Third person POV

Sif was gradually becoming aware of a persistent throbbing pain in her head. She groaned and tried her best to ignore it, in the hope that she could fall back asleep. In an attempt to make herself more comfortable, she started to turn over onto her other side. However, as she rolled over, her nose collided with something hard, causing a sharp pain to shoot up the centre of her face. The pain in her nose combined with her aching head was enough to wake her up completely. Cursing under her breath, Sif opened her eyes to find herself staring at the underside of an overturned chair – presumably the thing she'd hit her nose against. Turning her head to the side and looking around her, she discovered that she was lying on the tavern's grubby stone floor. She frowned, bemused. She couldn't recall how she'd wound up on the floor; in fact, many of the events of the previous night now escaped her recollection entirely.

Slowly, she pushed herself up into a sitting position, grunting with the effort. Then, leaning across, she placed both hands firmly on the chair, using it to support her weight as she climbed to her feet. Unfortunately, she got up far more quickly than she'd intended to and no sooner had she stood upright than she felt a sudden rush of blood to her head. This, in addition to her alcohol-induced headache, overwhelmed her with dizziness and she stumbled forward, throwing her hands on top of the nearest table in order to prevent herself from falling to the floor. For several minutes she remained like this: her body bent over the table, her head bowed and all the while promising to herself that she would never ever allow herself to get into such a state again. Eventually her wooziness began to subside and she raised her head, casting her eye around the tavern.

The place looked as though it had been ransacked by barbarians. The floor was littered with empty tankards and smashed goblets, countless tables had been turned over and on the far side of the room a door had very nearly been wrenched off its hinges – one hinge remained intact, but it looked like it was going to snap in two at any moment. Nearby, Fandral was seated on a chair with the barmaid on his lap, the two of them locked in a very passionate kiss. Volstagg, meanwhile, was slumped in a corner, gazing up at the ceiling and grinning inanely. Having located two of her companions, Sif then attempted to find Thor, only to discover that he was nowhere to be seen.

Her first instinct was to ask Fandral for information. However, realising that he probably wouldn't appreciate her interrupting his kiss (and with her head feeling like it currently was, a shouting match with Fandral was the last thing she wanted), she quickly thought better of it and decided to address Volstagg instead.

"Volstagg?" She croaked in a hoarse voice. Embarrassed, she coughed repeatedly to clear her throat and then tried again, louder this time: "Volstagg?"

The long-bearded warrior turned his gaze away from the ceiling and towards Sif's face, his eyes becoming slightly more focused.

"Can you recall what happened last night?" She asked him.

Volstagg burst into a fit of laughter, apparently finding her question very amusing. "You…ha ha ha ha…you do not remember?!" He managed to splutter through his giggles.

"I can remember us all agreeing to participate in a drinking competition, but the events of the rest of the night remain a mystery to me."

Volstagg took a deep breath to try and stifle his chuckles. When he finally calmed down, he replied: "Fear not: I will tell you all that occurred. To tell the truth, the drinking competition did not last terribly long – not by our standards, anyway! Fandral withdrew at the seventh round; he said that he'd much rather devote his time and attention to kissing the barmaid and that if he had much more to drink it would impair his ability to do so. Shortly afterwards, I started to feel quite inebriated. I must admit that since the birth of my children I haven't been frequenting the tavern as much as I used to, so I fear I am no longer able to hold my ale like I once was. I also withdrew from the competition, but you and Thor persevered. Each of you was determined to beat the other."

"Who won?" Sif asked eagerly.

"In the end, nobody did. You both reached a stage at which it became clear that neither of you could bear to drink another tankard. However, rather than call a draw, Thor suggested that the matter could be settled by some other means – through a demonstration of strength. Whoever proved themselves to be the strongest would have won the competition. Thor went first and for his demonstration he decided to turn over every table on this side of the tavern. So he charged along, pushing over every table in his path, but clearly he must have been more drunk than he realised, because when he reached the end of the room he failed to stop in time and he crashed into the door! It couldn't take his weight, of course, so it flew open, nearly coming off its hinges, sending Thor flying into the street outside! At which point you started laughing so heartily that you tipped both yourself and your chair over, collapsed onto the floor and fell into unconsciousness!" Once again Volstagg began to convulse with uncontrollable laughter: "A very…ha ha…very memorable night indeed!"

At any other time Sif probably would have joined Volstagg in his merriment, but right now she was too preoccupied with finding Thor. Having finally been given a clue to his whereabouts, she began to make her way toward the open doorway, placing her hands against the wall to steady herself as she went along. After gingerly stepping over all the smashed glass and edging her way around the overturned tables, she eventually reached the doorway and stepped outside.

Dawn had broken over Asgard and the rays of the early morning sun were beginning to shine over the city, illuminating the street outside the tavern. Stepping forwards, Sif caught sight of Thor lying face-down in the middle of the street, his arms stretched out above his head as if he had been attempting to perform some sort of dive. As she approached his slumbering figure, he stirred slightly and mumbled a string of nonsense words under his breath.

Sitting down on the ground beside Thor (because Sif was fairly certain that if she attempted to bend down it would only result in her losing her balance and falling over), she took hold of his shoulders and gently shook him to and fro. "Thor, wake up! Wake up!"

He groaned and shifted to the side, moving away from her touch. "Not yet, Jane…" he muttered sleepily.

Sif felt a stab of jealousy as her mind became filled with the mental image of Thor and the Midgardian woman lying side-by-side in bed together, she embracing him as he awoke from his sleep…how often Sif wished she was in that woman's place. However, she did not have time to dwell on that now. Grabbing his shoulders, she shook him again, firmer than she had the first time. "It is not Jane, it is Sif. Thor, you must wake up! Now!"

Rolling over onto his back, Thor yawned and finally opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was Sif's face peering down at him with an expression of faint concern before his gaze moved upwards to study the sky. Seeing that it was stained red and gold with the light of the rising sun, his eyes widened in horror.

"It is morning already?!" He exclaimed, pushing himself off the ground and trying to clamber to his feet. "Why did you not wake me sooner, Sif?"

"I could not, I have only just woken myself. Here, let me assist you." Sliding her arm underneath Thor's, Sif steadied him as he attempted to stand upright. Once he was safely on his feet, he patted her on the back by way of thanks before he broke away from her and started to shakily walk away.

"Where are you going now?" Sif called after him.

"I must return to Jane! She has probably been waiting for me all night!"

"But you're in no fit state to go anywhere! You need to rest!"

"I will have ample opportunity to rest when I reach my bedchamber!"

"But Thor…" Sif trailed off, realising that she was wasting her breath. He clearly wasn't going to take any notice of her warnings. As she watched Thor stumble away into the distance, she felt a hand tap her tentatively on the shoulder. She turned around to see the owner of the tavern standing beside her; he appeared quite agitated and was nervously wringing his hands together as he addressed her.

"My apologies for troubling you, Lady Sif," he murmured in a quiet, anxious voice, as if he was expecting her to throw a punch at him at any moment, "But I was hoping you could tell me which member of your company will be paying for the damage?"

Sif sighed. She could still hear Volstagg chuckling away to himself inside the tavern (and in his current state of inebriation he didn't seem able to do much else) and she knew full-well that it would take nothing short of a declaration of war with Jotunheim to make Fandral break away from a kiss with an attractive lady. "I think…" she replied resignedly, "…that responsibility probably falls upon me. If you'll follow me, I've just left my purse inside…"

…

Third Person POV

By the time Thor reached his bedchamber, the sun had risen considerably in the sky and its light was now streaming through every window in the palace. His journey from the gates up to his chamber, which usually took him only a short amount of time, had been transformed into a long and arduous trek due to his hangover. Before today, he hadn't given much thought to the long spiral staircases that lead up to the royal chambers – he used to believe that they were designed in that way to be decorative and didn't serve any real function. However, in his current state, with his splitting headache and general dizziness, he realised that these staircases did indeed serve a greater purpose and that purpose was to torture him. Nevertheless, he soldiered on, climbing staircase after staircase, gripping on to the banisters and thinking to himself that the palace could really benefit from the addition of several of those Midgardian contraptions which were known as elevators (which Jane had recently introduced him to).

And now, as he leaned against the wall outside his chambers, pausing to get his breath back, he knew that his ordeal was not over yet. He still had to apologise to Jane. Even if she had gone to sleep as soon as she left the feast, she would have woken by now, noticed his absence and concluded that he had stayed out all night – a fact which Thor was certain would anger her considerably. Still, he supposed it was nothing less than he deserved; he had told her he wouldn't stay out too long and he had broken his promise. He truly hoped that Jane's scolding wouldn't involve her raising her voice, though, because loud noises were something he really couldn't endure at the moment. Bracing himself for the worst, Thor retrieved his key, unlocked the door and entered the chamber.

Jane's doppelganger was sat up in bed, her head resting against a pillow which she had propped up against the headboard. She was holding a book in one hand and a half-eaten pastry in the other (proof that she had already rung the bell for service and asked one of the royal attendants to bring her some breakfast). As Thor closed the door behind him she looked up from her book and gave him a warm smile.

"Good morning! So, did you have fun?" She asked.

Thor stared at her, completely taken aback. There wasn't the slightest hint of sarcasm in her voice; she sounded as if she was being sincere. Was she trying to trick him, to lull him into a false sense of security? That didn't seem like the sort of thing Jane would do. Thor couldn't think of a single occasion in the past when she had tried to deceive him. Nevertheless, he decided not to take any chances and, instead of answering her question, he replied: "Jane, I cannot apologise enough for leaving you alone for the whole night, but I swear to you I do not do so intentionally. I lost all awareness of time and…"

"Oh, that doesn't matter!" She insisted, putting her pastry down so she could wave her hand dismissively, "There's no need to apologise! I mean, this is technically a vacation for you – why shouldn't you be out there, having a good time?"

Thor's stare was now accompanied by his jaw dropping in astonishment. He couldn't have been more surprised if Volstagg had suddenly announced that he had completely lost his appetite for food and that from now on he intended to have no more than one meal per day. "You are not displeased? Not at all?"

"Of course not! I was way too tired to wait up for you. I slept the whole night through." In an instant, her smile morphed into a frown and she leaned forward, scrutinising him closely. "Are you okay? You really don't look well."

For a moment he considered lying to her, claiming that he was absolutely fine, because even though they were now in a stable, committed relationship, he still had a great desire to impress Jane. He wanted to retain the illusion of being unbeatably strong – if he admitted that he was in a weakened condition (and that it had only taken a night of uncontrolled drinking to put him in such a state), the illusion would be broken. However, there was no denying the fact that he felt truly terrible, the worst he'd felt in a very long time. Right now all he really wanted to do was collapse on the bed and remain there until his hangover eventually passed, or at least lessened in intensity. So, abandoning his pride, he confessed: "No, I'm afraid I do not feel well at all. I have the most dreadful ache in my head…"

"Oh, Thor." The doppelganger's voice was filled with sympathy. Putting her book and pastry on the dressing-table, she hopped off the bed and pulled back the covers for him. "C'mere, lie down. It's probably better if you go over there; I think I've got crumbs all over my side."

"Are you sure, Jane?" Thor asked as he climbed onto the bed and settled down, "It does not seem fair to you after last night."

"Shhhh, it's fine, it's fine. I'm happy to just read my book. Or maybe I'll go wander round the palace if I get bored. Make yourself comfortable and I'll fetch you a glass of water."

Thor sighed with relief as his aching head came to rest on the pillow and he reached out to squeeze her hand gratefully. "Thank you, Jane."

She smiled and hurried off into the bathroom. Thor's hangover had taken such a toll on him that he was fast asleep by the time she returned with his drink. After placing the glass by the side of the bed, the doppelganger sat down in the corner with Jane's book and waited for Thor to awaken.