The hour had grown late by the time Sif had retired for the night. The day had brought challenge and weight to the heart; she was in the good graces of her prince once again, but she felt as though she had allowed something valuable and priceless to slip through her fingers. She attempted to excuse the sensation as a professional concern, wondering what effect his love of a mortal would have on Asgard, and whether the king would permit such a pursuit to continue. No matter how hard she tried to justify her feelings towards Thor's decisions as part of her duties of office, she couldn't deny the personal nature of her doubts.
She sat at her dresser, applying cream to her arms and shoulders, wondering how her sleep would come that night, or if it would at all. Nostalgia and sentimentality had their place, but not so much that she should allow them to commandeer all thoughts. During the day, she had held down her sadness with busy tasks, but now that she was alone in her silent quarters, she could not block the memories that flooded her mind - memories of her prince's smile, the brush of his skin, and the way he looked at her when he had truly missed her; memories of the joy of her youth, and the feeling that Asgard and all the realms beneath it were hers because he loved her; and memories of what had gone wrong and what they both had done in these years to deepen the chasm between them.
She sighed and picked up her brush to run it through her hair, counting her strokes in order to busy her mind, though she had not done such a thing since the vain days of her youth. Even despite her task, her thoughts would not quiet. She could not shake the pictures of her childhood from her head, but as she brushed, the image of her reflection in the mirror of her dresser stirred a memory of a face that was not Thor's, one that had plagued her thoughts in a different way.
The insecure boy who used to follow at every chance to train with his brother, the taller, older adolescent, whose stare always lingered on her for a little too long, and the man, with his cool touch and deep, rich voice - it was his unnaturally blue eyes that suddenly monopolized her focus. She bit her lip and put her brush back in its place on her dresser. Her breath caught in her throat. No matter how unpleasant the vision of him had been, she could not deny it to herself that the sensation of his breath on her cheek still burned her skin.
She pushed those thoughts back with force. She had dreamt of a man who had stolen the throne, who had threatened people she loved, and who had taken something important from her in a fit of inexcusable rage. No matter how much she had cared for him when they were children, there was little use of denying the anger that scorched and ruined that fondness. Her dream had merely been an illogical figment of a tired mind, one that threatened her sanity in its randomness and in the way it had so easily seduced her. Sleep would surely cure this ailment, but even as she laid in her bed, allowing the cool softness of her pillow to lure her to slumber, she couldn't help but fear that her subconscious would betray her again.
In the beginning, he could perceive nothing more than a gray cloud and the feeling of a soft surface beneath his feet. As the image sharpened and brightened, he could see he was in the middle of a grassy field on a clear day. The pleasant sound of a nearby brook could be heard in the distance; he reminisced in a warm breeze he hadn't felt on his skin for what seemed to be an eternity. He closed his eyes, allowing the illusion of open space and fresh air to wash over his body. He could go a long time without need of daylight and its warmth as his body was constructed for cold and perpetual darkness, but he would not deny its pleasantness when afforded the opportunity - even if this was just a mirage derived from another dream.
The scene cleared further and he could hear the laughter of children mixed with the chatter and shouts of adults. He recognized the faces of many in the nearby crowd, and remembered the event in this vision as being one of the many unofficial gatherings held outside the academy grounds that involved the student body. New students and old congregated to spar and show off their growth from the previous year; their families often came to watch and assess their improvements. It was an informal, unendorsed final exam of sorts, an event that provided an ideal venue in which to show off and parade one's skills in front of their peers and elders in a series of friendly competitions.
He immediately spotted himself in the crowd; he was difficult to miss while wearing his colors and a smaller, early version of his iconic horns. He was much younger, and his hair, much longer, but even at that age, he wore the same cold frown and stare as his adult self. He stood with his arms crossed, his eyes fixated on a point across the field. His lips moved in conversation, but no matter how close the older version came, he could not hear what he was saying. It quickly occurred to him that this was because it was Sif's dream and although she remembered he had been there, she hadn't been privy to his conversation. The memories of this particular discussion returned to him, however, as he followed the eye line of his younger self, and he soon recalled what it was that had stolen his attention from the sparring field.
She stood on the sidelines of a spar between Thor and some nameless, hapless victim, cheering, yelling, and occasionally throwing her fist in the air in support for his brother. Her blonde hair shined like gold in the light of Asgard's star, her warm skin and red lips glowed welcomingly. She was still young, but her features displayed a new maturity, undoubtedly formed in her years of hard work in the academy. She resembled a rose that was nearly ready to bloom, on the precipice of adulthood, but still reveling in the time of her youth that remained.
"Who is that?" he had curiously asked a nearby classmate.
"Who - Sif?" The other man smiled in humor at the look of astonishment that suddenly crossed Loki's normally stoic face.
"I haven't seen her in a while, I suppose."
"Her parents sent her off world for a spell for some extra training. She returned only earlier this year and has been in Prince Thor's cohort since," he explained.
"Of course she has," Loki said wryly, silently cursing the way fortune had favored his brother yet again. "Time has been kind to her. She is very beautiful," he said quietly.
"Do not waste your efforts, Your Highness," the other man chuckled. Loki snapped a scornful look at him. His classmate raised his hands in concession. "I only say that because there is a rumor Thor has asked her to officially court."
Loki locked his jaw as his brow wrinkled deeply. The jealousy he had felt as a boy regarding Thor and Sif's relationship suddenly returned after years of dormancy, as it had been surpassed by his desire and pursuit of the throne. It had taken only moments and one look at her for that particular wound to reopen.
As though she could sense his stare from their distance, her eyes left Thor's fight and landed on his. She smiled and waved, but there was a cold sharpness in his gaze that visibly unsettled her. Her smile fell, and even though his expression softened after much effort on his part, it was not enough to keep her attention.
The stomach of the older Loki turned as he watched the painfully embarrassing memory play out in front of him. He hadn't realized how pitiful he'd seemed in his youth. He thought himself pathetic, drooling over Thor's lapdog as though she was Asgard's only treasure. Like a mirror in bad lighting, this memory was revealing all of his flaws to him in the worst ways.
Not wanting to welter about in his own humiliation any longer, he made his way across the field to her younger version. She didn't seem to notice his presence, or care. At first, he believe she may have assimilated his image into her memory, protecting him from detection. However, that thought was disproven when he reached for the base of her neck and touched nothing but air.
"What are you doing here?" asked an exasperated voice behind him. He turned to see her normal self, a vision of reality, sitting on a rock behind him. Like the version of her from her dream, she wore the uniform of the academy in beige and silver, as she hadn't earned her colors until after graduation. However, unlike the projection of her memory, her hair was dark and her facial features reflected her adulthood.
He smiled wryly; this was an odd dream. She was both reliving a memory and projecting an image of herself watching it as a third person. He'd had plenty of strange dreams himself in surreal circumstances though, and considering the odd tricks one's mind was capable of pulling during sleep, a third-person perspective wasn't completely out of the norm.
"I could ask you the same thing," he said, attempting caution as to not alert her that this was a dream, since lucidity in this stage nearly always woke the dreamer. "Why would you choose to dwell on such an uneventful, ordinary day?"
He sat down next to her casually. She eyed him skeptically, but responded in a much more thorough manner than he had expected. "On the contrary, it was far from 'ordinary.' This was the day when Thor first announced his intentions for me - and the day we first made love."
His smile fell; he had no wish to witness any of what she had just described, and since it was already apparent that she had far less inhibitions in her dreams than she did in reality, it would not surprise him if her mind took them there during this episode. However, as he looked back towards the field, he saw nothing changing to reflect the events she had just described. Thor continued to taunt his opponent; Sif was still cheering for him on the sidelines; and his younger self's icy stare remained fixed on her.
"This time seems so distant," she started. "I have become a completely different person since my youth. I was at the pinnacle of happiness here - and I suppose I've been trying to reclaim it again. Maybe that is why this day monopolizes my thoughts of late."
His brow furrowed in confusion. He still saw nothing regarding what she had described. The crowd roared in favor of their prince as his young self gained the fortitude to approach her. He began to wonder if his presence wasn't affecting the direction of her visions.
"I don't understand," he said honestly. "If this is about Thor, why are you focused on this moment?"
Her eyes fell to the ground, but she didn't respond. The sound of her younger voice interrupted his attention.
"…and you have grown quite tall. You and Thor have both changed so much in only a few short years. It makes me wonder if I wasn't off-world for longer than I thought."
He opened his mouth to respond, but at that moment, Thor threw his opponent over his head and to the ground, effectively ending the fight. Many people ran up to congratulate him. Surprisingly, Sif stayed behind and did not join in the celebration.
"It's about time he stopped playing and won," Sif chided, though she had a large smile across her lips when she said it. "He has gained a lot of strength this year."
"He is strong, but sloppy," he said darkly.
Sif's smile diminished, and once again, she seemed uneasy about him. "You could do better?" she asked, attempting to refrain from sounding argumentative, as Loki was an old friend and a prince of Asgard.
"I could."
"But he beat you in the last round," she said, quickly becoming unable to disguise her impatience.
He shifted his weight awkwardly. He'd been unaware that she was there to see what had been a humiliating and abrupt defeat. Thor had laughed off the competition for the sake of the crowd, but Loki's resentment towards his brother had doubled.
"He used an illegal grab against me," he argued.
"And you used your duplication illusion," she retorted.
"A fair retaliation for his breach of conduct."
Sif frowned and crossed her arms. "There is a bitterness in your tone. You and Thor have always been rivals, but I sense it has gotten worse recently."
"It has," he said unapologetically, "but that is because the stakes have gotten much higher."
Once again, his gaze grew cold and lingered on her for a moment or two too long for her own comfort. She swallowed hard, her instincts were nearly shouting that something was not right with Loki's regard of Thor, but at that time, she hardly had any evidence to support it, and so she had chosen to ignore it.
"It was nice to see you again, Loki," she said, changing the subject. "Perhaps we can catch up more at a later time." She didn't give him the opportunity to reply, and walked over to join the group that had gathered around Thor.
The older Loki felt blood pool near his cheeks as the reminders of that day continued to flow through his memories. It was certainly not the only humiliation he had suffered in her presence, but due to the importance of other events surrounding that particular day, it was one that stuck out in memory. Did she take pleasure in remembering his pain?
As these thoughts flittered through his mind, he began to wonder why the scene wasn't changing to follow her younger self. If her dream was fostered through her nostalgia for Thor, why was he barely involved in the vision? He turned towards her, only to see her eyes intensely focused on his younger version in an analytical manner. Realization slowly dawned on him; he stood and stepped into her path, interrupting her focus. She briefly glanced at him, but quickly looked away the moment his searching eyes found hers. Her cognitive dissonance was evident on her face, mixed with what seemed to be regret - or guilt.
"This isn't about Thor, is it?" he surmised.
She stood, but as she opened her mouth, she found she couldn't argue with him. He smiled and stepped closer. "Have I finally earned some of your precious attention after all these years?"
Slowly, the scene around them began to melt and change into something else entirely. The sky darkened; green grass became stone floors and animal skin rugs. The crowd and all of its noise vanished until just the two of them remained. They stood in her chambers, in front of her dresser and mirror, as it had appeared in the first dream he infiltrated. Once again, she wore her golden nightgown and the braids of her younger years in her hair.
Her eyes met his, and he did not miss the distain contained within, even though wasn't sure of whom it was directed towards. He smiled tentatively despite himself as he cautiously moved his hand up to stroke her cheek. His fingertips touched her soft skin, but he barely dared to press further. "I must have left quite the impression on you last time," he said with a low chuckle.
She did not recoil at his touch, but her frown deepened as she dropped her eyes from his. "You're not…" she started, cutting herself off before she could continue. "This isn't right."
"Isn't it?" he asked. He moved his fingers down her neck to her collarbone, lightly tracing its slight ridge and shadow to the straps of her gown. "You've always been vain and I have never hidden my appreciation for your - natural gifts." His hands traveled down her shoulders and arms. She exhaled lightly as he moved to her ribs. "Perhaps you're simply in search of some personal reassurance while Thor's eyes are fixed on Midgard. Is that so terribly wrong?"
He rested his hands on the swell of her hips and stepped dangerously close. She could feel the stirring of his breath on her cheek and down her neck as he leaned down to meet her. "When was the last time you were made to feel what you're worth?"
She tilted her head and met his lips with her own. All of her tentativeness and hesitancy was gone, replaced with desperation for what he promised. He would not deny her what she sought. She wrapped her arms around his neck to deepen the contact, barely permitting either of them air, even though their breathlessness was merely a part of the illusion.
"You're dangerous," she said quietly, breaking a part for a moment as if she needed time to grasp and understand what she had just done. "I would be safer with a viper." Her argument was aimed more towards herself than it was at him.
He kissed her jaw line before retorting, "you've never been the type to pursue caution." He moved down to her neck, eliciting a small moan from her throat as his teeth lightly scraped her skin.
She gently pulled away again, staring at his lips hungrily as she tried uselessly to remind herself of who this was and what he had done - something that could not be excused by the attentions of his hands and his mouth. The last vestiges of her reason burned away as he leaned in to take her lips again. In the haziness of her dream, her inhibitions dropped, and she favored the flavor of his skin over her better judgment.
She pressed her body fervently against his and ran her fingernails along his scalp and through his long, black hair. This reminded him of his original intention, the reason why he had begun visiting her in her dreams in the first place. As he tasted her and felt the length of her form mold to his, this objective lost priority. He had no desire to return to his mission, and helping the Chitauri and their master was the last thing on his mind. He knew he would come to regret this abandonment later, but surrounded by the warmth and softness of her body and consumed with her willful attentions to his own, he couldn't find the strength to separate from her.
His hands moved up her back and pushed down the straps of her gown. The silky material slipped beneath his fingertips as it slowly slid to the floor. His excited breath caught in his throat, and his lips left her warm skin just long enough to whisper something in her ear. "Sif… "
Loki suddenly felt as though he had been punched in the gut and grabbed from behind simultaneously. As he had spoken, they were violently torn apart. Streaks of white light clouded his vision and faded to blackness as he was ripped from her world.
"I said wake up!" The distinctive sting of a punch to the face appeared on his cheek, bringing him back to cold sobriety. As he reeled back from the impact, he opened his eyes and gasped. His disorientation and confusion was evident as he struggled to maintain a sense of where he was and what was happening.
The taste of copper filled his mouth. "What in the nine..!" he started, realizing what had happened. A dark shadow loomed above him, indiscernible in the low light with his blurred vision. He was grateful that his mother had ordered his chains removed, as he was able to retreat to the other side of the cell and away from this threat.
"Folkvar, cease your attack!" another voice cried desperately.
He recognized the voice as one belonging to Garik, the warrior-archer that had been assigned to guard him. As his vision cleared and adjusted to his surroundings, the shadow also became familiar. Folkvar, the wise and "mild-mannered" warrior that had also been charged with his care stood blocking the doorway, a bruised knuckle on one hand and a dangerously sharp short sword in the other.
"Do you see, Garik?" Folkvar asked, a nervous or overly-emotional edge to his tone. "Even now, they treat him as normal, as though he is a docile beast and not a threat!"
Loki raised an eyebrow in confusion, but said nothing. He'd had some self-induced confrontation with the archer, but as far as he remembered, he was neutral in the eyes of the other man. He hadn't said a word to him since the days when they used to train together in Thor's group. In fact, Folkvar hadn't given him the chance to play his normal game or say anything objectionable. While the other warriors had spent time in the dungeon ensuring he had received meals and relieving the Einherjar for breaks, Folkvar had done no such thing. He had merely stopped by for a moment, pausing only long enough to have his attendance recognized by the Einherjar before he left again. It appeared his reputation as a dependable and loyal asset was a bit of an exaggeration.
"What is your quarrel with me?" Loki asked calmly, wiping away a small trail of blood from his lower lip. "I have done nothing to you."
"Nothing?" he asked incredulously. "You've threatened my family."
He had forgotten the two men were brothers, and as he thought back to the passive aggressive implication he had made to the archer during his mother's visit, Folkvar's motive for these unexpected actions became a little clearer. "'Threaten' is a misnomer," he said. "He had an arrow trained at my neck, and I defended myself in the only way I could - by reminding him that even in my incarceration, I have no shortage of resources; it is best not to make an enemy of me."
Folkvar scoffed and edged closer to him with the tip of his blade. "Brother," Garik started as he watched a battle unfold within Folkvar's eyes, "I don't believe what has transpired is worthy of the penalty incurred for assassinating a prince."
"He is no one's prince," he argued.
Loki chuckled wryly. "And now you court a charge of sedition."
"You've killed thousands of innocents. What did you endure? A slap on the wrist and your own personal entourage?" he asked rhetorically. "Let them charge me with sedition! Someone should show enough nerve to speak out against Odin's choices. Even as a child, you lied and cheated your way towards your ambitions, but he has always turned a blind eye to you. It is time some attention was drawn towards whatyou really are."
Loki smirked. "Normally, I would agree with your argument regarding Odin's leadership, but I hardly consider his decision to let me live the worst verdict he's made in recent history."
"Maybe not," Folkvar said calmly, as his blade came a little closer. Loki backed further into the corner, but was already against the wall. "His worst decision was allowing a monster into Asgard's throne room - and making him his left hand."
"Brother, please…" Garik protested. "You are not helping me or my family. You have only succeeded in making me an unwilling accomplice to your plot."
Loki narrowed his eyes and looked past his attacker to the archer behind him. "Your brother has an overly large mouth," he said. Garik had overheard the conversation he'd had with Frigga. Undoubtedly, the revelation of his true heritage had been shocking enough for the stoic, quiet archer to wish to share it with his kin.
Garik dropped his eyes, a flash of regret appearing across his features. He put his hand behind his back and pulled his own dagger from beneath his quiver. Folkvar smirked; Loki frowned. He had not imagined his death would come while he stood powerless, caged, and cornered like an animal - without escape or ally.
"I will not lose my head or jeopardize the honor of my family over your hatred, whether or not it is justified." His brother turned and his smile dropped; he was shocked to see that the neck at which Garik aimed was not Loki's, but his own. "I never should've revealed so much to you."
Folkvar scoffed and attempted to argue, but his words would not come. He acquiesced and dropped his sword quietly. "Very well, Brother, for the sake of you and your family." He turned to give Loki one more threatening glare from over his shoulder before leaving the cell. Once he was gone, Garik released a deep breath.
Loki's scowl remained firm on his lips as the cell door closed and Garik put his dagger away. "For what it's worth, this was not my intention," he said.
"I suppose that makes you innocent?" Loki asked sardonically. "And what, exactly, will the queen say when you tell her you broke her confidence around a private conversation? I doubt 'I didn't mean to' will prove a convincing defense."
For the most part, Garik ignored his statement. "It is my oath: this won't happen again," he said, going through the wooden doors and up the stairs.
"That brings me great comfort!" Loki shouted after him.
He kicked the wooden bench within his cell in anger, muttering under his breath about the absence of the Einherjar when they were most needed. His heart was still beating wildly inside of his chest, stirred not just by the fear created by nearly losing his life, but also from a sort of excitement he had not experienced in a long time. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the cool stone of the prison's walls. Although he was immeasurably bitter at having his dream interrupted, he was also relatively grateful they had disturbed him when they had. If they had waited only a few moments longer, the situation could have proved even more humiliating for him. To his benefit, Folkvar's threat had acted like a splash of icy water to the fire in his veins, causing him to regain his faculties before he lost himself entirely.
He licked his lips as though her taste lingered there. He had thought her "predictable," but he wondered how accurate this assessment had been. The subconscious certainly lowered inhibitions while dreaming, but her actions still surprised him. She had been more than a willing participant, she had been the instigator, and he wondered if he would have the strength to resist her long enough to meet his goal.
The morning sun rose early, its brutal light streaming in through her window and into her eyes, waking her from what had been a miserable, restless night with little sleep. She grudgingly got up and ran a bath; her sweat-stiffened hair and gown was stuck to her body, and she could not shake the detestable chill from her spine. As warm water ran into her tub, she washed her face, allowing it to refresh her and rinse the sleep from her eyes, while she hoped it would have the same effect on her memory.
Her stomach dropped when she looked back up in the mirror at her own reflection. Her return to alertness had the opposite effect that it normally did for unpleasant dreams. Instead of fading into obscurity, it brought back to detailed sharpness certain sensations and images from the previous night's episode. What had driven her mind to play such games? She felt her own sanity slipping away as she remembered the weight of his hands on her waist and the rush of blood his mouth on her neck had caused to surge through her body.
The last time this had occurred, she had considered it an anomaly - the product of an aching heart and an exhausted mind. There was hardly an excuse this time; unless she had eaten bad meat unknowingly, this cruel creation was from her subconscious. Her memories of that day in her youth had been on her thoughts when she went to bed, but they hardly focused on him in a positive manner.
If she had seen Loki at any point in the prior week, she would almost accuse him of casting some sort of spell upon her. However, as soon as the thought occurred to her, she dismissed it. He was behind enchanted cell walls, wearing a mask that prevented him from manifesting his energy through verbal commands, in a prison that was strategically built and placed to prevent the use of magic. Still, her paranoia ran deep enough that she made a mental note to check the protections on his cell in order to make sure they were still strong and intact. In the interim, she tried her best to swallow a decent breakfast and repair her appearance so that it didn't look like she'd spent the night battling her own subconscious.
When she arrived at the door to Asgard's prison later that morning, she was surprised to find Garik arguing emphatically with the captain of the Einherjar, only inches from Loki's cell. She was also amazed to find their prisoner unchained as he silently watched them bicker back and forth.
"What is going on?" she asked sharply.
Both men stopped and bowed lightly in greeting. "Lady Sif," the captain began. "We have had an incident with one of the warriors Thor charged with the prisoner's care. I objected to their presence here initially, but now I must insist that Thor reconsider his demands regarding the younger prince's observance. This allocation is a waste of resources, even more so now that the Einherjar must guard both the prisoner andthe warriors who protect him."
Sif shook her head as she tried to comprehend the captain's sudden rant. She didn't appreciate the insinuations he'd made, but she didn't allow her anger to show. "Explain," she ordered simply.
"It seems Folkvar has the ideals of a vigilante," the captain said. "He came here late last night, preyed on my guards' trust in order to win some time alone with the prisoner, and then tried to kill him. He would have succeeded, if it weren't for his brother."
Sif frowned and looked towards the archer questioningly. Garik's eyes fell from her; a look of shame crossed his expression. "It is true," he started, "but he was only responding to an empty, implied threat on my family's behalf. It is my fault for inciting his need for vengeance."
She looked a Loki and narrowed her eyes. Veiled threats were well within his normal convention. It was no surprise that he would've gone so far while playing his usual games. "You did well to stop him, and I'm sure it was difficult to oppose your brother."
"I raised my blade against my kin - something I have never done before and don't wish to do again." He swallowed hard and clenched his fist tightly. She put a hand on his shoulder.
"Where is he now?" she asked.
"He returned home; I told him to remain there until I had the opportunity to speak with the prince or the captain."
"That is for the best. Tell him he is relieved of his duties," she said. Garik nodded in agreement. "I will speak with Thor myself and supplement his absence."
"Lady Sif," he spoke hesitantly. "I'm afraid you'll have to cover a deficit of two. I cannot continue."
"Garik, no blame will be passed to you for this incident, as far as I'm concerned. I'm certain Thor will concur."
"Thank you Lady, but I've been compromised. I allowed Loki to affect me, and it took merely the mention of my family to break my resilience. This is not what Thor intended when he selected me for this responsibility."
"I understand," she said with evident disappointment. "Thor set no requirement for any of us, and so no oath or obligation binds you to this place. Thank you for the time you have served."
Garik bowed and left. The captain's eyes fell on Sif. It was obvious he wanted an answer, but she didn't have one to grant him. "I'm sorry this has created a burden for you, Captain. I will communicate your objections to Thor."
The captain crossed his arms, visibly displeased. However, he respected Sif's position and did not argue. He and his small garrison vacated the prison as well, leaving only the guards at the door. She looked towards Loki, who stood quietly in his cell. His continued silence was disconcerting to her.
"Are you alright?" she asked, leaning against the bars so she could speak quietly. She had begun to distrust the captain and didn't think the guards needed to overhear this conversation.
He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer to the bars. "You're concerned about me? I would think it would have made your life much simpler if that lunatic had succeeded."
"It would have," she said dryly and without hesitation, "but if anything happened to you under my care, Thor would not be happy."
"I suppose not - and Thor's impression of you isall that matters," he said sardonically. She was very close to him, and he fought the temptation to reach between the bars and touch her. It was purely out of curiosity; he only wanted to see if she reacted the same way as she did in her dreams - and if her skin felt quite as soft and warm as he thought it would.
She yawned and covered her mouth. He could see her weariness, even in the darkness of the cell. "You should be more concerned with your own wellbeing than with mine. You don't look well."
She hardened her expression skeptically. "It's just fatigue from lack of sleep, nothing more."
"Troubling dreams?" As he asked this, he humored his curiosity and ran the top of his forefinger lightly against the bare skin of her upper arm.
She jumped back at his feather-light touch, but his question garnered more suspicion. "Why - why would you say that?"
His smile fell. He had no wish to raise her defenses, but he had acted before thinking. "It was just a question," he said innocently. "Must everything I say be looked upon as though it's criminal?
"As long as you continue to spout nothing but poison and lies, it will be," she retorted.
"So quickly you accuse me of evil, even in trivial conversation," he said quietly, with slipperiness to his tone. As he spoke, his eyes drifted down and momentarily rested on her lips. In the years they had known each other, he had often allowed his stare to rest on her in a manner that unsettled her for some unknown reason. However, this look combined with his rare touch created such a familiar sensation within her that it startled her.
"When you have earned my trust, I will stop reacting so cynically," she argued, taking a deep breath as she attempted to convince herself that she was being ridiculous.
Loki chuckled wryly and lowered his gaze. How easily she was moved toward him in her dreams, yet she remained stubbornly biased against him in her waking life. She clung to Thor in reality and only her subconscious seemed to realize the toxicity of their relationship as it stood.
Loki's disappointment was difficult to disguise, despite his skill. Even though she seemed willing to move dangerously close to him in their shared visions, he would never really have her. "Why do you ask for the impossible?" he asked. "Even if I were to fall on my knees and beg for forgiveness, I could never return to your trust, or the affection you shared when we were children. You are blinded by Thor's influence and your own suppositions - and you will only ever see me as the Betrayer of Asgard."
Sif watched his face carefully as it changed from his sardonic smile to a frown. His brow arched in a way she had not often seen. On any other person, she would recognize it as regret. Perhaps, she wondered, it was regret, but not for his actions, for the loss of the relationships he might have enjoyed had he not gone down the wrong path. She could have been a friend to him, if things were different.
She grabbed the bars and moved so close to him, she could smell the sweetness of wine on his breath, and the scent of his leather armor. Her eyes locked on his, and despite his fortitude when it came to psychological battle, he was almost unnerved by her closeness. "Then show even a semblance of regret for your actions; share something that will help us fortify our defenses and protect Asgard in its glory; I would love to prove you wrong."
He swallowed hard. "I hope your dreams improve, Lady Sif," he said. "You may need your energy for better purposes soon."
She didn't miss the roughness in his deep voice, but despite the hopeful sign of emotion, she was disheartened by his response. She sighed heavily and left him.
"It is disappointing," Odin stated as he lowered the letter Sif had written to the arm of his ornate throne. "I know you've proceeded down separate paths, but part of me believed you would reunite at some point, despite your recent distance."
"I cannot speak for her, but we may have also believed this, which is why we waited so long to make our parting official," Thor replied.
"It was a good fit; she is noble, loyal, strong, and the people love and respect her. She would've made a fine queen," he said with a sigh. "You would be wise to look for such qualities in your future potentials."
Thor nodded in agreement. "I have, Father - but strength comes in many forms, and not all of them are immediately apparent," he said, drawing a specific inference from his father's words.
"So it does," he replied. He stood from his seat at the head of the hall and walked down the stairs towards one of the large, westward-facing windows. His eyes narrowed as he looked out at the land, beyond the city and rocky terrain that surrounded the palace, through the stars and branches of Yggdrasil.
"What do you see?" Thor asked, looking towards the direction in which Odin's eyes were fixed. "Can you see Earth?"
"Yes," Odin replied. "The skies over the city Loki attacked have cleared and they have rebuilt much of what had been destroyed. They heal fast, especially for mortals."
Thor smiled softly, imagining that his new comrades were probably quite busy helping with the efforts. "I had wondered if I would be able to return and assist them. I'm certain SHIELD will want an update regarding our prisoner and his allies as well."
"Do you have an update for them?"
"Mother did share with me what Loki revealed to her. That, at the very least, may tell us when we should prepare for them," he said, "though the warning may be very brief."
"Impossibly short, potentially, but it is our greatest and only advantage," Odin said. "She was reticent to share this with us at first. I'm glad she changed her mind."
"Loki only told her as a means of protecting her; it is the only decent act he's committed in a long time. I suppose she feels as though she has betrayed his trust."
"Knowing your mother, that is likely true," he agreed. He was quiet for a moment, peering out into the distance once again as he weighed a decision in his mind. "I don't think it would be beneficial for you to return to Earth - not for a while. You would be using the Tesseract, and the length of time it would be active will surely alert our enemies to your movement. We would be vulnerable."
"I understand, Father," he responded, disappointed, but unwilling to show it entirely. "Perhaps a short visit then."
Odin was not pleased by Thor's insistence, but he had made a point of supporting his decisions on a greater level as he pursued more experience as a leader and abandoned his youthful precipitancy and recklessness. "A couple of days - long enough to speak with your new allies. I would not risk any longer," Odin said. He turned his back to Thor and returned to the throne's steps. He was braced for what he knew was coming next.
"A day or two is sufficient for a discussion with SHIELD, but Father, I was hoping there might be enough time for me to visit New Mexico," he said. Odin's brow fell in disappointment, but Thor could not see it from his angle. "Surely Asgard can protect its own borders long enough that I may see Jane again."
"I'm sorry, Thor," Odin said, his tone suddenly became a little sharper to his son's ears. "I don't believe your relationship with the mortal is worth the risk."
Thor inhaled as though he would argue, but before his words left his lips, he realized the truth concealed behind his father's answer. "You don't approve of her," he surmised.
"I am grateful for the help she gave you and her role in inspiring your selfless actions on Earth. However, I cannot offer my blessing to any romantic entanglement you may have with her, or any other mortal."
A feeling of numbness swept from the top of Thor's head to his feet as he was overrun by despair. Odin's approval meant more to him than typical fatherly pride; it was everything to him. Knowing he didn't approve was the equivalent of a death to the very idea of continuing a relationship with Jane.
"Why did you wait to voice this until now? Everything you've said about my time on Earth has been positive until this point." His voice shook with emotion as he spoke; with every word, his volume increased, although he tried his best remain in check and respectful.
Odin sat on a stair and looked up at his son, granting him firm eye contact as to ensure his honesty and sincerity. "I believed your flame for her would've burnt itself out by now and I didn't want to cause you more hardship if it had."
"Then you underestimate my feelings for her," Thor argued.
"Son," Odin began before Thor could continue. "I know how powerful the pull for feminine company may be on a man, especially on one who was at the weak point you experienced on Earth, but I sincerely hoped your emotional ties with her would be severed once your form was restored and you returned home. You had only a short time together, even in mortal terms. Fires that ignite quickly tend to burn out just as fast."
Thor clenched his fists at his sides. "Then you underestimate meas well," he said. Odin sighed and hardened his gaze as a warning towards Thor's tone, but the Odinson continued regardless. "This was not some desert tryst with some common whore. My feelings towards her are true, as I am certain hers are for me. My intentions are as legitimate as they would be for any full-bred woman of Asgard."
"And what are your 'intentions' towards her?" Odin asked.
Thor straightened his back and took a deep breath. "Prior to this conversation, I had it in my mind to ask your permission to court her officially."
Odin stood in shock at Thor's audacity. "Do you have any idea what kind of complications that would create?"
Thor nodded. "I would bring her here for approval, and if she were accepted, she would go through the trials…"
"You would invite anarchy into this house!" he nearly shouted. "There has not been a mortal in Asgard since Earth was still in its adolescence. What you suggest would cause a division in this land so great, it would nearly invite a coup."
"Mjolnir would set those who oppose this in place," he answered firmly. "I would not hesitate to fight for her."
A third speaker interrupted before Thor could continue. "And I would be one who would resist you." The voice, deep and loud, resonated around the room and within Thor's chest. There was no doubt to whom it belonged.
"Heimdall," Thor said in amazement. "You would come against me in this matter as well?"
Heimdall moved from the entryway and closer to where Thor stood. His height was as intimidating as his authoritative presence and his powerful voice. There were very few people in the universe that could provide any real challenge to Thor to his immediate knowledge, but Heimdall was certainly a member of this rare group.
"Though the Bifrost may be gone, I am still charged with protecting Asgard's gates. I will use whatever force is necessary to prevent a mortal's entrance into our realm, even if I must raise my sword against you."
Thor raised his hand, open-palmed, at his side. A loud explosion resounded across the skies of Asgard as Mjolnir raced to return to its wielder. Thor said nothing, but his actions spoke volumes.
"Thor, stand down," Odin ordered.
"What harm could one woman cause," he began, "that a loyal servant of this kingdom would rise up against its prince?"
"It is not a physical harm that would befall us, but it would…"
"It was only a short time ago that you were grateful for Earth's alliance. Now you regard them as filthy dogs," Thor argued. He knew he was being hyperbolic, but his emotional state and his defenses were high.
The Allfather knit his brow together tightly. He was unaccustomed to being interrupted, and the last time his son had taken such a tone, it had resulted in his banishment. However, Odin remained calm and replied, "I remain glad of the friendships you've built. It is hoped the humans' regard for you will soften the hearts of those who remember it was one of our own who caused such destruction. Know this, Thor - the implications of what you suggest spread further than you can see. The dissolution of the bloodline and the impact to our culture and the cohesiveness of our people are but a few consequences that would come from such a union."
"And what of the good that could come from it?" he asked. "You don't know what she could bring - an advanced intellect, greater understanding of the forces within Yggdrasil - to say nothing of what it may do for our alliance with Earth."
"From what I have observed, Midgard's contribution to a war against the Chitauri would be negligible," Heimdall said.
"Then you have not observed them for long enough," Thor retorted.
Odin scratched his chin and grew silent. Both men knew what this implied. Heimdall crossed his arms. He remained quiet in respect for Odin, but his displeasure showed across his normally stoic features.
"Father," Thor started. Odin put his hand up, and Thor shut his mouth immediately.
"You have shown your fortitude in this matter. That you would stand firm against me and challenge one who is your better is testament to your determination. I don't need to hear any further argument from you."
"Yes, Sir," Thor said with a bow, though his submissive response was largely due to the fact that he believed Odin was going to concede to his side.
Heimdall had come to the same conclusion. "The precedence this will set will not be in Asgard's best interest. I cannot be responsible for what may happen."
"It is but one mortal woman, Heimdall. I don't anticipate this will set any sort of 'precedence.' In fact, I would wager this journey will cause nothing but hardship for you,Son, and your standing with the people. Nevertheless, I've decided to allow her entrance into Asgard," Odin spoke. Thor was confused, but he smiled widely. "Let her come and see for herself how different we are, how much stronger we are, and how many expectations will be upon her shoulders as your consort. I anticipate this argument will take care of itself once she has a full understanding of the situation in which you've placed her."
Thor cleared his throat, willing away the lump that had formed due to his father's cynicism towards one he cared very much for. "I hope she will exceed your low expectations, Father," he said roughly.
"And if she doesn't, I trust the matter will be permanently closed," he stated firmly.
"Yes, Father," he said.
Odin nodded. "Then I leave the timing to your discretion. Neither Heimdall nor myself will hinder you."
Thor looked back towards the other warrior, who bowed slightly in agreement. Having the answer he wanted, Thor left the chamber before Heimdall could argue further and Odin could change his mind.
"I have been your trusted guard for a very long time, Allfather. I would never have expected you to agree to these terms, especially against my council."
"Do not take my decision personally, Heimdall. My son has always learned best through his own failures. I am only humoring this long enough for him to realize how futile his pursuit is."
"Forgive me for doubting your decision, Allfather, but if she should surprise us with her strength and tenacity, we may encounter further problems ahead."
"I understand, but I don't believe it will be an issue for long. I can see only a short time into the future, in my old age, but though I envision many storm clouds on the horizon, this is not a permanent fixture among them," Odin explained. "For now, I ask that you remain vigilant for our enemies, and allow Thor to learn this hard lesson in his own way."
Heimdall crossed his arm over his heart and bowed. "I will do as you will, Allfather."