A/N: Hello all!

Back with another chapter today, yay!

I don't write for reviews, but they really do help to motivate me, and it's a little sad when I see that 100+ people read the last chapter and no one reviewed.

So, don't be a ghost, and make my day!

Love you all! Hugs!

TWENTY-FOUR

Oceans apart, day after day
And I slowly go insane
I hear your voice on the line
But it doesn't stop the pain

If I see you next to never
How can we say forever?

- "Right Here Waiting," Richard Marx

He stands by the side of the river, Thor next to him, watching the boat burn – he turns to look for Alana, but he cannot find her. He looks back to Thor, panic rising in his chest, and Thor merely points to the boat.

His heart drops and he runs into the water, dark and cold and heavy, sinking into his clothes, but he struggles through, finally reaching the boat, hooking his arms over the side – and she is lying pale and still, flowers wreathing her hair, a sword clasped in her hands.

He clambers into the boat, kneeling over her, clutching her face, cold and white, no, no, no, no, and her eyes snap open, piercing green, and he shudders. "Wake up," she says, one cold hand reaching for his face. "Loki, wake up."

He sat up, panting, one hand stretching to the other side of the bed… empty again.

Loki?

But her voice is still there, and – oh, gods, he can feel her again, the slight pressure, the little light inside his mind. "Alana?" he whispered hoarsely.

Hi.

He ran a hand through his hair. "How – "

I've been looking for you, but I didn't know where the dungeons were and I think they have a bit of a shield on them, but – I haven't been practicing my telepathy as much as I should, and – anyways.

I miss you.

He smiled faintly. "I miss you too," he murmured, lying back down on the bed.

Are you okay?

He raised his eyebrows. "Broadly speaking."

He could practically hear her sigh. I'm sorry I can't visit.

"I know, love, don't worry. I'm fine."

His nightmares were getting worse, night after night – no blessed peace with her now, only scars blanketing her body and blood trickling out of her mouth and trying to save her, again and again and again, to no avail.

I know.

He winced. "I am fine, Alana, really."

He heard an audible grunt of pain inside his head.

Ow.

"Are you all right?"

Asgardians punch harder than humans. I'm getting used to it.

The corners of his mouth turned up. "Are you… sparring?"

Silence, then, Maybe.

"Sparring and talking to me at the same time? And is that going well?"

Well, you're a bit distracting – ow! – but it's okay. I'm getting better at it.

He smiled.

Another grunt and then, Okay, that's definitely not fair.

"Who are you fighting?"

This blond friend of Sif's who thinks he's God's gift to women everywhere.

"That would be Fandral. He favors his left-hand side, just so you know."

Thanks.

She didn't speak for a while, and he lay on his cot, a small smile on his lips and a faint tinge of sorrow in his heart, imagining her in the sunlight, laughing and fighting – he wished that he could see her too, be there too – oh, gods, Fandral was probably flirting with her.

He could feel her laugh. I'm sword fighting and that's what you're worried about, Loki, really?

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't deny it."

She laughed again. He's trying – not really getting anywhere. I mean, really. His pick-up lines aren't even good.

Another couple of grunts from her and then finally a sigh of relief.

Thank goodness that's over.

"Did you win?"

Barely. Thor was watching and laughing the entire time. I mean, it was pretty funny, but still… I miss training with you.

"I know, love."

She sighed slightly. I need to go, Loki… I'm sorry.

"It's all right. Go train."

I love you.

"You know I love you too."

And his mind was empty again – the warmth of her presence gone in the blink of an eye.

She unbraided her hair and tapped her gauntlets, sighing deeply as her armor retreated, peeling off her sweat-drenched clothes.

She trained with the Einherjar every day, but she missed Kvasir. The way he had taught her – well. The Einherjar taught by example, with tactics honed from years and years of training, but Kvasir had known how to teach her.

She had found Loki's mind in the middle of a heated match between one of Sif's friends – Fandral, Loki had said – and herself. She was not very good with a sword, but some training (and her telekinesis) had factored in, allowing her to narrowly beat him.

But just to touch Loki's mind again… she had been trying to find him for several weeks now, to no avail.

She sighed and stepped into the bathtub, full of hot water and soap, allowing her sore muscles to unwind.

She floated there in the water for a while, just thinking.

Loki was hurting, she knew – the nightmare she had found him in proved that, and he was so lonely that it physically ached to touch his mind.

She sank under the water, holding her breath.

She missed his touch, his smile, his laugh, the way he would hold her – his very presence soothing and calm.

She resurfaced and sighed again.

Who knows when she would see him again? She had heard some rumors amongst the Einherjar of the prisoners, but ones regarding Loki were noticeably absent.

But Odin couldn't keep him there for long…

He paced the floor day after day, wearing out the soft leather soles of his shoes until they were hanging by threads and he could not wear them anymore.

So he took them off and tossed them aside and paced in bare feet – it hurt after a while, more than he had expected.

As his feet blistered and reddened, he thought, and thought, and thought.

There is nothing else to do.

And images from his nightmares were creeping into the daytime… a bloodied hand reaching for him; her face, bruised and pale; Kvasir's skull grinning from the dirt…

He felt as if he was losing his mind.

The meal for that day arrived – meat and fruit and vegetables, standard fare – and he pushed it aside – how could he eat?

He lived for the moments, few and far between, when Alana could break through the barriers of the prison and talk to him – he felt the light, the warmth, not just in his mind but in his chest, painfully, wonderfully warm – and she soothed him and made him smile but it was getting harder and harder, and each day felt like forever, each hour felt like a lifetime of pain.

She dodged an axe and thrust her hand towards Volstagg's chest – he went flying backwards, but Einherjar poured towards her, filling the empty space. She felt a sword whistling towards her and stopped it inches from her shoulder with a wave of her hand, spinning, and thrusting her sword towards the Einherjar, whose eyes widened as her blade stopped an inch from his neck.

Then she was gone again, leaping over their heads and sprinting across the courtyard, twenty plated men running after her, swords drawn, roaring their battle cry – and she laughed in pure delight, running across the courtyard – and men and women stopped their sparring and watched in confusion as she sprinted past them, the Einherjar close behind.

One threw his sword at her; she stopped it in midair and it clattered to the ground, lost in the stampede of feet.

She stopped running and turned towards the crowd – three, two, one – and pushed out her hands, feeling the power inside her, pushing back the Einherjar like a wave.

They flew backwards, and she caught all of them a few inches above the ground, placing them down gently, tendrils emanating from her mind, shooting out like tentacles, or a spiders' web – one for each of them.

They sat up, and she had to repress a smile at their faces.

Volstagg clapped her on the shoulder – hard. "Well fought, Lady Sigyn."

She smiled and said, "Thank you."

"But," he shook his finger at her, "you must work on fighting without your magic."

She sighed. "I know."

"Hand-to-hand tomorrow. Thor will be there."

She looked askance at him. "You're going to have me fight Thor?"

He laughed heartily. "Most certainly not. Well. At least not for the hand-to-hand bit."

He continued, "We have been keeping him updated on your progress, though."

She furrowed her brows. "What for?"

Volstagg looked slightly confused. "Well, you are one of his warriors, of course. And we have been training you to be part of his vanguard."

She nodded briefly. "All right," she said calmly, but inside her mind was whirling and her stomach was tight.

She had known that she was being trained to fight in battle, but suddenly it all seemed so much more real – she, part of Thor's vanguard, advancing into battle – into war.

Her throat felt constricted and she swallowed.

Volstagg noticed her hesitation and patted her on the shoulder, this time more gently. "Do not worry, Lady Sigyn. You will be safe under Thor. He protects his warriors, his vanguard most of all."

She nodded.

Volstagg patted her on the back once more and said, "Your training for the day is over."

She thanked him and headed back to the palace.

He hadn't eaten in days.

The nightmares were coming so often now – even waking was no relief, the images would just keep coming –

He ran a hand through his hair, his face damp with cold sweat.

She smiles and he reaches to touch her cheeks, but his fingers are blue and the black spreads over her skin – she screams as she freezes to death –

He shuddered.

What was happening to him?

He paced back and forth, stumbling slightly as another overtook his mind –

"I never loved you," she whispers, a soft smile on her lips. "Never. Look at you – weak, cowardly, foolish. How could I?"

She stabs him in the heart and he fell to his knees with a grunt of pain.

"Alana," he said, hoarsely. "Help – "

Frigga is sitting beside him. "Your magic is weak, as is your will. Look at what you did, Loki. Look at the way he turned you, at the way you snapped like a twig underneath him. This is why we should have let you die."

He fell on his hands and knees, fingers shaking. "Help," he whispered again.

Thor, standing there with Alana clinging closely to him. "What you have done is unforgiveable," they say together, with one voice. "What you have wrought is irreversible." Her hands press to his chest, her face lifts, and he reaches down to kiss her –

Curled up on the floor, breaths fast, harsh, not enough oxygen in the world –

"Loki," she smiles, dressed all in white, like a bride, "I love – " and then her eyes go wide with shock and betrayal - blood trickles from her lips and mouth and eyes and the gown is stained with red and he is holding a blood-stained dagger –

"Stop – "

A tombstone that reads KVASIR, and scrabbling in the dirt, hand over hand, desperately, frantically, and then he sees a skull whose mouth opens wide and says, "Leave me be, Loki, for once - you put me here, you know, why do you wake me now?"

"Please – "

"Please? Please is why we are dead," Frigga and Kvasir say, their eyes dark and cold. "Please is why you could not save us, please is why you killed us."

He moaned in agony – make it stop, please, someone make it stop –

"Like you stopped me?" Alana whispers, crouching down beside him, a finger to his lips. "Like how I turned to kiss you good morning and your hands burned me black?"

She lifts up her shirt to reveal dark handprints across her stomach, black streaks of violence and pain.

"You said you didn't mean to, but you meant every second, you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

She smiled. "But I still love you, Loki – forever." And he reached for her, but she dissolved in a burst of green light and he was left kneeling in front of a flaming boat sailing on a sea of dark water –

"No, stop – "

He curled up tighter on the floor, hands pressed against his head.

"Help," he whispered as the images came again. "Alana, help."

She was fighting Sif hand-to-hand when something went terribly wrong.

A little spasm of pain in her mind, a whisper of a thought from far away – Alana, help – and she froze completely.

Sif would have taken advantage of her sudden inability to move, but she automatically threw up a shield – Sif frowned and said something, but she couldn't hear her – her mind was focused on the corner of the dungeons where Loki should have been.

And there was something there that she couldn't get past – she couldn't find Loki, only little flickers of his mind, in and out, wracked with pain – and Sif was looking concerned now, reaching for her, but she brushed her off.

Loki, what's wrong? she asked, but she couldn't get through to him – she concentrated harder but still nothing – Loki, talk to me!

Nothing.

Thor was walking towards her now, eyebrows knotted in confusion. "Sigyn, what – "

Sif said, "Something's wrong, she just – "

She whipped her hand up to Thor's head, two fingers against his temple, and pushed – damn, he has good barriers – his eyes screwed shut and he inhaled sharply as she told him what she had felt.

Something's wrong with Loki. I can barely feel him, he's in pain - we need to get down there. Now.

She was vaguely aware of a dozen golden swords ringing her, aimed at her neck, as she removed her hand from Thor's head.

He opened his eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, looking straight at her.

She nodded. "Yes."

He nodded grimly and noticed the blades surrounding her. "Lower your weapons," he ordered, then turned and quickly began walking towards the palace.

She followed him.

He led the way to the dungeons, but stopped just outside the doors, heavy and wooden and framed in rusting iron. "Wait here," he said.

She scoffed. "Like hell I'm waiting outside, Thor."

His eyes were serious as he said, "You should not be seen with him."

"I don't care," she hissed. "If you think that I'm going to –"

"You must. If anyone – anyone – sees you with him, questions are going to be asked. It's already suspicious enough that you arrived on Asgard at the same time. This could be the tipping point of the balance - "

"Thor," she growled, "I don't care if you're the future king of Asgard, I will knock you out."

"He will not want you to see him like this."

"You need me. He needs me."

"Stay here," he said, and entered the dungeons, the door creaking shut behind them.

She stayed there, fists unclenching and clenching, for an agonizing minute and a half, then pushed open the door tentatively.

Loki? she called out. Loki, can you hear me?

A flash of a red cape in the corner of her eye – then Thor was there, shoving his way through the doors, his arms full of something – someone –

She reached out for Loki – his face covered with sweat, paler than she had ever seen it; his hands, limp; his eyes screwed shut in pain – she reached for him, but Thor pressed past her, his eyes fixed straight ahead, walking quickly down the hall.

She pressed a hand to her mouth, blinking back the tears, and followed.

"To your rooms, Lady Sigyn," Odin said, his voice stern and full of anger. "Now."

He had met them outside of Loki's rooms, barring her access to them as Thor slipped by.

She clenched her jaw. "Allfather, I can help – "

"You have endangered yourself and Loki by following Thor here. The halls are not empty and servants talk."

"I can't just leave him – "

"You can, and you will," he said, coldly. "You must. Now."

She inhaled deeply, and for one second she could see herself pushing past Odin –

She bowed her head stiffly and made her way to her chambers.

"Alana," he moaned softly, "No – don't – "

Thor sat by his bedside, watching as Loki flinched and moaned and screamed. Who has done this to him?

"And you are sure that he is not merely acting?" Odin said quietly to Eir, the head healer.

Thor felt a small explosion of anger in his chest. Alana felt it.

But Odin would say that she was only acting, too…

Eir shook her head. "We cannot say for certain, but his mind map is convulsed and twisted. It's almost as if there is a living virus in his mind, planting the images – and those are not an act, I can assure you. I have seen them…"

Loki tossed his head and moaned something incoherent.

Odin sighed. "Very well." He nodded and Eir took her leave.

Thor clenched his hand into a fist. This was a scenario he remembered well enough, from childhood – the occasional infection that Loki could not seem to shake – and Frigga had sat with him, sponging his forehead and holding his hand.

He had resented, mildly, the affection that Loki received during those periods of illness, and had made up for it by going out all the more with Sif and the Warriors Three.

And yet, the few times that their roles had been reversed, and Thor was the one lying sick in his bed, Loki had stayed with him even more than Frigga, reading aloud to him, or merely sitting there in silence – and one night, when Loki had thought he was asleep, he had heard him whispering spells, green light flashing slightly over his chest, cool fingers placed over his heart.

The next day, Loki had been paler than usual, but Thor felt nearly back to normal.

He had known that Loki had healed him, but had never let on – not even when Loki fell ill with the same sickness the day after that.

And now here they were again, and he had heard Alana's voice, barely controlled as she pleaded with Odin to let her see him, and her footsteps against the stone floors as she left.

"Come, Thor," Odin said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "There is nothing more we can do at the moment, and I have need of you in the Council-room."

"No," he said quietly. "I will stay with him, Father."

Odin's fingers tightened slightly on his shoulder. "Do you forget what he has done?"

He was almost glad that Loki could not hear Odin, could almost see the look on his face, the mask that covered the pain.

"Do you forget that he is your son?" he asked, raising his head to meet the Allfather's gaze.

Odin's eye narrowed. "He is not."

He turned and left the room and Thor turned back to Loki.

After only a moment of hesitation, he took Loki's hand, cool as ever, his hand much smaller than Thor's.

Be well, brother.

She paced around her room anxiously.

She had tried to touch Loki's mind so many times now, and to no avail.

She was having trouble distinguishing which mind was his, and flashed around the castle – she could tell who nearly everyone was, except for him.

It didn't feel like Loki – it felt wrong and dark and not like him – there were only bits and pieces that she could recognize.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair.

If only Odin had let her in – if only she could have seen him, she could have helped.

There was a knock on the door and one of the servants stepped in. "Lady Sigyn?" he asked. "Will you require dinner in your chambers? Will anyone… be staying here this evening?"

His words were charged with insinuation, and she furrowed her brow slightly, mind racing – what if they know about Loki? Damn it all to hell – and Odin had said, the servants talk, and was she safe anymore? Was he safe? Was this a cruel joke played on her before they revealed her to all of Asgard?

She noticed that she was beginning to breathe slightly faster and quickly wiped her face into a polite smile.

"Yes, dinner would be lovely," she answered formally. "Thank you."

He bowed and left the room.

The kitchen was buzzing with news of Lady Sigyn.

"Put her hand up to his face as quick as lightning – "

"He was staring at her for an age – "

" – got competition now, doesn't that mortal – "

"Well, at least this one's from a proper family, a Tyrdottir, you know, and of course it'll break Sif's heart, but really, I mean – "

" – Went rushing off, the two of them, thick as thieves, I say – "

" - and according to Narya, he's been visiting her chambers – "

"Shut up in Loki's old chambers, and she was begging to see him, poor Thor, we've always known he missed Loki, Norns bless him – "

"Well, he wouldn't let us move anything after he fell, d'you remember? Would stay in there for hours – "

The servant slipped down into the commotion, weaving his way through the crowd, until he reached the head cook. He tapped her on the shoulder. "Lady Sigyn wishes to eat in her room tonight."

The cook raised her eyebrows. "And?"

He shrugged. "She's worried – pacing the floors – and when I asked if someone was staying the night, she wouldn't answer – "

The cook chuckled. "Norns bless her, she's all worked up. Thor'll come around, he always does – they'll be sparring together again by morning."

He grinned at her and she handed him a plate. "That'll do, I think," she said. "Tell me if she needs enough for two!"

They laughed and he weaved his way out of the kitchen again, out of the steam and the commotion.

She was absentmindedly picking at the food that had been sent up when there was a light knock on the door and Thor entered.

She stood up immediately – his face was haggard and he had apparently not been sleeping as well.

"How is he?" she asked quickly, searching his face, tempted to search his mind as well – but she restrained herself. "Is he all right?"

Thor shrugged slightly. "We still do not know. Eir believes that something, or someone, is in his mind, planting the images… I cannot tell."

"Can I see him?" she asked softly. "Please?"

He ran a hand through his hair wearily. "I am afraid not – Odin will not allow it – and I need to get back to him, I only wanted to tell you what we know."

She sighed. "Thank you, anyways," she said. "I just – it's so frustrating to not – to not – " and her eyes welled again – oh, not now, really Alana, now's not the time – and she swiped at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I'm tired."

Thor hugged her tightly, firmly. "I swear he will be all right, Alana. I swear it. And you have nothing to apologize for."

There was a knock and the sound of a door opening immediately after it, then a small "oh!" and the sound of the door closing again.

Thor sighed. "The servants seem to have remarkably bad timing."

She smiled slightly and he let go of her. She made a little shooing motion with her hand. "Stay with him, Thor," she said. "Please."

He nodded. "I will."

It was two in the morning and she hadn't slept at all.

The castle was quiet as she snuck out of her chambers and made her way to Loki's – no servants, no Einherjar to be seen.

She paused outside the door, feeling for minds – Thor's, inside, asleep, and the darkness that passed for Loki's mind.

She pushed the door open silently and entered, the well-oiled hinges making no noise.

Thor was asleep in a chair next to the bed, his head resting on his chest, hair covering his face.

And Loki…

He was thinner and paler than when she had been with him on Vanaheim – the dungeons leaving their mark, again – and her heart ached in pain.

He moaned slightly and tossed in the bed, his bare chest heaving, fingers clenching and unclenching rapidly. "Stop, don't…"

She crossed to him, touching his forehead – cold and clammy.

She took his hand in hers. "Loki, it's me," she whispered, "I'm here, Loki."

His hand wrapped around her wrist. "Don't hurt her," he said desperately, "stop – "

"I'm fine, Loki, everything's okay. Everything's all right, Loki," she whispered, clutching his hand tighter. "Loki, wake up."

She probed his mind – his barriers were in tatters and there was something in his mind, something dark and undulating, she touched it hesitantly and inhaled sharply – a flash of bright blue eyes in a huge face, then a low voice, "Not you – not yet."

The image disappeared but she probed the darkness again.

Let him go.

The darkness seemed to laugh, and pushed her out once more.

Loki's eyes shot open – she crouched beside him, one hand reaching for his cheek.

"Loki, I'm okay, I'm here," she said softly, "You have to – "

"Get out," he said furiously, "get out of here now, Alana, you can't fight him, he'll –"

His eyes rolled back up in his head and he twitched away from her, faced screwed up in pain.

She hesitated for only a moment, and then climbed into the bed, next to him, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her lips to his forehead.

He moaned again and pressed his face into her chest – she stroked his hair and whispered to him, although she wasn't certain he could hear her – and she pushed at the dark mass in his mind again and again, which merely laughed and shoved her out.

She grabbed one tendril and pulled, hard, with all her strength, and the mass growled at her, but she could feel the darkness receding – she pulled again and Loki began to calm slightly, and the darkness hissed and an image appeared in her mind once more –

"You're stronger than I thought, little mortal. Do you want your weak and feeble lover back?"

Give him to me.

"Say please…"

She growled and pulled harder but it lashed out like a whip and she stifled a groan of pain.

"Here, then. Have him back. For now… but be warned, armustar. I am not finished with him… with either of you."

The darkness receded slowly, slowly, leaving an emptiness that was gradually taken back by Loki's light, which was slightly faded at first but began to shine brighter as the minutes passed.

She watched him worriedly, but he did not wake up, merely shifted slightly in her arms.

She kissed him on the forehead and held him tightly as he slept.

Be safe.