A/N: LOOK AT ME, I ACTUALLY POSTED IN TWO WEEKS!

*confetti*

Hope you guys like the chapter! Sadly, next chapter won't be for probably three weeks as the end of January is midterms... sorry about that. After that I'll try to get back to a two-week posting schedule.

bluescarfman (Guest) : Hey! Glad to know you're still here. :) I'm super glad you liked the armor, and there's a lot more awkward Thor and Loki in this chapter! Ha. Sorry about the dying... have another chapter?

TWENTY-THREE

You taught me the courage of stars before you left.
How light carries on endlessly, even after death.
With shortness of breath, you explained the infinite.
How rare and beautiful it is to even exist.

I couldn't help but ask
For you to say it all again.
I tried to write it down
But I could never find a pen.
I'd give anything to hear
You say it one more time,
That the universe was made
Just to be seen by my eyes

- "Saturn," Sleeping at Last

She knelt in the ashes of Kvasir's hut, gathering the glass vials that contained the truths.

She had a feeling that he would have wanted her – them – to save them, but Loki had gone off into the forest, and Thor was speaking to what was left of the Einherjar, who had begun the slow process of recovering their wounded and dead.

She gathered the vials in her arms, feeling the memories swarming inside.

The second the explosion had happened, the light that had been Kvasir's mind had gone out – the brightest light in her mind gone, the darkness rushing through where he had been.

She had known there was no hope from that second on – and Loki's face had torn her in two, his eyes full of pain and anger and horror, and his scream had pierced her like a dagger – and he had shook in her arms for what felt like a year, his head tucked into her chest like a child.

She knew what Kvasir had meant to him, and she remembered her own father, briefly, a pang filling her heart.

Thor crouched down next to her and began to help with the vials.

"How did you come to be on Vanaheim?" he asked after a pause.

She pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "After I left you and Jane – a long time ago – Loki came to my house, and… well, helped me get my memories back."

Thor's eyes assessed her. "You are in love with him." And was that a tinge of disgust in his voice, or was it concern?

She nodded silently. "He… went back to Asgard after I got my memories back. Back to prison. And then… well, I got attacked by the N'itouri, and Odin let him come help me, and then he sort of hid us from Heimdall so that he wouldn't have to go back." She paused, acutely aware of how terrible that sounded. "Um, and then we came here."

Thor shook his head slightly, grabbing another vial. "Loki must be returned to Asgard. Immediately."

"I'm coming with you."

Thor looked at her. "You may have powers, Alana Cooper, but trust me when I say that you should stay away from Asgard. You do not remember meeting my father, but he will greet you with hostility if you return again."

"No. I need to go to Asgard."

"For what purpose?" Thor's eyes were tinged with sorrow. "Loki will only betray you a thousand times, like he has everyone."

She shook her head fiercely. "He won't."

Thor sighed. "I fought to see the light in him for so long, and every time – every time – he has betrayed me. The person… the brother that I once knew is dead."

She raised her head. "Not to me."

The tree shook in front of him – he thrust his hands forward again, jagged green light cracking the bark – again, again, until the tree was swaying and came down with a crash.

He blasted the tree trunk some more, the anger and sorrow fueling his magic, until he had a section of trunk that was roughly nine feet in length.

He began to carve the wood, chipping away at the outside to roughly create the shape of a boat.

Frigga's funeral must have been a splendid affair – he had no doubt that all of Asgard would have appeared to see their queen sent to Valhalla – but Kvasir's was to be made with his sweat and his blood.

He worked feverishly, relishing the feel of the blisters forming on his palms, the ache of his back, the sweat running down his face.

She entered the forest; fingertips brushing the trunks, feeling Loki's light a little ways away.

It was strange – the explosions had scared all the animals away, and she could feel only him near her, his mind pulsing in sorrow and rage.

She made her way towards him, standing behind him as he worked – carving a boat, it seemed – and she touched her fingers to his shoulder.

"Loki," she said softly, but he seemed not to hear, his hands still flashing over the wood.

"Loki," she said again, kneeling down beside him. "Look at me."

"I'm fine," he said shortly, his eyes still fixed in front of him.

"No."

She touched his hand lightly, covering it with hers, and his movements stopped, the dagger slowing until it was still.

She took it from his hands and placed it in the dirt, taking his face in her hands.

"I know," she whispered, "I know, Loki."

A tear caught at the corner of his eye, and he pressed his forehead to hers.

"Don't leave me," he said softly. "Ever, Alana, please – " and he cut off, his eyes closed, as another tear slipped out.

She held him, his face pressed to her shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I'm so sorry, Loki."

The boat carried Kvasir's bones down the river, sparks leaping into the night sky as the fire crackled red.

Alana's hand held his firmly, and Thor stood next to him – this was something he could have never imagined and he almost smiled – Thor on one side, Alana on the other, watching Kvasir burn?

Alana's armor was dark now, black as night, and her eyes were sad, their gray seeming to be filled with the smoke from the fire.

He studied her face for a second, watching her – she stood still, her eyes fixed on the flames.

He looked back to the fire, and for a moment he could see Kvasir teaching him the subtleties of magic, his eyes rolling impatiently, his long sighs, and yet, there had been moments when Kvasir had looked proud of him, had smiled and clasped his shoulder, saying, you are a good man, Loki.

The three of them stood and watched the sparks climb up into the air, the flames burning high in the dark.

He had wanted to leave quickly – he knew what Kvasir had meant to Loki, but there was no telling what Odin would do if he were kept waiting – but Alana had convinced him to stay another night.

"Just one," she had said, when he looked skeptical. "I promise we won't escape again."

He had sent the Einherjar back to Asgard – the ones still alive bearing the bodies of their comrades – but he did not trust Loki to return of his own free will.

He watched him and Alana from a distance – she was sitting next to him, her head on his shoulder.

It was so odd to see Loki like this – there had been women in both their pasts, but Loki had guarded himself carefully, and he had never much seemed to care when a fleeting relationship was done. Loki had been the one to comfort Thor when he had had his "heart broken" – he smiled a bit, he had been quite dramatic when he was young – and when he had teased Loki about a woman, he had always shrugged it off.

But this…

He remembered her sitting on Jane's couch, showing him the portrait of Loki, his eyes laughing in a way he could barely remember, the hope in her eyes when she had heard that Loki was his brother...

She seemed so different then when he had met her, stronger, more sure of herself. She was obviously free of her amnesia, and was gifted, especially for a mortal – he had seen how she had taken down the N'itouri.

He watched silently as Alana lay down on the ground, curling up to sleep, as Loki stood up, brushing himself off, and walked towards him.

"I am sorry, Loki," he said finally. "I know what Kvasir was to you."

Loki nodded absentmindedly, his eyes fixed where Alana lay.

They stood there in silence – what should he say? What could he say?

"I owe you an apology as well," Loki finally said, his eyes not meeting his.

He looked at Loki incredulously. "I believe you owe me several."

Loki smiled a bit at that, tilting his head up to look at the sky. "War is coming," he said softly. "Kvasir told me that."

"He was not wrong."

Silence dropped over them again.

Loki sighed slightly and met his eyes. "If I were to apologize… would you accept it, brother?"

His use of the word brought back so many memories – You're not my brother, you never were – and he shook his head slightly. "I do not know you anymore."

"You're wrong," Loki said. "You always knew me best."

He raised his eyebrows, looking pointedly at Alana. "Not anymore, it would seem."

Loki rolled his eyes, but there was a certain tenderness in his gaze as he looked at her shape on the ground. "I've missed this, for sure."

"You asked me to look after her."

Loki straightened, his eyes still fixed on her. "I need her safe, Thor."

He shook his head. "How could you have said such things to me about Jane when you – you were hiding this? Hiding her?"

Loki closed his eyes. "She was taken from me. By those that you would call friends, and… I will admit it, Thor, I was full of rage, and… well. Thanos did not have much work to do before I was convinced that ruling Midgard would save us both."

Loki's eyes reached for his, a spark of desperation tingeing them. "Would you not have done the same?"

He sighed. "I cannot say."

Loki's gaze turned back to her and he sighed softly.

"Keep her safe for me, Thor, while I am - no, she will be safe without you, but… she has been wounded, she has been hunted – and although she is strong…" he sighed again, "I need her safe," he repeated.

He looked at Loki. "She cannot come to Asgard, brother."

Loki closed his eyes. "Odin will want to see her."

"For what reason?"

"She has taken Kvasir's place as the telepath of the realms."

He furrowed his brow, and said, "Loki – " but he was cut off as Loki said, "Trust me, brother."

He scoffed at that. "Since when?"

Loki smiled faintly.

She couldn't sleep.

It wasn't the hardness of the ground or the damp grass – it wasn't that she was uncomfortable in Loki's arms, feeling him breathe steadily, his chest against her back, his arms cradling her gently – no, it was a memory that kept returning to her, her own father, lying on the ground, eyes open, blood pooling around him, that night so long ago…

She shifted slightly and closed her eyes, feeling the lights around her – Loki, close and bright and warm, and Thor, sitting near the fire, keeping watch.

She touched Loki's mind, gently, letting his dreams wash over her, warm and soft, and she pressed closer to him, sleep coming slowly and steadily.

She awoke early the next morning and gently freed herself from Loki's arms, leaving him deep in sleep, brushing the dew off her armor – still stealth black, mourning black.

Thor's eyes were tired as she greeted him good morning and sat next to him on the log, staring with him into the ashes of the fire, not quite sure what to say.

Loki stirred after a bit and opened his eyes – he stood up, stretching slightly, running a hand through his hair, and sat next to her, kissing her cheek.

Thor stood up. "We must return."

She wound her fingers into Loki's, unsure – what would happen to him when he went back?

Please don't take him away from me again.

Loki squeezed her hand once and they stood up.

After a thought, she twisted her gauntlet; the black faded away, shimmering to blue and gold.

Loki smiled slightly.

Thor looked up to the sky, calling, "Heimdall!"

There was a pause, and then the sky erupted, light violently pulling her feet from the ground, Loki's hand the only thing she could feel other than the rushing – but the stars were so close, flying by, she could touch them, if she wanted – and the light dragged her along and finally trailed away from her, trying to keep its grip but failing - and she was in a giant golden dome.

There was a man standing there, looking at her intently with eyes like golden fire, his mind a fiery pillar, and she inhaled slightly.

"Welcome to Asgard," he said, his voice deep and low, his eyes still fixed on her. "Again."

She smiled tentatively.

He looked at Thor and said, "There are horses outside."

Twenty thrilling minutes later – she had ridden before, but not down a rainbow bridge of glass with Loki by her side – they dismounted in a courtyard, golden-helmed men standing around the walls, watching them – watching Loki.

Thor had led them to the palace, and she tried to suppress a gasp of astonishment as they entered the throne room, biting her lip hard.

Loki looked sideways at her and smiled slightly.

A man with white hair sat on the throne, a golden staff in his hand – she recognized Odin from the memories Kvasir had shown her.

He was looking directly at her.

"Why did you bring her here?" he asked.

"Allfather," Loki started, stepping forward but Odin made a little gesture with his hand, his eyes fixed on her. "Not you."

"Kvasir is dead, Father," Thor began, "and – "

She stepped forward, interrupting him. "I am the telepath of the realms, now that he has gone."

She could feel Loki's worry burning next to her, but she ignored it and continued. "I am to protect the realms as Kvasir once did."

Odin leaned forward slightly. "A Midgardian child is the next armustar?" He raised his eyebrow. "I highly doubt it."

She took a few steps forward now and Loki's concern flared brighter – step back – she could almost hear him pleading, but she would not back down, it was her right.

She closed her eyes and touched Odin's mind, ancient and growing, his thoughts – mainly focused on her (was that how everyone saw her? She looked so odd.)

She opened her eyes and was struck for a second by the strangeness – one of her eyes would not see.

Odin recoiled slightly in his throne.

She let the connection fade away, feeling her vision return, and knelt, clasping one arm over her breast.

"I swear to serve the realms as Kvasir did before me, Odin Allfather. You need have no fear of me."

He had convened an emergency meeting of the Council.

This was beyond what he could have expected – Loki's Midgardian toy, the next armustar, pledging her allegiance to him and to the realms?

Kvasir had been an asset to the realms – especially during the Battle of Jotunheim, so long ago (and that brought to mind her eyes – his eyes – looking back at him, one ruined and sightless, the other blue and piercing) and she could be of help if the situation with Thanos collapsed into open war.

He sighed. He had no doubt the war was coming soon.

Freya was bemused. "What would be the harm in allowing her to stay? She will help us, she has pledged her allegiance – "

"Need I remind you of her connection to Loki?" Tyr responded. "She could turn to his side– I have no doubt she is powerful in some other way besides telepathy – and he would have a ready-made weapon in the palace, waiting to fire wherever he wanted to point her!"

Freya scoffed. "She is not a weapon, Tyr. She is an armustar. She has a will of her own and did not blindly follow Loki here."

"That is true," Heimdall said, his voice rumbling through the room.

"And how long has it been since you loved, Tyr?" Freya asked. "How long has it been since Zisa died?"

Tyr's face went cold, and he said shortly, "A thousand years."

"Enough," Odin said firmly. "The problem that we face is whether the armustar should remain on Asgard or return to Midgard."

"Stay," Freyr said immediately and Freya nodded as well. Tyr stared at them in disbelief.

Freyr sighed at the look on Tyr's face. "She will need to train if she will be helpful to us."

Odin looked to Heimdall, who gave one slow nod.

He sighed and stood. "We are decided then."

He was about to dismiss the Council when Heimdall said, "She will need a lie, Allfather."

He sat back down, heavily. Heimdall was right. She could not be exposed as the armustar, nor as a Midgardian – it would make her a target, an object of whispers.

"We must think up a story!" Freyr exclaimed, rubbing his hands together, looking sideways at Tyr, then turning his glance to him. "She looked a bit like the Lady Sif, did she not, Allfather?"

Tyr stiffened. "Do not involve my daughter in your schemes."

Heimdall said quietly, "It would not be difficult to see them as related."

Tyr sat up straight. "That is absolutely ridiculous. You want a Midgardian to pretend to be my daughter?"

"It would work," Freya added. "We could say that you had sent her off to Vanaheim to be raised there after Zisa's death."

Tyr stood, facing him, and said, "Your Majesty, this is preposterous and insulting. You cannot possibly be considering – "

"Silence," he said.

Tyr shut his mouth, although his brow was dark, his jaw clenched, and his face creased in anger.

The plan was feasible – Tyr's family had always been private, and the birth of a second daughter could have gone unnoticed by the public. The people would assume that Zisa had died in childbirth, or shortly after – she had always been sickly – and Asgard would be none the wiser that a Midgardian was living in the palace.

He could see that Tyr knew his decision, and did not approve.

"She will need a name," he said.

"Sigyn," Tyr said, his mouth still twisted, eyes still hard. "She will bring us victory… and if not…"

He turned and left the room, bowing his head to Odin shortly as the rest of the Council watched him go.

Freyr shrugged. "Sigyn it is, then."

Thor had ordered the Einherjar back to their posts after Odin had dismissed them, and glancing sideways at Alana and him, had said, "I'll be back in a minute."

He had kissed her gently, his hand touching her cheek - he could feel her pulse racing fast and the look in her eyes told him that she was scared.

She had buried her head in his chest, her fingers hooking into his armor. "Don't leave," she whispered. "I don't – I can't – "

He stroked her hair. "Everything will be all right, Alana."

She looked back up at him. "I'll see you again," he said quietly. "Soon." He gave her a small smile and kissed her on the forehead.

She inhaled deeply and stepped away from him – at the same second, Thor entered the room.

She nodded slightly, her eyes shifting to green, and he heard her say, I love you.

He had not needed to reply – she could see what was etched into his mind – and a small smile spread across her face.

That was the memory that he would take with him – that was the memory that he would hold close.

Thor had shown her to her room, which she was walking around curiously.

There was a large balcony that overlooked the city – it was so high that it made her dizzy, in a wonderful sort of way – the floor was paved with stone, a fire roaring high and bright, and she traced her fingers down the walls. How old are these stones? What – who – have they seen?

Sunlight spilled into the room, and she felt suddenly exhausted, pressing her head to the wall.

Loki was returning to his prison cell, for now; she had wanted to accompany him there but he had refused – she could see the reason in his mind – don't see me there.

The Council was deciding her fate – again, it would seem – and Loki was gone again, and the only difference was that she was on Asgard, not Earth.

She sighed and walked over to the bed, which looked comfortable and warm, twisting the dials of her gauntlets so that the armor regressed to the charm.

She collapsed into the bed, but she was drowning in empty space… where were his arms to hold her?

A hand shook her arm gently the next morning, and, with her eyes still sleepy, she was about to say his name, curl into his arms – but the light, the mind next to her was different and she sat up straight in bed, her hand shooting up to protect her – N'itouri? Einherjar?

A very startled woman was standing there, eyes wide. "My lady?" she asked tentatively. "Are you all right?"

My lady?

You've got to be kidding me.

"I'm fine, yes, thank you," she said quickly, ducking her head, so that the woman could not see her eyes changing color. Lady Sigyn she heard and arrived last night from Vanaheim and She does look quite like Lady Sif. "Just… a nightmare."

The woman seemed satisfied with that explanation and said, "My lady, the Council wishes to meet with you."

"Okay," she said, and grimaced internally. Talk like Loki, damn it. "Do they require me immediately?"

The woman shook her head. "Of course not, my lady. You must robe yourself first."

"I have my armor," she said, swinging her legs out of the bed. "I did not bring any – " and she remembered Loki in the laundry room and socks sticking to her face – "any gowns with me."

The woman looked at her, puzzled. "Of course not, my lady."

She stood up, stretching, as the woman walked to a door set in the wall that she had not explored yesterday.

Her jaw opened slightly – she closed it quickly, and followed her into a room full of dresses in blue and purple and yellow and green.

The woman began to select a few.

"Are these all for me?" she asked.

The woman nodded. "Of course, my lady."

The woman helped her dress in a sleeveless gown of dark blue silk that felt so light and airy it was like she was wearing nothing at all – she turned the dial on her gauntlets and watched them turn into the thin golden bands around her arms.

Her hair was braided elaborately and piled onto her head, gold slippers placed on her feet, and she felt extremely uncomfortable and highly fake.

More fake than pretending to be an Aesir? a sardonic voice that sounded a bit like Loki asked.

She smiled faintly.

There was a knock on the door and the woman went to answer it. She returned and said, "Prince Thor, my lady. Shall I show him in?"

"Yes, thank you," she responded, and the woman curtseyed and disappeared. Thor came in a few seconds later, his eyes widening slightly. "You look quite different."

"Is she gone?" she whispered, and Thor nodded.

She relaxed, her shoulders dropping, feeling about two inches shorter. "What the hell is going on?"

The corner of Thor's mouth turned up. "I believe you are being adopted."

He escorted her downstairs – she was grateful for his help, the palace was enormous – and into the throne room again.

"You are in front of the Council," he said to her quietly, "so there will be no need to bow."

"Thank you," she whispered. He nodded and gestured for her to walk forwards.

There were four men there – Odin, Heimdall, a smiling blond man, a dark haired man who looked frustrated and angry at the same time, and two women, one blond, one brunette.

She stood in front of them and waited.

Finally, Odin spoke. "Alana Cooper," he said, "we have decided to allow you to stay."

She had already guessed that, based on how she was dressed.

Odin's eye narrowed, as if he could read her mind, too.

"The position of armustar is not one to be taken lightly. You will be responsible for a number of tasks – but you must train first. And in order to train, you must take a new identity."

The dark-haired man stepped forwards, a muscle twitching in his jaw, and even if she were not a telepath she could read the waves of suppressed anger emanating from him.

"You will pose as my daughter," he said, his jaw clenched.

The dark-haired woman stepped forwards as well. "And as my sister," she said.

"Lady Sif," she said, and curtseyed. "Lord Tyr."

Both their eyes widened slightly, and would it be bad to say that she was enjoying this just a little?

Odin said, "Lady Sif, please go with the Lady Sigyn."

Sif descended the stairs, looking back at Odin once. He nodded. "You are dismissed."

Sif turned to her. "Come, sister. We must talk."

Sif had been talking for over an hour now – at least she thought it was an hour, she really didn't have any way of telling the time – telling her about her family and her father, weaving the lie tighter and tighter.

She could see that this was not her way – she was a fierce warrior, yes, and slightly hotheaded from time to time, but generally preferred to listen, not to speak.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked Sif. "Why are you helping me?"

Sif looked at her, puzzled. "It is the Allfather's command."

"Yes, I know, but – I mean, I'm intruding on your entire history. Who knows how long you'll have to pretend that I'm your sister?"

Sif raised her eyebrows. "You speak candidly. I like that." She sighed. "In truth, Sigyn – " that name was so weird, it would take ages to get used to people calling her that – "Thor told me a bit about you."

She stopped walking "He did?"

Damn it, if he told her about Loki and I…

Sif nodded. "He told me that he could not quite understand you, but that he thought you had a good heart."

She raised her eyebrows. "Really?"

Sif furrowed her brow. "Why, did he not give you that impression?"

She shrugged. "I was thinking more like, 'You're absolutely insane and I cannot believe that I am taking you to Asgard'."

Sif rolled her eyes. "I grew up with Thor. I can read him like a book. He feels amiably towards you, I can see."

She smiled faintly. "Well, I'm glad to hear that."

She paused slightly, something Sif had just said registering with her. "You grew up with Thor?"

Sif nodded, a faint smile on her face.

"Then you must have grown up with Loki as well."

The smile dropped from Sif's face immediately. "Yes. I grew up with him. Though I sincerely wish that I hadn't."

Her eyes flicked down to Sif's hand, which was clenched into a fist, and she felt a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Sif turned around and began walking down the hallway again. She followed. "I presume you know of him from the chaos that he caused in Midgard?" Sif asked.

The sinking feeling knotted into a ball. "Yes," she said casually.

Sif frowned a little. "I do not wish to speak of him any longer. He is where he belongs now."

She followed Sif in silence as she began to speak of her – their – great grandmother, her heart twisted and heavy.

Her sketchbook was just where he had left it before his extended stay on Midgard – in fact, the whole room looked the same. The Einherjar had obviously been confident in their ability to return him before the cell was needed.

He lay on the bed, perusing the sketchbook – he had looked through it a thousand times but was aching for her touch, so he touched the lines instead. Her hand touched the pencil touched the paper touched my hand.

He felt a presence approach his cell and sat up, letting the sketchbook fall closed onto the covers.

"Thor."

"Loki."

"You're spoiling me. Visiting me a day after you took me to prison? I'm touched."

Thor sighed, cutting straight to the point. "She will stay on Asgard."

A little flicker emerged in his chest – thank the Norns, at least she'll be safe.

"And?"

Thor looked him straight in the eyes. "She has been taken into Tyr's family."

"Damn."

He knew Tyr's disapproval of other species, and could only imagine his reaction now that he had a Midgardian in his family. And now she was… oh dear gods, Sif's sister? He wrinkled his nose. "Well. I hope she'll survive it."

Thor raised his eyebrows. "It will be difficult, to say the least," he said, the corner of his mouth turning up.

He smiled faintly, and it would have felt like old days if not for the pit in his stomach and the barrier of light separating Thor from him.

Thor cleared his throat, and stepped a little closer to the cell. "I cannot stay long, but… on Vanaheim, you asked me to take care of her."

He nodded slightly, locking his fingers behind his back.

Thor looked away for a second. "On Svartalfheim, you took care of Jane when I could not."

Thor's eyes met his again, determined and resolute. "I will protect her, Loki, like you protected Jane. That is all that I can do for you."

He closed his eyes briefly, and he remembered pushing Jane out of the way of the implosion bomb – his only thought, Thor should not lose her like I lost Alana – it will be all right if he loses me.

He opened his eyes. "Thank you, brother."

Thor nodded once, turned, and left.

Loki lay back on the bed and closed his eyes. Thank you.