His eyes opened to an ocean of soft, chestnut hair. A familiar grin crossed his lips as their previous night came back into mind; for the moment, he felt as though his world and everything in it was complete, as though having her next to him took the weight of rule and war from his shoulders. He would be content to be lulled to sleep every night by her lips and the scent of her hair and wake every morning to sight of her small form, but it did not escape him that his time was quickly slipping through his fingers. If she felt as strongly for him as he did for her, she had yet to voice it, but the deadline for their decision was quickly approaching and hung in the air like a dagger above his head.

A single tendril fell from her head across her face. With care, he brushed it gently behind her, resisting the urge to kiss her for fear it would wake her prematurely. His movement defeated his caution; she stirred awake anyway, meeting his blue eyes with her hazel ones and matching his tender smile.

She wrinkled her brow in the fog of her fatigue, noticing the light of the sky through squinted eyes. "I guess we missed the sunrise today."

"Yes," he said, "but these additional moments have brought quality rest I have not enjoyed in some time. There is nowhere in this realm I would have rather been this morning."

She chuckled softly at his overly-romantic response and closed her eyes again.

He stood to dress, reluctant to leave her warm comfort for the cool air and the hard realities of the day; it had been a long time since he'd felt his heart drawn so strongly towards another. However, it was growing late, and if he was tardy for his first appearance of the morning, the reason could be easily inferred. His father would not be pleased, to say the least, if he discovered he had been spending some nights in her quarters, and although Thor would be more than willing to point out the hypocrisy of Odin's anger due to his own questionable history with women, he wished not to invite his wrath on that day. Additionally, the long halls of Asgard had ears, and he wanted to avoid feeding the gossiping hens that often sought him trouble. They would be stirring soon as they attended their business in the palace and might see him leave from her door. Such controversy would only cause more damage to his position with the council, and may further jeopardize certain important relationships that were already endangered by this change in his life.

"Are you leaving already?" arose her voice in the quiet room.

"The day is no longer new - and I have many responsibilities that demand my attention," he explained, "but the sooner I can begin these appointments, the earlier will be my return to you."

"Good," she said, "you promised you'd take me to see the bridge today. I've been looking forward to it."

"Then I shall make every effort to keep my word," he said, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead.

She replied with a gentle sigh and contentedly returned to her sleep as he resumed getting dressed. His heart grew warm as he looked back towards her slumbering form, but at the same time, he drifted towards the edge of sadness. He wanted to boast about her, to brag and speak words of appreciation for her attributes that were unbecoming of a prince and beyond decorum to most audiences, to tell someone how strongly he felt without fear of reprisal or of placing more pressure on her.

Since his role as a leader had become more defined after his youth, he'd realized there were certain things he should not share with even his closest friends, though there were very few subjects he censored from them. Sif's reaction to Jane's presence and their own falling out would also have put them in a difficult position and he wanted to avoid making it any worse for them than it likely already was. Unfortunately, this meant there were no longer any ears within his own realm that would be appropriate for him to speak with so openly about this particular woman.

His brother had been the one with whom he had often shared these moments in life, the one person he felt he didn't have to hide himself from, who could relate to his position as a man and as a son of Odin, but that option was no longer available to him. He had mourned for Loki many times since his betrayal, but it was during these quiet moments that he felt his absence the worst, moments when his brain would automatically think of how he would react or what sardonic quip he would make in reply, before Thor's higher thought would remind him that the man he wanted to speak with had been gone for a long time. He missed his younger brother terribly, so much so that he would not allow himself to accept what he knew was likely true: the man he held to so fondly in his memories never really existed, or had been buried in youth by Loki's deception and his plot against him.

Thor pushed these thoughts and the despair that followed from his mind. There was little sense in continuing to humor this line of thinking when it did nothing but steal his energy from him. There was too much to be done, and a heavy heart would avail him nothing.

The guest quarters within the palace were all aligned along the eastern wall of Upper Hall, several levels below the Hall of Odin and his throne room, and the king's personal chambers. In order to get to the greater halls above them, one had to walk the length of the room from the heavily-guarded southern stairs to the northern stairs, but the quarters were so far to the side, one could pass through the hall several times without ever noticing their ornate doors. It was for this reason that Thor was overly careless, and was spotted leaving her room by one who was more watchful than he'd anticipated.

"Good morning," greeted a cocky voice the moment he'd clicked the door on Jane's room shut. There was no mistaking the owner of said words, or the message conveyed by their tone. Thor turned to find a very humored Fandral standing behind him, his arms crossed as though he was going to scold him like a child. "Long night?"

Thor opened his mouth to prepare an excuse, but as the seconds ticked by, it became apparent that he had none. He shut his lips, unwilling still to say too much to man who was a dear friend. Regardless of Fandral's vast understanding of issues regarding the fairer sex, he had a bit of a loose tongue at times. Anything Thor said to deny or acknowledge his current circumstances would probably be known to his entire circle by nightfall.

Fandral's mustache twitched and curled into a smirk. Despite his own wishes, Thor cracked a smile, which quickly devolved to a chuckle. "What are you doing down here? I thought your business would keep you upstairs today," he asked, avoiding the obvious topic.

"I was attending to a summons from the cooks. They had a question regarding a request from our favorite prisoner," he answered. To Thor's relief, he said nothing further regarding the position in which he'd been caught.

His brow furrowed. "Loki has never taken much pleasure from food," he remarked curiously. "What would he request?"

"That was my thought," Fandral spoke, "and I'm certain they were a bit suspicious as well. He wants wine - a particularly rare, sweet sort. I was going to tell them not to bother."

Thor shook his head. "I know your cynicism runs deeply against him for good reason, but why deny him such a simple luxury?"

Fandral scoffed quietly. "He hasn't returned to Asgard for its niceties."

"No, I suppose not," he said quietly, "but there's a small chance that his lips might slacken if he were given some concessions, and wine is not an unreasonable request."

"If he could use it to his advantage..."

"It's wine, Fandral. Don't let your paranoia get the better of you," he said in an interruption. The other man nodded in respectful acknowledgement of Thor's words, regardless of his disagreement with them. "I'll answer the cooks, and meet his request myself."

"Yes, My Prince," Fandral said with a bow.

Loki had exhausted all methods of entertainment while confined to his quarters. He exercised as much as he could tolerate; sharpened his daggers and practiced, though there was no great distance between walls to provide him with real challenge; and synthesized what useful potions he could from a limited number of components in his private store. Meditation had become tiresome, and his books had become dull after multiple readings. He regularly tried to stretch his powers, but the new binding around his chambers was strong. The glimpse into Sif's alert mind, a complete accident to his own knowledge, was the only shadow of magic he had been able to conjure.

Sif had been an amusing distraction herself, but their bodies would only serve them so many times in one night, and her visits were sporadic. However, it was this thought of her that led to his most desperate attempt to pass time. For the sake of staving off boredom and the claustrophobic feeling caused from being cut off from his power, he decided to turn his attention towards a skill that didn't come naturally to him.

The ingredients in his pot steamed and bubbled intensely. He cursed as it spilled onto the flame below, causing black smoke and a foul smell to rise in his face. This should have been no more difficult than potion-making, but for reasons unknown, he lacked aptitude for it. A knock at the door distracted him as the liquid reached boiling point and more poured over the edge. He sneered at the failed concoction and took it from the flame.

"What is it?!" he called tersely, irritated by this interruption and his failure with a task that most children could learn before they even attend school. No one knocked anymore. As he seemed to have lost his rights to any privacy, the Einherjar and the rest of his visitors simply helped themselves through his door whenever they wanted. Though this was normally a point of annoyance for him, his current visitor would have served him better by following suit.

The door opened; he was wryly surprised by the person at his threshold, but that didn't mean he welcomed his appearance. "Are you cooking?" Thor asked in amazement, curling his nose at the strong smell of scorched food that filled his apartment.

Loki huffed in distaste for this latest guest. He thought he had more time before he would be forced to face him again, as Thor had expressed his desire to keep his distance for a number of reasons. "No," he lied.

The Odinson walked in and leaned against a nearby wall casually. He didn't appear to be rushed or attending any matter of importance, which annoyed Loki greatly; he'd hoped his visit would be short. "You've told me before that you derive no great pleasure from food," he said, seeing through Loki's lie, "and I can see why, judging from your latest results. We do employ people of far greater skill that will do that for you..."

He rolled his eyes, growing tired of this inane discussion already. "I have the same basic items delivered to me every day. I thought I would try something different." This was also a half-truth. His attempt was in effort to keep himself entertained. However, Sif had stayed late into the previous night, and the thought had also occurred to him that she might require sustenance after such long and physically-intensive visits. He doubted he could maintain her interests with boiled meat and plain bread.

"You could always ask for something different, Brother. I could speak with the cooks..." Thor said in a casual offer.

Loki's brow flinched bitterly at the name and its combination with Thor's nonchalant tone, as informal as it had been before the truth had come out. "I doubt they would appreciate making a custom menu for a prisoner," he said dryly.

Thor chortled softly. "You thought enough of them to request a different wine," he said, putting the bottle he'd been holding on Loki's table. "A sweet red - I've never known anyone other than Sif who has enjoyed it."

He held his tongue regarding Thor's mention of Sif and redirected the conversation. "You didn't come as an errand boy. Why are you here?"

Thor sighed and scratched the hair on his chin. "I have not yet grown accustomed to living without a brother. I have missed your presence and thought we might talk - as we used to."

"How touching," Loki said flatly.

Thor moved to the hearth and sat down, putting himself in Loki's direct eye-line. He did look up to meet his stare, but his features held nothing but snide contempt. Thor ignored his expressed bitterness and grew quiet, calculating his next words, something he didn't often take time to do.

"There have been many changes here since you've been gone," he started. "Aren't you even curious about what has happened in Asgard during this time? What has happened to those you lived with and who loved you?"

While he considered his reply, Loki noticed Thor's informal state of dress. His iconic cape was absent, as was Mjolnir. He wagered this was his attempt to avoid looking threatening. It might have also been an attempt to foster an illusion of equality, as Thor knew without his magic, Loki was unable to change into his ornate armor easily, and was stuck in the clothes he normally wore under it.

"What makes you think I'd care?" he sneered.

Thor sighed and looked down. He changed tactics, surprising Loki, though he still found nothing but stupidity and arrogance in his attempts to relate with him as he did in their previous life. "Do you remember when we changed the sugar in the kitchen for salt?" he asked. Loki didn't respond. "The entire court went without desserts and breads for a week. And the stunt we pulled putting lightning eels in the cook's fish tank? I've never come so close to dying during one of your pranks."

"Is there a point to this? We have been down this reminiscent path before - and though my circumstances have changed, my mind hasn't."

"You look more like your old self, healthy and of good color. I have been sentimental for what you once were and it is a relief to see you look the role, even if it is not the truth. I wish you would spin your words as you used to; you seemed back then to know what to say to appease Father's anger."

"You want me to make Odin think I'm remorseful when I'm not?" Loki asked with a wry laugh. "You've taken to lying then, have you?"

"Of course not, but…" The argument died quickly on his tongue. "Father misses you as much as I do. It would not take much to earn back some grace and live with us as you did before."

Loki laughed again, earning Thor's confused stare. "You're the second person who has commented on my state of appearance - that my green eyes and the restoration of the warmth within my skin must mean I'm returning to a state of health and happiness like that of what I enjoyed before," he said mockingly. His voice and volume climbed sharply as he said his next piece. "You've all forgotten what was 'before' was an illusion; underneath this Odinspell I am the repulsive, vile offspring of your enemy - a Laufeyson - and since the day I heard Odin confess you as his heir, I have not been complacent or 'happy' chasing your shadow. 'Before' was a lie. What you see now is closer to truth, no matter how disappointed and full of pity it leaves you."

"So that is it then? You have forgotten our love for you? The years we spent together? The fact that father saved your life and adopted you as his own son?"

"Oh, I remember your love," Loki began, his voice lowering to the level between a hiss and a whisper. "I felt the extent of it forty times against the courtyard stone and I have the scars to serve as permanent reminders of just how much you've missed me."

Thor's lips fell into a deep frown; the day Loki returned was likely the most difficult time he would ever experience in his long life, and he had yet to completely cure the guilt he felt for his part in the punishment, regardless of the fact that it was mild when compared to what Loki truly deserved for his actions. "The plight of the victim does not well suit you," he answered lowly. "Do not expect me to express regret over your circumstances, for even if you were to earn a single stripe on your back in recompense of each life lost during your attack, you would still owe far too many to ever repay."

Loki chuckled, his voice adopting the deep, menacing tone that caused a knot to form behind Thor's neck and a weight to sink within his gut. "They're mortals, Thor. Even the ones we sleep with are not worth that price."

His mind drifted back to the bedroom he'd just left, and the hazel blanket of hair across her pillow. "You're wrong," he started, "and if you'd release your blind hatred, you'd remember the worth they displayed when they opposed you."

"Ah, right - the Avengers," he said with a dry chuckle.

"Not only them - the mortals who stood up and fought the Chitauri as they attacked their city, the people of New Mexico who aided me..."

"Is that the voice of reason, or of a satisfied manhood?" Loki interrupted. His abrupt and vulgar question successfully cut off Thor's thought. Logic assured him that there was no way Loki had discovered Jane was in Asgard, but the fear was still rising in his heart that he would find some way of using her to his advantage. "Would you have ever cared to defend them if it weren't for the feminine company you found there? You profess your own reform to Odin, but love has made you even more careless and stupid than you were before, and Asgard will bear the burden of it."

He took a deep breath, willing down the anger that boiled in his blood. An outburst was what Loki wanted and would prove his assumptions about his changed heart correct. Thor did not press the argument further, as he was in no mood or the state of patience to redundantly cover what had already been said. He slowly rose from his seat and walked towards the entryway. "Regardless of your assertions and your continued obstinacy," he began, "I will do what I can to leave the door open for your return to us. My patience runs thin and my hope dwindles, but you are my brother - and I love you."

"You are a fool," Loki snapped.

Thor chuckled and opened the door. "Undoubtedly," he said simply. Despite his exit, Loki knew this conversation was far from over.

As the sun set across the plains and mountains of Asgard, Sif excused herself from the company of her subordinates and left to ready herself for a different sort of appointment. She removed her armor and let down her hair; she bathed and rubbed small drops of fragrance behind her ears. She felt confident he would take her in any condition, but fresh from a long, sweat-soaked day in training wasn't how she normally chose to present herself to those with whom she planned to be intimate.

She was quite out of her right mind to think of their arrangement as anything that resembled "normal," but she acknowledged her lack of sensibility in this regard fairly. This was not a normal relationship and Loki was far from the average lover. He didn't care to impress her, dote on, or woo her with any gestures or meaningless words and he never pretended to feel for her any more than what he showed through his actions - and yet, she didn't care. Attempting to shoehorn their unorthodox agreement into anything that exhibited normalcy felt a bit like trying to house train a savage wolf. Part of her wondered if she was taking on more of a challenge than her strength afforded her. It rarely left her mind that the consequences would be great if, when the inevitable time came to part, she had permitted herself to grow too fond of him.

She let this fear from her thoughts, convincing herself that there was little reason to worry. It was purely physical; Loki would never allow himself to feel more, and her pain from Thor's rejection would harden her heart and guard it sufficiently. If this didn't work, surely the fresh wounds of Loki's betrayals would keep her from ever desiring him for anything more than his body - so she believed. As her mind drifted, she recalled the glow of his skin and the green tint in his eyes. It brought her heart joy to see him return to health, and his gesture, the simple provision of the comfort of a blanket for her sake, was evidence to support her hope that the monster he had become had lost some of its stronghold.

She reached for the horsehair brush on her vanity and her reflection caught her eye as it crossed the mirror, though she hardly recognized it as her own. A soft smile, subtle, but apparent to her own eyes, appeared on her lips. She paused in wonder, for she hadn't realized she was making such an expression. As though she was afraid she would be seen despite the privacy of her own chambers, she wiped it off her lips, changing it to a frown of displeasure at her own reaction. She continued to dress, though the troubling revelation remained prevalent in her mind. She was certain Loki would take easy advantage of such a weakness if he ever saw it, even if it ended this strange arrangement. She would have to guard herself more carefully.

The last rays of light hit the top of the palace and then faded to pink as the star finally set. Under the shadows, she rode her horse quietly towards the palace grounds, avoiding the main paths whenever possible. She housed her horse in the palace stables, as the keepers were used to her coming and going at all hours and would not find the presence of her horse odd. From the stables, she walked a large half-circle across the royal yards to his house, avoiding the eye of the Einherjar guarding his front grounds. She would have to enter through his window again, but he would make it worth her trouble.

Feeling a bit like a mischievous adolescent during a hormone-filled rendezvous with her forbidden lover, she entered his darkened apartment. She knew better than to think he wasn't there, but she still managed a gasp in surprise when he placed his hands on her hips and pulled her abruptly into him.

"I didn't think you'd be back so soon," he said deeply and softly in her ear.

She smiled widely, enjoying the rush his trick and scare had caused her. "Should I leave?" He didn't answer, but kissed her neck as his response. She sighed and reached up behind her, stroking his scalp with her nails and enticing a deep moan to sound in his throat. "Why are you sitting in the dark? And why is there a smell of smoke in the air?"

"A failed experiment," he said with a tone of evident frustration, "and it's dark because I fell asleep and let my fire die. Is there anything else you need to ask? I'd rather stop talking."

After his verbal bite from yesterday when she had asked too much, she decided it was best not to push him further, but the glimmer of green and red from his table caught her eye in the faint light of the room. "Is that - sweet wine?" she asked curiously. "I believed you abhorred it."

"I do," he answered, "but I thought I would keep a supply - for guests."

She pulled herself from his arms and turned to meet his stare. Her eyes narrowed and she looked upon him with doubt.

"What?" he snapped. He hated feeling as though he was wrong when he obviously wasn't, and he loathed how she looked when she stared at him like that.

"I'm not used to your thoughtfulness," she answered truthfully. "Is it so strange for me to regard it with some hesitation?"

He chortled despite himself as he replaced his hands on her hips and began to push her towards his couch. As they slowly walked, his fingers moved down to her abdomen and undid the belt around her robes. "I am capable of being thoughtful - when the motivation is right and I stand to profit from it."

"Is it your wish then to intoxicate me?" she asked, her lips pulled slightly upward to reveal her jest.

"If it helps," he answered, matching her dry tone, "though I hardly think it necessary at this point."

He kissed her neck again. Before she could censor herself, her earlier smile reappeared on her mouth and she laughed softly. He seemed not to notice or care and laid her down on the soft cushions below, meeting her lips hungrily as he pulled the robe from her shoulders and slipped his hand under the hem of her shirt. There was heat to his touch, though it surprised her at how deeply it penetrated her. Not only did it set a fire upon her skin, as it had so often in recent nights, but it seemed to create a warmth in her chest that was familiar - and frightening to her.

She pushed him back gently and frowned, her brow furrowing unpleasantly in her own confusion.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently. With some concern, he took his hand from her skin in fear that he had been too eager and forceful with his grip, the red marks he had left on her hips flashing through his mind.

She fell silent as a question bubbled towards the tip of her tongue. It was a question she didn't know how to ask of him though - and one she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer to. Part of her doubted he even had the vocabulary within him to respond. As soon as the desire to know appeared, it disappeared, replaced instead by her internal argument for simplicity. Her wish would never vanish that he would return to the man he was before, or at least the man he pretended to be, but she had enjoyed him thus far without such redemption. He would only see her as a hypocrite, she realized, for expecting anything more from him than what he had already offered.

She pulled the shirt loose from his belt and over his head. "It's nothing," she lied, and kissed him deeply to seal her deceit. Her hands raked up his chest along the contours of his form, and as they moved around his body to pull him closer, any thought towards her strange behavior left his mind.

The sun set long before he ever returned, and despite his promise, she'd spent most of the day alone. It shouldn't have bothered her; she felt she was better than that. Still, his absence emphasized one of the reasons she was resistant to coming to Asgard: she felt useless outside of his company. The world was still so new and strange, and she had little doubt the people felt the same of her. The palace magicians and others who invited her to join them on occasion welcomed her cordially, but when she was left to her own devices, she felt like a clueless tourist.

The queen had noticed her pacing around the palace by herself earlier that evening and had taken mercy on her, inviting her to a small dinner between the two of them. They discussed trivial matters and shared an insight or two on Thor and his likeness with his father; Frigga also offered her the reason why his schedule had remained so demanding that day. Despite this new comfort, however, the queen was still very guarded and vague regarding certain subjects. Jane understood some secrecy when it came to the matters that affected Thor's role as a prince, but concurrently, she felt some suspicion that there was still a side to him she wasn't seeing.

She stood near one of the large windows at the end of the hall, looking out to the vast city below her. The fires lining the streets illuminated the pathways along the horizon, making it look like rivers of gold, not unlike the large metropolises of Earth and the way the major roadways glowed at night. She pushed back a sudden rush of homesickness. It was ironic to her that while she was home, she spent much of her time isolated from others in front of a computer screen, looking out to the stars as though she wanted to be anywhere but on her own planet. Now that she had been gone, she found herself missing the annoying interruptions of the interns and students at the school, the harsh, headache-inducing lighting over her computer, and even the simple joy of a good latte. Sif had been right; Thor was trying his best to give her everything, but what she most wanted at that moment was a night in her own lab and a view of home's constellations. She was being selfish.

"I owe you a profound apology," Thor's voice sounded from behind her.

She turned from her view to greet him. Despite the subtle smile on her lips, he could see the shadow of irritation in her eyes. "Tough day?" she asked dryly.

He sighed. "As for my excuse, I have none to give. The hours were ripped from my fingers by a number of issues, but in retrospect of it all, none of it was worth breaking my promise to you."

Her smile grew into a legitimate, sincere form and the impatience left her eyes. "It's okay," she said quietly. "I had dinner with your mother; she said you were busy."

"'Busy' is an understatement," he said with a light, dry chuckle. He brushed his hair from his face with his hand, and she could see his weariness in his eyes.

"Are you okay?"

He leaned against a nearby pillar and crossed his arms. Despite the alarmingly short distance of the pillar to the long drop off down to the side of the tower, she stood next to him, resting her head on his shoulder. "I'm fine," he said, "but the day began with a misstep on my part - and it only diminished from there."

She bit her lip, unsure of what to ask or how much he would volunteer. "Is it anything you want to talk about?"

Initially, he shook his head, but the more he thought about it, the clearer the memory of the words Loki spoke became, and his desire to share his troubles with her grew stronger. "I saw my brother this morning," he said. "He made some - offensive assertions regarding my motivations surrounding certain choices I've made." He stopped his words there, unwilling to specifically repeat what Loki had said about his new relationship with Earth.

"I'm sorry."

"Make no mistake - this is nothing new," he said, "but it has reminded me of what I've lost in Loki's treachery - something from which your presence has blissfully distracted me."

Jane didn't know how to respond. Words seemed inadequate, especially considering how little she knew of the greater influences in his history and his love for his fallen brother. She remembered the book she brought from Earth, but the text itself confused several relationships and didn't adequately reflect the depth of love the characters seemed to share for one another. There was much to be desired in Earth's record of these "mythical" beings, and so she had little context. In lieu of her verbal comfort, she took his hand. It seemed to work a little, as the sadness in his eyes faded slightly.

"The council has been no better as of late," he began again, spurred on by her warmth. "The elders have never appreciated my precipitancy, and no matter how much evidence I supply of my change, they are inclined to remember only my mistakes."

"Maybe they just need to see you in action," she suggested. "They haven't really seen how you deal with crises since you landed on Earth. You'll prove them wrong in time."

He smiled at her attempt to assure him, but it did little to relax the tension in his muscles that had formed since the morning. "I would hope so, but it has been my recent decisions that have caused them the most pause."

"Like what?" she asked.

"My new commitments to Earth in the midst of the approach of a large threat to Asgard, for one," he said. His temper remained cool, but she could hear a strain to his voice and sense pain he felt in his heart at his people's criticism. "They believe my attention is too divided to focus on our coming war and our own defenses; they've implored Odin to take this responsibility back from me for the sake of Asgard's wellbeing."

She sighed through her nose, knowing there was more to this than what he was saying, most likely having to do with her. "Well," she started uneasily, "how much power can they have over the prince?"

She was nervous she had overstepped her bounds, but his light chuckle eased her fear. "They own not much - and when I inherit rule, I will take some of what they have from them. However - the elders represent different groups of the people who rely on me. They will always have my ear, and I would lose all favor with my people if I disbanded them completely," he explained. "It is not the elders I so fear disappointing - it is the people for whom they've spoken."

"I don't know why you're worried. I think you've made some good decisions and - even if they can't appreciate it, Earth does. We would've been lost without you."

"Jane, every trouble I've cured, my brother has caused. Every fallen stone and shattered window on Earth - every death - is due to my own ignorance," he said.

She had nothing to offer to refute this argument. Her eyes fell to the ground. "What happened between you and your brother? You haven't told me everything, but judging by the way you talk about him, he's more than just a jealous sibling."

Thor realized she was right. She'd had one of the first to view the beginning of Loki's betrayal, but he had only shared pieces of the entire story. Loki had been a large part of his life and regardless of how reluctant Thor was to admit it, he still owned some influence over his decisions. "It's growing late - and it's a very long story."

"I like long stories," she said softly.

He could not help but match the smile on her lips. He suddenly felt even more regret over the fact that he'd lost an entire day of their ever-shortening time together. "I'm sorry for breaking my promise," he repeated.

"Thor - I've learned more about you here in these last few minutes than I would've all day at the bridge - and now I'm about to learn even more. This is why I came," she said playfully, "and we'll have time for the bridge later."

His blue eyes shined in the adoration he felt for her at that moment. He leaned over and kissed her gently, unable to show his true gratefulness through his words. Without hesitancy, he began his tale, beginning in his childhood, and the joyful memories he shared with his brother and family. He had been pained that morning by the loss of real company, someone he could share with who wasn't bound by loyalty to him, and someone who wouldn't patronize him or withhold criticism. Although losing Loki left a far bigger gap than anyone could ever fill in his life, Jane's was an ear he had sorely needed.

His breathing was slow and steady as it stirred around her shoulders and down her bare back. Sif found it very tempting to relax beside him, but she didn't want to sleep and jeopardize their secrecy should she stay too long. She debated on leaving despite her comfort. The return trip to her quarters would take a while and she was still recovering her energy from her trip to Jotunheim; staying any longer would only rob her of sleep. For the moment though, his bed was warm and soft, and she found herself pleased by his company after weeks of solitude among the cold people of Jotunheim. The irony didn't escape her that the body she found so comforting was one with Jotun blood flowing through its veins.

She turned around very carefully as not to wake him and watched him during his rare slumber. Even in sleep, his brow was set together and his lips curved into a deep frown, as though he felt his anger as intensely in his dreams as he did when he was awake. Despite his sour expression, he resembled more the man she'd known in her youth and less the race of giants with whom she'd spent her last few weeks. It was difficult to reconcile the two images into one. She tried to imagine traces of intricate, clan-specific scarring along blue skin and those horrible, red eyes staring back from his features, but the picture wasn't clear to her, nor did it seem natural on his face and form.

The dissonance caused by this thinking bothered her stomach, but not as much as her foolishness from earlier that night. With the fires of desire cooled, she was embarrassed by her earlier thoughts. She missed his attention, the weight of his body, and the way his want of her made her feel about herself - but he was still a traitor to everything she'd ever fought for; no pleasant feelings could ever exist for him that weren't driven by physical need or the pull of her own vanity.

Sensing her contemplative stare, he flinched and woke up, his green eyes filling with confusion for a moment before he was able to differentiate this reality from what he'd been dreaming.

"I should leave," she said.

"So early?" he asked with a tired sigh.

"Early? It's after midnight already."

He put his hand on her waist and pulled her hips closer to his. "If you would permit me a few minutes, I could make it worth your time."

She silently considered his offer for a moment. Despite her recent thoughts, a small smile spread over her lips. "I am spent," she answered, "and it would be less of a risk for me to leave in this dark hour."

His eyes reflected understanding, but he didn't respond. She rose from her position and sat on the side of the bed as she retrieved her clothing. He leaned up on his arm and traced his finger down the line of her spine. "Will you return tomorrow?"

"So soon?"

"I would have you every night."

She bit her lip and considered his words. "That sounds exhausting," she said with a light chuckle.

He laid back down with a sigh. "I would enjoy meeting the challenge," was his retort, "and I know you would find the energy somewhere."

"It could complicate things," she said honestly.

His frown deepened with concern as though he'd never considered it before. "If you continue to insist we sneak about like a couple of children, I suppose it could," he said. She rolled her eyes, ignoring his quip; he already knew the reasons she desired secrecy. "But the guards in front of my door are overconfident and you are a trusted Lady of Asgard. I doubt it would place you in any greater risk than what you've already wagered."

She pulled her pants over her hips, drawing his vision to the marks along her waist. Most had faded to yellow during her absence, but some were fresh. His earlier intention and efforts to avoid such bruises seemed unsuccessful. It disappointed him that he was such a failure at controlling his own fervency, but he had wanted her for a long time, and his initial excitement at finally having her had yet to diminish.

"Do those hurt?" he asked.

She pulled her shirt over her head and flipped her hair out from under her collar. "The bruises? Are you actually concerned?" she asked, turning to meet his eye before he answered.

He shook his head negatively and took his time to formulate his response. "As I said before, I'm thoughtful when it's beneficial to me. I ask only to avoid driving you away."

She raised an eyebrow. "If it impeded my pleasure, I would tell you," she answered.

He lowered his eyes, his brow furrowing in contemplation, though there seemed to be a shadow of insecurity in his eyes that she had thought a figment of her own imagination. "Would you be so forthcoming if there was a change to this routine of ours?"

The question had caught her by surprise. She hadn't thought he would be the type to care. "Why?" she asked, trying to maintain a tone of humor in her voice that would disguise her true suspicion. "Why is it so important for you to know in advance? Is it so you may plan ahead on how to use it to your advantage?"

He opened his mouth to argue, but found it difficult to contradict her subtle accusation. "No," he said with a trace of his grin. He leaned back on his pillow, realizing her questions would not have been satiated by his overly simple response. His mouth opened silently again as his brow arched and softened in a way she hadn't recently seen. As his original answer died on his lips, his scowl returned. "I can ignore this thirst for flesh for a very long time, if it's required of me. I have gone years without the warm form of another in my bed. Now that this has been roused from its dormancy, I wish only to know if I will be abandoned in this rut, or if I may look forward to these engagements in the future."

"Change can happen quickly, even in our long lives," she answered after some thought. "I will do what I can, but I have no guaranty and you have not earned the right to anything more than this vague promise."

He remained staring up at the ceiling, his lips curved downward as he refused to acknowledge or reply to her words. She sighed, partially in relief that he did not press further, and partially in frustration that he would offer nothing else. It was wrong of her to be angry with him for being this way; she knew ahead of time that he was far different from any other partner she'd taken. Still, he would make this confusion of hers easier if he would not be so suppressed. In some ways, his reticence was evidence that he was as guarded against her as she was of him - though since they were both constantly working against the other's best interest, this wasn't completely beyond understanding.

She could guess the motivation behind his request, but he offered no clue for confirmation. He felt his family had abandoned him during his time in his ally's company - and as erroneous as that perception was, he was, perhaps, trying to protect himself from feeling that pain once more. In their silence, the same question that had been in her recent thoughts pressed on her mind once again, but she was content now not to ask it. The very act of voicing such an inquiry would shatter the rules of this game, and it was far too enjoyable as it was to desire anything else.