A golden light was cast along the great halls of Asgard as the setting star began its plunge into the deep. This realm seemed in its full glory at this time of the day. High ceilings trapped the light and warmed the stone floors as the richly-colored tapestries and metal accents reflected the star's brilliance into every corner. From the city's viewpoint, the palace almost seemed to give off its own light. It could be seen for miles among an ocean of black space.
Thor stood at one of the large windows at the top of the palace's highest precipice as he awaited Sif, who had called a meeting with him there. He did not have the sight of his father or of Heimdall, but his eyes remained fixed on the horizon, as if they could see the scattering branches of Yggdrasil and the worlds within. His heart pumped joyfully at the thought of returning to Earth, even for a short stay. In the lifespan of an Asgardian, it had been merely the space of a drawn breath since he'd seen her, though it felt much longer.
Sif entered slowly from his side, but he was too distracted to notice her presence. His hair shined like gold in the warm sun and his eyes were lit with a fire among their azure depths. He stood tall and broad as his royal cape blew softly in the breeze. He appeared strong, dignified, valiant, and noble at that moment - everything Asgard needed from its king. His shadow seemed to have grown in a very short time to match the silhouette of Odin himself, a sure sign that he was nearly ready for his coronation, much more prepared and mature than he had been during their first attempt at the ceremony.
Her heart ached as she reminded herself that he was not hers to admire in this way any longer. However, along with her self-scolding, she also cursed her cowardice. She had intended on speaking with him days ago about a number of issues, but she was afraid of how he would regard her after their last conversation, and concerned her stoicism would fail her. No matter how she felt, she knew her duties and obligations to the kingdom came first. By delaying this meeting, she was only hurting her own standing.
He saw her approach from the corner of his eye and turned to meet her. A large smile from his lips greeted her. He seemed completely unaffected in his perception of her, his warmth unchanged by their recent squall; she wasn't sure whether or not to be relieved of this.
"I am glad you called me here when you did," he said. "Ages have passed since we last watched a sunset together."
Sif smiled warmly and looked out to where his stare was focused. The sunsets of Asgard were breathtaking. She had not the heart to tell him, however, that it was not the time of day that she so enjoyed - it was the fact that they had often watched it together while sitting on a blanket against a tree while she was wrapped in his embrace. The full spectrum of yellows, reds, and blues were beautiful, but they paled in comparison to the feeling of resting her head against his chest, or the weight of his strong arms around her waist.
They stood in comfortable silence for that moment, observing as Asgard's star took its final breath until morning. "Is there an update you wished to share with me?" he asked, devoting his full attention towards her.
Her smile straightened as nostalgia and the comfort of her memories vanished. "Yes, but the news is ill, I'm afraid," she started. "There was an attempt on Loki's life - by one of the very warriors you charged with his protection and guard."
Thor's mouth opened slightly in shock. His face became red, but though his tone increased in its volume, he resisted shouting. "By whom? When?"
"It happened a couple of days ago. A childish, vacant threat made by Loki against his brother's family struck its target too closely and Folkvar took it upon himself to strike premature vengeance on his behalf. Garik was able to stop him, but it was close, as is my understanding."
He scratched his forehead and swept his hair back through his fingers. "Why do you share this news now? Why didn't you approach me earlier?"
Sif was in no mood for total honesty in this case and she knew Thor would not be sympathetic towards her real excuse. "You delegated such duties to me - and I've taken responsibility for it. Folkvar has been relieved of his duties and the captain's complaints have been heard and addressed."
"He still complains?" Thor interjected.
Sif nodded. "He feels he must now babysit the warriors in addition to the prisoner in order to avoid incident. I have appeased his anger by taking on Folkvar's shifts myself. He seems to trust me more than the others."
He sighed. "That man is more possessive about simple guard duties than anyone I have ever known. One would think he would be happy to take his men away from such a task and relinquish it to our hands."
"Perhaps it is the nature of the prisoner."
He nodded. "You may have a point. When Loki permitted the Frost Giants entrance into our vaults, they defeated the Einherjar with ease. It may be a matter of reprisal for the captain."
She agreed. "Garik resigned his post. He feels he was compromised due to his vulnerability to Loki's schemes. I've also taken on his shift to cover the deficit."
"This is becoming troublesome," he said, shaking his head, "and I didn't intend the burden to place itself solely on your shoulders."
"The burden is light," she answered. "I count it a joy to take some weight off your back - and I am never down there for long."
"Your unceasing loyalty has always amazed me, Sif," Thor said with a smile, "but I know my brother can be - a handful."
"His manner does take some getting used to," she replied. He could sense the sarcasm in her tone, but for a moment, the question arose in his mind as to whether she had adapted to him, or if Loki had begun to lose his wit and wear down in his circumstances. "I have been - having some odd dreams," she admitted, though she hated showing weakness.
Thor furrowed his brow in concern. "Of what sort? Is this in addition to the visions that plagued you before?"
She breathed deeply and fought her words, regretting already, her choice of admission. It had left her mind that she had already told him about this problem. She lowered her head, afraid she would appear as though she were issuing a formal grievance.
"Twice now, I have made a choice within my dreams I could never live with in reality. In that realm, every action seems reasonable, but I awaken rudely as though I've been splashed with cold water in the midst of a hot bath and realize how irrational and even perverse my actions were."
"An effect of the prison is the slow poisoning of one's mind and theft of one's natural fortitude," he said, "and there is no shame in admitting you are vulnerable to a place that was built to test even the fiercest and strongest of warriors, Gallant Sif." She smiled, relieved he would not judge her as quickly as she feared. "Perhaps you need only to find an instrument that will improve your sleep."
"And where would I find such an instrument?"
He put his hand to his chin in thought. Humor returned to his visage. "Volstagg would recommend you go to sleep with a belly full of wine and bread; if you don't mind a sour stomach when you wake, this suggestion could aid your sleep."
Sif grimaced. "I suppose that's measurably better than what Fandral would answer."
"Knowing his own habits, he would suggest you find a partner," he said, guessing her answer. She chortled. Thor's eyes widened slightly as a thought occurred to him. "A change of venue may clear your mind; accompany me to Earth and let the others worry about my brother for a while."
"To Earth?" she said in surprise. "I didn't think you would be returning so soon."
"It is hardly 'soon,' considering how briefly my feet were set upon its soil during my last appointment there," he argued.
Her eyes fell to her hands. "Will you see her, then?"
A light appeared in his eyes that she hadn't seen in a long time, "If she will have it, I will bring her here."
A rush of cold spread down her spine as she realized what this would imply. "You jest with me," she said with a wry smile. "Odin would never allow a mortal…"
"He will this time, for the sake of his son and heir," he said abruptly, interrupting her before her words could spur his impatience. Her tone regarding his relationship was different than it had been, and it brought him unpleasant surprise that she would see the suggestion of Jane's journey to Asgard as a poor joke. "She is important to me - and therefore, he will give her chance to prove humanity's worth in the halls of his throne. If she pleases him, we will court."
A stone seemed to appear in Sif's throat suddenly, one she could not easily swallow or cure. "There hasn't been a mortal here in ages. Are you certain the journey and the attributes of Asgard will not harm her?"
"I have much to learn about humanity and their short experiences in life, but I know they are less fragile than we have come to believe. When forced to defend something they care for, they are strong. I am hoping - she will find that inspiration in me and decimate the presuppositions of those who view them as helpless."
"It is true that the love of powerful prince can be quite inspirational," she said. "I would hope the best for her journey, should she be contented to follow you down this path."
Thor was often oblivious to the subtle changes in the moods of the women who cared for him. The expectation of strength in Asgardian females created a challenge he had not yet mastered - determining how his words and actions affected them. Even then, he didn't miss the fall of her smile or the dulling of her eyes. He fought himself over whether or not to broach the subject he suspected as its source once again. "You will not accept my offer?" he asked after their silence had stretched on for far too long.
She shook her head. "I appreciate your consideration, but there would be more accomplished here by my staying."
"This wasn't an offer for a position so much as it was a thought of concern for your spirit. I pray your rest returns to you, but I hope you will not overburden yourself with this task. Your tenacity and fortitude will be needed with much more important matters in the future."
His voice had lost its humor and was overfilled with sincerity. Her lips curved upward slightly as she considered his concern for her and she remained grateful for his friendship. It was for the purpose of keeping this good will that she did not voice her protests any further. "Thank you, but I didn't meet with you to discuss my welfare. In contrast, I wished only to discuss your brother presently."
A gently-born rebuke made her point. He smiled, but his brow wrinkled as well. She hadn't shut him out completely, but he sensed a slowly-closing door to her life. No matter how close they were within the bounds of friendship and camaraderie, there was little that could mend their full relationship after the broken vows of betrothal had separated them. "I'm sorry; continue," he said with a smile, hoping it would work to break her tension.
She did soften slightly, regretful of her reprimand, though she felt she had been patient enough with his overprotective probing into her health. "Before we part, I need to tell you of the report from the court magicians. It seems there is a weakness in the prison's defense."
This visibly alarmed Thor. No one had ever accused Asgard's prisons of being inadequate and considering the extra measures taken for Loki, this seemed even less likely. "What's wrong with its defense?"
"The area which keeps Loki does not permit a full and total shield against his dark magic. The prison has also weakened the counter enchantments of the court magicians. Its natural result affects them as it affects him."
"Why didn't they address this vulnerability from the start?"
"They were overconfident and did not doubt the resolution of their spells, or anticipate what time and wear would do against their enchantments. I followed my instinct and asked them to reevaluate their work. Only then, did they realize the error."
He sighed, cursing both the court magicians for their carelessness and himself for his trust in their ability to see past their pride to the quality of their promise. "What do they recommend as a cure?"
"They want to move him."
"Do you agree?"
She didn't hesitate in her response. "No," she answered. "It can be reinforced - and I don't believe Loki is strong enough to work his way through our other measures."
He answered without thought and with little pause. "I will trust your judgment, but at any sign of trouble, be it seemingly insignificant or not, you will inform me."
She nodded. With a small bow she walked out. Thor frowned, concern growing in his chest.
Days had passed in nights of quiet and peace. She didn't dream, or envision the face of Asgard's enemy and son beyond what was necessary for her post. Although Thor's return to Earth and its purpose hung like a dagger in the air above her head, slumber had restored her perspective and her recognition of her real place in Thor's life and within the royal realm. She was confident the worst was behind her, and refused to allow these circumstances to steal away her rest. She had worked hard to become strong and successful in the kingdom and she was as desired for her beauty and womanhood as she was honored for her skill. Thor's actions and fascinations with the mortal realm had wouldn't spoil her days as they had done in the past.
She sat before her mirror, readying herself for bed. Her robe hung loosely around her shoulders, as her gown was no longer the comfortable garment it had been. Every time she wore it, she envisioned his roaming hands slipping its material from her skin. Heat rose to her cheeks and she suppressed the rush of blood that followed. Now that the shock of her previous dreams had ebbed, the thought of his touch no longer brought a sickness to her stomach. Instead, the feeling that followed such thoughts was quite different. She had grown to miss the attention; her youthful vanity was fed through his hungry stare as well as the manner in which his disposition weakened in her presence. For her, to feel desired was to feel fulfilled and her vision of Loki had granted this to her, nearly in excess. Though she knew it was but a cork in a breaking dam and an illusion, it temporarily filled a hole the rejection of a prince had caused.
A knock at her door broke the train of her thoughts. She wrapped her robe tightly around her and opened the large wooden door to find him waiting on the other side. He leaned against the jam of the entrance, his arms crossed in front of his chest while an uncertain look appeared in his eyes, as though he was afraid she would instantly reject him. She smiled slightly and tentatively as she fingered the belt to her garment. His uncertain visage became one of confidence, a crooked smirk suddenly appearing on his thin, pale lips.
"You're not supposed to be here, Loki," she said, her voice far more casual than it should have sounded, considering the implication of his appearance at her chambers.
He ignored her assertion and walked past her before she granted him entry, brushing her shoulder. He sat at her dresser and leaned forward on his knees, his loose, green tunic opening to reveal a surprisingly tone muscle structure covering his thin frame. She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand and bit her lip. A small voice at the back of her mind arose to warn her, but the blood gathering in her cheeks and ears made her deaf to this advice.
"Why did you come?" she asked.
"I am - not certain," he said with an honest laugh. She stepped closer to his seat. He straightened his posture, and though his eyes traveled slowly over the length of her body, he resisted his desire to touch her. "When this began, my only intention was to use you for my own means of attaining freedom from Asgard's prison. I learned a new trick that would've allowed me to gain momentary control of your body, only long enough to find my escape." He chuckled wryly, and slowly continued. "Freedom is at my fingertips. I am only inches away from power and vengeance every time I am here with you."
He stood and slowly closed the distance between them. He did touch her, but it was only to run his hand to the back of her skull, and along the base of her neck. She leaned into it involuntarily, and as his energy began to intrude upon her inner thoughts, she let out an unpleasant gasp.
"And yet," he continued, "you tempt me. Power and the ascension to my father's throne is all I have wanted, but now that I have the means to those ends, you seduce me from my goal. You are like a relentless mistress who entices a man from his spouse, even though he loves his wife first and most." She groaned as his being burned the edges of her mind. Water gathered at the corners of her eyes. He did not relent. "If only you returned my desire in your wake as you do in dreams," he whispered into her ear, "this could have ended differently."
"Loki, please..!" she shouted. She drew her hands back and tried futilely to loosen his grip. Blood trickled from her nose and her eyes rolled back as her very being began burning away. An invisible fire was consuming her slowly, the extreme pain showing on every feature of her face.
He frowned as dissonance boiled in his blood at the onset of her struggle against him. This was his most successful effort by far, and he had not yet experienced what would happen when his target was taken. The damage he was causing would affect her body as much as it harmed her mind. He doubted as well that it would only be temporary; it would have extensive, long-lasting repercussions for her.
He knew this method would not be completely harmless, but it was clearly more dangerous than the impression he'd been given. Were it anyone else, he would've continued unabated by their pain, or the thought of permanent harm. However, he had chosen his first victim poorly and had not counted on the shadow of regret that had unexpectedly entered his hardened heart. Even though she had fought him, moved against him, conspired behind his back, and showed nothing but contempt and anger towards him in her waking life, he felt his determination slipping away.
As she cried out his name again, she reached the part of his heart that held a mere grain of sentimentality. He felt he would never be sure of why, but he let go.
She sucked air into her lungs abruptly as though she had been drowning. Her defenses rose; he could feel the pull of her mind begin to send him hence as she woke. Suddenly, the sensation ebbed. She had recovered her faculties and looked up to see his face, full of anguish, anger, and regret - all directed towards himself, she surmised. Instead of fading into consciousness, the dream continued.
"I - I cannot…" he said with a rough voice and a helpless tone. "Not like this." He looked down at her, his brow arched as he reached hesitantly towards her face.
She could only interpret his expression as though he were pleading with her, but she stepped away from him in reflex. "Why me?! What cure could I possibly offer your circumstances?" she asked cynically, responding to his unspoken request. "What you want, you take! What, under the star or within the nine, could you possibly ask me for that you haven't tried to steal for yourself?"
His brow furrowed with evident anger, he had no argument or disparaging comment to make. With one step of his long gait, he closed their distance again and kissed her hungrily. The moment his cool lips touched, hers, she pushed him away roughly. The look in her eyes was one of scorn and disgust, but she did not rebuke him. Her silence showed that she was not completely disapproving of his act, and when her eyes travelled to his lips and down to his chest, it seemed to convey at least some measure of consent. He reached up to her chin and brushed it lightly with his thumb. Once again, but with much more care, he tasted her mouth with his own.
Long and sweet, his kiss lacked any attempt to manipulate, or force himself onto her as he had before. Her pain nearly forgotten, she reciprocated, the blood that had burned within her veins earlier returning to its dangerous temperature. Her fingers gently traced the line down the middle of his chest through the open neck of his tunic; as she reached its end, she pulled on the fabric to loosen the material from under his belt. He sighed through his nose, parting just long enough for her to pull his shirt over his head. She felt his hand tug at the sash of her robe; the material promptly left her skin and gathered at her feet.
In her haze, she didn't recall lying down, but suddenly, they were on her bed, his weight pressed above her as their limbs intertwined. As her heart raced wildly in her chest, the sensations of his touch became vague waves of pleasure. She wanted more, but the effects of her dream dulled her senses and confused and disoriented her.
To ease this unexplainable discomfort, she chose to focus on what she could sense. She could hear his breath coming quickly and the rapid rhythm of her own heart. She could feel the strands of his hair wipe her cheek and neck as he moved his mouth from hers, down to her collar bone. She could taste the salt of his lips on her own. What she was increasingly aware of, however, was the feeling of his fingers upon her ribs.
His grip was gentle, but firm against her side and pressed harshly against the bone. She reached down to try and move his hand from its position, but he was oblivious to her wishes, consumed with his own ambitions. His skin had seemed cool to the touch in their recent encounters, but it suddenly began to grow colder and burned her skin in its icy intensity. She yelled suddenly as the unpleasantness became a searing, fiery pain along her entire side. Startled, he quickly pulled away and cursed as the dream began to collapse. Before he could determine why she had cried out in such anguish, he was pushed out.
Loki opened his eyes to find himself back inside of his lonely and dark cell. His heart continued to race within his chest and he struggled for a moment to catch his breath. As he moved to brush the sweat from his forehead, something caught his eye. His hands, though slowly returning to normal, were the cold, blue hue of his true nature.
For the third time, Sif woke with a start, covered in sweat as her mind swam with confusing images of which she struggled to make sense. There was, however, a distinct difference from what she'd experienced before - there was pain. Her right side was alight with a vivid burning sensation as she sat up in her bed. Her flesh sent shockwaves of agony throughout her body as her posture changed and her weight shifted, causing her to gasp and lose her breath. She lifted the cover to view what wound could such suffering to someone who was very used to pain. A small patch of black, burnt skin ran along her right side around her ribs, in the same place Loki had been holding her in the vision.
Tears flowed unguarded down her cheeks as she struggled to catch her breath. Confusion, panic, and the approaching shadow of unexplained rage welled in her mind as she slowly regained a sense of where she was and what had happened to her. Pain was all that she knew for the moment, but it was becoming clear to her that her injury was serious and she needed help. She didn't know what would cure an ailment that had no known origin, but she hurt too unbearably to leave it without treatment. She rose and dressed carefully by the light of the rising sun, forgoing her armor and its normal attributes for the sake of ease and speed.
Swiftness, however, was inhibited by her hardship. She had no healing stones of her own and she desired not to explain the context of her wound, as mysterious as it was, to her neighbors or colleagues. She decided to once again make the trek to the healing rooms of the palace, where she could receive the treatment she needed without being questioned too much regarding its origin. The healers there were used to the discretion required by the high officials they saw.
By the time she arrived at the palace and had nearly reached the rooms, sweat had gathered on her brow and her lips were pale from effort and pain. She rested against a nearby pillar for just a moment to catch her breath - and this was when she was met by one she had been trying to avoid.
"What's wrong?" Fandral asked with some urgency, immediately noticing her state of health and dress. His eyes drifted down to her side and the way she braced herself. "Your wound from the previous day - it has returned?"
"No," she said uneasily, "this is new." She volunteered nothing further, and the manner of her look implied that she was in no mood for an explanation or story at that moment.
He grabbed her arm and lifted it over his head without question or hesitancy. "All right, then," he said, understanding and respecting her inference.
She nodded and gasped at the movement of her body, unable to show due gratitude for his assistance as she struggled against her pain. They walked slowly down the hall to the rooms in which she had spent a lot of her recent time. She was quiet and pensive, and even though she was suffering, this was outside of her character.
"It seems like only yesterday we were travelling the same path in equal manner," he said sarcastically with a light chuckle. "I don't know what trouble will be assumed of you if this record continues."
He had meant the jest to lighten her mood, but as he watched her, her mouth failed even to twitch in an upward direction. His brow furrowed as he tightened his support of her weight and increased the speed and length of his step. What had been a concern before was now a deep worry.
The moment they arrived, the efficient attendants worked quickly to help her out of her overshirt. Her undershirt was lifted above her ribs, revealing the burn and exposing it to cool air. Out of modesty, Fandral tried to avert his gaze while she laid on the table with her stomach exposed and nothing but a thin undershirt covering the rest of her upper body, but as she gasped, the attendants began to whisper among themselves, confused by the nature of her injury. It was then that curiosity won and Fandral stole a glance in her direction.
One of the healers crushed a stone and put it to her skin. As soon as the healing light began to glow, however, Fandral grabbed his hand to pull it away. Sif's breathing was hard, and tears threatened to spill from her eyes once again. "What is wrong?" she asked.
"I'm sorry, Sif. My intent was to respect your boundaries on this issue, but I need to know how you were wounded. This shape and nature - it's oddly familiar to me."
She remained silent. He wouldn't believe her if she told him and the truth was humiliating. "How so is it familiar? Tell me and I will reveal to you what I can."
Sif's words had confused Fandral even further. "You've seen it as well - the day we attacked Jotunheim by Thor's direction. Volstagg bore a similar mark on his arm when he was grabbed by a Frost Giant."
Sif tried to sit up, but her pain was too great. She rested again on her back and gasped as she tenderly held her side. "That isn't possible," she said, mostly to convince her own ears. The pieces of this puzzle were beginning to fit within their places, but denial and disbelief prevented her from settling on the complete truth. "I would give you my word - I have not had contest with any Jotun since that day."
"Then how did you get hurt?" Fandral said with some frustration and desperation. "As your friend, I will beg you to tell me for your own sake, if that's what you require."
She put her hand to her forehead and whimpered, tears welling up in her eyes. "It was only a dream," she said in a strained voice.
"A dream?" he asked incredulously. "A dream of what?"
"I was with Loki and he…"
"Loki?" Fandral said in surprise, his anger already apparent across his expression. "What sort of struggle did he provide that would have caused such a wound?"
Sif didn't correct Fandral's assumption that Loki and her had fought. It was adequate for the purposes intended, and she couldn't bring herself to reveal more. "He grabbed my waist and held me there. His hand turned to ice and began to burn… That is when I woke."
He ran his hand through his beard in thought. "I must ask you to endure your suffering for a little longer, Sif. Whether the fault is Loki's or another miscreant - I believe Thor should know."
She wanted to argue, but found she couldn't. She had promised Thor she would tell him if any problem occurred from Loki's incarceration and this was very troubling. Fandral wasn't out of bounds in his request. "I'll speak with Thor after the healers have…"
"No," he stated adamantly. "I'll bring him here. Remain and rest, but leave your wound for him to see with his own eyes."
She agreed reluctantly and stayed behind. It took quite a while for them to return. In the absence of company, she was left with her own thoughts. The vision replayed in her mind over and over; she dissected its elements to find meaning in what seemed to be chaos in her own perception.
The Loki within her dream had referenced it for what it was. Such self-awareness from a character in a mirage was uncommon. Did this mean he was actually there, present within her thoughts as much as she was? Had he intended on harming her from the start? If this was even possible, how had he managed to work through the numerous guards on his magic?
She asked herself these questions repeatedly, pulling from the remnants of memory that were quickly fading to gray. As she fought against the loss, other images began to supersede her vision and memory of what he had said. His set jaw and searching eyes, the feeling of his hands upon her skin and his cool lips exploring her own - the memories of this part of her dream interjected themselves into her retrospection.
Tears fell freely from her eyes. If Loki had used his magic to invade her dreams - then it was really him she had laid with.
The doors to the healing rooms opened with a crash. Sif wiped the moist trails from her cheeks quickly, knowing who had entered without having to look. He rushed to her bedside, his eyes filled with anger and concern as he looked over her body for injury. "Are you alright?" he asked first. She nodded and grabbed his hand, using it to assist her in sitting up. "Fandral told me you had been attacked, and that your wound had seemingly come from a Jotun." She raised her shirt over her ribs, allowing him to inspect the area. "This looks as though it's a burn," he observed in confusion.
"As did Volstagg's wound when we returned from Jotunheim. An ice attack so cold that it burns even Asgardian skin - it was effective. Had the Jotun held on longer, Volstagg may have lost his arm. I can't imagine what it could have done so near the primary organs," Fandral explained. Thor straightened his posture and rubbed his neck. "Tell him the manner in which this mark appeared, Sif. Therein lays the crux of this mystery."
She pulled her shirt down and gently braced her side. Her lips were silent as she searched carefully for words by which to frame her story. "Loki has been the focus of many of my dreams as of late," she said plainly. "Last night, he appeared and told me he had learned some sort of magic that would have allowed him to take control of me through the intrusion of my dreams. He sought his escape, and I resisted his efforts to take my body." She paused and swallowed hard as she prepared her lie. "We fought - and while we struggled, he grabbed my ribs, leaving this mark."
Thor remained quiet after her recount finished, and so Fandral spoke. "I believe Loki learned some spells of the Jotuns while he conspired with them against Odin. He has always been knowledgeable with ice magic. Combined with his psychic abilities, it would make sense that this would be his doing."
Thor sat slowly on the bed next to Sif. Her eyes searched his carefully, but she believed she already knew the key to this enigma.
"I've lied to you," Thor said with a heavy tone, "to all of you."
Fandral crossed his arms as he looked back from Thor to Sif; she didn't look so surprised.
"Laufeyson?" she asked simply.
Thor's eyes fell to the floor. "It is true," he answered simply.
Sif's stomach sank, a wave of nausea instigated by the pain of her wound and this revelation caused her to double-over with a groan. Fandral had missed the inference and looked on in confusion and expectation that he would soon have an explanation.
"Loki is not my brother, and he is not naturally of this realm," he started. "He was born to Laufey, King of the Jotuns, and abandoned to die as an infant. Odin found him in the ruins of Jotunheim and took him into his home - raising him as his second born."
Fandral laughed at Thor in disbelief. "This is a strange jest," he said.
Sif found no humor in it, and as her face darkened further, the concern of her friends grew. "He will answer for this," Thor said firmly, standing from his seat. "I will draw him from his cell and demand explanation for what he has done."
Sif could find no excuse or reason to protest, though she would have been content never to see Loki's face again in her lifetime. She waited there in long silence while he retrieved the guard and ordered him to bring in his brother. Fandral went with the Einherjar to help, leaving the two of them alone. After Thor was sure they were out of earshot, his visage changed and he looked upon her with great care and sympathy.
"These dreams - were they not the dreams you spoke of before?"
She hated seeing his face as it was, particularly when it was directed towards her. She looked away and sighed as deeply as her nerves would allow. "Yes, they were."
"I should have listened to you," he said, "instead of dismissing your claim as a byproduct of emotion or - intestinal distress."
"It's alright, Thor. It was not in my realm of thought that such a trick was possible, even for a master of his art. I had no expectations otherwise for you."
"I should have foreseen it," he said. "As his brother and his rival, I should have known him better. Had I not underestimated him, I could have prevented this, his betrayal - all of it. Instead, I allowed myself to be fooled, mocked, and manipulated into falling for his schemes. Many have been hurt because I have given him too much of my faith."
She had only heard his voice immersed in such regret once, during his fall. "This mark will heal," she assured him, though she doubted the scar on her mind would fade as fast. "Earth heals as well."
He smiled sadly at her. "I must be a fool for wanting to drag another into this life. She may prove to be nothing more than another target."
Sif's heart lifted with his words of doubt. "You're most likely right," she answered, "but would it be worth it to both of you?"
Thor looked as though he would answer, though no words escaped his lips. His brow furrowed as his thoughts deepened. She hoped he had begun to see reason, but as soon as she recognized the change in her mood and its reason, she immediately felt guilty. Before the conversation could further continue, the doors opened. A group of no fewer than five Einherjar walked in, accompanied by Fandral and Hogan, who had been on watch in the dungeon. In the center of the group, surrounded and restrained by chains once again, was their prisoner.
"Secure him and then leave us," he ordered.
The guards did what they were told without questions, having faith that he could handle his brother, should the worst occur. Fandral and Hogan stayed behind, but granted them distance by staying near the entrance to the room. It was their right, in Thor's view, for them to remain. Sif was their friend as much as she was his, and they may lend support through their presence.
Loki had only a shadow of an idea of why they had called him there. His eyes burned in the intense light of the early morning sun after having spent so much time in the endless dark of the prison. The chains scraped the still raw flesh of his wrists and their weight reinstated the weariness of his shoulders and arms. The guards forced him to kneel and drew back the chains so he couldn't move from this position. He would have preferred the environment of his cell to that bright room, especially in the company of four who had lust for his blood in their eyes.
"Why did you summon me?" he asked. His chains rattled as he tried to adjust his posture, but the tightness of his binds prevented it.
"I have run out of patience with your tricks and games, Loki. You're going to tell me how you found a way around the prison's safeguards, and then you will answer for what you did to Sif."
Loki smirked, but it was only a deceptive mask to cover the nervousness that had suddenly risen in his stomach. His gaze fell on Sif, who clutched her side. "And what accusation has been raised against me? I have the right to know the question before I provide response."
Thor nodded towards Sif. She swallowed hard and lifted her shirt to reveal the burn once more. Loki's eyes fell and a look crossed his features that might have resembled surprised guilt, if the emotion was characteristic for him. It occurred to him, finally, why she had cried out in pain in the midst of their physical union, and why she had suddenly woken from a dream she'd shown no intention of ending. As quickly as the emotion had appeared on his features, he hid it away again, masking it behind confidence and sarcastic innocence.
"Are you implying that wound was my fault? How exactly was I to manage such an assault while buried so far under the soil of Asgard?"
"You infiltrated her dreams," Thor answered. Though he didn't shout, his voice rung deep through gritted teeth. "You attacked her from the inside for your own purpose of gaining control over her body."
Loki chortled. "I doubt I would be in these circumstances if my powers matched the scope of your words," he said.
"Do not pretend to be so helpless," Thor said. "My friend Erik Selvig has told me of his experience working under your control. I am not so ignorant in the realm of magic to believe this is your first time using your power in this manner."
Loki disguised his surprise; Thor was more than half-right. He had taken Dr. Selvig in a similar way, but he lacked total control. This failure led him to seek out the method that he'd tested on Sif. What he had not known, was the fact that Dr. Selvig had been aware of his involvement, as this spell was used prior to his procurement of the Tesseract, and was therefore weak and subtle. "Perhaps the wound appeared psychosomatically…"
"The wound appears to be from a Frost Giant's touch. How would I have known?" she asked, her volume increasing with each word. "Until Thor told us a moment ago, I had no idea you were a - Jotun." The last word in her remark dripped with disgust and her mouth fell into a deep frown.
Loki laughed wryly and he lowered his eyes. His jaw was tightly set as his body began to shake with anger. His knuckles turned white with clenched fists as blood appeared under his nails from his palms. "I was only stretching my legs - and having some fun," he said in a tone far more casual than his actual state. "Sharing her dreams was just a way for me to stave off claustrophobia. I suppose I momentarily lost control over the strength of my own energy, but she will heal; there was no real harm done to her."
Sif opened her mouth to argue, but did not dare to speak too freely, lest she compromise her own dignity. "…no real harm?" she said through her teeth.
He looked up slowly, gazing at her witheringly from beneath his deep brow. "None was intended," he said truthfully, though his tone was mixed with reproach for her unspoken accusation.
Thor looked on between them, sensing a missing piece from their stories. "Loki, if you intended no harm, then why did you fight her?"
"Fight?" he asked in confusion. Sif's eyes immediately fell away from his, and he swore he could barely see the tint of a blush of humiliation rise to her cheeks. He laughed heartily. "Is that what she told you? I wouldn't exactly define it as fighting…"
Before he could finish his thought, she had jumped from her seat and laid her fist on his jaw as hard as she could. He fell sideways to the floor, unable to break his fall or correct his balance due to his chains, which sent his head to the hard stone beneath. Blood spilled from his brow and his nose, flowing down his face and metal mask and pooling on the floor.
Sif collapsed hard on her knees and clutched her side in renewed agony. Thor helped her up and called for the attendants to heal her now that the cause of her wound had been established. She didn't speak further, allowing the healers to begin the process of mending her flesh without additional interruption.
Thor didn't help his brother upright again, but knelt down, leaning into him so he could hear his words against the cold, blood-soaked tiles. "You wanted to prove me an ill-prepared, foolish leader and you have done so. I made the decision to spare your head against the wishes of our own people and you have proven again and again that this choice was wrong," he said quietly through a clenched jaw. "What must I do to drown your mischief and silence your poisonous speech? What you have done goes beyond trickery. To violate the privacy of a person's mind - that is a form of perversion of which I had not thought you capable."
Loki looked defiantly up at his brother, but did not speak. His body shook as he struggled against his chains and the pain caused by his position. However, Thor did not offer him help.
"I will have to think further regarding your sentence, and if I must, I will cut out your tongue."
He signaled for Hogan and the guards, ordering them to take him back to his cell and replace the chains his mother had mercifully removed. Loki was to be strung up by his hands, and not to be given food, drink, or relief until the prince was able to seek the advice of the Allfather.
Before he left, he checked on Sif's condition to ensure the healers had finished repairing her broken flesh. The wound had closed and her skin returned to its alabaster tone, but the look in her eyes indicated she had not yet healed from the experience. Her gaze met his and stayed for a moment, examining the sadness within.
"I'm sorry."
Neither one was sure who had said it first. Thor smiled softly. "My Lady," he said fondly, though his voice was rough and strained, "what do you have to apologize for?"
"I shouldn't have hit him as I did; it was purely an act of rage. I didn't wish to involve you…"
He took her hand. "Your fist was considerably less harmful to him than what I would have done with Mjolnir had I another moment to think of it. My patience runs thin - perhaps force is the only thing he will listen to anymore."
"Your voice sounds as one in mourning. You have given up…"
"I am closer to it now than I was only a few days ago," he answered sadly.
Her brow wrinkled in concern, but it lightened her heart to have him open himself to her still. He kissed the top of her hand and helped her to a sitting position.
"Why did you go to such great care to hide his nature from us?" she asked. "You could been open with this truth before we struggled against him. It may have helped us to understand his motivation."
Thor sighed, realizing these questions were due fair answers. "I did not know the truth myself until after he fell; even he was unaware of it until recently. I felt pressed to keep it secret so that I might protect him from Asgardians who would feel betrayed knowing the throne had been in the hands of a Jotun - even for a short time."
Fandral had been keeping his distance for the sake of respect, but as he listened, a question rose in his mind. "I understand your desire to avoid controversy before assuming the throne, though I still wonder why you hid this from us - your closest companions."
"Take no offense, friends," he started, "but how much patience have you afforded him in the past simply because you believed he was of royal, Asgardian blood - and my kin?"
Fandral's eyes fell; Thor's point was just. "You believe we would have overreacted…"
"Perhaps you wouldn't have, but I thought it best to take the precaution and save you the trouble that would result."
They both revered him and his position too much to argue or continue to press the issue. He had his stated reasons for hiding the truth, though they shared the disappointing suspicion that he may have simply not trusted them with this secret.
Sif's feelings ran deeper and were not as kind as her friend's. She was confused, and though her rage boiled fairly against Loki, she felt a small portion directed towards Thor. Had she known, perhaps she would have protected herself more carefully against his influences and suggestions. If Thor would have been truthful to his closest friend, the woman who was once sworn to be his wife, perhaps she wouldn't be burning with humiliation at that moment - and terrified that the people she loved the most would learn what had happened while she slept and condemn her for it.
Thor noticed her silence and pensive expression. "Are you alright?" he asked.
Her breath caught in her throat. "I am."
"I must cancel my plan to return to Earth. I was afraid my leave would make Asgard vulnerable to threat. I didn't imagine this threat would come from within our walls, even with Loki restrained as he is, nor did I believe it would strike so close."
Sif hoped he wouldn't leave, but she dared not tell him this. She knew she had the option to tell him exactly what Loki had done and how far his schemes had gone. If she revealed this to Thor, he would stay and burn in wrath against his brother. This would not be fair to him, however, and she would most likely not forgive herself if it led to the dissolution of something that made him happy. "It's not necessary. I can handle myself - and I can handle Loki," she said after much internal debate.
"We will increase the guard in your absence," Fandral said. "This won't happen again."
Thor looked back at Sif for assurance. Despite what she felt in her heart, she granted it to him in the form of a small smile. "It will be fine. If we cannot take care of ourselves in the span of a few days without the protection of Mjolnir, we have no right to call ourselves warriors of Asgard."
Thor nodded, a look of obvious relief on his features. "Then I may trust your welfare in my leave?" he said to Sif.
"You may," she answered.
With a loud, resounding ring, Odin slammed Gungnir onto the stone floor. His good eye burned with fire and his mouth remained set deeply into a stern frown. For the moment, he remained silent, appearing as a statue and memorial of a long-dead warrior king posed in the peak of battle. Thor had not the heart or the courage to interrupt his thoughts at this fragile point, when he was most wroth due to Loki's latest trickery.
Frigga stood behind her husband's throne with her hand over her mouth in disbelief. Her eyes shone with tears drawn by the fear of what would happen to her second son after his treachery, and angry shock at what he had done to a woman Frigga had once thought of as her daughter to-be. She knew her husband well and didn't share Thor's reservation towards intruding on Odin's mood. After allowing him his time for silence and thought, she spoke, "What will happen?"
Odin knew her context and motivation; he knew her concern was split evenly between Asgard and her sons, though he could not say his focus held the same ratio. "Thor, how would you answer her? The desire of my temper and my compassion as a father create disparate ideas in my head for worthy punishment."
"I feel similarly," Thor said quietly, "and though I wish for him to remain accountable for his actions, I cannot summon the strength to repeat the order I made when I first brought him home. I know my heart could never manage the more severe option either."
"But it would be irresponsible to leave him where he is and give him to access the same vulnerabilities that allowed this attack," Odin suggested. "The prison feeds his bitter anger and gives his mind idle time to plot and exercise his skills."
"Father - could you eliminate his talents using your own power?" Thor asked.
Odin sighed. "It is possible, but it would be equal to taking Mjolnir from your hand," he explained. "It is not beyond the realm of reason for these circumstances, but I believe such impotence would only encourage his evil ways. I know he would not reform as you did. His nature prevents it."
"And you believe further incarceration would yield different results?"
"With incarceration, there is hope; where he finds hope, he may also find a changed heart," Frigga interjected. Odin nodded; though her words were borne from sentiment he was reticent to express, he saw the value of her argument.
"Then we are back to the start," Thor said in frustration. "If the prison cannot hold him, what further options exist?"
Odin scratched his beard in consideration. "Leave him where he is for now, in the unpleasant conditions you have set for him. In some time, we will move him to his chambers. It may seem like mercy on our part, but it will provide an easier venue in which to keep him and his powers in check."
"How?" Thor said in near disbelief. "How would moving him from Hel to luxury possibly help us control him?"
"You do not have the mind for magic he does, so I would expect you to have some hesitation," Odin began. "Loki chose his quarters because of its near proximity to Asgard's powerful center. There are attributes of that location and the shape of his home that make it more conducive to his energy. These advantages will aid the enchantments blocking his power and increase their resiliency."
Thor scratched his head in confusion. He didn't want to appear ignorant to his father, but risked one more question in order to gain further clarity. "Wouldn't that make his power stronger as well?"
"Yes, but the protections around him will dispel any benefits to him," he explained. He saw the doubt in his son's eyes and the question he was unwilling to ask out of fear and respect. "Thor, I know the scope and depth of Loki's powers well. I am certain he will not be able to repeat this intrusion."
Thor agreed with a nod, comforted by the Allfather's words.
"There is one additional concern," Odin spoke. "It will seem to Sif that she will have no answer for his actions against her. I regret that this may be misinterpreted."
"Sif knows she is well favored in the throne room of Odin," Thor argued. "If she asks it of us, I will consider her complaint carefully, but I believe she will understand your intentions, or at the very least, respect your word and the fact that you must consider Asgard's needs over her vengeance. She is strong, and she will heal."
Odin nodded in understanding, resisting his urge to reiterate his displeasure at losing Sif as a match for his son due to some trifle disagreement about timing. "Before you move him, ensure the magicians' work is done and his guard is set."
"I will do as you will," Thor said. The conversation seemed over, and so he turned towards his exit.
"Thor," Frigga started. "When do you mean to return to Earth?"
He sighed and glanced briefly at his father. "I don't believe such an endeavor is entirely prudent at this time, though I still wish to go."
"My mind has not been changed by these events. I find it unlikely that your brother would try something again so soon, and your comrades will be on their highest guard," spoke Odin.
Thor resisted the urge to seem overly-grateful or relieved. His mother expressed this for him, clapping her hands together in joy and kissing her son on the cheek. "I'm excited on your behalf," she said, "and I very much look forward to meeting this mortal you have remained so enamored with. I hope you may return with her."
"I hope that too."
She laughed. "Then go - prepare for your journey and ready that wit and charm that has captured the hearts of so many."
He smiled and chuckled, offering a small bow to his parents before excusing himself. Frigga turned back towards her husband and grasped his hand. "I know this was not an easy concession to make, but for the sake of our son's happiness, I thank you for it."
"I don't believe this will end in happiness," Odin gently argued, "but he has changed much since his time on Earth and deserves some freedom to discover his own mistakes."
She smiled and kissed his hand. "You are a good father and a wise king, but I hope you're wrong."
He returned her warm expression. "I will only admit this to you, my wife, but in some ways, I hope so as well."