She knew not the reason or force that drove her down to the dungeons of Asgard that evening, but less than a day after Sif had learned of the truth surrounding Loki's parentage and his invasion on her subconscious, she found in herself an intense desire to confront him. She knew Thor and her compeers would not approve. At the very least, their over-protective natures would deny her the allowance to conduct this venture without their support and guard. However, she couldn't bear to speak with Loki in the presence of her colleagues for fear he would reveal the complete story, so she kept her intentions secret and quietly entered the prison alone.
It was late at night by the time she crept silently down the stone steps to the large wooden doors of the prison. She expected to find the guard light at this time of the day, and was mostly correct. The two guards that watched the prison respected her request for privacy, but when she walked through the inner doors to the room that held his cell, she found she was still not alone. Volstagg was snoring softly by a dying fire, his feet upon the hearth as he leaned back in his chair. She debated on aborting her efforts, but she also knew her friend well. He would not wake easily to anything that didn't involve the sound of battle or the smell of food. She pressed on, deciding there was little risk in waking him as long as she held her temper.
Loki was not sitting on his usual bench. For a moment, she wondered if they had moved him, until she spotted his form along the darkest wall of his cell, furthest from the door. He was chained in a standing position, his arms drawn so tightly above his head that his bare back arched away from the rough stone wall as his stomach stretched; he could only reach the floor with the balls of his feet. His chin was lowered to his chest and his breaths came evenly as though he was resting, but he couldn't have been able to achieve real sleep in such a circumstance. She quietly opened the steel door, lifting it slightly as it swung in order to avoid the squeak that usually resounded from its old hinges. While the sound of her entry was nowhere near loud enough to break through and wake Volstagg, it did cause Loki to stir from his fragile slumber.
He slowly lifted his head and looked at her through his partially-closed lids. She could tell he was exhausted due to his circumstances, but she found no pleasure in his hardship. With a chuckle, he asked, "Have you come to show me pity - or to kill me?" His words were slow and dry. His posture stretched him so that he couldn't take in full lungs of air. As a result, his breathing was rapid and shallow, the lack of air, she guessed, accounting for part of his apparent fatigue.
"Neither," she said darkly.
"Then perhaps you wish to pick up where…"
She nearly growled in disgust and interrupted him before he could finish his vulgar question. "I thought you might be civil for once and explain to me why you've done this."
"Must we address this again? I told Thor…"
"What you have spoken to him is not the answer I seek," she argued. "I wish only to know why you invaded my innermost, private thoughts to take advantage of my confusion and disorientation for your own satisfaction. I care not for the status of your escape or your allegiance to our enemies - not for this moment." She tried to remain calm, but as she spoke, her dark eyes shined in the dim light of the prison.
"Have you considered the possibility that you may be overreacting?" he asked coolly, dismissing the evident claim she was making.
"You violated me!" she shouted suddenly, the rage that had been welling inside of her expressed openly through her pained voice and volume. She nervously looked back at Volstagg, but he hadn't stirred from his position and was still snoring loudly.
Loki appeared offended by her accusation at first, but his expression quickly changed and he chortled wryly. "It's true that I broke into your dreams for nefarious purposes; to this, I confess. I will also admit that I became overconfident and my comfort caused me to deviate from my original goals in order to - experiment in other ways," he started, pausing to take a breath. "But Lady Sif - do not accuse me of being something worse than what I am. Nothing happened that you did not desire. I am not that kind of monster."
"You are delusional if you think I would have consented to your touch had I all of my faculties," she argued. "You took advantage of my confusion - which makes you exactly 'that kind of monster.'"
He looked at her incredulously. What she spoke had stung. "I think you are in more denial of your nature than I am of mine," he snapped. She crossed her arms defensively and looked away from his eyes. "You wanted me because I've always stroked your most shallow vanity. Thor chose a mortal over you and within mere moments, you allowed your entire identity to crumble. The only thing I had to do was step in and sweep up the pieces. I used no manipulation or magic once I was there with you; you melted at my fingertips because your greatest desire is to be desired and any claim otherwise is an outright lie." He was nearly out of breath by the time he finished these words, but he continued, regardless. "Take your righteous indignation to another ear. You used me too."
"Even if I had been able to make a sober decision, I would have been doing so under the assumption it was merely a dream! Breaking into that realm - blurring the line between reality and fantasy - it's more humiliating than I will ever be able to put into words and from this, I may never heal."
He didn't respond at first, but she could see a smile or sneer in his eyes. His body was wracked with a deep shudder and she wondered if it was a reaction to pain or anger. It crossed her mind that it may have been both. "It's not like you to play the victim, Sif. I've admired you in the past for taking what you've wanted, damn the circumstances or hindrances in your way. You're no helpless whelp, but you seem to enjoy pretending to be one when it best serves you."
"Would you really excuse your actions for my character flaws?" she asked. Her voice cracked as his words struck a note of truth. It was only enough, however, to increase her discomfort towards her own actions within her dreams, and her anger towards his. "Your villainy is unrelenting," she said, recognizing his nearly successful attempt to manipulate this discussion and create the illusion of his own innocence.
He chortled, causing her to lose her patience; she turned to walk away from this useless argument. "We all play our roles. I was cast the villain a long time ago - a role I am only now beginning to fill happily," he said quietly.
She stopped and turned back towards him. Her eyes shone with uncertainty, but her curiosity and ire burned simultaneously, causing her hesitancy. "Explain your words," she said firmly.
He took a breath, trying to stretch his lungs to obtain enough air to continue speaking. His chest expanded so she could see the details of his ribs under his skin, but his posture would not allow grace enough for even a moment of comfort. It appeared painful, and the shadow of pity crept upon her features faster than she could stop it.
"Do you recall that game we used to play as children? I was elected to play the monster - charged with keeping the hero from my fair hostage."
"I remember," she said. Her face softened slightly as she recalled the form of that small boy, desperate to gain her attention, though at the time, she had returned very little of it.
"Do not patronize me with sentimentality or nostalgia," he warned, catching the change on her face. Her visage hardened again, and he continued his story. "Thor would not let me play the hero, no matter how hard I protested."
She sighed impatiently. "What is the point of this long-winded tale?"
"I grew strong in defensive skills and illusions because this was how we played. I became the villain the game required - and I was excellent at it," he said. "Where I am now, the trespasses I've committed - this is because of what Thor has done to place me here. I am using the tools I was forced to forge, in the only way I learned how."
"You accuse him falsely of slights that don't exist but in your own mind," she said. "Now who is playing the role of the victim? You've had free will from the beginning, from a place of privilege and convenience. You know nothing about the hardships of your forefather, or true struggle."
He said nothing to refute her argument, but scoffed and set his jaw. He seemed content to end their discussion there and concede her the last word. She turned and continued her progress towards the staircase.
"Sif," he started quietly. She would have ignored him, but there came a change in his tone that resembled a past version of himself, a light and tightness to his voice that sounded like the preadolescent who she believed, for a time, was her friend. She paused and looked slightly over her shoulder, silently giving him permission to continue. "I didn't intend to harm you."
In normal terms, this hardly sounded like an apology, but it was more than she would expect from his venomous mouth. The very idea that he would have said anything attested to the motion's authenticity, even despite its source. She paused there for just a moment, her brow furrowing, for this small token had caused her greater confusion than his emphatic argument. Without offering a hint of acceptance, she left the dungeon.
It took only a short time for Thor to arrange for his return to Earth. A small group had gathered to see him off when word was given that he was ready. Sif and the Three were present, and seemed prepared to accompany him at a moment's request. He thought this odd, since Sif had explicitly declined his offer to travel with him, but he tried not to look at such a contradiction suspiciously. Instead, he offered her grace in this matter, considering what she had recently been through. He greeted them warmly, but as his eyes met Sif's her gaze dropped away, a contrast to the fixed smile on her mouth. His lips twitched, but once again, he counted this against the trying events of the last few weeks and the insecurity she surely felt after Loki's intrusion on her mind.
In addition to his friends and his father, a small group of nobles, elders, and court officers had come to watch his departure, undoubtedly driven by the desire to see the power of the Tesseract in action. Its power had not been publically demonstrated in Asgard for a very long time, and there were many rumors regarding its strange origin. If Thor were truthful with himself, he would admit the device also caused him nervousness. It had worked well during his return trip with Loki, but there was no way to predict its full strength, or what effects it would have on a fragile, mortal body. However, his father believed Jane would handle it well, and he trusted his judgment on the matter.
The Allfather nodded at his son in greeting. "There have been some developments since we last spoke," his said. Thor's brow wrinkled in concern, though it was unwarranted. "To avoid revealing ourselves and the Tesseract, I have taken measures to prevent the necessity of travel with the device itself." He handed Thor a small object. It borrowed on the cube's power. It shone with brilliant azure and felt hot to the touch, but it did not burn with the great intensity of the Tesseract.
"What is it?"
"It is a temporary solution," Odin explained, "but it will serve your purpose. You will not have a large window of time before it begins to lose strength, so watch it carefully and do not use it needlessly."
"I see," said Thor. "Thank you - for your allowance in this matter."
He nodded again slightly and smiled softly in acknowledgement of the hidden depth within his son's gratitude. He then stepped back, allowing Thor space in which to activate the device. The Odinson secured Mjolnir to his belt and took the device in hand. The blue light grew in brightness and power as steam began to billow from its shape. With a flash and streaks of light and color, Thor disappeared.
"Are you ready to come down now?" an overly-chipper voice asked.
He had been asleep, but in his position, with his arms stretched far above his head and his feet merely brushing the floor beneath him, slumber did not arrive easily or remain steadily once achieved. He tore open his eyes, cursing the ache in his sides that screamed from his regular attempts to breathe deeply. He lifted his head slowly, with a scowl set so firmly beneath his deep brow, one would think murder-by-look was possible. One of the guards took a step back in reflex; Fandral smiled in defiance.
"We are prepared to return you to your previous, relative comforts if you're willing to bargain," Fandral offered.
A wicked grin appeared on Loki's lips. "But I'm so comfortable here," he answered in a low, dry tone.
"Come, now - you must be hungry or thirsty - and I'm sure your arms grow weary," Fandral said casually. "It is not much that we ask - just a small concession."
He chuckled wryly. "I'm able to slow my body's processes to the point where I need little sustenance. How else could I have survived the barren moon on which I was deposited after Thor decided to throw me down to the abyss? Your offer is fruitless."
Fandral twisted his lips. Loki had successfully called his bluff. Perhaps the natural gift of the chronic liar was the ability to see a falsity from a distance. "You can't blame me for trying," he jested. "Cut him down," he ordered.
The guards did what they were told. For the first time in many days, Loki set his feet flat against the floor and filled his lungs deep with air. Despite his façade, he lowered his arms slowly, as they were far more pained than he had revealed.
"Your brother has ordered you moved."
"Where, besides Niflheim, could hold more torture for me than this place?"
Fandral chortled. "Really?" he started sarcastically. "I would have thought you would be happy in Niflheim - in company of other monsters and close relatives of your true sires." If it weren't for his weakened state, Loki would have lunged at him for these words. "But - you have been released back to your own quarters, under the guard of the Einherjar and the warriors charged with your protection."
Loki was confused by this move, which was obviously intended on being a tactical strategy. He'd assumed his latest mischief would have worn Thor's final measure of patience. "Why?" he asked in rightful suspicion.
"Do not make the mistake of thinking this is an act of mercy or a nicety. Thor is livid for what you have done to Sif and you have long outlasted your favor," he explained. "What we do, we do in effort to constrain your magic. Your chamber may be a luxurious compared to this prison, but there are elements in its shape and position within the city that will lend power to the defensive enchantments."
This explanation didn't surprise Loki and it was a sensible move. He'd chosen those quarters for the very reasons Fandral had stated, though it was originally meant to strengthen his powers. Additionally, the effects of the prison most likely worked against the wards and enchantments of the court magicians as much as they affected his own abilities. The magic around his cell had weakened even further with time as well, and the constraints that had originally inhibited his energy were nearly gone, save for the limitations set upon him by his mask. Something would've had to have changed soon, or he might've regained full access to his illusions and tricks.
As a sign of his remaining power, and perhaps a subtle threat towards Fandral, Loki used his energy to materialize his full armor back onto his body, pressed and clean as though he had seen no hardship. "Very well - lead the way," he said with an air of confidence.
Fandral's own assurance began diminishing with Loki's solid tone. He frowned deeply in skepticism and led him and a group of Einherjar up the stairs and back into the warm light of day and the fresh air of the palace. He doubled his caution, and would not allow his own eyes to leave the prisoner for one moment of their journey.
Despite the relative comfort he was being led towards, Loki couldn't silence his cynicism surrounding this change. "Where is Thor?" he asked as they walked.
"He is otherwise preoccupied with another task," was his sharp answer.
Loki sighed through his nose. "I don't think so. Your vague answer tells me he's somewhere you wish me not to know." The chains on his wrists rattled as he stopped. "Has he returned to Earth?"
Fandral stopped as well and smiled coolly. "He has not."
Loki raised an eyebrow. "So he has…" he said, seeing through Fandral's fib once again. "Interesting. Is his intention to visit the human woman or has he rejoined the Avengers?" he asked, including a spiteful emphasis on the name of the group that had joined against him.
Fandral looked as though he was about to answer, but he merely smiled and ordered, "keep walking."
Loki's quarters were outside of the main palace walls, but in a close vicinity. The door to his long-abandoned quarters stuck and groaned as Fandral entered first; the air was thick with dust and the smell of stagnant water. Though he might have been upset that it was in such disarray, Loki was pleased it had been left alone and not rifled through at the moment they had presumed him dead.
The guards removed his chains and allowed him to walk around his house. He could feel the dampening enchantments pressing down on his energy like a weight to his shoulders. The palace magicians had been accurate in their assessments; this was a more favorable environment for their intentions. He felt confined and claustrophobic; the pleasantness created by being in his own residence faded as he fought futilely against their magic. "Home, sweet home," he sardonically remarked, wiping a line in the dust covering his end table with his finger.
Fandral dismissed the Einherjar and they took their positions on the outside of his doors. The warrior did not leave or even move as Loki prepared a fire and lit several torches for light; Loki found this persistence strange. "What?" he snapped, expecting some instigation of a cocky speech, or recount from his life in the narcissistic fashion to which Fandral was accustomed. Instead, he was met with stoic silence. Loki smiled. "Is there something you want to get off your chest? Perhaps about my lineage? Or is this regarding Fair Sif?"
At the mention of her name, Fandral inhaled sharply. "I am torn between duty for two separate parties."
Loki chortled. "Will you raise your blade to my throat to avenge Sif, or honor Thor's order of protection? What have you decided?" He turned towards the warrior. Behind his back, he slipped his hand under his end table, grasping towards one of the daggers that were hidden beneath it.
"I haven't made up my mind," he answered flatly.
"If you were going to raise an arm against me, the best time would be in a secluded area, free of guards, when my abilities were hindered. If I'm not mistaken, the advantage is currently yours," he said. His fingers felt around the metal clasp, and with barely a sound, he loosened the small knife from its holder. Fandral's normal clever retort was absent as he appeared to debate internally. With a roar, Loki continued. "If you are going to do something in the name of your beloved Sif, do it now! Otherwise, leave me in peace! I don't threaten easily and care not for the sentimentality or love that drives your thirst for vengeance!"
At the onset of his shout, Fandral drew his sword from its sheath. In response, Loki pulled the dagger and poised himself for a deadly strike in the middle of the warrior's forehead. For a moment, they froze in their stalemate, until Loki spoke. "I love Asgard so as its rightful king that I wish not to waste a drop of its blood - even yours. Do not take me lightly though, or I will spill what I must."
Fandral considered his words. After a moment, he straightened his posture and re-sheathed his weapon, realizing the timing of either strike from more than three paces would favor the long-distance throw over the slice of his sword. "There is nothing to do with you after this last effort. If you show any movement against the welfare of this realm or its citizens, you will lose your head. I will advise you not to test the strength of this new prison with your magic. It will be futile - and any attempt will be seen as the offense itself."
Loki put his dagger down at his side and raised his chin in haughty defiance of Fandral's advice, but he didn't argue or protest. Fandral didn't seem confident in his decision or its outcome, but he let it be and left Loki in the solitude of his own chambers.
The eyes of SHIELD could see almost as clearly as Odin's within their own realm. The division's technology was advanced enough to have picked up the energy signal of the device as Thor had landed on Earth. They were understandably alarmed when the unique signature for gamma radiation had suddenly appeared in Central Park. Although Thor's reappearance was relatively quiet, he was greeted by an entire squad of agents in black clothing, their guns all drawn and pointed directly towards him. Thor was grateful when he noticed that two of the agents who were there to meet him were the brave archer and the fair Natasha. They were especially surprised to see him, but they welcomed his return and escorted him straight to SHIELD, where he spent his first few days debriefing with Fury.
The greatest welcome came from Tony, the "man of iron," as he had called him when recounting tales of his adventure to the people of Asgard. When renovating his giant tower in the city of New York, he had redesigned it with sleeping quarters for the members of the initiative according to their needs and normal comforts. It fell short of Asgard, but as they say, it was the thought that counted, and he was pleased with the symbol of camaraderie and friendship for which it served.
His welcome was not shared, however, by the heads of SHIELD. Fury had trepidations about Thor's reappearance, and offhandedly commented on the hardship he would have explaining his return to his higher, paranoid authorities. This agitation increased when Thor provided additional information on Loki's status and the small quantity of information they had obtained from him since he was given to their custody. His punishment was not seen as adequate, considering his crimes, by those in power. Fury had also expressed this displeasure with their chosen consequences, but Thor had argued that he failed to understand the effects of time in Asgard's prison, or the depth of meaning that accompanied the act of flogging and incarcerating Loki as he and Odin had. In the end, Fury dropped his argument, respecting Thor's position, but the other leaders failed to show such grace.
Once the matter of his business was addressed, he felt free to seek out Jane. Stark still had some access to SHIELD's network, though it was beyond their knowledge. As yet another favor to Thor, he was able to pull up the most recent information on her, a person SHIELD had been tracking since she became a known ally of the alien prince that had crashed upon their planet a short time before. She had moved from Puente Antiguo to Albuquerque in pursuit of a position at the University of New Mexico within their Institute for Astrophysics. Stark helped him find the city by means of a machine called a "GPS." It was further from New York than he had realized during his short visits to this realm, but Mjolnir would get him there quickly and without the expense of power from the portal device his father had given him.
Before leaving and per the advice of Natasha, he costumed himself in plain human clothing and tied his hair back. Although he'd only been on Earth for a short time, his face was recognizable, but the sight of his iconic red cape would surely make his presence known and hinder his search.
The GPS alerted him to his close proximity to the address Tony had inputted into the machine. Despite the populated area, he attempted to arrive discretely, hiding behind the back of a tall building and storing Mjolnir in a corner where it would not be seen. Some of the students seemed to notice a strange noise in the sky and looked up, shielding their eyes from the sun as they tried to find its source, but in the glare of the noon hour, they saw nothing. His care and disguise paid off, for he failed to catch the suspicious eye of anyone as he made his way through campus. Although his large form attracted some stares, it did not go further than the occasional curiosity or admiration.
In its British voice, the GPS directed him to a small building on the outside rim of the school's property. The red brick building had a peculiar scent on the inside. Halogen lights shone abrasively on the white, sterile walls and the asbestos tiling. Even he, an alien to this world and unfamiliar with its ways, could tell this was a place of science.
"Can I help you?" the receptionist asked warily when he approached the front desk. Her face wrinkled oddly as her skeptical eyes examined him. Since the early 2000s, strangers were not welcome on campus without prior warning and identification. Although he had passed the approval of the students, the staff and faculty were far more precautious.
"I am here to see Jane Foster. Please summon her."
The receptionist raised an eyebrow. "Who can I tell her is here?"
"Tho...uh…" he started, thinking for a moment as he tripped over his words. "Donald. Dr. Donald Blake," he smiled innocently as the receptionist typed Jane's name into the directory on her computer.
She took her time emailing Jane a notice of his visit. As she worked, he absentmindedly scanned the room with his eyes. The glitter of shiny gold caught his eye. The table in the center of the lobby held a decorative bowl that contained several pieces of brass fruit. He picked up the golden, apple-shaped metal piece, examined it carefully, and began to chuckle. The receptionist stared at him in perturbed confusion.
"It's fake," he remarked, entertained by the facsimile.
She nodded slowly. "You said you're a doctor?"
Before he could find an answer that could lead him to trouble, the door to the back room opened abruptly. "Don? What are you…?" Her words stopped dead in her throat the moment she saw him, and she covered her mouth in surprise.
He inhaled nervously and rubbed the back of his head. "Hello, Jane Foster."
Without hesitation, she ran up to him and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders. His hands encircled her waist and he reciprocated as much as he could without causing her harm, lifting her off the ground slightly in the process.
"How did you…?" she tried to ask.
He put her back on her feet, releasing her slowly. "We should go somewhere and talk."
She raised her brow, unsure of how to respond. The mere fact that he existed was still difficult for her to accept, but his account of what else had occurred since their last meeting was beyond the boundaries of her mind. They sat in a dark, quiet corner of a small, campus coffee shop, but even though they had much freedom to speak, she had hardly said a word. Her nails clicked against the porcelain of the cup in front of her. Thor was patient, and allowed her time to gather her thoughts.
"I was surprised - to see your face on every channel on TV after the attack in New York. It made me a little mad to think you'd found your way back and didn't want me to know," she said.
"That was not at all what I had…"
"No," she protested, "I know. You're probably right - Loki would've used me against you if I had tried to track you down."
He smiled. "It brings me great relief to know you understand."
"Thor, I get it, I really do. Your brother was a little more important than me and saving the world - should probably come first," she said this almost sardonically, as if she had difficulty accepting the gravity of the words coming from her own mouth.
He took her hand in his and held it. "No more shall I intend to do so, least not while Earth and Asgard remain outside of war."
"Huh?"
"Threat looms on the horizon, but I should not allow the sands of time to slip by while I anxiously watch the skies and await our enemy," he said. Worry crossed his features, though he did not shake from his intention. "I have returned so I may grow to know you better, and I will dedicate my time to doing so."
She swallowed hard, chiding herself for the pink she knew was rising to her cheeks. "I'd like that," she said with a smile.
"Hope dwelled in me that you would respond in kind," he said, "but I'm afraid that my time on Earth is inadequate for such a great purpose. I'm here on borrowed time, as an allowance from my father, and I must shortly travel hence to Asgard."
"Oh," she said with obvious disappointment. "People on Asgard live forever, though so - how do you define 'shortly?'"
"A couple of days, or less."
"That's not long," she answered; her lips curved downward.
"No, it's not," he said. "This is why I have come to bid you to travel with me to my home."
She looked up at him sharply. "You - you want me to go with you - to Asgard?"
He nodded and smiled. "I recognize the inconvenience of my timing, as we've not enjoyed much time together. The journey itself is - intense in nature, as the energy can be almost violent against the body. I ask you to consider this before you provide your answer," he said, "but I selfishly hope that it does not dissuade you from this chance. Asgard hopes to meet you, my mother and father are prepared to welcome you, and I promise I will protect you from any harm that may befall you during the transfer to our realm."
She leaned back in her chair, attempting to process the offer he'd made. "This is - a lot to think about," she said. "I'm not sure…"
"I was braced for your trepidation. I realize I'm asking much of you with little time given for consideration," he said. "I mean not to pressure your mind or heart, but know that I do not make this offer lightly. My father was not convinced this was the right decision, but he permitted me leave on my word that you were well worth any risk that would come from this visit."
"Your father - Odin?" he nodded and she chuckled wryly in disbelief. Once again, her circumstances seemed surreal, and part of her wondered if this were a merely a long, realistic dream produced by sickness or coma.
"My mother differs from my father. She supports me and is excited to meet you. I believe you two will be friends."
Her brow furrowed in thought as she recalled some of the old Norse myths she'd studied after meeting him. "Your mother, is she…?"
"The queen, Frigga." He could see the confusion on her face, so he continued. "There is some complication in that matter my father wishes not to discuss, but she and Odin have been wed for a very long time. You will find their passion for each other is still quite strong. I credit this reason as why they are willing to open the gates of Asgard to a mortal for the first time in nearly an eternity, merely for the chance of my happiness."
The smile returned to her lips in a soft form, but she continued to hesitate. "My job - it might not wait for me to come back. Everyone I care about… What am I supposed to…?"
Thor released her hand as his eyes fell. "I understand."
She sighed slowly. "We have a couple of days?"
He pulled the device from his clothes. The blue energy burned just as brightly and as hot as it had the first moment he'd held it. "I would wager on this, but I will have little warning when it is time to return."
"I see - but at least that gives us time to spend together," she said with a light in her eyes. "It'll also give me some room to think."
The warmth returned to his eyes. "I look forward to it - and your answer."
Fandral had explicitly asked Sif not to visit Loki for fear he would try something against her out of spite. His contest with the wayward prince had done nothing but confirm his own suspicions and discomfort. He offered to cover her duties and implored her to take a sabbatical, but she wouldn't listen. She kept from him the fact that she had confronted the intruder once already, and she cared not for his overprotective attitude in this matter. Although her humiliation still burned within her, she refused to show weakness by avoiding the cause of the problem, and it was not in her nature to retreat from a challenger.
Her sleep had been difficult and tumultuous since their altercation in the prison. She didn't wish to hide herself in her misery, and her rebellious streak inspired her to go contrary to Fandral's request. It was an irresistible desire of hers to examine Loki's changed circumstances, and to see for herself that his invisible binds were strong, his mask was in place, and that he no longer held the power or means to invade her as he had.
In order to avoid the prying eyes of certain warriors who viewed themselves to be her brothers and keepers, she waited until just after dusk, after the shadows had grown long enough to cover her journey in some discretion. She wore a dark cloak to further disguise her journey, though she knew she would be far from invisible.
"My Lady," one of the guards greeted as she approached the door to his chambers.
"How does he fare?"
"There is nothing to report," the guard responded. "He has not eaten, but I believe sleep has deeply claimed him. He hasn't made any demands and we haven't heard him stir since late last night."
"Have you looked in, to be sure?"
"Yes ma'am. He presently rests on his bed."
Part of her was relieved to hear that he had slept so soundly - too deeply to plot or manipulate his situation. The cynical side of her demanded to see it herself, for assurance that it was not an illusion or act on his part. "Allow me entrance." The guard bowed and opened the door without hesitation or question.
The moment she stepped in, the silence of his chamber became deafening. His quarters stayed in stillness, without a single flame left burning in his torches or fireplace. The air was cold, even in this still early hour; the light that remained in the sky provided just enough illumination for her to see her way past his tables, the pillars, and over the floor coverings.
Sif had never been in his chambers before. Long tapestries and fine curtains hung from the walls. Strange figures in odd shapes lined his tables and mantle. He was obviously more interested in the aesthetics of art than his brother, but in these statues of gold, silver, and pewter, she wondered if he didn't see some symbol of power in their angular poses. Did the figures display the strength he lusted after?
She ran her fingertips lightly over the outline of one silver form on his table. Abstract in nature, the pieces still conveyed an intended shape, emphasized by the silver light from the window. It looked like the silhouette of two forms, locked in an arm-in-arm struggle. Though they were nearly even, one seemed slightly the better, and held the other further down from his own head. She pulled her and away and frowned, confused that she could see such a story within a purposeless shape. For a moment, she could vividly imagine a yellow head and red cape around the victorious party, though if Loki saw the same tale, he undoubtedly reversed its position.
A quiet sigh from the other room pulled her focus. With silent steps, Sif proceeded to the threshold of his bedroom, careful not to allow her armor to clink together with her movements. She didn't want to wake him; she was in no mood to converse or defend herself against his verbal games, she only wanted to see him in his new prison with her own eyes.
Just as the guard had said, he was asleep on his bed. She breathed in relief, feeling her weariness for the first time as she allowed herself to relax. He was well out of a conscious state and appeared to have been for a while. His mask still remained secure over his mouth. Her restless sleep was clearly the product of her own mind and paranoia.
He groaned in the midst of a dream and turned from his back onto his stomach. The one, thin sheet that covered him slipped down his back, barely covering his shame to her eyes. She nearly turned away, but the starlight of night flooded in through his window, illuminating his skin in a cold, blue light; he looked like death, and this image brought to mind her memory of his kiss, and the strange feeling of his cool skin against hers.
She rubbed her collarbone with her hand, willing away the sensation of touch that occurred when she remembered his mouth against her skin, his fingertips, and the way his breath stirred the small hairs around the back of her neck. She swallowed hard as she recalled the way his hands travelled slowly up her sides, causing goose bumps along her arms as he brushed the tender flesh over her ribs.
She shook her head and shut her eyes as she tried desperately to eradicate her line of thought from her mind, but in her efforts, she whimpered barely. The noise was just enough. His eyes opened immediately and he turned and sat up quickly, reaching for the hilt of the dagger under his pillow. His eyes became clear and he recognized the figure standing near the foot of his bed. His hand released the hilt, and the only motion he made after was to move the sheet to further cover himself.
His concentrated gaze locked on hers, staring back at her from behind the long, unruly, ebony strands that had fallen in his eyes. His look was intense, but it lacked the sharp edge it normally held, replaced instead with a mix of confusion, fatigue, and something else entirely.
At first, she had opened her mouth to speak and explain herself, but words didn't come, and so she shut it again after fruitless searching. She set her jaw firmly and met his glare in silent challenge, although she knew not what this contest was about. She searched his unrelenting blue eyes carefully, but after moments that seemed to stretch to eternity, she faltered and looked away. Without a word spoken from either, she walked out of his room and away from his chambers.
Jane shivered lightly in the night air as they walked along empty, quiet streets near the college. Their pace was slow and their lips silent, but they both possessed an odd smile symptomatic of something new and different. In one short day, they hadn't the opportunity to develop any sort intimate knowledge of one another beyond what they had initially learned, but there was a blanket of comfort that stretched between them despite their lack of familiarity.
She crossed her arms and stepped just a little closer to him for warmth. She smiled nervously as their skin brushed and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Inwardly, she chided herself for being so much like a child - new to love and all of the pleasant strangeness that accompanied it.
"I am sorry to have you out so late," he said.
She shook her head. "We're almost back anyway and - it's kind of nice to have an excuse to leave the lab early for once." She took his hand, securing his arm even tighter around her.
"I wish to thank you for your hospitality once again. It must be an inconvenience to you, but as I did not think to bring gold or anything your people might accept as currency, the use of your couch and food is appreciated."
"It's not a big deal," she said casually. "I wish I had something better for us to do. It's a college town and their definition of the 'night life' probably isn't your style. I hope it hasn't been too boring."
"I have enjoyed myself," he answered genuinely. "I found your sport of knocking down small logs with a weighted ball to be challenging, but please pass my apologies on to the owner for the damages to his equipment."
She hid her face in her palm and laughed wryly in embarrassment at her poor choice of activities. She hated to bowl herself; she still didn't know what had made her think it was a good idea. "Is there anything you'd like to do while you're here? There's got to be something you'd like that doesn't involve smelly shoes and warm beer."
"To share your company during these short days has been my chief desire. I care not how we pass the time, as long as it is spent with you."
She sighed in frustration, though he might have interpreted it as contentedness. He had provided her the same answer since he first arrived. It was hard enough for her to entertain guests who were indifferent, but considering the expectations he'd placed on her with this short visit, the pressure was even greater.
They had established he enjoyed beer and coffee, but as she was trying to decide whether to take his sign and symbol of promised devotion in order to put her life in his hands and leave her world, these little facts seemed laughably inadequate. He was a comfortable stranger, but the normal games two interested parties often played with each other in her culture to build intimacy wouldn't work for their time constraint and circumstances. She wanted to know him better, she just had to decipher the best way of going about it. "What would you be doing right now if you were in Asgard?"
The question surprised him. He thought for a moment before responding, "I would most likely be eating a hearty meal with friends, discussing the news at court, revisiting old tales, or training in the hills beyond the city."
"I wouldn't be any good helping you train," she joked dryly, "but I might like to hear some of these stories."
He chuckled. "That is not such an easy demand to meet. What is it you would like to hear?"
She smiled and shrugged, leaning further into his side. "I don't know," she answered. "What was your childhood like? How long does an Asgardian childhood last?"
"It lasts as long as yours does, from what I know. It isn't until adulthood that the aging process slows."
"How do you do that?" she asked, unable to disguise her curiosity for the mysteries of his realm. "The myths can't be right, can they? It can't really be…"
He laughed. "Perhaps you will find the answers you seek when you accompany me on my return."
"That's a hard bargain," she said with a chortle, "and you're really not volunteering much information, considering we're trying to get to know each other better."
"The appropriate time to discuss my life will be when we are in Asgard. There, I will introduce you to the greatest warriors in all of Yggdrasil and they may enlighten you better with tales from their own mouths," he answered. "For now, I am content to hear more of your life and experiences, and how you live here on Earth."
She shook her head. "I don't mean to sound pushy, but - it seems like you're asking me to trust you on faith, and you're keeping a lot from me."
He stopped walking and turned to face her, locking his eyes on hers. "When we were children, my brother and I were great friends, but as our age increased, so did our disparate ideas and arguments. My father is not a patient man, and after one particularly noisy debate, he dragged us by our necks up to the tallest point in Asgard and told us we were not allowed to leave until we reported the exact details of all we saw. He knew our eyes did not share or possess his power, but that was not the object of his lesson. He wished us to learn how to calm our boiling blood and rage so we could observe and evaluate what was around us. He wished not for us to allow ourselves to be blinded by anger, but to be mindful, even in the event we must exercise our wrath."
He paused and took her hand in his. "The lesson, my brother learned quickly and that is how, I believe, he had been able to disguise himself as my friend, even through his years of careful planning against me. He was able to think calmly and clearly despite his bitterness. In this area, he remains my better, for I still allow my head to grow too hot and my gut to lead my actions before I've processed the consequences."
Jane remained silent. Though the source of his story confused her, she was beginning to understand him a little better, even through this small amount of context.
"I have improved - and I have learned more about my people, Yggdrasil, and the value of life during this time than I had in the entirety of my youth. I am just now, learning the real benefits of listening, watching, and waiting. That is why I remain quiet. It is not meant to offend or close myself off from you; it is meant to provide me with time and opportunity to grow and to know you better."
He watched her carefully for a reaction, but for a long moment, her eyes remained stoic. Suddenly, she laughed. "This is crazy, right?" she asked rhetorically. "I have a good job, friends - I can't just leave."
His brow arched in confusion, as she had apparently changed the subject, spurred to a decision by his words. "What I ask of you requires no sense of permanence for now. If you wish at any time to return, I will bring you back with as much haste as circumstances will allow."
"I wouldn't be much of an astrophysicist if I turned down a trip to another world."
He smiled widely and kissed her hands. "Then you will come with me?"
"Yeah," she said uneasily, "I wouldn't know how to act, or what to do… Do you really think they'd accept me?"
"If they are half as taken as I have been, they will love you."
She smiled in relief and visibly relaxed. Although he had resisted for propriety's sake since his arrival, he no longer felt its restriction. He leaned slowly down to her level and kissed her softly, communicating his care and enthusiasm for her decision through his affection.
Sweet, cool air blew through his window, drying the sweat from his brow and lowering the heat of his skin. He hardly felt this relief, as his mind was troubled and busy in its efforts. He leaned his bruised back against feather pillows, which were more forgiving than the rough rocks of his cell; his arms and legs were stretched in comfort in front of him, resting upon his smooth sheets; he was truly clean for the first time in months; and he had enjoyed a few moments of exercise, a meal of his own choosing, and real privacy. It should have lightened his spirits to be in his own quarters again, sleeping in his bed with his own preferred comforts. However, in one distinct way, this prison was much worse than what Asgard had previously held for him.
His eyes were shut tightly, his jaw set hard. He strained in effort to expand his energy beyond his body, but the enchantments and his mask worked against him viciously. No matter which direction he tried or what intensity he used, he was blocked by an invisible wall that locked him into his form and restricted him even more than the shackles that had held his arms in Asgard's depths. It was beginning to cause him claustrophobia; he never imagined that being severed from all of his magic would cause him such grief.
He breathed heavily in anger and opened his eyes, resigning his efforts and lying down to sleep. Slumber would not come easily either for him. Exhaustion had claimed him on his first day out of his cell and his eyes demanded to be shut for several days. He no longer felt the need or call to sleep, despite his earlier exercises and the late hour of the night. His frustration over his circumstances burned hot in his veins and would not ebb, which only made his attempt at sleep more difficult.
He had wasted his chance. Instead of following through with his plan to gain freedom and power through a possession of sorts, he used his skill to pursue a childish infatuation that would lead to nowhere of value. In his last and greatest opportunity to seize her, he had experienced a rare moment of soft compassion driven by foolish sentimentality, and found himself unwilling to damage her permanently for the sake of his own objectives. The taste of her sweet skin was his reward, but it did little to dull the sting of incarceration now.
He licked his lips in reflex of that memory, unsure if the same temptation would not plague him if he had the ability for another chance. He had awoken in the middle of the previous night to see her standing at the door like an apparition. He'd hoped at the time it was a dream brought on by his extreme fatigue, or perhaps a shadow of her subconscious left behind from the multiple times their minds had connected. If this were the case, however, she would have come to him, as he wanted - instead of staring at him from her distance as though she were trying to decide whether to pity him or run him through with her sword.
He turned on his side in his bed, facing the high window in his room and looking out at the blanket of stars that illuminated the sky like twilight even though it was the night's deepest hour. His eyes closed and he contracted his abdomen with a deep, sharp breath. Once again, just as his energy passed beyond the confines of his own form, he encountered immediate resistance and was violently wrenched back. He swallowed his disappointment and had accepted the fact that he would never see her soft shape again, but this was superseded in his own mind by the realization that his primary plan for vengeance was now cut off, and in rare form, he was caught without a "Plan B." He was trapped and at the mercy of Thor or the actions of his allies, should they decide to move first. Even the depths of Niflheim were beginning to appear more welcome than his current situation, but he missed the prison of Asgard and the relative and ironic sense of freedom it had provided him the most.