I don't own anything.

A/N: So it's obviously been several months since I last updated, though nowhere near as long as previous updates had been. I do apologize, I tried to stick to my strict writing regime, but alas, I had to move, again, and then I had family troubles and you probably don't want to hear all about it so I'll stop right here. But I hope you enjoy this new chapter. Just a fair warning, it gets a little rough at the end. Not horribly violent, mostly words, but I'd thought you all deserve a heads up.

Without further adieu, here is the next chapter!

The Art of Love and War
A Thor Fanfiction

by: alcatluvr13

Chapter III

Asgard was in mourning. It had been three months since Loki had sentenced his elder brother to exile in Midgard and the people were grieving and at a loss for their beloved prince. To lose the king and his eldest son in such a short time was a huge blow to the proud Asgardians, who looked at their new king with distrust and fear…

Curse him! Thor thought as he covered his face with his arm. The least he could have done was give me some clothing to keep warm in this blasted wind!

He had managed to scrounge up enough cloth and twine to make a shelter but it wasn't enough to make a coat. He had to kill that wolf for its skin to complete it.

Almost there, he thought. Thor wasn't used to being alone, or doing things himself. Being a warrior helped keep him in peak condition and he had suffered through many a lean tent and ill-cooked food whenever he was on campaign. But to do it full time was something completely different, and something he wasn't sure he could keep up.

No mortal could live in weather like this, he thought as he stepped inside his tent. He sighed. Exile from his homeland has made him bitter and less willing to make amends for those with more fortitude and less knowledge than he. Not that he would ever have an occasion to admit that to anyone. As it is, he wasn't sure he would survive the night.

He shed his thick wolf coat and prodded at the fire with a stick. Flames spit back at him and he sighed again. What would he do to turn back time? He would even give up his right to the throne if it would bring his father back and return him home. For despite Loki's claim against him, Thor knew something wasn't right and somewhere along the line he had been betrayed.

One month previous….

"Thor Odinson, you are hereby charged with treason for betraying your solemn oath as Protector of Asgard. You are also charged with the kidnapping and death of Lady Sif and Fandral, third member of the Warriors Three. Upon examination of the evidence provided, we here on this council find you guilty on both accounts. Do you have any words to say before sentencing?"

Thor looked at those on the pulpit. Men who he'd known since childhood; men who had known him as a babe; and men he had called comrade, knowing they had his back. The betrayal was too much. His accusers may have forgotten all the battles and feasts they had shared together, but he had not.

"Yes. In fact, I do. As councilors to the All-Father, many of you have known me since before I was born. As the eldest son to Odin, King of Asgard, I have been privy to many of my father's council meetings. From the moment I could walk I was allowed to attend at my father's knee, watching the proceedings. And those have not seen me in the womb, you have trained with me as warriors in combat. You attended my lessons, begrudging every moment not spent out of doors with me. And we all served on campaigns together: as advisors, as comrades-in-arms, as brothers locked in grief. You of all men should know my heart is true and I have had nothing to do with the disappearance of my best friends, the Lady Sif and Fandral. I could no more betray them than I could betray Asgard!"

"Is that your only defense?"

Thor nodded.

"Very well. In light of Prince Loki's entreaties, and in view of your royal blood and our respect for your father, Odin, the All-Father and king of Asgard, we hereby sentence you to exile. You may take the clothes on your back and a knife. As Mijnor is yours by right of blood, you may take that as well. Guards will escort you directly from these proceedings to the Bifrost, where you will be exiled to Midgard. Should you return, your life shall be forfeit. As you are no longer a Prince of the Blood, your right to the throne of Asgard is also forfeit and shall pass directly to the second in line, Prince Loki. Any last words, Thor Odinson?"

Thor looked in the eyes of each of his accusers. "Would that I had an upright judge and fair trial. No. But it is not to be. I make this solemn vow, my brothers: should we ever meet again, you shall receive the same treatment that I have had by your hands."

Not a day has gone by when he hasn't relived that moment; they say time has a way of easing grief, but for Thor, it is as if the betrayal was only yesterday and not a month previous. The sting was too raw, the hurt too deep. He knew he needed to survive and that his survival was necessary to honor his vow, but what could he do now that he was stranded in middle of Midgard, with no way to contact his allies? Civilization was too far and what stray people he had encountered were peasant hunters or trappers, men and women who lived alone and probably would not welcome an intrusion on their solitude.

Thor sighed for the thousandth time. It had been one month since his exile began and he felt hopeless, alone, and what was most alarming to him, fearful. He should not give up hope. He could not give up hope. But he was beginning to realize this was easier said than done.

Jane suppressed another sigh as the seamstress began another story. Normally she would love to hear new tales of myth and lore, but the seamstress knew none of those. No, all the stories she knew were ones of scandalous liaisons wrought with duels, claims of dishonor, and always ended in someone injured and the lady hastily married off to prevent further embarrassment. No, Jane did not like gossip and today was no different from any other day. Unfortunate as this may be, the seamstress did not take notice of her mistress' displeasure and continued on with her tale of Lady So-and-So, having finally caught the notice of her amorous cousin, getting caught herself in bed with the Lord Ridiculous by her suspicious father-in-law.

"That really is too bad," Jane murmured as the seamstress paused at one point. "Are we almost done? I have other matters to attend to."

"Of course, of course Highness. I can finish the alterations in my own chamber. Is there anything else you require of me?"

"No, no, just send a message when the gown is finished."

The woman curtsied and left the room quickly, having noticed the princess' attitude. Jane watched the woman leave, slightly amused by the woman's indignant response to her lack of interest. She shook her head. There was more for her to worry about than some minor lord's outrage over his daughter-in-law's incestuous relationship.

"Finally done with the fittings, hm?"

The princess turned around to see Lord Henry standing in the doorway to her privy chamber. "Yes, my lord. And to what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?" Jane was aware at how unseemly this meeting was, but she had let her favor for the handsome young lord be known to all, and many were already hinting that a betrothal was not far off.

"Only the pleasure of seeing your beautiful self, your highness," he said cheekily. His flirtatiousness never failed to get a giggle from the princess, and he knew it. Probably because she knew his courtship of her was mostly play and both loved to act out things that could be easily snatched up and spread about by the gossips of the court.

Jane rolled her eyes. "Well, be quick about it. Lady Darcy should be back soon. She ran an errand for me while I was being poked and prodded." She said it briskly, but the smile told him he would stay as long as he wished. Lady Darcy was Jane's favorite lady-in-waiting, even more so than Lady Elana, and also her closest confidant. Perhaps because Darcy was the niece of the Lord Regent himself but Henry knew Darcy was loyal to the princess and somewhat overprotective. Her wit has been known to make a grown man cry, although he doubted the truth of that statement. And Jane knew he doubted it.

"Well, I also have a small request to ask of you, highness. One that would be beneficial to you and that I hope will make you very happy."

It had been a month since the ball where they were introduced, and though it was never announced that he was officially courting her, everyone assumed it was the case. Jane never disproved the rumors and Henry never said anything to add or dispel such talk. But even so, Jane knew that she would have to say something soon, for the Council was getting anxious that she be crowned, but she could only do it with a husband by her side.

Not thinking it could be very serious, Jane nodded her assent for him to continue. To her surprise, he got down on one knee and raised a small box he had hidden in his hand.

"Most Gracious Highness, Princess Jane Foster of Midgard, I humbly present myself as a suitor for your hand in marriage. I ask you to be my loving wife, for I believe we could truly be happy together. Our marriage would be a symbol of your glorious, peaceful reign and a sign of unity to all those who would oppose us. Think of a beautiful wedding that would begin a blessedly long and happy life as king and queen of Midgard." He paused to open the box, which showed a magnificent diamond ring surrounded smaller stones of emerald cut beautifully, and in a setting of gold so exquisitely fashioned it must have cost more than Jane's monthly allowance. Probably six months allowance, if she was speaking honestly.

Jane put her hand to her heart and tried to steady her rising anxiety. This is too sudden. Too fast. I'm not ready. I can't do this now. This is too much.

Henry noticed her hesitation and he rushed on. "Highness, beautiful lady, I know this is sudden. But I'm afraid your Council insists upon this marriage. They've seen how you are with me, and believe that I could make a good husband. Indeed, I would not insist on your acceptance if I wasn't being pushed by my father and the Elders."

"INSIST?" Jane cried suddenly, almost shrilly. Henry visibly flinched. "You insist on this marriage? What about what I want? What about what I need? Has anyone ever considered that?! That perhaps I could rule independently and without a master?! The gods themselves know that we've had reigning queens in the past! What man would marry a single queen if only for power? A king consort could influence as much as the Council, perhaps even more! What sane, honest, intelligent woman would take such a risk? Not only with her heart and bed, but with the kingdom which is hers by right?!"

Months of frustrations and fears were now coming out in a torrent of shrieks. Tears were streaming down her eyes and she turned away so he could not see them. She took several deep breaths and turned back to face him, her face white and her eyes red. "You say you're being pushed into this marriage just as much as I am, and for that very reason I must decline your offer. I apologize for my outburst but as you can imagine, your offer was unexpected and unwarranted. While I am sure you could be a good husband, you must take your offer to a lady who could return your affections and would be lucky to have you as her lord. Now, if you please, sir, I would like to be alone."

Henry rose from his kneeling position, his face dark with anger at her blatant refusal. He snapped the case shut, his shoulders rigid from his wounded pride. "Lady, you could no sooner rule without a husband than a fish learn to fly. The Council of Elders insists on a marriage between us and both my father and I have to agree. No sane, honest, intelligent woman would treat such a man as I as you have treated me. I have come to believe that you need a lord and master to watch your behavior. Such outbursts are unseemly in a future queen and I promise you now, I will not tolerate such abuse from my future wife."

Jane was angry now. "How dare you? How dare you, sir? You speak thusly to your future queen? I could have you banished from court! No, I could have you exiled and then where would you be, for all your wealth and titles? I could strip it from you and leave you with nothing but the clothes on your back!"

Henry was black with rage. He had wooed her, courted her, and brought her little gifts of posies and small trinkets. He would not lose his chance at the throne because of her spoiled upbringing and pride.

"You have insulted me, lady, in a manner that no man would ever dream of," he said, his voice low and quiet. "You will accept this ring and my proposal and we will leave this room now and announce to the entire court of our betrothal. You will act happy and in love and you will strive to make everyone in court believe that you are marrying me of your own free will."

Jane did not hear the danger in his voice; she could only feel. "I will not marry you, sir. You have no right to me or mine. You will leave my presence immediately and pack your belongings. You are no gentleman to insult your princess. Go! I want you out of court by sundown! And do not think to spread your lies around the court, for I shall give a good accounting of your treacherous heart." She whipped around and started for her bedchamber. But she did not make it. Henry had grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him.

"Sir! Unhand your queen!" she said, icily.

She raised her other arm to slap him but he grabbed it before her hand could even reach his face. He pushed her back until she hit the wall. He had her pinned between the wall and his body and he leaned in close so she could smell his breath. In the split second he did this, Jane's eyes widened with fear as she realized that she was utterly powerless in his grasp.

"You will announce your betrothal to me or I swear you will rue the day you ever set eyes on me," he hissed at her. His eyes were black with rage and his grip around her arms tightened as he pushed her hard against the wall. "Don't you know the entire Council supports our marriage? Don't you know the only support you have is in that old pox, my lord regent Erik? Don't you realize that we could take you off the throne and put another in your place? Perhaps one who is not so inclined to little temper tantrums and who won't stomp her feet when she doesn't get her way. How would you like that, princess? Would you want to be remembered as the princess who gave up her throne and hundreds of years of Foster rule? To be known as the queen who dishonored her family name on a girlish whim?"

Jane struggled to get out of the trap he had her in, but his grip was too tight. Any tighter and she would have bruises. She was terrified, but she knew he was speaking truth from the look in his eyes. The Council was entirely against her and would never have her crowned as queen so long as she was single. And she had given her word as princess of Midgard that she would marry. The entire kingdom was expecting her to take a husband and her court already assumed Henry was courting her. She was trapped, as trapped as she was now between his body and the wall. Her rage having been replaced with fear, she could feel her resolve was slipping away fast.

She stopped struggling, exhausted and defeated. "Very well, my lord. I see you speak sense. I will accept your offer to become my husband." She would not say king unless he forced her to. Jane might have lost this battle, but she still had her pride and sense of worth. And besides, his grip had loosened at her acquiesce.

"You will not find a harsh husband in me, Jane," he said softly. "I promise you, I will make a good husband and a fine king." He let her go, breathing hard, and stepped back to straighten his jacket. He grabbed the small box he had dropped in his anger and opened it to take out the ring. "You are so beautiful, Jane," he said, his voice already dripping with desire as he slipped the magnificent ring on her finger. "Look how beautiful it is on your finger. As if it was meant to be."

And he tilted her head up towards his and kissed her lightly on the lips. He refused to acknowledge the tears streaming down her face. She was his and he would be king.

That's all that mattered.

Outside, the Lady Darcy wiped the tears from her eyes and stepped away from the privy door. She left the apartments and walked briskly to her uncle, the lord regent. She would find a way to save her princess and if she had to commit murder to do so, by all the gods, she would. No one hurt her friend without regretting it. And she would make Lord Henry wished he had never come to court and had never laid eyes on Jane.

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