Cassandra felt a bit like a kind of lizard basking on a rock being perched atop the stone railing of the balcony. The bare soles of her feet heated quickly against the sun-warmed surface, toes tapping at the rough texture as she held her knees to her chest, her arms draped loosely against them. Somehow, she'd felt a touch of claustrophobia sitting inside her room. How could such a large room in such an enormous building feel so incredibly small?
The space was like a hand around her throat. She teleported back to her designated quarters just before sunrise. She'd slept so soundly that it was a miracle Loki managed to wake her at all, what with the physical trauma truly weighing on her on top of the previous night, but falling back asleep in the bed she was given was next to impossible. Her head occasionally lulled as her eyes unfocused, the exhaustion and body aches tugging at her—still, every attempt to lay down and close her eyes was futile.
After last night, how could she sleep alone ever again?
Leaning back, she rested the back of her head against the wall as she sighed a heavy breath. Her mind was full of a thick fog. It was almost as if it had tried to do so much, being in too many stressful places at once, that it simply stopped working. Adding an ever-present headache on top of a sharp pain at the base of her skull that came and went with the breeze, her body was fully submerged in a vat of pure misery. Her right shoulder throbbed and the skin of her hands held that same pop rocks feeling she'd experienced when touching the dungeon floor.
She almost laughed at it all. What a mess. A sharp yet hollow knock at the large doors to her room caused her body to startle, and she squinted against the harsh light of the sun as both doors pushed open without prompt. Holding up a hand to block out the sun helped her to better see into the shade of the room. To say she was surprised to see an unfamiliar woman in gold armor entering her room was an understatement, though it was alarming enough to cause her to swing her legs over the balcony, palms bracing against the stone in preparation to get down if necessary.
"Help yourself," Cassandra commented, dryly, with a huff. "What do you want?"
The woman came to stand at the archway opening to the balcony, and the discomfort—no, irritation—of the situation was evident in her features. They were delicate but sharp, maybe even enough to draw blood, and the black hair trailing her shoulders in braids contrasted the fairness of her skin. "Thor asked me to check on you. He's worried, since you haven't left your room," she explained, calm despite feeling a bit out of place.
Cassandra raised an eyebrow tiredly. "Why didn't Thor come here himself?"
"He's petitioning the Allfather for Jane's release."
Something in Cassandra's gut clenched. The skin of her face paled as her features slacked and she moved quickly to push off the balcony ledge. Though, it wasn't the rough texture to the stone flooring on her bare feet that forced out a squeak of a cry from her—it was the weight of her own body as it relied once again on her spine, the twist and tighten of her shoulder to maneuver over the edge, the change in positioning jostling her head a little too much.
The woman took a step forward as a precaution, but didn't reach out. "Are you injured?" she questioned her. "We have medicine that will help you. It's not like your Earthly medicine—it's much better, you have my word."
"I'll be fine. Where is Jane? Why does she need to be released?" Cassandra held onto the banister with her left hand, arm over the thick ledge for support as she questioned the woman.
"She's been detained on the Allfather's order, but she is safe. I don't know more than that. However, there is nothing you can do. Thor is the only one who could convince him to release her. For now, you must eat. Let our physicians ease your pain."
The woman seemed genuinely sympathetic and, if Cassandra had a mirror, she would completely understand why. "Eat? How am I supposed to eat? Frigga is dead, Jane is still in danger and now imprisoned, Loki will never get out of the dungeon, and I can do absolutely nothing about any of it," Cassandra's voice rose a little, though only out of helpless frustration at the situation. "Not to mention, Thor thinks I'm capable of destroying the Aether and if I try, I will probably die—but we don't have any other options. Yes, I'm very hungry right now."
"I truly understand how hard this must be for you, Cassandra. But, if keeping yourself healthy is the only thing you can do to help, shouldn't you? What if Thor comes asking for you any minute? You'll wither simply getting to the other side of the room," the woman argued her point with only a small amount of verbal voice, remaining composed and even despite the subject matter.
Cassandra huffed a sigh through her nose and turned on her heels, gripping the stone of the railing to face the view waiting over the edge. It was much easier to do what the woman suggested in theory. Of course, it made sense. What if Thor did come ask for her help? Cassandra was in no condition to do much of anything. Though, the thick fog over her thoughts, mixing with the headache, only pushed her to dig her feet in and protest further.
It was like arguing with a spoiled house cat, unmoved by the stern command of its owner. Her brain was an over-excited canine off its leash and she was in too much discomfort to be chasing after it. The woman came to stand at the railing a foot to her right, placing her arms atop the stone to mirror Cassandra's position, and she exhaled. "Thor told me you both believe Loki to be innocent," she said, before turning her head to look down at Cassandra.
Cassandra's eyebrow instinctively lifted as she glanced in the woman's direction. "If we were on Earth, I could prove it, but yeah. He is."
"Is that why you visited him last night?"
"How the fuck do you know that?"
Neck bending quickly to the left, Cassandra leaned away from the woman just enough to notice, as her tired gaze twisted into a sharp glare. If the woman didn't know any better, she would almost accuse her of snarling like a dog. Thor had warned her of Cassandra's temper specifically. But she couldn't quite get the results she intended if she didn't poke that bear just a little.
"What would he say to you, seeing you like this?" the woman continued her point, ignoring Cassandra's question. "Would he not demand you be treated by the physicians? I can take you there myself."
"I don't even know who you are," Cassandra squinted. There was no argument left to grasp, so she reached as far as she could for an excuse—any excuse—to stay sedentary. However, she couldn't exactly pinpoint why.
The woman's eyebrow raised, remaining features otherwise neutral, as her head cocked. "Am I the only one in Asgard he didn't tell you about? Well, that's insulting."
It was then that Cassandra stared. Truly looked her over. Dark hair, sharp features, the only female warrior she'd seen since arriving, and—oh. Had she been talking to Lady Sif for that long and really not put it together? She and the Warriors Three were utter legends. Cassandra had read about them, but the descriptions and stories she was told couldn't compare.
The corner of Sif's mouth upturned as she saw it flash across Cassandra's face, the moment she recognized her. Something about it was oddly satisfying, knowing that Loki must've in fact told her some fairly decent stories to get such a reaction, almost like watching a fan meet their celebrity idol. Cassandra lit up despite the color of misery still shading in her features. "Oh my god," she turned to lean her left hip against the railing, facing Sif completely. "Please ignore the disgusting way I just acted—my head's all over the place."
Sif chuckled softly. "It's alright. Come with me to the healing chambers. We can put your head back where it belongs."
"Alright, alright," Cassandra sighed heavily.
The turn in temperament was a bit startling. Sif wondered, briefly, if that was simply a character trait or if it manifested in the injuries she sustained. Perhaps it was a bit of both? Either way, Sif generously positioned herself to hold out an arm, offering support to ease Cassandra away from the railing, and Cassandra didn't hesitate to take it. There was no denying just how much she needed it anymore.
Though, they didn't actually have to walk all the way to the healing chambers. The thought was a relief to her aching body, but also elicited a gentle thrill—excitement in her arms as she turned to Sif at the door. "It's the healing chambers we took Jane to yesterday, right?" she asked her.
Sif nodded, "Yes, it is."
"Do you mind faster transportation?"
Thor had told Sif plenty of Cassandra's abilities, often remarking he'd wished he had them at his disposal in battle as they fought to bring peace to the realms. Though, having not seen them herself, they were a bit difficult to understand. "I suppose not," Sif decided after a beat, with a shake of her head. After all, what could it harm? She'd never been one to shy away from risk, anyway.
"Take a deep breath."
Lavender engulfed them, the purple grabbing at the air, only to rip open a space in the hall outside the healing chamber. Electricity popped and snapped as Cassandra and Lady Sif appeared in their intended place. It startled the passing physicians and threatened to send Sif's head spinning, but it was an otherwise successful jump. Cassandra couldn't help but feel as though she were lagging like a character in a video game. Everything felt slower. Off.
Sif exhaled as she shifted her weight between her feet, turning her neck to look down at Cassandra. "How often do you usually do that?" she asked her.
Cassandra shrugged. "A few times a day maybe?"
"You must have an iron stomach. Come—let's get you sorted."
Darkness gave way to light with a lurch. Her eyelids opened but their weight was felt immediately, pulling them down as if by some unforeseen force—and she fought against them as best she could. Darkness and light traded places, transitioning over her vision like butterfly wings, her body flooding with warmth at the sound of a familiar voice. Though, just about any temperature above freezing would've warmed her skin.
"Cassandra?" Thor attempted to wake her, forehead creased with remorse as she won the battle against exhaustion, opening her eyes fully. "I'm sorry to wake you. But I have a plan."
Cassandra instinctively groaned against the light, squinting harshly, but continued in her effort to wake up. She forced her arms to move beneath her, pushing gently against the bed in order to prop herself up. Thor sat at the side of her bed, hunched forward with a dark cloak over his shoulders as if he were trying to hide. Her eyebrows furrowed at the sight, yet raised with intrigue upon hearing his statement. "Plan for what?" she questioned, groggy.
"A plan to rid Jane of the Aether and stop the Dark Elves," Thor clarified. Then, he paused—shifting in his position a bit uneasily as he glanced away briefly. "I'm going to need your help. And Loki's."
"What's the plan?"
Cassandra pushed herself upright fully as a mixture of determination and hope surged into her chest cavity at the mention, at the possibilities. "I've already spoken to the others. Sif will bring Jane to meet us at the Dark Elves's ship, where Volstaag will be waiting. We will use it to leave the palace and, when the guards come after us, Fandral will help us commandeer a skiff," Thor explained, attempting to put it as simply as possible.
"What do you need Loki for?" she asked.
"We'll need him to help us navigate the secret passages between the realms once we've taken the skiff," he answered. "Then we will go to Svartalfheim and draw the elves to us there."
With a sigh, Cassandra bit her lip in thought. It was a reckless but plausible plan, rather well thought out, all things considered. But, more so, it was a golden ticket. Who was to say that Loki had to come back to Asgard once the elves were defeated in another realm? Who was to stop him and Cassandra from simply disappearing? The thought was like a shot of adrenaline to her spine, spreading out into every nerve, every inch of her body.
She could feel the heat swelling in her palms—she needed to act fast. "I'll convince Loki to help us, but only on one condition," she spoke up then, meeting Thor's gaze. He looked unsure, but curious to her demand, quietly waiting for her to continue with it. So, she inhaled, and uttered the words. "Loki and I go back to Earth once Jane is safe."
Thor's head tilted absentmindedly, his features melting into a visible heavy sigh. He should've seen it coming. Of course she would demand his release—who wouldn't, in her position? In all honesty, it would not be difficult to simply lie to Odin once he returned, to claim that Loki had escaped after they'd left Asgard. Although, he couldn't help but remain hesitant and unsure. Cassandra truly believed that Loki was innocent—but did he? And did he believe it enough to let him back into the place he'd tormented and left in ruin?
Somewhere beneath the silver of his chest plate, he knew. This was not about trusting Loki or believing in Loki. This was about trusting Cassandra. Believing her and taking her at her word. He could do that, couldn't he? In the short time he'd known her, Thor had grown rather fond of Cassandra, putting her in a place of the younger sister he never had deep within his mind. Looking at her now, her confidence was reassuring.
"I have a condition as well. If he is to cause any trouble before the fight is over, the deal is void," Thor replied, after a silent moment of consideration.
The idea of the condition was vaguely offensive, but understandable. And what could she gain from protesting? She was so close to securing a way out. Cassandra nodded once, adamantly. "Agreed."
The god of thunder returned the nod before standing from the bed, and he outstretched a hand to her. "We must act quickly," he told her. She didn't hesitate to push off the blankets and swing her legs over the edge of the large bed, before reaching up to take his offered hand, grateful for the support as she attempted to stand as well. "Are you well enough to teleport?"
Standing to her full height, allowing her weight to sink into her heels, her balance swayed—but she grit her teeth. "I'll be fine. Just hold on," she replied. Though, there was no telling how well this plan would go, given her health. She felt as if the first few layers of pain, of injury, had been handled well, but the rest remained beneath the surface in a pit of fester. Even still, how could she not participate? There was no option to continue resting.
So, with a squeeze of Thor's hand, she allowed the purple to pull her into its cloud. The air popped and sizzled as she arrived on the other side, Thor beside her as he should be, and she could feel a heaviness to her head, a sunkenness to her stomach. But she was back in the dungeon, at the foot of the stairs she'd appeared in the night before, and there was Loki—an image of him, really, sitting once again in the chair at the corner with a book.
Even the sight of his trickery lit a fire under her, the roar of the kindling enough to conjure up an ounce of will to continue forward. Her sore and withered muscles could move if it was toward him. She could focus her swirling thoughts if it was to think of him. Who knew the best medicine for her in all of Asgard came from their dungeons? Cassandra was quick to take steps, though they were carefully thought out as not to trigger a jolt of pain or send her balance askew.
As she began to approach, Loki stood from the chair, closing his book with a hollow clap, and he placed it on the organized but messy side table next to the chair. Thor was visible, of course—and he couldn't deny the feeling in his chest at the sight of him was rotten. "After all this time," he approached the gold field slowly, a steely color to his features as he eyed his so-called brother. "Now you come to visit me."
Cassandra stepped up beside the cell, easing around the corner so she had something to hold on to. "Loki, we have a plan to save Jane, but we need your help," she said, aiming to get his attention. Though, it felt off speaking to what she knew to be an illusion. Like communicating with a hologram when the real person was present.
Loki turned only his head to look at her, a brow arching against his forehead. "What could you possibly need me for?"
"You're the only one that knows how to get to the other realms outside the bifrost," she explained, calmly. "But, if you help us get Jane to Svartalfheim and we defeat Malekith, you're free to go. We can leave, Loki. Together—like we talked about."
Something in him stiffened. Leave? Where could they go where Odin would not eventually find them? Heimdall would find them before they'd even spent one night away. The thought was endearing, but it couldn't be allowed to elicit a response. It could not reach the depths of him through the hole she'd carved in the ice in the left side of his chest—her, with her murderous affection and dangerously high hopes.
Loki turned on his heels to approach the gold before her, a sigh drooping his shoulders. "And how exactly are you planning to get away with that?" he questioned her, a tilt to his head to aid his expression.
Cassandra's chin lifted instinctively, the question an unpleasant challenge that gently soured her features, "Thor will handle it. This isn't so much about that—I just…I need your help. Jane is my friend, Loki. She's a good person. I should've been there for her and I wasn't—she doesn't deserve to die for my mistake like Frigga did."
The words tumbled out of her without much thorough thought, but she bit her tongue at the sound of Frigga's name in her own voice. As they rounded, her eyes fell at the blurted admission, absentmindedly shuffling back from the gold field as if to put space between herself and the blunder. Thor's brows furrowed tightly as his head tilted in confusion upon hearing the sentence. In his mind, there was no way to connect Cassandra to the tragedy of his mother's death at all.
Though, there was always a way for people like her to swallow blame. She hadn't intended to unearth it now, now as they so desperately needed to move forward with the plan and get Jane out of Asgard—but the metaphorical hurdle was already voiced into existence. All she could do was exhale a shaky breath, briefly allowing her eyes to close as the pale skin of her cheeks flushed with guilt and embarrassment.
Loki stood silent, simply observing as he waited for any kind of explanation. However, he didn't entirely need one to draw a conclusion. He allowed the visage to fade away in a swipe of green, revealing the still-disheveled appearance of his true form as he stood a foot to the left of his projected self. The movement caught her peripheral, drawing her eyes, though her head lifted only timidly in utter fear of what she might find.
But, instead of fury or hurt or complete betrayal—there was only a calm shade of empathy. After all, the blame she placed on herself was the same kind he'd been carrying himself. "If there is only one thing I ever demand of you, let it be this—do not place blame on yourself," Loki spoke gently despite the firm tone his voice held. "I know it's a habit of yours, but I will break it myself if I have to."
Cassandra inhaled sharply. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean- I meant to keep that to myself."
"My dear, how are we ever going to survive all those repairs if you can't share your thoughts with me?"
She paused then. A rush of warmth fluttered down her spine and began to spread into her rib cage from behind like liquid soaking slowly through a napkin, and something in her gut shifted. Despite the heaviness of the conversation and the worn look to his face, Loki's voice was lighthearted and gentle, and vaguely sarcastic. It was the ghost of a response she could expect from him before it all went wrong.
The rhetorical question caused her chin to lift fully, eyes lighting hopefully at its implication. "You'll go with me?" she asked, but she struggled to voice it. Her heart was getting caught in her throat, the echo heard loudly in the depths of her ears. Somehow, it almost felt heavier in her chest than her attempt to first confess her love, almost a little more loaded. It was more than a confession of feeling.
It was a commitment. It was something not so easily undone. But there was no real question to be answered—even as Loki gave his answer, they both knew what it would be, and they'd known before the conversation started. "Anywhere," he told her. And the confidence and certainty of his features, his voice, couldn't possibly overshadow the soft glow to his irises. Of course he would go. How could he not?
Thor stood back, somewhat detached from it all, and he watched the interaction much more closely than he cared to admit. It was so odd witnessing this behavior from his brother. He'd once thought Loki incapable of the emotional depth, the purity of heart that it required to love someone so selflessly. And yet, there he was. Professing his devotion to a mortal, someone most thought were beneath them all due to their ephemeral and fragile nature.
Cassandra, too, would expire some day—as would Jane—and his brother he'd considered cowardly, once, contradicted every preconceived idea Thor held in his mind of bravery. Perhaps if he was so wrong about Loki in something as staggering as this, he would be proved innocent after all? Something he knew for certain—even if he were to never see Loki again after this ordeal, he would be content in knowing how he spent his days on Earth.
However, the events of the next few hours had strong potential to change fate for all of them. "Pardon the interruption," Thor finally budded into the conversation, speaking up apologetically. "But we must be going. It's almost sunrise."
Cassandra blinked. It was all too easy to get distracted on emotional side-quests with the cloud swirling around in her head like an unsettled snow globe. But she was quick to rectify the spent time, becoming enveloped in and swallowed by lavender smoke and electricity. She appeared on the other side of the gold field only briefly—just long enough to grab at the green sleeve over Loki's bicep—before reappearing on the outside, the god of mischief now at her side.
"Sif is getting Jane, right?" she asked Thor, only mostly rhetorical, as she let Loki go.
He nodded. "Yes. They will meet us at the ship."
"This plan sounds absolutely fantastic," Loki remarked, sarcasm drenching every word as he looked at his brother. It was then a green shimmer rushed over his form. In a matter of two, three bats of an eye, his ruffled hair was smoothed over and neat and the tunic on his shoulders was replaced with elegant leather lined with green and gold. The change in attire was the same as the outfit he'd worn invading New York under that damned spell, and Cassandra couldn't help but eye it warily. Loki's head turned and her gaze lifted to meet his instinctively as he continued with a quip, "How could this possibly go wrong?"