What Might Have Been

Chapter III

Domestic tasks are beneath the Prince of Asgard. A veritable god to Midgard’s mortals, he did not do something as basic as cleaning. Cleaning the wounds of his sister was in one of those iffy-grey areas and he added extra antiseptic unguent to the laceration. Jane tried to pull her hand away, a soft cry falling from her lips.

“If you don’t like it, don’t try lifting Thor’s hammer.”

“I didn’t lift it, he handed it to me.” And them she promptly bowled over from both the weight and the hammer’s magical properties. 

Truly, did Thor have any amount of intellect rolling around up there? What was he thinking, handing Mjolnir to a mortal, nonetheless their sister? The easiest and truest answer was he thought not at all. Loki suspected Thor made his way through life via muscle memory. If his muscles couldn’t get the job done then he did not know how to proceed and would freeze like a computer in need of a reboot.  

Loki swallowed a sigh and dabbed another one of Jane’s cuts with soap and water to wash out the dirt. She had wanted to watch her brother and his friends contest in the games—an annual bout of physical prowess where men beat their chests, yelled insults and bragging rights and either proved themselves right or were the object of ridicule until they could redeem themselves. A lowbrow week of drinking and revelry fit more for the masses than Asgardian royalty. Perhaps that is why people loved Thor; he acted so much like them Thor could very well be one of them. Loki was of more cultured tastes. 

Still, he had gone with Thor and their gang of warriors, not noticing that Jane snuck out of the castle to follow. Again. Did they need new palace guards or was this some form of Midgardian magic not yet discovered? Either way, the drinking had led to a drunken brawl and it was only Loki’s reflexes that saved Jane from getting drenched by a keg of beer and more than a few lacerations. 

“What were you even doing in that tavern?” 

The girl turned petulant at his badgering. “I was thirsty. It’s a free country.” There were times when Jane used these Midgardian sayings that made no sense. (Didn’t they teach her about the Nine realms and that slavery was abolished—and not very thoroughly—only a millennium ago? Other realms have other customs, so he would say.) This was one of those times. He gave her a little pinch, causing her to jump. 

“Little mortals who are too young even for diluted mead shouldn’t be visiting taverns.”

“They serve juice!”

“Not while this event is on show they don’t. Too many are willing to pay for hard cider to make the non-alcoholic stores worth anything. Stay at the castle next time.”

“I just wanted to be near you and Thor.” Her voice was so soft and dispirited that Loki almost stopped to look at her. He was not a master of disguise for nothing. He continued to bandage her upper arm as the thoughts fell into place. Aside from himself and his brother, maybe some of the servants, whom did Jane really know? Did she even have any friends her own age? Loki perused his recollections and did not recall Jane ever playing with someone her own age. Or rather the Asgardian equivalent. Aside from Thor and himself, she had no one else.

She was alone.

He knotted the bandage tight enough to stay put but loose enough for blood circulation. He had put enough bandages on Thor back in the day to know the difference. Loki remained crouched, almost eye level with his sister. One lone finger taps his cheek, staring at his sister sulking in a chair he rustled up. 

“Fine.” He concedes. “One game. We play one game and then you either go back to the castle, the orrery, or, if you stay, you must never leave Fenrir’s side. Do we have a deal?” Those small brown eyes sparkled better than polished gems at his words. A funny little flutter in his chest hummed to life when she hugged him, all but jumping up and down in delight.