Wow! I have now reached Chapter 10, over 1100 hits, over 20 reviews and 25 followers! This is incredible and I love you all for all the support! THANK YOU!

o

So, this one's quite emotional, but I think the next one might be even more so! I hope you like it!

A quick note on the mythology:

To my mind Marvel's Loki and Thor are different beings to Mythology's Loki and Thor, and that's how it works in this story. (Here at least) The Asgardians are an alien race (and not actually gods) who once inspired the Nordic people to create the Norse Pantheon and Mythologies, and that Pantheon and those Mythologies are not actually a true representation of Marvel's Asgardians (at least in the movie-verse/this story's version of the movie-verse). I've made a couple of references, but to my mind, and in this story, they're completely different.

o

Chapter Ten:

Answers

"Why did you tell me?"

Loki's voice came from behind her, dark and quiet. Efanna turned to find him standing right behind her. There was a vulnerability in his eyes. This was Loki at his most dangerous.

"That I love you? Because it's the truth," she answered. She would need to tread very carefully here.

"But why tell me?" he asked. Somehow Efanna knew he was going to be persistent.

"Because you need to know."

"Why now?"

"Because if I'd told you when we first met you would've pummelled me into the wall."

Loki's eyes narrowed and Efanna felt her heart rate increase, just a little.

"You're evading my question," he accused.

"I know."

"Why?"

Efanna closed her eyes. "Because if I answered you, I'd have to tell you my secret," she admitted.

"Then why don't you?"

Efanna's heart was racing now. This was the moment.

"I should."

Loki's eyebrows raised, just a fraction. "But you won't."

Efanna felt like she was going to be sick. This was it. It was time for her to tell him. She knew she should. Knew this was the right thing to do.

Loki was staring at her, waiting for an answer.

"I- …" she stammered.

Just tell him! her head screamed, but her throat was closing up. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Tears were stinging her eyes.

"I- c-can't…"

"Why not?" Loki's response was immediate, flat, unemotional. He simply stood there, watching her break apart.

"Because I'm scared," she whispered.

"Of me?"

Efanna looked up at him. He seemed to tower over her. Never before had he seemed quite this tall.

"Partly."

"What else?"

Loki's eyes were boring into hers as though he was stripping away at her soul.

"What will happen," she whimpered, "If I tell you, then everything will change. I- I'm not ready for that. Not yet."

Loki's eyes demanded more.

"Even just telling you," she breathed, "Just having someone else who knows… I- …"

Efanna broke off in a sob and desperately tried to steady her breathing. She felt a hot tear burn its way down her cheek.

Coward, her mind told her.

"I will find out, Efanna," Loki told her. His voice was implacable.

"I know," she whispered.

"It will be soon."

"I know."

Loki held her eyes for a moment longer and then turned away. Once he had sat down in the armchair by the fire he resumed his gaze. Efanna sank, shaking, onto the sofa. Pip jumped up and put his head on her lap. Silence reigned for a long time.

"What did you expect me to do?" Loki asked suddenly. His voice had lost its edge now, it sounded more curious than dangerous.

"When?" Efanna asked, her head still spinning.

"When you told me you … loved me."

"Love, Loki, not loved. It's not past tense, I still do," she corrected him gently before thinking about his question.

"I don't really know," she admitted, "I just know I needed to tell you."

Loki's gaze was unfathomable.

"Did you – do you – expect me to say it back?"

Efa almost laughed at that question.

"No," she assured him, "That would have been the only thing you could have done that would have surprised me."

They lapsed into silence and slowly the tension eased out of the room. Eventually Efanna felt calm enough to go back to her painting, leaving Loki sat stewing in his thoughts.

o

Loki barely slept that night, revisiting again and again the conversations of the day before. Efanna's words floated through his head and drifted in and out of his dreams. When he awoke he had come to a decision.

He was no longer content to simply wait for Efanna to confide in him. Idle curiosity was no longer enough. He had to unravel the mysteries behind this strange girl. If she would not tell him then he must resort to other means.

When he entered the kitchen for breakfast Efanna had already been and left, leaving a note to tell him there were cold sausages in the fridge and that he knew where to find her should he need her. Loki knew she would be busy for the rest of the day, her worries about getting her artwork finished on time were starting to show. This gave him the perfect opportunity to ransack her cottage for anything that might shed some light on the questions she posed.

After a day in which he had carefully and discreetly searched every inch of her home, he had found nothing to suggest she was anything but an ordinary, if a little unconventional, mortal. The only interesting thing he had found were scraps of paper on which she had doodled. Most of these were inconsequential, but his eye had been caught by several sketches of him. It was quite obvious that if he were to find anything of any value, it would be within her workshop. And so, Loki settled back into his newly acquired routine and waited for his chance.

He did not have to wait long. It was only four in the afternoon the next day when Efanna appeared in the sitting room covered from head to toe in about fifty different colours of paint.

"I thought the paint was supposed to go on the canvas," Loki commented.

"Most of it did," she said with a grin, "Who says finger painting's only for five year olds? You don't need any hot water tonight do you, Loki? I think I'm going to end up running the tank dry getting all this out!"

With that she bounded up the stairs. Loki waited until he heard the door to the bathroom close, then sprung into action. He set the television playing one of the Doctor Who DVDs so that Efanna would have no reason to question his whereabouts and dashed across to her workshop. It was, as seemed the norm in this miserable country, raining steadily as he crossed the courtyard, but Loki paid it no heed, his mind set on what must be done.

The floor of Efanna's workshop was covered in a fresh coat of multi-coloured paint, as was the wall closest him, on which was propped up a large canvas. This could not draw his attention for long however, and he carefully picked his way around the colourful puddles into the room proper. There was nothing in here which would obviously reveal her secret so Loki ignored anything that was on display and instead headed to investigate that which was hidden from view. His search was not thorough, nor was it as careful as it had been in the cottage, for he knew his time was limited. It did not need to be, however, as it soon became clear to him that the only things stored in her cupboards, shelves and draws were art supplies and odds and ends. Only the last cabinet he checked proved to hold any promise, for it would not yield to his grasp as the others had.

He wasted only a minute contemplating how to open the contraption, before he found a chisel and hammer on her workbench. Had he been in his true form he would not have needed such tools, but he was able to obtain the access he desired within the merest of minutes nonetheless. When he finally prised open the drawers he was greeted by files and files of paper, both bound and loose. It was not quite what he had expected from this world that seemed to rely so much on technology.

He was contemplating where he should start when his eyes were drawn to a specific segment, larger than most, enclosed and labelled. With his name. Loki's brow furrowed as he reached for it. Could the mortal really have so much information on him? His frown deepened as he rifled through the loose sheets of paper, these were mere sketches! Yet when he began to realise what the sketches depicted his heart froze. They were rough yes, by no means masterpieces, but it was clear as glass what they illustrated.

Bleeding from one eye, Odin All-Father holds a Jötunn babe, as he does so the babe's skin changes from blue to milk, eyes red to green.

This image lay at the very front, followed by many scenes Loki clearly remembered from his childhood.

Loki and Thor as children, playing war games and hide and seek, Loki casting doubles of himself to confuse his brother or cloaking him in smoke so he could no longer see.

The boys in the pictures matured as his fingers flicked through them.

Two young men stand, one in green, the other in red, surrounded by a cluster of maidens. Thor is showing off his muscles, Loki aiming to impress with magic.

The next image even managed to bring a blush to Loki's cheeks; that was quite clearly him, and the young woman whom he was with was most obviously Sigyn, a woman he had only bed once. Efanna's drawings were exactly as he remembered. He had not even told Thor of the night he had first claimed a woman. How could Efanna possibly know in such detail such an intimate moment of his life?

Efanna's sketches continued in a similar manner, each one increasing Loki's incredulity and anger. The events of his assent to adulthood were sparsely documented, but from the day of Thor's coronation the number of drawings increased and it seemed there was not an hour of his life which had not been recorded by Efanna's hand. The trip to Jötunheim; Thor's banishment; Odin's revelation of his true nature; his deception and murder of his real father; his fights with Thor; the terrible, agonising rejection and fall. Still the images continued, depicting the horrors of his exile; his wanderings on barren, desolate worlds; the torture he had suffered at the hands of The Other and Thanos; the bargain he had struck to save his pitiful life and gain the only thing which would return it's worth – his revenge. There was not a soul alive, save him, who could give such a complete account of those months and yet here they were, spread over paper before him. Drawn by a mortal's hand.

By now Loki's blood boiled, but he had not yet reached the end. There were pictures yet that showed his arrival on Earth, his capture of the Tesseract, his attack, his defeat. And still beyond that, his arrival in the city of Cardiff; he and Efanna on the top of a mountain, images he recognised now as the time she had told him of her love. Although there were more he had not seen, one image stopped him in his tracks. It depicted him, sat on the floor surrounded by pictures, exactly as he was now. His head shot up to the doorway, the direction from which the image was drawn. There stood Efanna, red hair damp and dripping. Her white eyes watching him with a deep and abiding sadness.

"So, this is how that one turns out," she said softly.

o

It took three shampoos for Efa to clear her hair of the paint it contained. She knew she should probably stop running her hands through it whilst working, or perhaps just tie her hair back, but somehow she knew she never would. Besides, it didn't really matter as long as she managed to get it all out before the hot water ran cold. She could hear Doctor Who running as she got dressed and contemplated watching the rest of it with Loki instead of going straight back to tackle the mess she'd made. She was worried that she was maybe leaving him alone too much; she knew he was vulnerable at the moment, especially after her confession, and she knew that leaving a vulnerable Loki alone to plot wasn't exactly wise. But he was so close to finding her out. Every time they talked he prised a little more information from her. She knew he was doing it, knew she should be more careful, but the joy of being able to talk to someone always overcame her.

She should have just told him. But what would he think of her then? She couldn't lose him. Since he had arrived the loneliness in her heart had somehow seemed to grow. The life she had before been content with, now seemed empty. She craved his company more and more every day and she couldn't lose that now. She couldn't go back to being alone. Without realising he had done so, Loki had claimed Efanna completely. He was the first person, other than her mother, that she had ever known. She knew there would one day be others – she had Seen that, but Loki would always be the first. He was the one who had changed her. Any others would just add to what he had started. He had more power to hurt her than he could ever understand.

And she knew how much he would hate her if – when – he found out.

Efanna pressed her hands against her eyes as she tried to calm herself and bring back her normally cheerful attitude. Loki would be able to tell if she seemed out of sorts. That would just make him more suspicious. And she couldn't lose him.

It was only once she'd reached the lounge that she realised his deception. There sat the TV, playing merrily to itself. Pip was stretched out on the sofa. Of course. How could she have been so stupid? She had seen all the signs and chosen to ignore them. Slowly she picked up the remote and silenced the room. She knew where Loki would be. Now was the time to face her fears. To, in all probability, let Loki break her heart.

She took a deep breath and walked over to her workshop, through the rain and the mud. She didn't bother with a coat, nor even shoes. She had to face this now or she never would.

Loki was sat in the far corner, her sketches spread in a circle around him. She could almost feel the anger radiating off him, even though she was actually living this, and not just Seeing it, like last time. As if on cue his green eyes turned up to meet hers. It wasn't just anger they held, but confusion, humiliation and a desperate enquiry. The picture in his hands depicted exactly what was currently playing out.

"So," she said softly, needing to break the heavy silence, "This is how that one turns out."

Loki watched her for a moment more, his brow furrowing and his eyes darkening.

"What are these?" he asked, his voice low and deceptively calm, but Efanna could hear the slight tremble beneath the surface.

"They- It's-," she stumbled, her mind at a loss of how she should explain herself.

"It's your life," she breathed finally.

"I can see that."

His tone would have made even Thor want to run, but Efanna knew she couldn't. Instead she walked towards him, slowly, like one might approach and injured tiger. Which, Efanna supposed, he wasn't all that unlike. When she was perhaps three or four feet from him she slowly sunk to the ground. He watched her intently. She could feel herself beginning to shake. Quickly, Loki's eyes darted to the doorway behind her and she followed his gaze to see Pip nudging his way through the door. A tiny smile broke out on Efanna's face. Even if Loki destroyed her, she would still have Pip. She took a deep breath and turned back to the full force of those eyes.

"Explain," Loki commanded.

Efanna nodded, slowly. Her brain scrambled to find the words in the tumbling whirlwind that was her mind, but she didn't know where to start. She opened her mouth a couple of times but nothing came out.

"Tell me!" Loki insisted, his voice rising.

"I- I don't know where to start," she stammered finally.

"Try the beginning," Loki suggested coldly.

Efanna nodded. She took a deep breath, calming her mind, like her mother had taught her and closed her eyes.

"I was born on Samhain," she began, her voice quiet. She would start from the beginning.

"Samhain, to the ancients, was when one year ended and the next began. On Samhain the veil between worlds is at its thinnest and the past, present and future all blend together. I was born at exactly midnight, the moment when everything reaches its pinnacle. It is neither one time nor the next and instead the moment where everything is one.

"When I was born my eyes were white, and they thought I could not see. But, in fact, their colour, or lack of it, has a different cause. We don't know why, but it was my Mam's thoughts, and now my own, that because of the exact timing of my birth, something … happened. Changed me. That somehow, because I was born into that no-time I am not constrained as all others are by time.

"I have … Visions. I have done all my life. My body shuts down and I See the past, or the future, or the present in a place where I am not. I have no control over these Visions. I don't know when they will strike, or what I will See when I do. Every time they knock me unconscious."

"So you mean-?" Loki interrupted.

"That every time I've 'fallen over' I have, in actuality, had a Vision? Yes."

Loki's eyes flashed. "And these things-" he gestured to the pictures around him "-are what you have Seen?"

"Yes," Efanna replied, "Over the course of my life."

"Why me?" he asked.

"I don't know," she answered, "It's not just you, there are others too; but why, I don't know. I only imagine it's because it is Fated somehow."

"What others?" Loki asked relentlessly.

"You would know them as 'The Avengers'," she told him quietly.

Loki was quiet for a moment, looking from her drawings and back to her. He placed the last of the sketches beside him and turned his gaze to her. His eyes were dangerous now.

"So all this time, you have known everything about my life?" he asked her, his voice dark.

"Not quite everything, there are parts I haven't seen," Efanna began but Loki's look silenced her, "But … yes."

Loki's jaw clenched, as did his fist. His eyes jumped to and from each of hers and his breathing was heavy with a rage he could hardly contain.

"Why did you not tell me?" he roared suddenly, "Why did you lie?"

So, thoughts?