It was a rare moment that Loki had time for himself.

He had seen Sif off to Alfheim early that morning, giving her careful warnings. Even if he wasn't fond of her, she was a formidable warrior.

She would get the job done. Of that he was certain.

Loki had ensured that a battalion of Asgards soldiers were carefully hidden, waiting for Sif's signal.

His spies had found the location of Drurir quickly. Odin's ravens were watching his movements.

Loki had a stone wrapped in tweed tied to his wrist. The moment that it glowed green, Sif would've started her attack.

Now they just had to wait.

The library of Asgard was a place of stillness, far removed from the clamour of court politics. Endless shelves of ancient tomes stretched into the golden light filtering through the high-arched windows. Loki often sought refuge here, away from prying eyes and tiresome obligations.

When he was young, he would find a book and settle himself in a corner until the twin suns sank below the horizon.

Today, however, he wasn't alone.

Of course, he wasn't. The universe liked to punish him in creative ways.

In one of the secluded alcoves, Jane Foster sat at a long table, her fingers tracing the edges of a book that looked centuries older than her entire civilization.

Her face was pale, her frame thinner than he remembered. Yet her eyes, sharp and inquisitive, remained the same.

He could see the remnants that Thor had fallen in love with.

It still made him uneasy to see her.

He still remembered how she punched him in the face.

Loki approached silently, his steps as light as shadows. "Do Midgardians often lose their way and wander into the heavens, or is this a special exception?"

Jane didn't look up, though a wry smile tugged at her lips. "Do Asgardians always announce themselves with sarcasm, or is that just you?"

Touché.

He smirked, taking a seat across from her without invitation. He swiped one of the books from her pile and flipped it over to a random page.

"Just me. What brings you here, Jane Foster? Research? Nostalgia? Or are you hiding from my brother's courtly entourage?"

A muscle in her jaw ticked.

"Don't remind me of the courtly entourage." She raised her gaze to meet his. "A little of everything, I guess. Thor's in a meeting with some... officials? Politics isn't really my scene." She glanced back at the book in front of her. "Besides, I wanted some quiet."

He could understand that.

Loki's gaze flicked to the book she was studying. The pages were filled with diagrams of celestial phenomena, annotated in elegant Asgardian script. "You've chosen an ambitious read. I didn't think Midgardian scientists ventured into multiversal theories."

"Not much is known about the multiverse. On earth, we just have a faint idea. I've always been ambitious," Jane replied lightly. Then, after a pause, she added, "Wait. What are you doing here?"

Loki tilted his head. "In search of some peace. I assure you I'm not here for any nefarious reason."

"Could've fooled me."

"I'm good at fooling people."

She closed the book. "Cut the crap, Loki."

"Pardon?" He blinked.

Jane Foster was far too inquisitive for her own good. Perhaps that is why she caught Thor's eye.

She held a finger up. "You may be the God of Lies—"

"—Mischief and Lies actually."

"Whatever." She waves her fingers in the air. "What I'm trying to say is that you're far too obvious."

"Me?" He scoffed. The audacity of this woman. "Obvious?"

Her eyes glanced down to the hilt of the dagger peaking out from under his tunic. The ruby on the hilt glinted at him accusingly.

He pushed it back into its sheath, hiding it away. "I have no idea what you mean."

Jane rubbed her temple with her fingers, wincing in pain. "Right. It's not much of a lie if everyone knows about it."

"Oh, do enlighten me..."

"Maya. You know, your ex. The one you're still obviously hung up on." She shot him a glare. "If you just talk to her, I'm sure you'll sort it out. If it's too—"

Jane hissed, cutting herself off. Loki tensed up, glancing around him to ensure nobody was witnessing their verbal sparring match.

"How dire is it?" He asked, deflecting. "Your...illness."

She sighed through her nose. The small action looked painful. "Dire enough that I'm making my peace with it. I won't be around much longer."

He felt something tighten in his stomach. He didn't particularly like Jane but he knew if nothing was done then she would slip away completely. It left him feeling a bit hollow.

Loki regarded her, his usual glibness momentarily absent. "And you've resigned yourself to this fate?"

"Of course not!" She exclaimed, her voice firm. "Cancer is tricky. I'll keep searching for a cure. Earth has trails but treatment isn't long term and Asgard doesn't have anything on it. I'm not going to let a little tumour in my breast end me. I just...god, I hope I don't die before I can find a way."

"And if you don't?"

She looked him in the eye. "Then I'll make my peace but not before putting up a fight."

He studied her, intrigued. Jane Foster was many things, but a typical mortal wasn't one of them. She spoke of her impending death with a calm resolve that few in any realm could muster.

Cancer.

Midgardians feared it. They searched endlessly for a cure. It ate away at them like termites destroyed wood, rotting from the inside till they could barely function.

It was just another reminder that mortals didn't belong here.

"You could be queen," Loki said abruptly, breaking the silence. "The Queen."

She looked up. "What?"

"It would extend your life considerably. It's not a cure but it would give you the time you need."

He looked away, the heat of her gaze burning into his face. The trees in the courtyard were lovely today, reaching up to the sky.

She blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he said, his tone more casual now, as if commenting on the weather. "Thor would make you his queen if you wished it. You could rule Asgard at his side, wield power beyond anything you've dreamed of on Midgard."

Another awkward moment passed between them.

Loki wondered if he was overstepping.

To his surprise, she laughed at him. Several of the library patrons turned their heads to look at them. It was such a pure laugh, free of malice or confusion. He wasn't sure if he should be offended or not.

"Yes, well...it was only a suggestion." He muttered. "If you're going to be like that then I'm going to just leave."

"Sorry," she giggled, wiping a tear from her eye.

Definitely offended.

"If you're done," he said, tersely.

"It's just...me? Queen?" Jane shook her head, her lips curling in a faint, bittersweet smile. "That's not what I want, Loki. Asgard isn't my home. I wouldn't know how to be a queen. Besides..." Her voice faltered briefly. "Thor needs someone who can stand beside him for the long haul. That's not me."

A limited life expectancy did cause some complications.

Nothing a little sorcery can't fix.

It's just a shame Jane Foster won't go for it.

If she really wanted to be Queen, Loki and Frigga would have conspire and scheme. Any opposition would be dealt with—bloodlessly of course. He wasn't his father.

Loki leaned back, steepling his fingers. "You truly have no interest in power, do you?"

"No," Jane said simply. "And I'm guessing you can't understand that."

Such a subtle jab. How sweet.

He chuckled softly. "Perhaps not. But as much as I dislike my brother—

"—you don't."

Loki ignored her. "—You do make him happy."

Before either could say more, a familiar voice interrupted them.

"Loki. Jane."

The library went silent once more.

The Queen Regent was here.

They both turned to see Frigga standing in the doorway, her regal presence softening the tension in the air. Jane rose, bowing her head respectfully. Loki stood too afraid she might tip over from exhaustion.

"Lady Frigga," she said, her eyes lit up in amusement.

Frigga smiled back kindly. "Jane, how are you feeling?"

"Of course." Jane nodded."Better compared to yesterday."

"Mother," Loki drawled. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I was looking for you."

"There's some work for me I presume."
Loki closed his book, his expression was carefully neutral.

"There's always work." She said. "I'm afraid you'll have to cut your day short."

"Very well, lead on."

"Have fun with court politics!" Jane said with mock enthusiasm.

He gave her his most menacing grin. "I'll try my best not to."

Frigga gestured for him to follow, leading him through the quiet halls until they reached a small garden nestled within the palace walls. The air was cool and fragrant, the sound of trickling water adding to the tranquillity.

She had made this her personal retreat when she tired of Odin, her children, and the weight of the realm.

Frigga smoothed her skirts and sat down on a small bench near the fountain.

She wore bright blue today, making her eyes shine brighter. Her long hair was braided and pinned atop her head. His mother looked put together as always but he could see the line of worry in the set of her shoulders and how she unconsciously picked at her fingertips.

She turned to face him, her eyes searching his face. "The officials from Vanaheim have proposed something."

Ah, straight to the point.

It was going to be that kind of conversation.

Loki raised an eyebrow. "I assumed our  alliance was solid given our pledge to aid them?"

His spies had given him no new information.

Either he was getting too soft or they were becoming less diligent. There would have to be some changes.

"Odin tied them to Asgard in a way I won't describe. Now that he is no longer on the throne, they want to renegotiate." Frigga said, her voice measured. "Thor thought it was best that I tell you myself."

Loki could only assume. "Let me guess: they want more land, more resources, or both."

Loki plucked one of the flowers from her garden, twisting it between his thumb and index finger.

Frigga hesitated, and at that moment, Loki knew whatever she was about to say would test his patience or his sanity. Maybe both.

Dread hung in the air like a rain cloud.

"They want a marriage," she said softly. "To solidify the bond between our realms. They no longer hold us at our word."

Loki laughed, though there was no humour in it. "Thor, I imagine, will say no. He's too blinded by love."

"It is not Thor they've requested."

He dropped the flower. "You're joking."

"I am not," Frigga said, her tone steady. "They have asked for you, Loki. A union between you and one of the Vanir leaders' daughters."

The ugly bitterness and hatred returned so suddenly and fierce that he could feel it fill his lungs and choke him.

Loki turned away, pacing as frustration bubbled within him. "Of course. Why not marry off the spare prince, the perpetual afterthought? A convenient solution to Asgard's problems."

"This isn't about convenience," Frigga said, her voice firm but kind. It felt as if she was placating him—which she was. "Loki, my son. I know your heart just as well as I know Thor's. You know as well as I do."

Loki stopped, his back to her. "And you think I'll accept this? Do you want me to accept this? That I'll play the obedient son for the sake of politics?"

"I think," Frigga said gently, "that you care more for Asgard than you let on. I have taught you and your brother loyalty but blind obedience is different. It's about choice. What kind of future do you want for yourself, Loki?"

He turned to face her, his expression a mixture of anger and vulnerability. Loki's carefully crafted mask was starting to slip. "I've made my choice. Here. Asgard. What else can I choose?"

"You chose the path of least resistance," she said softly. "Why else would you ask Heimdall about Midgard? Or why would you keep that dagger near you?"

Loki felt as if the dagger weighed like lead, heavy on his heart. Maya's name would always be inscribed over it.

It shouldn't surprise him that Frigga had kept a careful eye on both of her sons. She taught him everything he knew Of course she would have her own spies.

"That chapter is over."

"Nothing is ever over." Frigga stepped closer, placing a hand on his arm. "You have always had the power to choose, my son. But remember: sometimes, the hardest choices are the ones that define us."

Loki said nothing, his mind racing. The garden felt suffocating now, the weight of Frigga's words pressing heavily on his chest.

She cupped his cheek, running her thumb under his eye.

"Think about it," she said, her voice softening. "No decision needs to be made today. If you do not want to get married, your brother and I will find another arrangement. There is always a way out. You know that better than anyone."

With that, she kissed his cheek and left him alone in the garden, the distant hum of Asgard's grandeur barely reaching him.

Loki sank onto a stone bench, staring at the flowers swaying gently in the breeze.

For all his cunning, for all his schemes, he found himself trapped in yet another game.

He slid the dagger out of his sheath, watching as the golden light of the sunset caught on its blade. Maya's name, written in Arabic, reflected at him.

He traced the letters gently.

Loki had spent months researching how to correctly spell her name, pouring over ancient tomes and selecting materials carefully.

It was a gift.

There was an old custom in Asgard. Nobody really followed it—only romantic fools who read too many novels. You would give a dagger to your beloved, something for them to remember you by.

Loki had often scoffed at the tradition but when Maya and him faced inevitable separation, it seemed perfect.

At the time.

The stone on his wrist started to glow bright green, pulsating like a dying star.

Sif had started her attack.