The later the hour that passed, the more restless Jane became. She had gone to bed early that night, but despite her tired eyes, sleep would not come. The comforts of Asgard surrounded her, but there was a noticeable absence from these luxuries. She turned on her side with a groan of frustration, facing the empty space next to her. A very short time had passed since he'd first shared her bed, but she had grown accustomed to the weight of his body as it lie next to her and the sound of his breathing, finding it difficult to sleep without it.
Her disappointment in his absence wasn't necessarily due to any dependency on him, and it was this realization that kept her pride sated. It was more due to the fact that Asgard still felt foreign, strange, and in the subtlest of ways, unwelcoming; and in the few short weeks they'd spent together, Thor had become her sole comfort, and the only thing that had grown to feel familiar to her. She'd thought this quiet night alone would allow her time to think without distraction, but it did little but cause her greater confusion and make her impending choice even more challenging.
Thor wouldn't be with her at all that night; he had warned her that the ongoing affairs at court would monopolize his evening and would likely bleed into the early morning hours. Though their time together had grown impossibly short, the issues of his increasingly burdensome role were beginning to become difficult to ignore. That morning he had attended a council meeting, one he had been dreading for reasons he wouldn't share. He'd told her it was beyond her perspective, using the excuse that it focused on Asgardian happenings and foreign law, but for some reason, she believed there was more to it that remained hidden from her.
That meeting was immediately followed by a nearly last-minute away mission for Sif. Even though Jane wasn't very familiar with Jotunheim, their history, or of the perilous nature of the very planet itself, she inferred the danger involved. Thor had become somewhat pensive for a time in his worry for Sif while she was in the presence of the Frost Giants. It was one of the rare, short moments during her visit that Jane had fallen from the center of his attention.
A sickness appeared in her stomach at the thoughts that had followed and she hated the insecurity she had almost entertained. She was glad to be a friend to Sif, but the woman still intimidated her to some degree, even though it seemed unintentional. The warrior was a large part of Thor's life, and even if Jane made the decision to stay in Asgard, the memory of what Sif had been to him would always be there. This was just another of what had become a long list of obstacles in their path, but it was a large one.
Jane sighed and resigned to the fact that this new line of thought would keep her even further from sleep than she already was. She got up, dressed, and left her apartment, deciding to burn this energy in a walk.
The halls of the palace seemed unending in her solitude and the silence of midnight. The quiet was almost deafening to her; not a single soul could be found stirring along the paths down to the base of the castle, the only occupants being the motionless sentries posted near the crossways and in front of important entryways. None of them interfered with her, or asked her what business she would have at such an hour. However, she could feel their eyes fixed on her, watching her intently as she walked by. Many Asgardians had a friendly demeanor towards her in public, and even those who hadn't hidden their disapproval had grown tolerant of her presence in the halls. This didn't change the fact that she was still an outsider and a stranger in their home.
She continued from the palace, walking out to the dark, clear skies. There were few things in life more comfortable to her than a blanket of stars, even though the constellations were unfamiliar. The wide open skies painted in shades of greens, pinks, and blues welcomed her; her spirits began to lift, and the plethora of unpleasant thoughts that had stolen her rest had cleared from her mind. This is what she'd needed, she realized, scolding herself once again for her earlier doubts. She simply required space, enough to think and consider the options lying before her.
A glow appeared just beyond the nearest outer gate of the city and she realized she was near the Rainbow Bridge. Thor had briefly shown her the iconic road once and explained how it worked to defend Asgard from invading forces. She debated on turning back to her quarters, but her curious nature drove her forward; she desired to study its strange properties once again, without his pleasantly distracting form nearby.
The colors within the crystalline structure echoed the hues in the night sky, reminding her of the Auroras back on Earth. Her mind ventured tangentially to thoughts of Asgard's connection with her own world and she wondered how many other subtle likenesses there were, even despite their great distance from each other. As she stepped onto the path, she could hear the faint, but wonderful sound of a chime, which sounded again from her subsequent steps. With a smile on her lips and a child-like mind, she tried varying the weight of her steps, her stride, and her pace, observing in wonderment how the tone changed along with the intensity of the flash that occurred with every impact.
Her scientific mind had distracted her, and as she thought about the composition of the bridge, the physics keeping it impossibly airborne, the stars above her, and the relationship between science and magic in this strange place, time had passed her by. The eastern sky began to warm and glow with twilight. She had been away all night. Once again, she considered going back. Although she was mostly trusted to her own devices within the city's walls, she didn't want to worry Thor when he came to find her for their normal morning date.
She had gone far enough out onto the bridge to see the end, near the broken shards that stood as evidence to the destruction of the Bifrost and Thor's battle with Loki. The drop off from beyond that point could barely be seen on the horizon, but she could distinguish what was literally the edge of their world. The waters of the sea roared as though they spilled over the edge in a violent fall, the colored clouds of gas seemed to move faster as the eye followed them to the horizon. As though the Asgardians still hoped to commemorate the Bifrost, they had placed a metal statue at the end of the road; it stared out into space, standing guard in place of the fallen passage. Her natural inquisitiveness worked against her better mind and she went forward. If the edge could hold such a large, heavy figure, it could certainly hold her smaller frame.
She approached the edge timidly; her legs suddenly grew weak as her mind continued to speculate about what mysterious force held the bridge in place without support or anchor. These fears were superseded by other wonders as she peered over the broken edges of the bridge, watching the waters as they poured endlessly into an ocean of empty space. She held the statue's arm for stability and leaned out as far as she dared from the edge. There was simply nothing beneath her and the physics-defying bridge on which she stood, no solid ground, ocean floor, or even an end to her line of sight. The strange view in combination with what she knew to be true of the science of physics did something unexpected to her equilibrium. She recoiled slightly as her stomach swam and her head spun.
"You may want to steady yourself. If you fell in, you would be sent to a place where it would be impossible for your kind to survive."
At the sound of the deep voice so close to her ear, Jane jumped in a start, nearly falling back in the process. The "statue" had spoken, but it had taken her a moment to realize this, as his rich tone seemed to echo around her, despite the emptiness of space surrounding them.
"I didn't - didn't see you there," she said, catching her breath.
"A strange falsity," he spoke, "since you supported yourself from my arm just a moment ago."
She sighed nervously. "I meant - I didn't realize… Who are you?" she asked.
He was unlike any other Asgardian she'd met thus far, and his manner struck her as strange, even in a realm full of characters who acted like exaggerations of themselves. He had been perfectly still during the entire time he was within her view, not unlike the Einherjar, but even they breathed, turned their heads, and shifted their weight occasionally. He stood tall and strong, his golden armor shining proudly just as the figures of the great, fallen soldiers on display within the palace. It was no wonder she had assumed him to be an inanimate statue. Despite having heard him speak, she still wasn't completely certain he was a living being. He finally turned to look down towards her, however, revealing his very real features.
"I am Heimdall, Gatekeeper of Asgard."
Now that she knew he was real, his size and demeanor unsettled her greatly. "Thor's mentioned you," she said.
"I am certain he has, Jane Foster of Midgard," he said, his voice unwavering from its stoic tone. "I expressed great opposition to your admittance into Asgard."
She stumbled over the words she had originally planned to speak; small-talk and informal chitchat didn't seem appropriate after a confrontation with a being she could only describe as noble, but terrifying. Actually, she had heard nothing of his disagreements with her arrival. Thor had spoken only of Heimdall's great power and his ability to see the branches of Yggdrasil down to nearly every world, even those that were darkened to Odin's own eye. He was one of Asgard's greatest defenses and had been instrumental in bringing Thor back from Earth. Considering the prince's high praise, his unabashed, unapologetic cynicism of her was a little surprising. "Why?" she asked after her thoughts settled. "What would someone like you have to worry about from me?"
"Are you certain you wish to know?" he asked.
She hesitated, but answered truthfully. "Yes, I do. I've been sheltered. Only one person has been honest with me and Thor censored her the moment she opened her mouth so it wouldn't sway my choice. I know I won't like your answer, but at least tell me what I'm really up against."
He narrowed his eyes slightly and examined her and her direct reply for legitimacy. "You are a stranger to this realm. As such, you are an unwelcome distraction to our people and to the prince at a time of uncertainty, when Asgard would be better served by preparing for war than entertaining guests."
"I didn't really have a say in the timing…"
"What I've spoken is not yet the entirety of the truth," he said. She grew quiet and he continued. "It is thought by some that a betrothal between the heir apparent and a Midgardian would weaken the Allfather's line. Our people are very proud of the strength of our realm. Your mortal blood would serve only to dilute what Odin has built," he explained.
She crossed her arms defensively and took an instinctive step back. Sif's confrontation had been harsher and more emphatic, but although she intimidated her, she had no measure to the height and nearly oppressive stature of the warrior before her now. "I've heard this before. But Sif…"
"Sif's words were born from an irrational attachment to one who owns no attachment to her," he started. "I have no such bias. Though my eyes have been turned from Asgard to the outer branches of Yggdrasil, I can see division spreading amongst our people. Thor has been charged with answering to the council for this very reason."
"Are you sure you have no bias?" she asked, daring to meet his stare, which was quite a feat considering their difference in height. "You said you never wanted me here - only because you and your people are operating on millennium-old presuppositions about humanity. You made up your minds about me before I'd even agreed to come, but what chance have I had since then to prove my own strength to you? For someone who's able to see so far, you're being myopic."
He remained silent for a moment, though she wasn't sure if this was because he was surprised or impressed with her argument, or if it was because he was losing patience with the discussion. He remained completely stoic, making it impossible for her to understand him. "Are you prepared to face the consequences of your persistence, Jane Foster?" He continued, further explaining what he had meant in his vague question. "You will soon face the trials required before you can receive the gift of Idunn. If you should pass these tests, even your quietest opposition will begin to raise their voice against your union with Thor and you will see how deep the rift within our world truly lies. You would put Thor in the center of this contest - on the eve of his coronation with a looming threat upon our doorstep. Are you willing to compromise the love and loyalty of his people for your own purposes? Will you take your place next to his throne knowing that you would have been responsible for the only civil disruption Asgard has experienced in the age of Odin's rule? How then, would you feel if this occurred in the midst of war and threatened Earth's defense as well as our own?"
"You're exaggerating," she said, though her eyes betrayed her uncertainty.
"I have no reason to," he argued without a change in his tone. "I only wish to reveal to you an unavoidable part of your future, should you remain here."
She wanted to argue further, but she found it impossible. This man was like a stone wall in every aspect, and she felt like an ant trying to move it from its foundation with her arguments. His tone had remained as steady and hard as his posture, and she saw the futility in continuing any longer. Exhaustion finally began to settle into her mind and body for various reasons. She hesitated, but turned and began her long walk back to the palace without another word.
It was late in the morning by the time she finally arrived back at her temporary apartment, as she had no encouragement to quicken the pace of her return. Her fatigue from a sleepless night and the strain of her thoughts had drained her remaining energy. She opened the door to her quarters expecting him to be there, but she was still almost disappointed to find him waiting for her.
"Where have you been?" he asked. Her tired state worried him, but not as much as her absence from her quarters all morning.
"I couldn't sleep, so I went for a walk," she began truthfully. "I wanted to see the bridge again."
"You look like you could use some rest," he said, rubbing her arms gently. "Lay down; I'll arrange for some food…"
"Take me home, Thor," she said suddenly. His smile fell slowly and he opened his mouth to speak, but the mist quickly gathering in her eyes caused him pause. "No more excuses or false hopes. We both know this isn't working."
"Your words - they have a sense of permanence to them," he said quietly. His expression dimmed and her heart ached for being the cause.
She sighed. "I thought I could adapt, but Asgard is so strange and extreme. Even my dreams have been dire and dramatic. I feel small here, like a burden to you and to everyone who needs you, and I don't think it's fair for any of us right now."
He reached up to brush a stray lock of hair from her cheek and she held his hand there, leaning into his calloused palm. "You went to the bridge. Did you - speak with Heimdall?" he surmised.
She nodded. "I know what you're thinking," she said. "Yes, he did tell me about the controversy I've caused and all of the people who want me to leave because they think I'd fail them somehow if you and I were together - but for what it's worth, I think they're wrong. They have no idea what I'm capable of when I want something." He smiled softly at the strength she showed in these words; she reciprocated, though the sadness in her eyes remained. "But Asgard's not ready for this challenge yet - and neither am I."
"I never meant to imply that decision had to be made right at this moment," he argued. "That was never a requirement…"
"But that's what they expect," she said, interrupting him, "and I don't blame them. You're about to be king, and you have a war ahead of you. Your people look to you for security and stability and - I've done nothing but bring the opposite of that to your life."
"I don't agree," he said firmly.
"I'm sorry," she said adamantly. "When Sif confronted me on that first night, I realized this trip meant more to you than I thought. She was right - I should've told you then that I wasn't prepared for this. She only ever wanted me to be honest, but I was swept up by this world - by you - and I guess I didn't want to acknowledge the truth."
"I wouldn't have heard you, regardless. I suppose I was immersed in denial as well," he said with a deep sigh. "It will be tomorrow, at the earliest - maybe a little longer. The portal device is off world until then." His eyes fell to the ground as his shoulders sank, giving her the distinct impression there was something else he was hiding from her.
She nodded and bit her bottom lip, nervous about asking what she needed to next. "Have I missed my chance? Was Sif right about that, too?"
He pulled her into a gentle hug and put his nose to her hair, inhaling deeply before he gave his answer. "I'm not one to concede so easily to defeat."
She closed her eyes, relishing the security of his arms. "Me neither."
The golden halls of the palace faded to silver ice; blue sky darkened to black. The air grew frigid around her, immediately breaking through the fur lining of her thick coat. Her lungs burned as she inhaled, feeling her breath catch in her chest at the sudden cold. She would not feel warmth again for some time, but she wrapped her layers tightly around herself and walked on without complaint in service of her king.
As she entered the decimated ruins of their capital, she could feel the eyes of dozens staring at her, thoroughly examining her as they whispered and laughed to each other. Their forms concealed by darkness, she could only imagine their sneering smiles and their fiery eyes narrowed in malicious curiosity.
"We expected your return," a low voice spoke from the shadows, "but this is much too soon." She recognized the speaker as a liaison of sorts who had been assigned to communicate with her when all others had refused.
"My king has ordered me here on additional matters. I shall implore your steward to hear me once more."
The liaison stepped out into the faint starlight and approached her. He was very short for a Frost Giant, but he still towered above her. She fought the reflex to step back, knowing that even a small sign of submission to anyone other than their steward would weaken her stature and compromise her mission.
"I do not anticipate he will want your company," he spoke slowly, as though he carefully planned each word before speaking. "You may have done more for your purpose if you had stayed in Asgard."
"I cannot go against the Allfather's will. The steward will see me, or I shall burden your people with my presence until this planet's death," she said firmly.
The figures hidden in the darkness laughed quietly at the audacity of her insistence. "Such large words for a small woman," he said, though he didn't add his voice to the dull hum of laughter coming from the perimeter. "I will see what can be done."
After her initial visit, Sif was used to the slow "hospitality" of the Jotuns. The liaison's words implied he would help, but it would be a day - maybe several before she was granted an audience with the steward himself. Sif knew nothing of the cause for this treatment, as she was rather ignorant regarding the customs of their people. However, she could not abate her suspicion that it was a passive-aggressive measure caused by their cynicism of Asgard and their presuppositions towards her sex.
Faced with her presence until her request for audience was met, the liaison escorted her to her previous accommodations - a flimsy tent and a hollow crevasse for a fire in front of a wall of stone that blocked most of the wind. She carried her own provisions, which included enough food for a week if she rationed herself, and a mat that would inadequately insulate her from the cold, hollow crust of their planet. She was content to follow her duties, even if they led her to such circumstances, but she could not deny that she missed the soft warmth of the feathery beds in Asgard already. Perhaps, she wondered, she had been too far from struggle for too long.
Day turned into night as her wait continued, though the sky didn't change but for the movement of faint stars. She tried to sleep, but even though her mind dreamed sporadically and her eyes closed, she could hardly find real rest. The flicker and pop of firelight startled her awake. She opened her eyes to find the liaison prodding a fresh fire that had been dead only moments before. Without question, she left her tent and sat in front of the flame, removing her gloves so she could warm her hands.
"Do you have an answer for me?" she asked, trying her best to keep from revealing her shuddering jaw in her speech.
"The steward refuses to grant you an audience until he knows the reason for your return. What is it you want?"
She sighed. "If I relay it through you, he will never see me. If I can't give him context, face-to-face, he will reject our terms without consideration," she argued.
"Then you will continue to wait. He is curious about your purpose, but he enjoys your suffering more."
"I can wait," she said adamantly.
"Can you?" he asked doubtfully, his face set in stoic stone as he examined her. "The cold has already soaked your skin. Your people were not intended to endure this climate but for short spells."
She couldn't argue. She shifted even closer to the flame, near enough for her clothes to catch, if she was not careful. The flames burned and stung her skin, but they failed to warm. Nothing beyond Asgard's star could comfort her. "Why did you rekindle my fire?" she asked. "I thought your people were comfortable here."
"We are," he answered, "but you were shivering so hard in your sleep, I thought you had fallen ill." She looked up at him questioningly, her eyes betraying her distrust before she could disguise it. He laughed heartily, his deep, resounding voice nearly caused her ears to ache as it echoed off the stone wall behind them. "Cynicism abounds on both sides, it seems," he started. "Are you so ignorant towards our people that you believe we would ignore the suffering of another for the sake of spite?"
"Did you not just tell me the steward enjoys my misery? What else am I to think?" she asked.
"The steward was a childhood friend and kin to King Laufey. He hates the Allfather and every one of his subjects," he explained. "It may be the prominent opinion in your realm, but even you must understand that we are not all alike. There are hateful Jotuns as there are hateful Asgardians, but as often as you find kindness in each other, so do we. We express it differently, perhaps, than your soft race, but it is not our responsibility to justify our actions to you or to your king."
Many questions ran through her mind at that moment, but her duty didn't justify her asking any of them. A sense of humiliation rose within her stomach, and though she had said nothing, she felt a bit ashamed. She was given the rare opportunity to speak with a Frost Giant earnestly about his people in order to build a better understanding that may help inspire peace - yet she could think of nothing to ask that wasn't the result of some curiosity about the man whose bed she shared.
"If you feel I'm ignorant, then educate me," she said adamantly.
He laughed. "Teaching spoiled children is not my duty. You would waste my time and yours with such a fruitless activity."
"You are the acting liaison here," she argued. "It is your duty to communicate between your steward and myself and I am certain there are some things he would want me to know before I present our next proposal."
"What is it you wish to hear?" he asked lowly.
She had hoped he would take control of the discussion. She wasn't prepared to answer him. "Tell me what Jotunheim is like outside of war and the turmoil of your current state," she said. "I've never heard of your history beyond the Great Wars. Perhaps therein lies a commonality between our peoples."
He sighed heavily. At first she thought it odd; she had never seen a reaction so typical of Asgard in a Jotun. However, she had seen such casual expressions on Loki hundreds of times, and so she knew the Jotuns were capable of frivolity and levity, though their circumstances hardly allowed it. Once again, dissonance seized her as she tried to reconcile the very real fact that the being sitting with her was closer a kin to Loki than anyone she had ever known.
"Very well. I will tell you of Jotunheim in a time outside of war," he stared, "though it has been generations since any has seen it."
"Thank you," she said, recognizing his concession.
"Jotunheim has always been dark and cold, but it was never the wasteland you see before you now until the Casket of Infinite Winters was taken by your king. Our land had not yet broken into the risen, jagged shards that tear our flesh as we walk upon it. Instead of hills of ashen grey and plains as black as night, our world was covered in soft blankets of white. Our proud cities shined like azure gems in the midst of diamonds. When the ice and snow lay undisturbed, the starlight would reflect so clearly, one almost felt as though they were moving through the heavens themselves.
"We had children here, many younglings who would laugh, play, and learn their arts upon our icy plains. They grew knowing that they had any of many futures lying before them - not this hopelessness that consumes our realm today. Now, our women have stopped bearing offspring. With no future, our world has resigned to its death. This is the only version of Jotunheim you have seen, but I assure you, it is nothing but a dim shade of what we once were."
Even as he spoke, she could hear the distant crumbling of structures and landscapes as the world slowly fell apart around them. This place had seemed eternally miserable to her from the moment she had first stepped foot on it only a short time before, but now she felt a sadness for it, and mourned its eventual, unavoidable passing.
"My words eulogize the realm all Jotuns know, the home we hold onto, even though it is on the brink of death. Hope has long abandoned us, but we will not easily abandon Jotunheim."
"That is foolishness," she said, "and suicide."
"It is love," he argued, "if you would understand it better in your limited terms."
She was honestly astonished at his choice of words and chortled in reaction. "I would say it's closer to obsession."
"Is there a difference?"
She scoffed. "Love would mean appreciating the world you have while you have it, and recognizing that it will soon be gone. Value what you had here and move on and don't allow selfishness to drive you to want something impossible; staying too long will avail you nothing but death."
He shook his head. "You underestimate our dedication, and so perhaps our worlds do have different understandings of love. Even if the Casket was returned, there is nothing we could do to mend Jotunheim's wounds, yet we remain and tend to it however we can. Some of us would be content to leave - to attempt to dominate another world, as we once challenged Midgard, in order to mend the pain of losing ours. But there are those like myself that are content to die here."
She smiled wryly and turned her gaze to the fire. "So that is love to a Jotun…" she observed. "I think I'm beginning to understand - though I am not certain I wanted to."
Her latter words confused him, but they seemed directed towards an entity he did not know, so he paid them no mind. "Now that I have met your request, will you meet mine? Tell me of your objective."
"I was ordered to offer extraction for your people to another world. The king wanted me to arrange transport from Jotunheim, possibly to Niflheim, as there are other Frost Giants and the climate's similar."
He shook his head. "Then your efforts are futile," he said. "We have not been one with those clans in ages and Niflheim is a poor substitution."
Her shoulders sank. "I know that now," she said quietly, "but I will not defy the Allfather's orders. Your steward will hear me before I leave this place."
A low noise came from his throat, an expression she didn't understand, but seemed as though it conveyed puzzlement and perhaps annoyance. "You know your argument is worthless, yet you still demand to present it," he said. "We are not so different, Asgardian."
"Apparently not," she agreed with a subtle smile.
He laughed softly. "If a short story could mend such ignorance, it is a wonder our two realms have been at war for so long." She had no retort, though the tails of their destructive actions against the weaker realms and their invasion of Earth flittered through her mind. "The ignorance is not yours to bear on your own, however," he continued, echoing her unspoken thoughts. "You will get your meeting with our steward; you have my word - but do not expect much in the way of victory."
"Thank you," she said sincerely, "that's all I ask."
The liaison was true to his word. Less than half a day after his promise, she was ushered into the palace to face the steward with Odin's proposal. Her reception was as cold as always, the faces of those who had gathered as icy and impenetrable as the frozen crust of their decaying world. She could hear their low voices whispering as she entered. Though she couldn't discern their exact words, the occasional sound of laughter rose above the silence. They didn't respect her, and it would be nearly impossible to convince them that she was worthy of it.
The steward raised his hand and the voices of those hiding in the shadows ceased abruptly. "My liaison has told me you've brought an interesting offer from the Allfather," he began, a note of humor in his voice she rarely heard in the dark tone of the Jotuns. "If you plan on surviving in this realm, I would advise you to save your energy and avoid fruitless propositions of peace with Asgard. We accepted your last offer to satisfy your insistence, but we have no interest in playing these games any longer."
"Have you already been made aware of my purpose here?" she asked sharply, impatient with his ignorant words.
He leaned back in his lower throne, unsure about this female, who appeared even more calloused than some of his own warriors. "No, my liaison has not shared the offer itself, only your bid for audience."
"Then hear me and I will be satisfied," she said. The steward nodded and yielded the floor. "Odin Allfather implores you to relocate your people off this planet." The crowd began to make noise again, and the steward himself chuckled. She raised her voice and began again, ignoring the slight. "Asgard would provide you with a way to transport your remaining population and supplies for settling."
"Even if I humored this request, how would Asgard move us? What exists that could transport so many since the Bifrost has been destroyed? Odin possesses no such power himself."
She planned her response carefully. She had been told she was allowed to discuss the portal device she used to get there and return for the sake of transparency, but it was heavily implied and easily understood that she should be cautious not to mention the Tesseract by its known name, or divulge its vast capacity for power. "The device that transported me here contains a mere sliver of dark energy from a technology Asgard has recently reacquired. Using the full supply of the original object, it will be possible to move your population safely."
"Of what object do you speak? Tell me of its power so I may ensure our safety."
She furrowed her brow, seeing through his attempt immediately. "My apologies, but you must take our word regarding its stability. I believe my repeated use of it should be evidence enough for you."
The steward exhaled sharply. "To which realm would the Allfather send us?"
"Midgard is protected and Asgard would be disastrous for both of our peoples. Any other realm could be considered, but Niflheim seems as though it would be your best option. We could…"
"Enough," the steward interrupted. "To entertain this preposterous suggestion any longer would only waste time. This kind act supplied by the Allfather is merely a smokescreen for control and we will not have it."
"It is not for control or subjugation that we bring this offer to you. You are a suicidal fool to insist on staying here as your world falls to pieces," she firmly argued, though she used care to avoid raising her voice. A show of emotion would not avail success in an audience such as this. "We know our past relationship with your people has been tumultuous at best. We merely wish to make amends for the wrongs done on both our parts and begin anew."
The steward smirked maliciously. Once again, her thoughts were pulled away from the focus of her mission. It was in those cold lips and sardonic smile that she saw the first resemblance to their stolen prince. She shook these thoughts from her mind, setting herself firmly on the issue at hand.
"If your words are true to your heart, then give us the device of which you speak. Allow us to decide what is best for our people and move them where we see fit."
"You know this demand lacks reason," she said, hoping he would not infer from her secrecy the true power of the cube.
"Then suggest a counteroffer," he said in a growl.
"There is nothing we have that would do you any good other than what I have already…"
"Bring us the one who has caused us so much harm. Allow us to do with him as we please - and drag his body down to the great depths of Yggdrasil as we go too."
His words caused a chill down her spine; his pure hatred dripped from every syllable and seemed to echo those of his people who had gathered with him. A dull roar rose from the shadows in agreement and support of their brazen steward. "The Allfather would never surrender himself to…"
"Do not think us so vain or naïve to expect the great Odin to forfeit his life to us," he said. "I speak of the one who betrayed King Laufey, the wayward prince who lured us with a tale of his own treachery and the promise of reclaiming the Casket of Infinite Winters."
"Loki..?"
"He has betrayed the house of Odin as much as ours. I imagine you will find our request easy to comply with."
She would have been content to return with this offer a few months before and allow Loki to perish with the Jotuns. Now, she felt a bias in her heart towards one whose warm body had made her feel more value for herself than she'd experienced since her youth. "You speak of a traitor, but do not forget, he is also Odin's son. The Allfather will not lightly give him to his enemies, regardless of his trespasses against Asgard."
"Then whatever it is he seeks from us - power, submission, forgiveness - will not be given," he said firmly. "It is better for you to leave us now. I cannot keep my men from expressing their hostility towards Asgard for long; you are their nearest champion - and you are alone here."
She stepped forward to argue, but the liaison subtly waived her back from beyond the steward's view. She heeded the warning and though her eyes remained fixed on the steward's in a hard stare, she dropped her argument. "I will leave, as you have requested, but know that the window on the Allfather's offer closes swiftly. If any of your people wish to leave, you owe it to them to give them that opportunity and soon."
The steward did not reply, but crossed his arms defiantly against her insistence. She walked briskly out of their palace, back to the makeshift shelter against the foot of the stone wall. She wasn't followed, but she could feel the rising blood lust of the Jotuns as they watched her depart. It was no longer safe for her, and because of the rising threat, she would have to face Odin with two pieces of bad news. Once she was back in her tent, she packed quickly, driven by her anger and sense of failure in herself. She didn't hear the sound of approaching footsteps.
"Are you still here?" asked a loud, low voice from outside of her tent.
Panic rose in her chest before she recognized the source as the only ally she had made in her stay. "Yes," she said, ducking out of her tent. "I will soon open the portal, but I cannot hurry any more than I am."
"You were easily angered by the steward's response," he observed.
"I am angry at myself," she answered truthfully, "for I have failed in two regards. The Allfather's proposal has been denied - and I have overstayed my welcome, likely never to be allowed here again."
"You are only partially correct," the liaison said. "Those closest to the steward have grown curious and restless with your presence. I cannot guaranty your safety if you return alone again."
"Odin's proposal…"
"The steward will not accept it as it is, but he has decided to open the option to his people, so they may decide for themselves. I would not celebrate a victory; many will choose to remain here. However I would not count it as a loss either."
Her shoulders dropped and a subtle, relieved smile crossed her features. "Did you have something to do with his change of mind?"
"I offered small counsel," he said. "Your tenacity is what impressed him."
"I thank you for the help you've given me. I don't even know your name."
"'Liaison' is fair and good enough for your purposes. In trade for my help, I trust you to inform us if there is deceit in this offer."
"I give you my word," she said with a slight bow. "You will know all that I know."
"I will remind you that an Asgardian's word means little to us. There will be little I can do to protect your if you show a lack in integrity," he warned.
"Thank you, Liaison," she said. "I will bear that in mind."
Another long tour of the frozen realm of Jotunheim had ended and Sif returned to Asgard gratefully, ready for the warmth and light of its sun and its people. She was committed to her duty and felt honored for the opportunity to prove herself with such a responsibility, but she grew steadily weary of ice and the sort of chill that caused even her bones to ache within her limbs. If she were ever to fall ill, she knew this charge would be its cause; no body was designed to freeze and defrost so often as hers had in her preceding visits to the lonely ice planet.
Thor was once again present to meet her at the portal and welcome her return; his relentless protectiveness of her was evidenced in his worried features and the lines that graced his normally youthful features. He looked aged and wise, more like his father than she had ever seen before, but she would not admit this to him, for fear it would be taken in the wrong context, or seen as a sentimental effort to reclaim what had been lost. Instead, she simply offered her report, including what the Frost Giants' steward had heard, what he considered for compromise, and what he held to stubbornly.
Thor weighed her words carefully, considering the implications of their actions and the Jotun's counteroffer. He was silent during her report, interrupting her only once for clarification. It was a sure sign of maturity that he resisted his likely urge to lash out at their stubborn reaction, or to complain to her of the senselessness of their decision. She wondered what his judgment was on their request for Loki; he had done nothing to win his favor back during his return to Asgard, and had only further tested the patience of the Allfather and his heir.
"What are your thoughts?" she asked after some pensive silence.
He looked up at her, his mind obviously consumed with what could be done and what the consequences would be if he chose either path. "We could use this to our advantage," he offered.
"Against Jotunheim?" she asked in confusion.
"No." His eyes were cast uncharacteristically towards the ground. "My father will be pleased as I am that you have made the progress you did considering their obstinate attitudes. I am relieved to hear some may be willing to accept our offer; we will allow the others to face their decomposition in peace. My aim is towards a different target. Call my brother from his quarters - and what of the Three are on duty."
For a moment, she knew beyond a doubt that he was planning on playing a bluff. It is what Loki would do if their positions were switched. However, the tone of his voice spoke differently regarding his thoughts and intentions. She wondered if he was less predictable than he had been before Loki's betrayal, or if this was just another empty threat made in desperate hope for cooperation.
"You aren't actually considering..."
"Trust my purpose in this, Sif," he said quietly.
She did what she was told, taking only a few moments to change from her layers of coats and warm herself before fetching the others. Fandral was the only one on duty near the palace, and she made arrangements to meet him to escort Loki. Even though she was loyal to Thor, a shadow of concern and a question grew within her about this effort. Perhaps Loki's influence had begun to wear off on her, but she saw the attempt as pointless and doubted it would do any good.
Fandral said very little in protest of the sudden interruption to his day, though he obviously held some curiosity about the Thor's sudden summoning of his brother. It wasn't until they arrived at Loki's door that he finally spoke. "Am I to be privy to this meeting?" he asked. "Or shall I take my leave when we arrive?"
Sif shrugged lightly. "I know nothing of Thor's intentions beyond his discussion of my objective on Jotunheim. Thor's thoughts on the matter are - very mysterious to me at the moment."
She knocked heavily on Loki's door. "Enter," he said with some annoyance; he didn't appreciate surprise visitors - unless they were the type to crawl in through his window at night, searching for something more from him than information. His mood lifted slightly when he saw Sif walk through his doorway, a wicked smile appearing on his lips as his tongue readied some snarky remark or question regarding her appearance there in the middle of the day. His smirk dropped, however, when Fandral entered after her; for her sake, Loki abandoned his quip as well. "What do you want?" he asked lowly. He rarely saw the warriors, with the exception of Sif and the archer-voyeur that perched himself regularly outside of his window. The appearance of two of them most likely indicated he was about to be moved.
"Thor has summoned you to the palace. We're here to escort you to him," Sif answered.
"Wouldn't it be easier on everyone if he just came to me?" he asked dryly, though he knew the answer already. Thor wanted him in heavy chains, bound with his mask, and paraded through the palace. This humiliation - an attack on his pride, was an effort to weaken his resolve and relieve him of his normal desire to play his games. If Loki were honest, he would admit it was a wise tactic against one such as himself.
Neither Fandral or Sif entertained his question. Instead, the warrior pulled out the mask Loki had hoped to never see again and stepped towards him cautiously. Loki immediately stepped away and raised his arms. "You know you will never leave these quarters without this," Fandral argued. "I will have the guards hold you down, if necessary."
"Then let her put it on. A woman's touch - is so much more delicate than yours."
Fandral scoffed and looked to Sif for support, but instead, she nodded and held out her hand. He compromised and allowed her to satisfy Loki's request, and as she approached their prisoner, he began to poke curiously around the odd artwork displayed in Loki's chambers.
Loki watched the other man carefully to ensure his eyes were away from him and Sif. When he was certain of this, he grabbed her hips gingerly and pulled her against him. She hid a gasp and looked back in panic towards Fandral, who had been ignorant of the movement and of the intimate position of Loki's hands on her waist.
She pulled at his fingers, glaring at him as she silently pleaded for release. His smile returned. "Where have you been?" he asked, leaning down towards her mouth and ignoring her dangerous stare.
She pulled back from him and looked again towards Fandral, who was still well distracted by the pewter and gold figures on Loki's table. "On a mission," she hissed quietly from behind gritted teeth.
"To Jotunheim," he surmised. He had experienced her dreams once again during the nadir of her struggle with the frigid temperatures and treacherous company, but the vision had remained vague images, and lacked the realism it once held when he was present within her mind. His connection with her was finally fading, but it was not yet fully severed. "Is that why Thor has called me?"
"You will know soon enough," she said, firmly pushing him back. He willingly sat in a chair behind him and allowed her to secure the mask around his mouth. The guards brought in the chains Fandral had requested, and she began to secure his hands and feet so he could not move much beyond his normal walking stride.
"Shall we keep these for later?" he asked teasingly.
She glowered at him, thankful that Fandral's hearing was no better than average. "Continue this game and there will be no 'later,'" she quietly snapped.
He smiled brilliantly at her response, partially because it fit well with his antagonistic nature, but mostly because it meant she had plans for that night - a doubt he'd considered since she had left on her second errand. As he stood, he grew nearer to her again. Though his hands were bound and his mouth covered, she was still unnerved by her body's reaction to his scent, his warmth, and the way his deep green eyes bore into hers.
To Sif's relief, Fandral and a handful of Einherjar ushered him away without further word or incident. The party was quick and silent as they moved through the grounds, save the rattle of Loki's chains and the armor of those that followed. Once they entered the palace, however, that abruptly changed.
Under his mask, Loki frowned deeply as they made their way down the long corridors and up the levels towards Odin's Hall. Fandral was leading and he had considerably slowed their pace. The crowds of people who were normally in the palace stopped and stared, gaping at the image of the fallen prince chained and leashed like a rabid animal. Fandral was giving them time to appreciate the view; he was putting Loki on display.
"Why didn't you take us along the back route? It's more direct," Sif remarked.
"We have plenty of time," Fandral answered casually.
Loki sighed impatiently; Sif responded on his behalf. "We could move faster."
Fandral chuckled dryly, unwilling to quicken his steps. "We could..."
Loki caught Sif's eye and with a dark, furrowed brow, silently implored her for assistance. There was not much help she was willing to offer him, but she happened to agree with him on this point. "Fandral, there are still those within the court that want him dead. This pace and public view could prove hazardous."
"That's why we're with him," he replied. He winked at her, falsely assuming she would find humor in his jest. She rolled her eyes, but allowed the argument to rest. They were nearly to the top at this point anyway, and Loki should've been prepared for this treatment from Fandral, who could be just as antagonistic as he could at times.
Loki was surprised to find Odin's Hall empty and silent, as he thought this is where the main act would've taken place. Instead, they took him to one of the adjacent, private conference rooms, where Fandral began adjusting his restrains so he could be secured to a heavy chair. "So," he began in his over-confident, most self-assured tone, "when will you tell us about the poor whelp you've lately dragged into your bed?"
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "That isn't your business."
"They've been sneaking through the defenses around your chambers. That's a breach of security, which makes it my business," he retorted.
"Fandral, stop," Sif spoke, attempting to sound unaffected, "I thought we agreed I would handle this."
"We did," he said, looking back at her briefly to flash an easy smile, "but perhaps this is something he would feel more comfortable speaking about with another male." He knelt down in front of the chained prince and met his eyes with the same icy, malicious stare Loki himself often displayed. "You can be honest with me, Loki," he started in a whisper. "Is it a man in disguise? A prostitute?" Loki lurched towards him violently, and though his chair popped with strain on the metal and wood, his chains held.
"Fandral…" Sif warned again.
"I won't judge you," he resumed, ignoring Sif. "Perhaps it is simply a woman no other man would have. Such a decent act should be shared, not kept secret."
"Please..." she had gone to pleading.
Loki chuckled lowly, a mischievous look in his eyes so dark, Fandral would surely have a dagger in his neck if it weren't for his restraints. Words travelled from the back of his mind to the tip of his tongue as he thought of the most delicious way to reveal to the warrior that his childhood friend, a woman he had fought with, grown with, and loved more than his own kin, was the one he slandered so grossly. However, his glare left Fandral for only a moment, and fell instead on Sif. Her eyes were alight with panic and fear. She silently begged him to stop, her quiet desperation more intense than anything he had seen in her passionate brown eyes. The words he had planned died on his lips; no matter the pleasure it would bring him, he could not betray her in this manner. "Speaking of prostitutes," he said, his smirk returning to his lips. "How does your mother fare these days? Please send her my regards."
Fandral stood abruptly, anger rising in a rush of blood to his cheeks. He looked as though he was about to strike him, but he resisted, a small chuckle rose from his throat instead. Sif exhaled in relief. "Your wit strikes again," Fandral said casually. "I will have to settle our score later, when you may defend yourself more fairly."
"It seems I'd do just fine as I am."
"What is going on?" Thor asked. He had heard the end of the exchange, and while he knew the propensity of Loki to antagonize others for fun, he did not take kindly to Fandral's threat.
"Nothing," Fandral said casually, "just friendly banter."
Thor looked at Sif for confirmation. She scoffed at Fandral's words, but said nothing, simply grateful that Loki had held his tongue. The prince decided to drop the issue and held his rebuke.
"Why am I here again?" Loki asked after a weighted silence.
Thor did not answer immediately. Instead, he sat down in a chair across from him, matching the height of his eyes with his own. "You look better, Brother," he said. He hadn't seen him in some time, and his previous visit had been too short to notice the return of warmth to his skin tone, and the way his eyes had reverted to green after having been tainted by the power of the Tesseract. "You have fared well in your new circumstances - but I'm afraid they may have to change again."
Loki leaned back in his chair, an entertained smile visible on his muzzled mouth. "Oh, this will be good," he said daringly.
Thor's face fell, but he continued. "We asked Midgard if they would keep you for your crimes and they mercifully handed you over to my care. It was an oversight to ignore the will of the Jotuns - and any recompense they may claim for damages exceeding that which was done to Earth. It seems they want you turned into their custody - and care not if you are dead or alive in the transfer."
Loki laughed heartily. He spoke dryly, his tone changing dramatically with his hyperbolic emphasis on each syllable. "I suppose you're here to threaten me with extradition unless I reveal some secret about my allies." Thor didn't immediately answer, but his head dropped, and his confident eyes lost a bit of their spark. "You've never been one to bluff well, Thor. You are too obvious with your physical cues, and your inflection changes when you lie. You would not kill me before - and you won't relinquish me to certain death now."
Thor chortled wryly. "I admit I'm a bad liar. I've never practiced it to a point of proficiency, as you have," he said, "so I will tell you the truth. The truth is, I am tired of fighting with you; I'm tired of not knowing what to do with you - fearing I have either been too harsh or too soft, and having my judgments questioned simply because I could not order your death. The Jotuns have requested custody, and it is my honest word - I am tempted to oblige them and send you from Asgard thence as a matter of convenience and relief for myself and this kingdom."
Loki's smile straightened; he believed Thor, but it only rekindled the anger and impatience he felt toward this old argument. "Get it through your thick skull," he growled. "There is little I can tell you."
Thor shook his head. "Another lie," he said. "You told Mother to watch the Tesseract for signs of our enemy's approach. Surely, there must be something else."
Loki's brow furrowed intensely as his head dropped, his long hair concealing his eyes from Thor's view. "I told her that for her benefit alone," he said. His low voice was suddenly rough with strain. Frigga had been reticent to share this revelation, for fear he would feel as though she were betraying the only act of love he had shown his family in a long time. It appeared her fears were correct.
"Mother will not leave Asgard; you know that," Thor argued. "She will be in as much danger as the rest of us if you don't…"
"Will you shut your howling trap and listen to me?" Loki growled in a sudden interruption. "There is nothing to tell because I know nothing. I was not entrusted with his full plan, only the part that demanded my action."
The prince leaned back in his chair and ran his hand through his thick hair as he considered Loki's words. His sudden admission combined with the slight humiliated tone in his voice worked to convince Thor that, for once in a very long time, his brother was being truthful with him. "No wonder you have hidden so much from me," Thor said quietly, narrowing his eyes as he studied Loki's expression. "Since the day you arrived, you've done nothing but make claims toward your ally's strength and his inevitable victory, but you're simply a pawn, aren't you? You're nothing but his subservient minion, not quite the influential partner you've purported to being."
Loki's jaw tightened as his body shook in sudden anger. "He will give me your precious Earth - and after time, perhaps Asgard itself. Such a prize is worthy of pawn?"
"He has done so only to appease you," he answered calmly. "Do you really believe he would surrender the jewel of Yggdrasil? As long as you're the only one with access to what he needs, he will tell you anything."
Loki looked as though another argument tempted his tongue, but he fell silent instead, choosing an icy glare in lieu of accepting Thor's baited words.
"You were never meant to be king, Loki - of Asgard or of Earth - but tell me your part in your ally's plan and I will release you to live your life in whichever miserable way you prefer."
"Thor, you can't possibly…" Fandral started in protest, knowing Loki wouldn't simply, peacefully accept a diminished position. Thor put his hand up, silencing his subordinate.
Loki's eyes dropped; he could not disguise the fact that a small part of him wanted to consider the proposal. The offer of freedom, the use of his power, and the ability to simply walk within the realm unescorted and without restraint was tempting to him at this point, even if it was pitiful compared to what his ally had offered - if he had been truthful with him. "And what of my station?"
"You speak of your authority? Your place at the foot of the throne of Odin and the birthrights within?" Thor frowned deeply, finding it difficult to say his next words. "I will speak with the Allfather - but I think he would agree it is too late for that."
Loki chuckled wryly. "Yes, I suppose claiming any rights of birth would be quite futile at this point. Odin would only reward his rights to his true son - and he has always been searching for an excuse to take them from me without granting me the courtesy of the truth."
"You speak like a foolish child. You know as well as I do that he has done nothing to compromise your place here beyond what your actions deserve."
"Really?" he asked, feigning confusion. "My actions deserve complete abandonment by a man who allegedly loved me as a father?"
"That isn't what he…"
"There is no need to defend him," he started. "He easily brought me into this family; he would find it just as easy to banish me from it."
Loki's lips displayed a crooked smile, but his eyes held a shadow of pain. Thor's temper flared with this accusation, but his dissonance pulled at his heart as his own regret swept painfully through him. Odin hadn't seen Loki since he'd arrived and rarely spoke of him to Thor as anything more than a prisoner. Thor couldn't argue with his brother's assertions, but Loki certainly hadn't made the situation any better for himself. It was infuriating for the prince; he was stuck in the middle, and still, he had no idea what to do with the unrepentant Loki.
He abruptly stood and grabbed Loki by the collar, lifting the chair he was bound to partially from the ground. "Damn you," he said lowly with water in his eyes. "Damn you for forcing our hand against you; for ignoring the compassion we have shown you; and for forgetting the years we spent happily together. It is your pride and arrogance that has put you here and has caused a greater pain in me than I have ever known before. No one in our realm will be unaffected by this struggle. Won't you do this one last decent deed and cooperate me? For your people? For our mother or the woman in your bed? For one you once loved as your brother?"
Loki paused in surprise, but as Thor's words sunk in, mist began to gather in his eyes, bringing the first semblance of hope Thor felt in quite a while. "For you?"
"Yes, Brother," he answered, "for the deep love you know I still have for you."
Loki's brow softened and twitched upward, but the moment of potential ceased quickly. His expression darkened into a sneer once again. "Liar," he said in a hiss.
Thor released him suddenly, jolting him as the back legs of the chair hit the ground again. "The offer is rescinded."
"Should I pack warm then?" was his sardonic reply.
Thor turned his back to him. "I will consult the Allfather," he said before walking out the door, "but if he's as unforgiving as you accuse him of being, I would not expect a decision in your favor."
Thor left before he saw it, but a vague shadow of fear crossed Loki's features as his face reddened with anger. Sif was at a loss, unsure of what to do, or even what was appropriate for her to feel. She had always been empathetic to Thor and his pain after his brother's betrayal, but as she watched Loki, she felt something akin to defensiveness on his behalf. She ran after Thor, a confused Fandral following shortly behind her.
"Thor," she called to him. He stopped at the sound of her voice, though he would not turn to meet her. "You know nothing will come of it if you surrender Loki to Jotunheim. Those who wish to stay there will remain. We will be just as distant from peace - and our new, nameless enemy will continue to draw ever closer," she argued.
"I know," he said quietly - and offered no additional dispute.
She pulled his arm gently so that he would face her. His eyes, though dry, were red and darkened, the light normally found within was dimmed. Regret filled her, regret that she had found it so easy to advocate for Loki and forget Thor's position. As both Odin's son and Loki's brother, he was trapped in the center. He needed no reminder of the dagger poised above his head. He knew and remembered its threat well.
"I'm sorry," she said, meaning more with these two words than she could dare to voice. She had lost sight of her place once again, forgetting that Loki's warm, welcoming body and soft bed didn't change the circumstances surrounding his rift with Asgard. The compliments paid with his lips and fingers didn't excuse his heartless words and thoughtless actions.
He smiled softly, finally meeting her stare. "You've changed recently," he said. She straightened her posture, her brow wrinkling with concern and sudden self-consciousness. "You have lately challenged me over decisions you never would have second-guessed before. What is this mysterious force that encourages you to argue with me so freely?"
"I…" she started, uncertain how to answer and wondering if his statement somehow held more truth than she wanted to believe. "I meant no disrespect."
He laughed softly and placed a gentle hand chastely on her shoulder. "I like it," he said. "If it were anyone else, I might be troubled, but you - you've forced me to defend my place, to think twice about my choices. We may disagree, and perhaps I will lose my patience at times, but I am grateful for the exercise and the friendship that accompanies it. Perhaps I will be a better leader for it."
She felt her heart swell with Thor's kind words on the precipice of a difficult time, but concurrently, she felt a great weight upon her shoulders. Though a part of her wished she could continue her lovely charade for a moment longer, she felt it slipping from her grasp with every syllable from Thor's mouth. How could she give counsel to Thor in good conscience while she bedded his rival? How would she possibly earn back his trust if he ever learned the truth? "Thank you, Thor," she said simply, unable to find words appropriate enough to match his.
He smiled brightly, but the sad look that had appeared in his eyes earlier reappeared with a greater strength. A question was seeded in her mind. For the first time during this unfortunate exchange, she wondered if there wasn't another source behind his grief. She nearly asked about Jane, but as the question neared her lips, she dismissed it. It was not her place to know.
"Out of curiosity," he added before leaving, "Have you been able to learn the identity of the woman he's been seeing? For her own benefit, she should be informed…"
"No," she said, ignoring the stone that appeared in her stomach as she lied, "but I don't believe it will be a permanent problem."
He said nothing, but nodded in reply, trusting her judgment. As he left, Fandral approached Sif, having maintained his distance out of respect for both of them and the privacy of their conversation. "Sif, I think it may be wise to find her, regardless of the status of their relationship."
Sif's expression fell into a deep frown as she considered how to reply to him without protesting too much. "Fandral…" she started, shaking her head.
"I don't trust him," he said in interruption, "so what reason would I have for trusting her? She must be conspiring with him."
"You don't know her," Sif said firmly, taking a deep breath to calm herself.
Fandral scoffed. "I don't have to. Assuming she isn't being compensated, she is either his ally or a victim of his manipulation. Either way, we should know; maybe we could use her against him, or protect her from any further…"
She attempted to cool her now enflamed anger, but her fists remained clenched tightly at her sides. "I was charged with this duty. She is my responsibility. If I say it is no longer a concern, then respect my word."
"If she knows something…" he began to argue.
"Fandral…" her voice while saying his name was suddenly as cold and hard as steel. He nearly recoiled in surprise. Her brow relaxed as she recognized her tone, and though her next words carried the same weight, her eyes pleaded with him in a way he had never seen on her features before. "Forget this. Relinquish whatever obsession is driving your curiosity."
"I didn't mean to intrude on your position…" he said.
"I know," she said, her voice lost its edge. She took his hand in a friendly manner and granted him a soft facsimile of a smile. "Just promise me you'll let this from your mind."
He nodded, but the perplexed look in his eyes regarding her reaction did not fade. He looked down at her hand, still holding his sword-calloused palm securely. A subtle smile appeared on his mouth, concealed slightly by his facial hair; it was so much different than the over-confident grin he normally wore. "You have changed," he said. "A few months ago, you would have been the first one wanting to expose every one of his secrets for what they were - so why advocate for him now?"
Sif pulled away from his hand as her eyes dropped to the floor. Although she couldn't have answered him, she felt no ill towards Thor for his inquiry. He was too much a part of her past, and her superior. Fandral had no such right and had succeeded only in crossing beyond a boundary she'd assumed was still firmly in place. Her cheeks burned red as she awkwardly sought a way to explain why his persistence regarding Loki's consort was bothersome, but as her silence stretched, he seemed to infer her meaning for himself.
"What is so different with you, Sif?"
"It isn't any of your business," she said sharply, inadvertently echoing Loki's earlier words. "Leave this alone."
Her tone had been harder than she had intended, but the message had served its purpose. His smile fell and he opened his mouth in silent defense. Unable to find his words, he stepped around her and left the hall, leaving the tension between them intact.
Numbness claimed her fingers as her head began to cool. She shut her eyes and tried to clear her thoughts, but everything had become convoluted, and as she looked back towards Loki, who was still sitting quietly in his chair, she realized it may only get worse. Through her selfishness and vanity, she had put herself at odds with both Thor and one of her closest friends, she had jeopardized her standing with an honored subordinate, and had spent the entirety of her mission on Jotunheim foolishly distracted and unfocused. The one relationship in her life that seemed to be going smoothly was doomed to fail very soon, and if it was revealed, it would certainly push her even further from her loved ones. Every step she took seemed to create a new challenge as it moved her closer to him, but the very blood he sent boiling within her veins when they were together clouded her judgment.
She had changed, she realized, though not for any better. Every decision she'd recently made was wrong, and yet she lacked the conviction to alter her path.
After a moment alone with this dreadful rumination, she went back into the conference room and began undoing Loki's chains so she could escort him back home with the Einherjar. She thought to ask him if she would be safe taking him alone, or if he would take advantage of the situation. As she watched him, however, she felt the question was redundant. He had no snide remark, no clever quip, and his usual, mischievous expression had fallen. There was only darkness in his eyes, and the reflection of a sort of confusion he had rarely shown anyone.
The small party moved silently back to his chambers, Sif's dismissal of their guards being the sole words uttered during their return. She began stripping off his mask and chains; only then did he meet her eyes and acknowledge her. She rested her hand on his cheek, surprised when he pulled back with a look of distaste as though the idea of a moment of sincerity shamed him. She knew he would be displeased, but she couldn't abate the pity that filled her heart. At the same time, however, an intense anger began to crest like a wave towards inside of her towards his recent decisions.
She was angry with him for perpetuating his own miserable circumstances, for rebelling against her king, for creating such dissonance in her that she had sunk into her own fugue. For the most of it, she was angry because the shadow of a dreadful thought had entered her mind that she was beginning to feel something for him - something she very much wanted to deny because she knew without a doubt that he would never return it. His goals would only ever entice him to withdraw away from her and those who still cared for him, and even if his recent interests allowed him room for something better, she wasn't sure he would know what to do with her outside of the bedroom. In fact, she wondered if the idea of love was even possible for him, or if the Jotun's definition, which sounded closer to possessive obsession in her own mind, was the closest he would ever come.
He knew it didn't have to be this way. He could've simply acknowledged his place as Odin's left hand and second in line. They could've had something normal and legitimate if he'd only accepted Thor's reign… Even as the thought flittered through her mind, she realized how completely false it was.
If I were any other man, you would not have had me.
The words he'd spoken on their first night together echoed through her memory, seeming never more true than they were at that moment. Their passion was born out of their common anger and jealousy, and had been driven by deception ever since. What good could she ever hope to bear from such evil beginnings? She had only run to him as a way of scorning Thor for his love of a mortal; he only welcomed her due to a desire to possess what had been Thor's and a lingering obsession from his youth. The only benefit her confusing emotions served was to maintain a tentative hold on something that was destined to fail.
The liaison on Jotunheim was right - they really did have more in common than she wanted to admit.
"Will you stay?" he asked in a voice so raw and low that it reached right through her chest and shot a new wave of empathetic pain to her heart.
She struggled to find the answer among the matrix of disparate thoughts that plagued her. "I - I don't…"
"I thought as much," he quickly interjected in a sharp tone.
She narrowed her eyes, catching the obvious bitterness in his voice. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He stood and turned his back to her, scoffing harshly. "You love power; it is the only quality that matters to you - and as we've both just learned, that is something I currently lack."
"Power is attractive to me, but I've never…"
"Please," he interrupted, sarcasm dripping from his words as he turned to grant her a scornful look. "You've only entertained the best, shunning the rest if they didn't meet the great standards you formed so long ago. I'd swear it was Mjolnir you were having an affair with in your youth, not Thor. You saw stars the first time he held it - and have measured every man since by its canon." She sighed impatiently and crossed her arms, but she gave no argument. "Admit it, the only reason you ever came to me was because I finally posed a real threat to the House of Odin - and it excited your wounded heart."
"Does having a preference make me a villain?" she asked quietly, refusing to allow her voice to match his.
The honesty implied by her question surprised him. "No," he answered softly at first, "but I have played my hand and revealed my bluff. It is of no surprise to me that you would forsake my bed now."
The end of his statement conveyed such venom with it that she fought against a reaction of fear. However, she would not leave him yet. She had grown to know him in this short time and was able to see the grief hidden beneath the veil of his angry words. "Perhaps your shadow is less threatening than it was yesterday, but you have lost nothing. Odin will forever hold you as his son. Thor's threat was in vain."
"Part of me wishes I could share in your sweet denial, but the truth is that Odin would gladly relinquish me to Jotunheim, if it simply meant I was less burdensome to him. He banished his pride and joy - what chance do I have?" He hid his face from her, unwilling to let her see the vulnerability that may have crossed it as he continued. "He has only ever seen me as one of them. That is why he never granted me an ounce of his favor - and why he found it so easy to refer to me by my true sire's name. No matter what illusion hides the color of my skin, the son of Laufey is the sum of my identity. I have little doubt he is grateful for the excuses I've given him to disown me entirely."
Loki lifted his thin hand in front of him as though his warm tone would suddenly disappear at will. He could still clearly remember the wave of ice that had moved down his spine the moment he realized the truth of his heritage. Odin's poor excuse and confession still felt like a fresh wound. Though it had scabbed over a few times, it had only festered underneath, and it was unlikely it would ever heal.
"You hate yourself - because you're part of them," she observed. He didn't respond, and in his silence, he at least partially confirmed her theory. "We were all raised to believe they were terrible beasts, less intelligent, war-mongering murderers. Learning you…"
"They are…"
"Laufey was a horrible king," she interrupted. "Many of them were swayed by his desire for vengeance and power, but there are exceptions, even despite his long rule over their people. There are some there who know beauty and loyalty, and who would show kindness to an enemy. It isn't the nature of your father that condemns you to be what you are today. Don't hate them for your own choices."
"Are you so enamored with them now?" he asked bitterly. "I may carry Laufey's blood in my veins, but do not count my qualities in them or theirs in me. I am not one of them."
She shook her head. In Asgardian terms, blood and family was everything. She couldn't even comprehend this lack of identity that he was suddenly experiencing after so many years of knowing, for certain, that he was the son of Odin Allfather; it wasn't in her way of thought. "But if you feel you are no longer Odin's son - and you refuse to claim yourself as Laufey's - then what are you?"
He turned back towards her, his cold, green stare locking with hers in an intense stalemate. He had intended on showing his true colors, his apathy and strength. Instead, she saw through those disguises, recognizing only foolish stubbornness and pain. "I am alone," he said, so low his voice cracked as it hit its deepest register.
His words struck her so hard, she visibly flinched and stepped back from him. The distinct feeling of shame and humiliation filled her gut as contrasting thoughts pulled at the corners of her mind. Loki would never feel anything towards her other than what was afforded by his male anatomy; she knew this from the beginning. Yet despite this greater wisdom, she could not shake the sensation of having had a blade of ice run through her middle. Once again, anger welled within her, burning her cheeks red with heat. She had been so utterly stupid to allow herself to become addicted to his touch to the extent it affected her thoughts toward him. She had been a fool-hearted child by clinging and grasping to the way he stroked her vanity and allowing it to skew her perspective. She never should have laid with him, but the far greater sin was to grow fond of him.
"If you are so contended to be alone," she said, attempting her hardest to appear no greater than mildly bothered, "then you can remain that way. I shall not burden you with my company any longer."
She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her back. His fingers dig into her flesh so hard she nearly cried out and tried to pry his grip loose. His eyes searched hers intently, confusion washed over his expression that shifted towards something else - something unidentifiable on his features. "Why does that offend you?"
"Let me go," she ordered, ignoring his question. His grip only tightened.
She gasped in pain, convincing him to release her, but as he let go of her arm, his hands found her waist. She didn't resist him as he stepped closer; she was too busy fighting herself over feeling this type and amount of pain towards someone who had never given a damn about her.
He had not missed a moment of her reaction and he was excellent at reading non-verbal cues. Her expression and body language told him a plethora of things her lips refused to reveal, and though this baffled him at first, he began to understand. His brow softened as the corners of his mouth twitched upward, but his words failed him. He knew only one sure way of communicating with her, one method of conveying a rare moment of honesty in a manner which did not involve the same risk of sentimental foolishness as talking would.
His eyes fell to her lips as the rest of him followed. She leaned up slightly to meet him, but just as he could barely begin to feel the softness of her mouth on his own, she pulled back slightly, still only inches away from him. "You've made your point perfectly clear," she said.
"I don't believe I have," he argued. He placed his hand behind her head and lifted it back towards him. With a gentleness unlike what he'd ever shown before, he brushed her lips with his. "Stay," he said softly, kissing her again. He moved down to her neck, pausing to inhale as the smell of flowers and sword polish filled his senses before tasting her tender flesh.
"No," she answered firmly, though her actions gave a different answer.
She leaned her head back in encouragement, feeling her resolve slip away. His voice conveyed his need of her, his lips acting as the witness to this truth. As his hands worked against the straps of her armor, she realized this was his way of seeking comfort. There was little she could say or do at this point that wouldn't oppose Thor and break her oaths, but the heat of her body and the touch of her lips could temporarily treat his pain.
He tossed her metal chest piece to the side of the room and began pulling at the laces to her bodice. "Stay," he repeated.
As his rich voice vibrated through her chest, she found herself succumbing to his will. The end of this sweet dream was near, but for the time being, they would submit to each other's mercy.