Jane's POV

My head hurts. Why does my head hurt? That doesn't make sense. Groggily, I shift my position, my hand reaching up to the back of my skull, trying to locate the source of the pain. Ouch, ouch! I flinch as my fingers brush against a large bump.

The sharp pain jolts me out of my semi-awake, semi-asleep state and I begin to stir. My eyes open, but at first all I can see is darkness – complete, pitch-black darkness. It's almost like I've been blindfolded, but I know that's not the case. If I were blindfolded I'd have felt the material tied over my eyes. I lift my head slightly and as I do I catch a glimpse of a light shining somewhere in the distance. I'm certainly not in the room I've been sharing with Thor; the drapes in there are so thin that there's always a little bit of light shining in from outside. Where am I? And how did I get here? The last thing I remember doing is going into Odin's room…

LOKI! I push myself off the floor, sitting bolt upright as the memory of my discovery comes rushing back to me. What is he doing here? He's supposed to be dead! And what is he doing posing as Odin? Where's the real Odin? Has he…has he killed him?! If he's murdered Thor's dad I'm going to give him a piece of my mind!

I give an irritated sigh. After what happened on Svartelheim, I thought I'd finally figured Loki out: he was a nasty piece of work, but it seemed like he did have some redeeming qualities. He protected me from the Dark Elves during battle and he sacrificed himself to save Thor – for me that was proof that there was actually some good in him. Obviously it wasn't enough to make me forgive him for killing all those people on Earth, but it made me question whether or not he really was the ruthless tyrant that all those news channels portrayed him as being. Well, talk about making a hasty judgement!

I suppose it's possible that I may have gotten the wrong idea. It may turn out that there's actually a completely innocent explanation for all of this, but I highly doubt it. If there was nothing shady going on, why would Loki get so aggressive when I discovered his true identity? And why would he put me in this dark, cold place? I think it's pretty safe to assume he was the one who moved me – how else could I have wound up here?

But where exactly is here? My eyes are beginning to adjust to the darkness and I can just about make out a bizarre, towering shape in front of me. It looks almost like it's made out of the branches of a tree; countless branches stretching outwards, crossing over one another and becoming entwined, creating this weird pattern. I can see the light source gleaming through the gaps in the branches. The light's on the other side, though – is this thing a door of some kind? Climbing to my feet, I begin to walk over to it. The floor beneath me is uneven, so I have to tread slowly and carefully to avoid tripping over. As I draw closer, I catch sight of a flaming torch burning in the distance – so that's where the light's coming from! I'm now a few feet away from the strange shape. I stop to examine it and, when I do so, my heart sinks. It is indeed a door, but those things aren't branches – they're bars. I must be in a prison cell!

I reach out to grasp hold of two of the bars and then, keeping a firm grip on them, I lean back, pulling with all my might. It's no use, though – I can tell from the weight of these bars that they must be made of solid metal. There's no chance of them breaking. The rest of it feels pretty secure too – I'm tugging as hard as I can but the door isn't even shaking in its frame. I let go with a disappointed huff. I need to change my tactics here. If I can't tear through the bars, maybe I could try to pick the lock? If it works for private investigators it's probably worth a shot.

I wore my hair up when I went to the feast, which meant I had to stick a large number of hair pins in there in a desperate attempt to keep it all in place. Sliding one of the pins out of my hair, I bend down and start searching for the keyhole, only to discover that there doesn't seem to be one. The bars simply stretch out into the door-frame; there's no lock at all. But if there's no lock, how did Loki get me in here?

However, I don't have time to dwell on this, because a moment later I hear footsteps in the distance. I hastily place the pin back in my hair and sneak into the corner beside the door, peering around it to see who's coming. Through the bars, I catch sight of a tall figure approaching my cell. As it draws nearer, the light from the flaming torch illuminates its features. I feel my blood run cold as I glimpse its pale white skin and long, flowing black hair. It's Loki, back in his regular form. And he's carrying something in his hands.

Tearing my gaze away, I retreat back into the corner and press myself up against the wall. Maybe he's coming into the cell. Maybe, if I stay where I am right now and don't make a sound, he won't know where I am at first. Maybe, if he leaves the door open, I can make a run for it.

I hear the footsteps come closer and closer until eventually they stop. There's a pause. I hold my breath.

"Hiding, Miss Foster?" Loki calls out, "How remarkably childish."

He mutters a string of words I don't recognise and suddenly a stream of green light rushes through the bars, floating over to the centre of the cell before bursting outwards, filling the whole chamber with a bright light. I release the breath I've been holding in, burning with disappointment. There goes my escape plan.

I emerge from my corner and walk over to the door, keeping an eye on Loki. He's stooping to place whatever he was carrying on the floor outside the cell. It's not visible from the doorway, so I still don't have any clue what it is. Having said that, I'm still pretty sure it's not going to be anything good. Loki straightens up again and places the flat of his palm against the door, uttering another sequence of bizarre words. A moment later the door swings open and he steps inside my cell. Magic, of course! I should've guessed that was how he got me in here.

Without wanting to sound poetic, my mind is literally a whirlpool of emotions right now: fear, anger and curiosity are all swirling around inside me, each one striving for dominance, each fighting to be the feeling that determines my next action. In the end, it's not one emotion that wins the struggle, but two. My anger and curiosity become combined into a kind of annoyed confusion and I blurt out, half as a question, half as an accusation: "Why aren't you dead?"

His lips curl upwards into a smirk, as if he finds my query more amusing than offensive. "That's a fine way to show your gratitude. Have you forgotten how I assisted you and Thor in your attempts to save the universe from the Dark Elves?"

"I appreciated the help, sure. But that doesn't make up for all the other things you've done."

"You're still holding my earlier actions against me?"

"Yes, of course I am!" My voice rises in anger. "Let's recap: you nearly killed Thor in New Mexico, you murdered countless people when you tried to take over Earth and you brainwashed a very close friend of mine!"

Unbelievably, his smirk grows even wider. "Ah yes, how is Doctor Selvig?"

"None of your business."

"I can assure you that although Selvig was under my control, he rather enjoyed the time he spent with me. When he was studying the Tesseract, his eyes were alight with glee…"

I can't take any more of this! It was bad enough watching Eric fall to pieces after Loki's hold on him was broken, I don't want to know what he went through beforehand! "Look, stop it, stop! Quit distracting me. You still haven't answered my question. I saw you die on Svartelheim!"

"On the contrary, you thought you saw me die. In actual fact, that wasn't me at all. You merely witnessed the demise of my doppelganger."

"Your doppelganger?"

He sighs and then begins to explain in a patronising tone of voice: "It's a term used to describe a…"

"I know what it is! But I still don't understand…"

"Then, if you stop interrupting me, I'll enlighten you."

I fall silent, grudgingly.

"I have been practicing the art of sorcery for centuries, long before your people even began to contemplate the study of the stars. During that time I have acquired a wide array of skills, including the ability to create an exact physical likeness of myself. Not merely an illusion, but a corporeal being able to carry out the same tasks as you or I. When I joined you and Thor on your quest I was fully aware that as soon as Malekith was vanquished Thor would not hesitate to drag me back to Asgard and leave me to rot in my cell like a common criminal. A year in that wretched place was enough for me and I had no intention of returning. However, if I merely ran away, I knew that Thor would pursue me, so in order to secure my freedom, I had to appear to die. During the battle on Svartelheim, I saw my opportunity to escape. I created my doppelganger and sent it away to attack the beast that was threatening Thor. As I predicted, not only did it succeed in slaying the beast, it also sustained a fatal injury in the process. While you and Thor gathered round to watch my doppelganger draw his last breath, I was safely concealed behind a rock a short distance away, watching the whole spectacle."

I nod, taking this all in. I hate to admit it, but I'm a little impressed by his cunning. I wouldn't dream of telling him that, though – unless, of course, I have to try to sweet-talk my way out of here. "That explains one thing. But what about Odin? What have you done with him?"

He tilts his head to the side thoughtfully. "A curious choice of words; by "done with" I assume you're trying to imply that I caused some terrible misfortune to befall him?"

I hesitate, not sure how to respond. Saying "yes" might antagonise him, whereas "no" would be a blatant lie, one which he'd probably pick up on. Instead, I settle on a fairly neutral: "Did you?"

"No, I did not. Odin was the victim of a misfortune but it had nothing to do with me. After deceiving you and Thor on Svartelheim I returned to Asgard in order to retrieve a valuable possession of mine from my former chambers. It was a talisman, before you ask…" he adds slightly wearily (clearly my feelings of suspicion must have registered on my face), "…which I wanted for sentimental reasons alone – it is quite harmless. I conjured a spell which allowed me to assume the form of one of the palace guards, which I then used to gain entry to Asgard and to my chambers. Having located my talisman I then prepared to take my leave of this place, but as I passed by the royal hall I noticed Odin's figure slumped back against the throne. At first I thought he had fallen unconscious, but when I went to investigate I discovered that he was not breathing. Nor could I find a pulse. The old man had simply passed away. I am no healer, but if I were to attempt to deduce the cause of his death, I would say that the combined stress of the Dark Elves' attack and Frigga's demise was all too much for him."

Does Loki really expect me to believe that? That Odin just dropped dead? "Seems very convenient…" I reply, my scepticism evident in my voice.

He must have anticipated that this would be my reaction, because he just smiles, appearing completely at ease. "I did not expect you to be convinced, Miss Foster. I too found it difficult to believe that such good fortune had come my way. And when an opportunity like that presents itself, only a fool would allow it to pass him by."

"So you disposed of the real Odin's body, disguised yourself as him and took his place."

"You needn't sound so disapproving. After all, what have I done wrong? Odin perished by natural causes. Someone needs to ascend to the throne. Thor does not want it – he'd rather be frolicking about on Midgard with you. As I am the next in line, the responsibilities of ruling Asgard fall upon me. However, since many of my subjects would be unwilling to forgive my past actions – none of which, I might add, actually threatened the safety of Asgard – I am forced to conceal my true identity in order to take what should have been mine from the very beginning."

Wow, this guy really knows how to paint himself as the victim. If he'd had the chance he'd probably have ordered a group of violinists to come into the cell and start playing in the background. "That still doesn't give you the right to deceive everyone! You…"

"Do not lecture me on what I am and am not entitled to do!" He snaps, his composure crumbling in an instant. I jump in surprise, suddenly worried that I've gone too far, that I've somehow managed to work him up into the same state of rage he was in earlier when he confronted me in Odin's room. However, a moment later the anger just dissipates, as if he conjured it away using one of his spells. He calms himself, the self-confident smile returns to his face and he continues like the outburst never happened: "You know nothing of the affairs that took place in the Asgardian court over the centuries. I am and always have been the rightful heir to the throne and I will continue to rule regardless of whether or not you know my secret. Which reminds me…" At this point, he turns away from me and steps out of the cell, bending down to collect the mystery object he's left outside.

My heart skips a beat and I start backing away, expecting him to return at any moment clutching some kind of grotesque Asgardian torture device, or a weapon which he intends to murder me with. Much to my surprise, when he reappears in the doorway he's holding nothing more than a tray of food, consisting of a plate of bread on one side and a goblet on the other. I stop in my tracks in a mixture of relief and bewilderment.

"You will remain here until I have decided how to deal with you," he says, "In the meantime, I realise that means I will have to provide you with sustenance, so I brought these for you."

What? It can't be that simple, can it? Loki always has some ulterior motive. Why would he feel the need to bring me food? Why not just let me starve? As he carries the tray into the cell I suddenly realise what he's trying to do. I gasp in horror and, as he draws closer to me, I raise my hands in an attempt to keep him away: "No, no!"

"What now?" He utters, exasperated.

Trying to keep my voice from shaking, I reply as steadily as I can: "You've poisoned it, haven't you?"

"Don't be absurd, of course I haven't! Does your paranoia know no bounds?"

"Prove it, then!" I demand.

He sighs in frustration. "Very well. Hold this," he instructs, practically thrusting the tray into my open hands. I watch intently as he reaches out, tears off a small piece of bread and lifts it to his lips. He places it in his mouth and chews for a few seconds before swallowing. "Satisfied?" He asks.

I look away from him, turning my gaze to the goblet which he's left untouched. The liquid inside is clear and looks exactly like ordinary water, but it will take more than that to reassure me. If being around Loki has taught me one thing, it's that nothing is as it seems. "What about the water?"

"I think I've indulged your whims far enough, don't you?"

"I'm not drinking a drop of that stuff until I've seen you taste it."

"Then you are going to make yourself extremely thirsty, because the only food and water you'll receive is that which I give you and I'm not consuming any more of it." Having made his point, he turns his back to me and starts to head over to the door. As I watch him go, I feel a surge of indescribable panic. I have to get out of here! But how?! Maybe I should try to threaten him, or at least attempt to put some doubt in his mind.

"Your plan won't work!" I call after him.

He stops in the doorway, glancing back at me. "I beg your pardon?"

"Thor will notice I'm gone! He'll come looking for me! Wherever this place is, he'll eventually find it and then you'll have him to answer to!"

To my dismay, Loki bursts out laughing. "Your unwavering faith in my brother really does amuse me," he chuckles, "I hate to disappoint you, but he does not stand the slightest chance of finding you here. You are not even on Asgardian soil – I have placed you upon a deserted planet on the very outskirts of the Nine Realms. I came upon this abandoned planet and its disused prison shortly before I met the Chitauri. Not that Thor will have any reason to come looking for you. He will believe you've never left his side."

"What are you talking about?"

He grins enigmatically. "It is not only myself that I can create a doppelganger of."

My heart sinks as my last remaining hopes are crushed. He's created a copy of me! Thor won't realise I'm gone! I'm starting to feel a bit light-headed. No, no, I've got to keep it together; I can't afford to freak out now. I can't let Loki see I'm afraid. "He'll know it's not me!" I argue, but my voice doesn't sound convincing even to my own ears.

"Ever the optimist, aren't you? I almost regret the fact that your spirit will soon be broken. Almost." He turns away from me again, this time leaving the cell for good. I watch helplessly as he closes the door behind him and locks it with the same spell he used when he came in. A moment later his hand slides through a gap in the bars and he clicks his fingers, extinguishing the light in the cell and plunging me back into darkness.

As I stand here in the dark and the cold, gripping the tray and listening to the retreating sound of Loki's footsteps, only one thought is running through my mind: What do I do now?