Abashed the Devil Stood

They reappeared a moment later in the forest clearing where Thor and the other Avengers had departed weeks ago. The serpentine scorch marks were still visible as they materialized nearby.

Loki stumbled, wheezing; in his amazement he hadn't remembered Fiona's advice to breathe. The teleportation had knocked the wind out of him, and his ribs creaked ominously as his lungs struggled desperately to expand.

Even worse, the humiliation of being seen in such a weak state in front of the girl made him grit his teeth. He was sure she would say something snide.

Instead, she placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and crouched down to look into his face with concern.

"Loki?" she questioned, when his breathing had evened somewhat. "I'm sorry. I should have given you more warning. Are you alright?"

He hated that he had shown a moment of weakness. He hated that she seemed unaffected by the magic at all. But he mostly hated the way she looked at him with quiet, genuine anxiety, like he actually mattered...

"Fine!" he hissed brusquely, and he tried to shrug her off, but the movement felt feeble and slow.

She frowned. "No, you're not. Here." She pulled him up to a standing position before he could protest, and he froze as her palm slid over his chest. The tip of her tongue peeked out of the corner of her mouth as she concentrated, and a blast of potent magic emanated from her flat palm.

Then the queerest sensation wracked his body.

Starting from the skin just under her fingers, a giddy, pulsing warmth spread outward, tingling pleasantly as it reached his fingers and toes. He bit back a gasp as his sinuses slammed open, his spine straightened, his lungs expanded... Even his pores tingled with the buzzing energy. He swayed on his feet, but Fiona's hand on his arm steadied him.

"Better?" she asked searchingly.

Better? He felt better than better. Wonderful, in fact. He hadn't felt this good in ages.

But all he did was grunt in confirmation.

In her haste and excitement she took him at his word but still watched at him with concern, her hand moving from his chest to his sleeve. Much to his own surprise, he let her, still reveling in how wonderfully spry he suddenly felt and wondering what exactly she had done.

"What was that?" he murmured.

"You looked like you needed a pick-me-up," she replied noncommittally. Then she nodded ahead of them, and Loki turned to see his mother and her entourage waiting for them at the far end of the clearing.

He grimaced. The queen had the ability to part the veil of time and snatch brief glimpses into the future, and he wasn't prepared to admit that his mother's presence here must mean that Fiona had been right. She looked at them curiously as they approached, her interested gaze landing on his arm in Fiona's. He quickly extricated himself, and bowed almost insolently low.

"Mother."

"You look well, my son," Frigga said kindly. "As do you, Lady Winters. How has your stay been?"

Fiona beamed. "Wonderful, Your Grace," she said sincerely. "Really wonderful. Everything's -"

She stopped and cocked her head again. Then, she took a few hasty steps to the side.

"Not to be rude, but I think everyone might want to move this way just a hair... Quickly..."

Loki looked at her with frank disbelief, but then she rolled her eyes and reached out to grab him by the sleeve and drag him unceremoniously behind her. He sputtered in protest, but was too flabbergasted at her brazen manhandling to form a complete sentence. He could see the Queen eyeing the exchange with muted amusement before following suit with her entourage, and he scowled openly.

But the frown was wiped clean off his face a moment later when an earsplitting crack cut through the clear morning and the air around them suddenly crackled with charged energy. Fiona's hair was standing on end, and Loki almost made a snide comment about it until he realized that his probably looked no better. Then a blast of energy rocked through the clearing, releasing a blinding flash, and he felt Fiona tug him back another step.

He easily rode the shockwave of energy and turned to snap at Fiona for daring to touch him, but then the light cleared and he caught sight of the marks scorched into the earth, only centimeters from the singed toes of his boots. He shot a queasy look at Fiona over his shoulder.

She shrugged and looked down at her shoes. He opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when a pair of meaty arms grabbed him from behind and pulled him back in a startlingly familiar hold.

"Brother!" Thor's voice roared at his back, rattling what little bones he had left intact. "It has been too long since I have seen you at court! How fare you?"

Loki could not have replied even if he wanted to; his lungs, he was sure, had been crushed beyond normal function, as always happened when his brother showed an overabundance of affection. All he could manage was a pointed glare at Fiona who appeared to be holding back laughter.

But suddenly her expression changed to concern as Thor's grip slackened, and Loki found his feet back on the ground. He turned to see his brother swaying and ashen-faced.

To his supreme chagrin, Loki lost what little enjoyment he had in his brother's weakened state when Fiona rushed past him, and he felt his jaw clench when her hand went to Thor's chest to repeat the spell she had used on him mere minutes ago.

Fiona was oblivious to Loki's black mood as she worked the vigor spell on Thor. She could tell that it had worked when Thor sucked in a bracing breath and seemed to snap up straight. He was too tall to reach when standing, so she pulled back to watch him stare questioningly at his own flexing fingers.

"Is this your doing?" he said in surprise. She nodded and he beamed at her. "Your magic has improved greatly, My Lady."

Fiona blushed at his praise. "It's thanks to your brother. I was just telling the Queen what an excellent teacher he's been." Her gaze slid sideways to meet Loki's as she said it, but her smile faltered at the sight of his angry glower.

A throng of courtiers rushed forward to welcome Thor, obscuring Loki from sight. Fiona quickly excused herself to make room for the growing crowd and craned her neck around the tall heads and wide shoulders of the Aesir flooding the lawn, but Loki seemed to have disappeared. She frowned and turned back to catch sight of Thor sheepishly addressing his mother, when something sparkled at her from the scorched field behind him.

Curious, she skirted the crowd, catching snippets of the conversation happening between the Queen and her son ("'A fortnight only' was a week ago, my son. What say you to that?" "Mother... erm... time difference between realms... and...") and moved toward the increasingly familiar blue light.

The Tesseract lay forgotten in the grass, beckoning her nearer with that eerie blue twinkle. The conversation dulled to mere background noise as she honed in on the innocuous looking cube, and her vision seemed to tunnel until all she could see was that mysterious aqua glow.

No one had noticed it there on the ground, it seemed to say to her. All she needed to do was pick it up...

Unable to deny the call, Fiona reached out a tentative hand, her blood pounding in her ears and her fingers shaking with excitement.

"Do not touch it, child," said a firm, low voice.

Startled from her trance, she whipped her hand back and met Heimdall's probing golden gaze.

"I-I'm so sorry," she stammered. "I didn't-... I don't know why I-"

"It's alright, My Lady," he said calmly, and he looked her over with his probing stare. "It calls to you. It does so when it is near those who have power enough to wield it."

No one else had noticed, Fiona realized as he bent to scoop the cube into two halves of a crystal cylinder. When joined, the halves sealed seamlessly and the Tesseract hovered neatly in their center. It was obvious even Heimdall didn't wish to touch the cube, she realized with growing dread.

"What would have happened if I had touched it?" she asked quietly.

"Nothing good," he replied, his expression unfathomable.

She swallowed hard, and was about to thank him when she heard her name from behind her. She had no sooner turned when she felt herself being lifted and spun around in the air. She laughed in dizzy delight and Heimdall excused himself with the ghost of a smirk.

"Thor!" she cried out, her laughter ruining her attempt at a stern tone. "Put me down!"

Her feet were immediately on the ground, but he didn't release his surprisingly gentle hold at her shoulders as she turned to face him.

"My apologies," he said with a grin, "I am just happy to see you looking so well. I had worried..." He trailed off.

"Loki?" she finished for him.

He looked away sheepishly and mumbled, "It crossed my mind."

Fiona shook her head reassuringly. "Everything's fine. I won't pretend that he's been a gentleman" - Thor's mouth quirked up into a half-smile - "but I think he's actually trying."

He looked skeptical but some of the tension had left his shoulders and face. Fiona patted him sympathetically on his bulky forearm.

"Come," he said finally. "Enough of this serious talk. There will be feasting tonight, and you have gifts to open."

Fiona smiled at the mention of a feast, looking forward to a nice party without the threat of her own death ruining the evening. Then she stopped. "Wait, what gifts?"

"There are many," he said with a smile, and pulled a familiar cloth purse from his belt.

Fiona was confused how "many" could fit in such a small package until he pulled the drawstrings open and stuck his hand in the bag. Then his forearm. Then his entire arm. It looked like something out of a magic show, the tiny bag obscuring Thor's entire meaty arm up to the shoulder, but even more impossibly, he emerged with a bottle of aged scotch and frowned down at it.

"This was not one of yours," he said in disappointment. "Stark sent a case of these along for my father's-"

"An entire case?!" Fiona tried her best not to let her eyes bug out too much. She squinted carefully at the pouch. "Is that a Bag of Holding?"

"A what?"

"Does it hold anything you put in it without getting heavier?"

"Yes."

"Bag of Holding," she said smugly.

Thor opened his mouth to argue. "Our people call this..."

Unbeknownst to either of them, Loki watched their friendly banter from a safe distance, hidden from view by the sheer enormity of the crowd. He scowled at the obvious enjoyment the two of them took in each other's company.

She had used the same spell of vigor on both him and his brother, cuing an unbidden pang of something he didn't quite want to name. And when his lout of a brother had scooped Fiona easily into his arms, and she had laughed without restraint, Loki felt a sick swoop of ever-familiar jealousy rise in his throat. He hadn't even registered the compliment she'd paid him, and had stalked off at the first chance. It was clear, to him at least, that Fiona wasn't nearly as special as he'd led himself to believe; she was just one more witless female, intent on bedding his perfect older brother.

With a snarl, he turned away from the happy scene, anger boiling in his gut. He paid no mind to the small host of guards that followed him down the nearest open hallway; he was too preoccupied thinking of the best ways to remind the girl of her place.

A cruel smile found its way to his lips as the beginnings of an idea started to take shape. Several people milling about the hallways caught sight of that look and beat a hasty retreat. Loki moved toward the Archives - knowledge was the most effective weapon after all - with long, predatory steps, already relishing the thought of the girl's anguish.

There would no doubt be a feast tonight in Thor's honor, he thought with a sneer, and for once he wouldn't miss it for the world.

~

Fiona stood in the doorway of her room, looking on in stunned silence as a few servants adjusted parcels on the small mountain of items piled on the table in her entryway. Thor hadn't been lying when he said she had more than a few gifts, but she hadn't realized that there would be so damned many.

Some of them were her own belongings from home: a few of her dressier outfits that she had left behind, a large wooden chest full of her art supplies, boxes full of her favorite books, a cardboard portfolio full of her art pieces.

Pepper had clearly been through Fiona's apartments in Stark Tower and packed up everything she thought she needed on Asgard. While Fiona was touched by how much care Pepper had taken, she wasn't sure that she liked the idea of S.H.I.E.L.D. poking around her apartment in her absence. And truthfully, she was a bit scandalized by the amount of other presents that had been sent along.

The vast majority of gifts were apparently from Tony, many of them in fancy wrapped boxes or tagged with brands that Fiona could neither afford nor pronounce. Fiona wondered wryly if this was Tony's attempt at getting back in Pepper's good books, but she chose not to look into it too much.

Curiously, she slipped a pink bow off of a chocolate-colored box and lifted the top. She gasped at the sight of ruched silk... and then slammed the box shut with a startled wheeze when she caught sight of the tag.

"Holy shit, this is Prada!" she said to no one in particular.

She swallowed heavily as her eye caught the large pile of garment bags piled on the love seat, the plastic windows hinting at the expensive fabric within. She decided she needed a stiff drink and another day before she tackled those.

Embla came into sight, surveying the room with approval and running her hands appreciatively over the garment bags, apparently approving of the items inside.

"It looks like my lady has found a more fitting wardrobe," she said brightly, though her smug grin diminished when she caught sight of Fiona's original clothes. "Though it appears some riffraff has managed to squeeze through."

"Those will not go missing like last time," Fiona said fiercely, wagging a finger at the older woman, "Or I'll have to start wearing my nice gowns to magic lessons again."

Embla flinched. "I told milady, those things were merely sent away for washing."

"Two weeks ago," Fiona pointed out flatly. "Now, if you could please send in the new girl to help with my hair. I won't be needing anything else tonight." Embla looked ready to protest, but Fiona said in a wheedling voice, "Come on, Embla. Take the night off and enjoy the party. I'll bet you need a break from chasing me around."

The maidservant's lip twitched in a half smile and she paused, considering. Then she gave a low bow. "Thank you, milady. Enjoy your evening."

"You too," said Fiona sincerely.

She watched the older woman take her leave, and she let herself sink into the closest empty seat and reach for a glass on the nearest tray of refreshments. Her eyes peered out over the rim of her glass and automatically settled on the garment bags.

She was going to have fun tonight, she decided firmly. Now she just had to figure out what to wear.