna raised her middle finger at him before wrapping her bedding closer around her. Loki wasn't familiar with the gesture but he assumed it was a rude one.

"Why, whatever is the matter?" he asked, his tone too extravagant to be called polite.

"My head hurts," she told him flatly, "I'm going back to bed."

With that she turned and left the room, her dog hovering about her legs anxiously. Loki's brow furrowed. This was a far cry from her usual overly-cheerful behaviour. He followed her, noticing she stumbled slightly at the foot of the stairs.

"Efanna, are you alright?" he asked her.

"Leave me alone, Loki," she grumbled.

Loki's temper executed one of its many about turns. How dare she give him such a flippant response when he treated her with more civility than a mere mortal wench deserved? He watched coldly as she staggered up the stairs. It was not that he had cared anyway. He was merely interested as to what could have caused such a profound change in her personality.

o

Heimdall walks through golden corridors until he reaches a grand door, guarded by two armoured men. They take one look at him and allow him entrance. Inside the room Odin, Frigga and Thor sit around a gleaming table, eating fruits and meats and idly discussing affairs of the Kingdom. They look up as Heimdall enters.

"My King," Heimdall says, respectfully bowing his head to the All-Father, "Loki has requested that I deliver a message to Thor."

"Loki?" Thor asks, standing up suddenly, "Tell me, Heimdall, what do you see? What does my brother say?"

Thor's intensity fills the room, and Frigga's eyes are bright with a sudden hope for her lost son. Heimdall looks to Odin before he speaks, who gives him a slow nod.

"His words were thus: 'Heimdall! I know you are listening! Tell Thor that he must join me here, on Midgard. Tell him he must hurry and that his precious Earth will fall if he does not!'," Heimdall repeats dutifully.

Thor bangs his fist to the table, causing the plates and bowls to shake and clatter. Odin sighs and places his hand over his face and Frigga looks saddened and weary.

"What mischief does my brother now wreak?" Thor asks, his voice angry and hurt, "What wrongs of his must I once again undo? Tell me, what danger does Midgard face?"

"Midgard does seem to face danger," Heimdall replies, "But it does not appear to be Loki who is the cause. On the contrary, he appears to call you to aid him in Earth's defence."

A shocked silence settles on the room.

"What trickery is this?" Thor asks, not daring to believe that what he has hoped for for so long might finally come to pass, "What does my brother seek to gain by luring me to his side?"

"For once I believe his actions genuine," Heimdall explains, "It was not his choice to send this message, instead he was persuaded by one whom he now keeps company. He is with a mortal girl, a young redhead who has looked after him since his arrival on Midgard. She seems to know far more than she should, and pleaded with him to send for your help."

Efanna's Vision was interrupted suddenly by a heat rising across the back of her neck and an acidic taste in her mouth.

"Bugger," she muttered, clamping one hand to her lips and rushing from her bed and across the hall to the bathroom, almost tripping over Pip. She had only just managed to raise the lid of the toilet before her stomach emptied its contents.

She sat heaving for several minutes, catching her breath in sharp, painful gasps and trying to keep her copper curls from her face. She could feel Pip's cold nose on her elbow and, between bouts, hear him whimper with anxiety. Her convulsions paused for a moment and she took the chance to breathe again, grimacing at the foul taste that stung her throat and nose. She reached to flush the toilet and grab some paper to wipe her dripping mouth but no sooner had she raised her shaking hand, her stomach churned again and she was once more choking and retching.

When this bout too hand finished she once again reached up, determined to manage to wipe her mouth. She was surprised to find a wad of tissue placed into her hand. She jerked back instinctively for she wasn't wearing her gloves and the tissue fell to the floor. Thankfully their hands hadn't touched; the last thing she needed now were Loki's Memories. She grabbed the toilet paper quickly from the floor and spent the next few moments viciously wiping her mouth, spitting, and blowing her nose, trying to clean herself up as best she could and rid herself of the foul taste and odour, before looking up at her guest.

Loki was perched on the edge of her bath next to her, looking down with his eyebrows raised, as he usually did.

"Efanna, what happened?"

She glared at him. "I threw up," she told him flatly.

It was her turn now to get a cold look.

"Well I could see that," Loki said curtly, "I was wondering why you were throwing up."

"I thought it would be a fun way to spend the day," she told him sarcastically.

Loki was the one glaring now but Efanna really wasn't in the mood to pander to his bruised ego. Especially as her stomach chose this moment to ensure it hadn't left anything behind. Besides, it was a question she was asking herself. Normally she didn't get ill, or at least she didn't get anything worse than a slight temperature or a headache. Her strange self-healing powers seemed to sort all that out. The last time she'd thrown up was when she was five, so why was she currently heaving her guts up now?

When she could finally breathe again Loki threw another wad of tissues at her. She was surprised he was being so friendly, so she decided to give him a proper answer.

"I think it's your fault," she said, spitting another mouthful of bile into the toilet.

"My fault?" he asked darkly.

Okay, so she probably could have phrased that a little more diplomatically.

"Yeah, you've probably got some Asgardian virus that your body knows how to fight off already, but mine doesn't so it's making me puke my guts out," she explained, shakily, "It fits time-wise. If you caught it just before you got sent here and then gave it to me on Friday, couple of days incubating and now – wham! Yesterday's dinner makes an unwelcome appearance. You probably wouldn't even notice if you were feeling a bit worse for wear, what with being shoved into a mortal body and thrown halfway across the universe and all that."

Loki's gaze softened as she explained her theory.

"I suppose that does make sense," he admitted, "A mortal reaction to an Asgardian illness would be fairly severe I would have thought."

"Yippee," Efanna muttered grimly.

o

Loki watched as Efanna leaned back against the tiled bathroom wall, sipping a glass of water he had poured for her after it became obvious she wasn't going to be able to herself. Her dog had shoved his head onto her lap. She looked awful. Her skin was deathly pale and there were dark circles about her eyes. He almost found himself feeling sorry for her, for if she was correct then he was the cause, albeit unintentionally, of her current discomfort. That thought worried him for a moment, but he reasoned that it was because he hadn't meant to cause her harm that he wasn't enjoying it. If it was something he had planned he was sure that he would relish in her pain, just like any other pathetic mortal.

"Do you think you've finished now?" he asked.

She cracked open one of her eyes a little.

"I'm not sure," she said, "But I've stopped getting that hot feeling on the back of my neck. I just feel cold now."

Indeed, the hairs on her arms were raised and she was shaking violently. Loki wasn't really sure what to do. Caring for sick mortals was certainly not one of his areas of expertise and he had no intention of making it one.

"You should probably go back to bed," he told her.

"Probably. What time is it?"

"Roughly two o'clock in the afternoon, I believe."

"Oh," she muttered, "Did you finish up that ham for lunch?"

Loki rolled his eyes as he informed her that he had. Why, in the name of Valhalla, was she worrying about what he'd had for lunch?

"Good, I hate wasting food."

She was quiet for a moment, her eyes sliding back into her head as she moaned slightly. Loki shifted in her perch on the edge of the bath. It was really not the most comfortable of places to sit.

"Loki?" Efanna asked softly.

"What?"

"Why are you here?"

The question surprised him a little.

"You were making such a racket I couldn't concentrate on anything else," he answered.

"Yes, but why are you still here?" she asked, "I shut up ages ago."

Huh. Good question. What was he doing crammed into a tiny bathroom that reeked of vomit with a mortal who was quite obviously no longer causing a distraction?

"I have nothing better to do in this miserable corner of the universe," he retorted bitterly, telling himself that that was the only possible reason.

"Huh," she mumbled, her voice barely audible, "You must really hate it here then?"

She looked so pitifully sad as she said this that Loki almost caught himself feeling sorry for her again. Almost.

"You know, you're right," she whispered, her words slurring, "I think- I will- go back- to bed."

She pushed herself onto her hands and knees and tried to stand up, but obviously thought better of it. In the end she crawled back to her bedroom. Her dog kept gently nudging her face, as if trying to figure out what she was doing on all-fours like him. Loki staid put, listening to the creak of the floorboards and the grumble and thump as she heaved herself into bed. He then left the bathroom and peered through her open door to see his young host curled in a ball on her side in the middle of her bed, dog laid out beside her, already asleep.

o

There is a round cage, glass walls and white pillars. It sits in a large room, held in place by sturdy metal arms that hang from the ceiling. Beneath it is a floor which will disappear at the touch of a button to reveal the clouds below. There are figures within the cage, a multitude of images all superimposed upon each other, all vying for their possibility of happening.

/Loki paces the cell in a long leather coat, his hands behind his back. He is anxious, agitated and feels somehow lonely and small. He hates feeling so./

/Loki lies in a crumpled heap on the floor, bruised and bleeding as Agent Barton viciously kicks him in the stomach with steel capped boots. Barton's mind is twisted with anger and Loki's with pain. Efanna watches from behind the glass, held in place by Captain America. She screams for Barton to stop./

/Loki is tied to a chair in the centre of the cell. Agent Romanoff stands over him, her eyes dark. Efanna is restrained by Agent Barton at the edge of the cage. Loki and Efanna's eyes meet with a shared pain as Loki refuses to tell Romanoff what she wants to know. She uses her 'Widow's Bite'. Loki screams. Efanna cries./

/Loki and Efanna sit within the cell together, on the small cot. They are watched by the careful eye of Captain America. Efanna holds his gaze with a gentle smile.

"Why are you here?" Loki asks Efanna.

"We're waiting for Thor before I tell them all my big secret," she replies, cheerfully.

"But why are you here? They weren't going to lock you up."

Efanna turns her smile to him./

Efanna's voice rings throughout every possibility, clear and strong.

"I promised I wouldn't leave you, Loki."

Efanna blinked away the rioting images, pressing a hand to her aching temple. Why did she have to have such violent Visions when her head already hurt this much? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the echo of her screams, and Loki's. They were only possibilities. They might never happen. She would do all she could to ensure they never did.

"You're awake again then?"

Efanna jumped at the sound of Loki's voice. She looked over to the doorway of her room to find him leaning there, arms crossed, eyebrows quizzical.

"Loki! What are you doing here?" she cried weakly.

Loki's brow furrowed. "You were … screaming," he told her.

Oh. Well that made things harder to explain. She didn't usually talk whilst having her Visions, or at least she didn't think she did. Her mother had never said so, and there hadn't been anyone else since then to tell her. Perhaps it was this virus?

"I must've drifted off…" she muttered. It wasn't exactly a lie, she had been drifting in and out of consciousness since her puking fit, this time it had just been for a different reason. "Must've had bad dreams."

"Very bad, from the sound of it," Loki commented coolly, "Can you remember them?"

"No…" she lied, her brow furrowing as her mind reminded her of the truth.

Loki delicately raised one eyebrow, obviously not believing her. Efanna squirmed under his gaze, shifting her head on the pillow and looking around to avoid his eyes. Her covers were in a crumpled heap, hanging half off the bed. That was odd. She'd been pleasantly burrowed beneath them before the Vision hit, and she usually laid still as death when under their influence. But then she had no idea how an Asgardian virus might affect her and her Visions. Pip was laid by the chair to her desk, watching her carefully.

She suddenly realised that she was achingly cold. And that she was only wearing boxers and a t-shirt (albeit a large one). Loki's gaze seemed to intensify as she thought this, but she was sure it was only her imagination. After all, he didn't have his mind reading powers at the moment. Painstakingly she pulled her aching limbs into a position where she could push herself up, but they felt like lead and would barely move. Eventually she managed to lift her head from the pillow and force herself into a semi-sitting position, but the moment she did so the world seemed to tilt and spin and her head was dragged back to the bed. She laid still for a moment, blinking slowly and waiting for the room to stop moving.

"Okay," she muttered, "So sitting up isn't a good idea then."

She fixed her eyes back on her covers, trying to figure out a way she could retrieve them without lifting her head. In the end she shuffled and dragged herself until she was horizontal in the middle of the bed with her head almost off the edge. Pip came up and licked her face.

"Piss off, pup," she mumbled, feeling dizzy even though she was lying down.

She grabbed at her covers, trying to pull them on top of her shaking body, only she couldn't seem to move them. Since when were duvets this heavy? Loki chuckled at her and she glared at him. He was still stood there, leaning nonchalantly against her doorway and looking amused.

"What?" she growled angrily at him. Sure, she probably did look ridiculous, but he didn't have to actually laugh at her. That was just mean when she was feeling so utterly shit.

"I'm cold," she added by way of explanation.

"Why didn't you just ask me to help?" he asked.

Efanna raised her eyebrows. "Would you have agreed to?"

Her question seemed to trouble Loki, and he looked thoughtful for a moment before slowly stepping in and lifting her duvet to drop it on top of her in a pile.

"Apparently," he said, with a small smirk.

Efanna was shocked, but wasted no time kicking and wriggling until she was warmly cocooned, with only her face showing. Slowly her shivering eased a little and she turned to meet Loki's watching eyes. Whilst she had been cocooning herself he had grabbed the chair from her desk and now sat a couple of feet from her bed. She was curious as to why he was being so nice, but right now gratitude took precedence so she smiled at him as warmly as if he'd just saved her life.

"Thanks," she whispered as she felt her eyelids begin to droop again. Before he could respond she was already asleep.

o

Loki looked up as Efanna once again mumbled, but he could make out no words so he turned back to the book he was reading. It was about something called Neuro-Linguistic Programming, which actually appeared to be a remarkably intelligent theory, although in the hands of mortals it was incredibly restricted in its use. Loki however was making mental notes and adaptations as he read and felt certain that he would be able to use such techniques for much more than these mortals if he chose.

Efanna's voice rose again and Loki's eyes snapped to hers sharply. He managed to catch the words 'message' and 'secret', but the rest was once again unintelligible. She had been muttering such tantalising hints in her sleep since the great nightmare that had caused him to check on her in the first place. Every time she talked he hoped she might say something of value, but all he'd heard were disjointed words.

He leant back with a sigh. He had been reading in his room when Efanna had interrupted him for the third time that day. When he had poked his head around her door he'd found her thrashing and writhing in her bed, screaming at the top of her lungs. What had alarmed him though, was what it was that she had been screaming:

"Loki!"

The sound still rang through his mind. Her voice had been so raw, so full of pain it had sounded as though her heart had been breaking. But why his name? What nightmares could she have had that would cause her to cry out to him in such a way? What had so haunted her sleep that she now refused to tell him? It was in the hope of getting some answer to these questions that he continued to watch her, even though many hours had now passed since she had briefly awoken to find him at her doorway.

"L- … Lo- ki," Efanna mumbled, turning her head and smiling gently.

It was so different a way to how she had called his name when he had first looked in on her. Of all the things she'd said since then, his name had been the most common and he longed to know why. He was not controlling her mind, had not entered her dreams; he lacked the power to do so even if he had wanted to. So why did he feature so heavily in Efanna's dream-speech? What other reason could there be for a mortal girl to dream of him?

Efanna yawned then, and slowly her eyes fluttered open.

"L-Loki?" she asked as her eyes met his, this time aware of what she was saying, "You're still here?"

Seeing as the answer to that question was evident, Loki decided not to grace it with an answer. Instead he elected to quite obviously look her over, which had the desired effect of making her seem self-conscious and forget her question as she busied herself greeting her dog who had placed his chin on the side of her bed. She seemed to have regained a bit of colour in her cheeks, but there were still dark circles beneath her eyes and she kept placing her hand to her head as if trying to hold it in place.

"What time is it?" she asked eventually.

Loki glanced at the projection of the clock on the wall. "Thirty-five minutes past the twenty-second hour," he told her.

"Shit!" she cried, pushing herself up, "I need to get the hens in!"

Loki scowled. "No, you don't."

"What?" Efanna asked, confusion written all over her face, "Are they-?"

"Yes, they're fine," Loki snapped, "I got them in myself."

"You?"

Efanna looked gobsmacked. Loki didn't blame her. It was not something he had done willingly.

"Your dog forced me to," he admitted sourly, "He started whining and wouldn't shut up until he'd led me to the barn and I'd closed the doors. He's almost as good a nagger as you are."

Efanna looked delighted. "Good boy!" she murmured, giving her hound a scratch between the ears.

"That had better have been meant for the dog and not me," Loki told her darkly. She laughed.

"I would never dare to talk to the great Loki Silver-Tongue in such a fashion!"

Loki raised his eyebrow sceptically. Efanna laughed again.

"Okay, so maybe I would," she admitted, "But, yes, I was talking to Pip, and not you. This time." She poked her tongue out at him.

"So the beast gets thanks and not me?"

"Well by the sounds of it, it was Pip who actually did all the work," she teased, a wicked grin on her face, "But, thank you, Loki. I would never have expected you to do such a thing."

She looked so happy that he had that Loki was forced to look away in disgust. To which she giggled.

"I take it you're feeling better then?" he asked, indignantly, "Seeing as your crude attempts at wit have returned."

"Yeah, I guess I am…" she said slowly, "I'm still a bit dizzy though, and I'm not sure I should eat quite yet. What did you have for dinner by the way?"

Loki narrowed his eyes, trying to think of a way he could get out of this situation gracefully.

"Cereal," he eventually admitted, shortly. Efanna looked confused.

"But there were plenty of eggs, and cheese, and mushrooms. Why didn't you have an omelette or something?"

"I can't cook," he told her grumpily, deciding there was no way out of this current situation. Efanna was too stubborn and somehow seemed to be able to see through his lies.

"Seriously?" Efanna asked, incredulously, "Not even eggs?"

Loki gave her a very dark glare.

"There was never any need for me to learn. Cooking is servants work, why should a Prince need to know how?"

"But what about when you went off on all those journeys, those expeditions with Thor and the others?"

"We always brought at least one servant with us to cook and prepare our camp," he told her, wondering, once again, how she could know of such things.

"You spoilt buggers!" she muttered, "How on Earth were you ever going to survive here if you don't even know how to cook?"

"I have survived thus far have I not?" he asked her coldly.

"Good job you found me then. Or rather, good job I found you. In fact, that's a good point. What were you going to do had I not found you and brought you here?"

She was propped up on one arm now, regarding him curiously with her head once again tilted to one side. Loki sighed and placed his book on the floor.

"I would have found another woman who would have done the same thing."

Realisation dawned on Efanna's face. "Ah. Well, it's a good thing I did come get you then, somehow I don't think you would've bothered with … protection and that probably would've ended up unpleasant … for all parties involved…"

"Protection?" he asked quizzically. It wasn't a term he'd heard before.

Efanna shifted uncomfortably.

"Uh… I'll let someone else explain that to you."

"Efanna, there is no one else. Who are you expecting to explain it, the dog?"

"Yeah, sorry Loki, but that's something else you're not getting out of me. I'm sure you'll find someone who can explain it to you eventually, just, maybe be careful who you ask okay?"

Loki was feeling distinctly left out of the loop and it wasn't an experience he was enjoying. However the way she was acting was making him have second thoughts about whether this was a conversation he really wanted to have with Efanna of all people.

"Very well," he conceded finally. Efanna smiled wryly at him.

"So," she said, fairly obviously changing the subject, "What have you been doing up here? Watching me sleep must've been pretty boring."

"I've been reading," he replied, gesturing to the book on the floor, "And in fact watching you sleep hasn't been as boring as you might have thought."

She looked at him quizzically, her head tilting once again.

"You've been talking," he explained with a smirk, "It was … interesting."

Efanna looked mortified which only made Loki's smirk wider.

"Um… what did I say?" she asked, timidly.

"Mostly gibberish," he answered, "But…"

Efanna had looked momentarily relieved, but now her curiosity was once again caught.

"But…?" she asked.

"You said my name," he told her slowly, "Quite a lot."

Loki still wasn't sure how he felt about this. It wasn't the fact that she'd said it that was bothering him. More the way she had said it. Every time had held so much emotion, and yet not once had her voice contained anger or hate.

"Oh," she said softly, "That makes sense I guess."

Loki's brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

"Loki, you're the first person I've met in over ten years," she explained gently, "And only the second person I've ever really met in my whole life. Is it really so surprising that I would dream about you?"

He considered this for a while as Efanna watched him kindly. For the first time he began to realise the extent of the regard she held him in, which only served to confuse him more. Why would someone like her think of him in such a way? What had he ever done to deserve her kindness?

"You look tired," she told him quietly.

"So do you," he retorted.

"Even after sleeping all day," she said with a wry smile, "You should go to bed. I'll be fine now, and I'm sure you won't miss much. If I dream anything particularly interesting I promise to tell you in the morning."

"Very well," he said with a small smirk, standing, "Goodnight, Efanna."

"You know, you can call me Efa if you like, Efanna's a bit of a mouthful."

Loki looked back at her, propped up against her pillows in that stupidly large t-shirt with her hair dishevelled and sprawled around her. Somehow she looked so serious, so sincere.

"Goodnight, Efa."

She smiled.

"Goodnight, Loki."

Yep, you know the drill – please tell me what you think!