Thor- Ice King

1985

“Jane, dear, did I ever tell you the story of how the Jotunns came to be on Earth?”

Ten year old Jane Foster looked up from the cooling green tea that had been sloshing around in her favorite blue cup for the past ten minutes.  On a normal day, she would have drank it all and had a second helping by now, but the gloom and lethargy that had permeated in the air since she got out of bed this morning had robbed her of her appetite.  She couldn’t say for sure what made her feel so down and out.  It was an average day in her Uncle’s Tromso mansion.  The wintery air called forth a fast approaching holiday season, one that promised even more joy and magic than the last.  Now that Jane had passed from single to double digits, it seemed her uncle finally thought her mature enough to buy her that new bike she’d had her eye on.  Not to mention those mysterious packages that arrived a few days ago that looked rather suspiciously like the parts of a telescope.

The most that young Jane could figure was that it was simply one of those days, the kind we all have at one time or another.  She wasn’t alone in the sentiment either way.  Erik had come down with another cold this morning; his third so far this month.  That he was resorting now to story time could only mean that the chicken soup fumes had finally gotten to his head.

“I think you started to once,” Jane said after thinking about it.  “Something about a war between two realms, but then you stopped and said I couldn’t hear the rest until I was older.”

Erik smiled.  “I can’t imagine you enjoyed hearing that.”

“I didn’t mind it that much…”

Of course she had.  The childish disappointment and frustration she had felt at just grasping knowledge of the work divine right had tasked her uncle with, only to see it snatched away from her again, stung her for over a year after.  She had fussed, she had fumed, she had stomped her feet on the ground and kicked pathetically at the air, if only when no one was watching.  Jane knew that grown-ups didn’t fuss or fume or stamp their feet when they didn’t get their way.

(And years later, when she did reach adulthood, Jane would understand why Erik waited so long to tell her the truth.)

“Yes, well, I think now you’re old enough to hear this.”  Erik replaced his empty coffee mug on the tray, and it was taken away by their faithful family butler.  “It began over a hundred years ago… no, what am I saying?  It started long before that.”

He gave a soft chuckle, as if at some private joke only he understood.  Standing behind them by the fireplace, a bald headed man in glasses rolled his eyes.

“A thousand years ago, two opposing realms went to war with the fate of the universe as we know it on the line.”  Erik told the story like a parent whispering to a child in the dead of night.  “The Aesir fought valiantly against the invading Jotunn forces.  Their goal was not just to protect their own interests, but also ours.  For if Jotunheim had been victorious, Midgard would undoubtedly have fallen to them in only a short time after.”

“But they weren’t,” Jane said.  This part, at least, she remembered from her lessons.  “Asgard beat them.”

“That’s right.  By the time the war was through, their forces were decimated.  The Jotunn’s king, Laufey, retreated back to his realm with the meager remains of his army, leaving nothing in his wake but the shame of defeat, and something else.  Something he never knew would one day return to him, and be his ultimate downfall.”

The butler returned with a full, steaming mug.  Erik thanked him with a nod and took a deep drink, leaving Jane in suspense for that much longer.

“You see, Jane, when the Jotunns left this realm, they left behind just one of their number: a runt born to Laufey’s consort.  A prince deemed unworthy of the throne.  A weak link in the mighty chain that was Jotunheim’s legacy.  Laufey left the babe, no bigger than that of a human, alone to face the elements, and die an ignoble death without ever having lived at all.”

“That’s terrible,” Jane breathed.  “I mean, I know Laufey was supposed to be a really bad guy, but that’s just…”

Erik nodded solemnly.  “It’s true, and this is just one of the many monstrous acts Laufey would commit, but the real story starts when the baby was found and taken in by Asgard’s great king, Odin.  It is said that he found the child just barely hanging on to life, and in bringing him home with him, Asgard gained the prince Jotunheim lost.  For the next several centuries, the child grew alongside Asgard’s natural heir as his brother.  By all accounts, it was a happy time for them.  The second prince was a mischievous type for sure, but he was loved by his adopted family, and he loved them in turn.  Had the prince never discovered the truth about what he was, the peace would likely have reigned eternal.”

“You mean they never told him?”  Jane leaned forward, the edge of her chair digging painfully into the backs of her legs.  “How could they keep something like that from him?”

“I don’t claim to understand the wisdom of the gods, Jane,” Erik said.  “All I know is that the revelation was devastating for the prince.  At such a young age, to uncover so dark a truth… I can only imagine how he must have felt.”

Silence fell over them.  The bald man coughed, and Erik cast a glance in his direction.  They shared quick, warm looks, and then Erik continued.

“It’s mostly unknown what happened in the years that followed.  The prince disappeared from Asgard after confronting his adopted family.  Parties were sent to find him to no avail.  It was decided that he had either perished or he disappeared too far outside of the nine realms to be found again.  His grieving family tried to move on without him, and for a time, it truly appeared that the prince had vanished, never to return.  Until the day a new power rose up to challenge the All-Father.”

Now Erik leaned in.

“One day, over a hundred years ago, a strange and powerful creature appeared on earth.  He had the face of a man, and the strength of a god.  He wore the skin of a Jotunn despite his human size.  He led an army greater than any the nine realms had ever seen.  In fact, I’ve always found it a bit ironic that Laufey abandoned his son for perceived weakness.  By all accounts, it was child’s play for the prince to destroy his birth father.  Once he had, and once all the power of Jotunheim’s greatest artifact was his to control… never before had Midgard or Asgard seen anything like him.

 “They called him the Ice King.  At the height of his power, he was all but unstoppable.  He was strong in mind, in body, and most of all in magic.  It’s believed that not even his adopted parents, the All-Father and his wife, could have matched him.  Now, I don’t know how true that is, but I do know that without some divine intervention, our world could have very well fallen to his wrath.  For a long time, it seemed that no one could stand against him.”

“But someone must have,” Jane said.  “I think we would know if some kind of monster Jotunn was ruling the world.”

“You’re right on all counts,” Erik said, and then he took another gulp of his coffee, finishing one more helping.  “My great-great grandfather, Abraham Selvig, stood against the Ice King where other men cowered before him.  No matter how powerful the King became, Abraham never backed down, and in the end, it was he who found a way to end the Ice King’s terrible reign.  They say when it was over, he had left the King a shell of his former self, broken and humbled by the will of humanity.”

“And then what happened?”  Jane clutched her cup tight enough to leave a crack.  “Did Abraham kill the Ice King?”

Erik’s smile fell, and he gained a thoughtful expression.  The bald man was rolling his eyes again, his shoulders slumped over as if this was just one in a hundred times he’d had this reaction.  Jane paid him no mind.  She focused all her attention on Erik, watching him sit back in his chair with his head against a pillow.  He breathed in, as deeply as his cold stricken lungs would allow, and then he smiled again.  Jane couldn’t shake the feeling that it was entirely for her benefit.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he said, apologetic before her answering scowl.  “But perhaps someday, I will tell you the rest.”

**

1991

A herd of footsteps echoed down the long, winding hallway in sixteen year old Jane Foster’s wake.  Every one of them sounded like the pounding beats of her heart as she ran, faster than her skinny legs could carry her.  She jumped over a raised crack in the floor.  The area was full of them, like someone had once maintained this place with all the love and care of the rest of the mansion, only to tire of the effort and leave it alone to erode.  Turning the corner, she found herself in yet another sterile, doorless corridor, the same as all the ones that came before it.  The sight made her want to crumple to the ground and cry, but she wouldn’t.  If she made a single sound, they would find her in an instant.

And if they found her…

Jane swallowed.  There was something big and hard lodged in the back of her throat that made her eyes water. 

She ran faster.

**

ONE DAY EARLIER

Jane sat at the side of Erik’s bed, holding his limp, bony hand.  She tried not to notice how her fingers wrapped so easily around his, or how cold they were becoming.

“Jane…” Erik croaked, followed by another bout of painful coughing. 

“I’m here, Uncle,” she said.  “I’m right here.”

“Jane…” he repeated, like he hadn’t heard her.  There was a good chance he hadn’t.  The doctor had said that as the body shut down, the senses would start to go.

“Brother, Jane is with you now,” said the bald headed man beside the young girl.  “You know she always will be.”

“Jasper…” Erik opened his eyes, staring bug-eyed at the ceiling.  “Is that you?  I can’t…”

Jasper Sitwell, for once not carrying himself like he was half-brother to one of the nation’s most powerful Lords, sank to one knee and brushed a few strands of wispy blond hair out of Erik’s face.  Jane ran her thumb along the length of Erik’s finger.  The combination of these two acts seemed to bring color back to his face, if only temporarily.

“It seems… my time is approaching.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Jane said, squeezing tighter involuntarily.  “You’re going to be fine, Erik.  You have to be.  You’ve been sick before.”

“Not like this, Jane,” Erik said.  He raised his head to meet her eye and forced a sad smile.  “I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep my promise to take you to see the mountains this summer.  I hope you can forgive me.”

“Forget about that.  I just want you to get better.”

“I wish I could.”  Though Erik kept up the illusion of a happy face, tears were welling up at the corners of his eyes.  They made streaks down his cheeks identical to the ones on Jane’s own.  “But while I’m still able, there is something we must do.”

**
“Jane?  Oh, Jane?  Where are you, darling?”

The voice sounded tinny and far away through the holes in the vent.  Jane curled up into a ball and buried herself far below the parallel rectangles of yellow light that could expose her if she wasn’t careful.  Though her pursuers had yet to pass, she had sensed their closeness.  This vent, old-fashioned and large enough for a person her size, was the only hiding place for miles, and though the layers of dust constricted her breathing and she’d already picked three spiders off herself, Jane would not move a muscle until the danger had passed.

Hopefully, this vent would be good enough camouflage until Jane was free to move again.

A line of shadows paraded across the slivers of light.  They blinked in and out as Jane drew up her legs to her chest and hid her face.

“She might not be down here anymore, sir,” a gruff voice said.

“No, no, she’s still here,” said the voice at the lead, one that sent a sting of betrayal like a spear through Jane’s heart. 

How could it ever have come to this?

**

“Jane, you have been my ward for many years,” Erik said, stronger now that Jasper had spooned some water into his mouth to soothe his throat.  He’d been so good about bringing him food since he first got sick.  “I have always felt that you were so much more.  Like the daughter I never had.”

He took his hand from hers to run through her hair, pressing the pads of his fingers into her soft cheek.  Jane leaned into his touch, taking in his remaining warmth and committing it to memory. 

“I…” she hiccuped.  “I’ve always felt like that, too.  Like you were a father to me.”

“I tried my very best to be there for you… I know I didn’t always do the right thing.”

“No, Erik, you’ve been wonderful.”

He shook his head.  “No… there are things that I have kept hidden from you.  Important things.  Great secrets my family has kept for ages.  They should have been yours from the start.  I shouldn’t have been so afraid.”

“Erik-“

“No, Jasper.  Let me speak.”  Inhaling deeply, Erik motioned for their butler.  The man nodded and went to Erik’s nightstand, where he retrieved something Jane couldn’t see around the shield of his body.

“Uncle?” she asked.

“It’s all right, Jane.  Don’t be afraid.”  Erik took her hand by the wrist.  “We should have done this a long time ago.  Close your eyes.”

Jane obeyed.  She didn’t know what Erik was getting at, but there was no one in the world she trusted me.  If this was his final wish, strange as it was, so be it.  She would oblige.  She thought Jasper was about to speak again, perhaps offer another gentle objection, but then a searing pain distracted her.

She screamed and jumped back, clutching her sliced hand to her chest.  Red blood slid out from the diagonal line running from the bottom of her index finger to the top of her wrist, just above the veins.  Looking up, she watched in shock and befuddlement as Erik ran the ornate blade down his own hand.  A tiny wince was his only reaction to the pain.  He was already in enough that a little more was paltry.

“Give me your hand, Jane.”

She stared at his offered one, at the shallow gushing that dripped down his finger tips and dirtied the fine white carpets.  Those stains would never come out.  No wonder the butler looked so grave.

Pushing all thoughts aside, Jane stood on wobbly legs and pressed her trembling, bloody palm into his.  She tried not to grimace at the sharp, lingering.  Instead, she watched the lines of her blood as it mixed and mingled with Erik’s.

“You’ll forgive me for the crudity of this ritual,” he said, followed by two more coughs.  “We don’t have time to do more than this, but from hence forth, Jane, the blood of the Selvig line shall run through your veins.  When I die, all that I have will pass on to you, my daughter in name and now in blood.  My money, my home, and my title will all be yours.” 

Erik’s eyes rolled upward, and for one terrible moment, Jane feared the cold hand of death had settled over Erik at last.  Then he let out one more gasp.  He looked over Jane’s shoulder.

“Jasper… brother… promise me that you will do everything in your power to protect Jane… as you always have for me… promise me…”

Jasper stood over the bed, over Jane.  He looked down on them both with a darkened expression, hidden behind a frown that was either sad or something else entirely.  Fists were clenched at his sides, as if he wished to draw blood himself.  When he spoke, the words were stilted.

“I will, Erik.  You have my word.”

**

Jane dared to sneak a glance out the bottom vent.  A shiny, tan-skinned head was the first thing she saw.  It sat at the head of the group, taller than some, but shorter than most.  Jane ducked back down.  Her cheek pressed against the bottom and all the little grains of sand and dirt dug into the sensitive skin.  She scrunched her eyes shut.  Her ears worked well enough.

“Have you idiots really not found her yet?  She’s just one girl.”

“Forgive us, sir.  She’s more slippery than she looks.”

An irritated grumble, followed by a thud like a hand smacking into the wall.

“I don’t believe this, you know?  I really don’t believe it.  We wouldn’t have to go through any of this crap if that stupid old man had just named me head of the family like he should have.  I was his brother, for God’s sake!  Sure, maybe I’m not a Selvig by blood, but we had the same mother, and that’s way more than can be said for some orphan kid he pulled off the streets.  Yet he picks her over me?  Come on!  I gave that bastard years of my life, listening to his stupid stories about magic and gods, making him look good in front of the other lords.  I did everything for him, and this is how he repays me?  By putting that snot nosed little brat at the helm and then daring to ask me to protect her?  Yeah, sure Erik, I’ll protect her.  I’ll protect her just like I protected you to the very end.  YOU HEAR THAT, JANE?”

Jane jumped.  She shoved a hand over her mouth and bit down on her thumb, hoping against hope that she could stifle any sound she might inadvertently make.  After a few fearful moments, she dared to look up again.  The men were filing away through an alternate hallway, their backs to her and their leader shouting from the head of the march.

“I know you’re here somewhere, so come on out!  Don't make this harder than it has to be.”

He cocked his gun, the sound alone like a knife to the chest.  It was the last Jane heard of Jasper before he and his men disappeared into the distance. 

But they would be back.

That wing of the basement level was tiny compared to the sprawling hallways she had traversed so far.  As soon as they reached the dead end with no Jane to be found, they would double back and there would be nothing to stop Jasper from tearing the walls apart brick by brick until there was nothing left to hide behind, and then that would be it.

If there was ever a better time to get out and run, Jane didn’t know it.

The most important thing Erik ever taught her about survival was to never give up without a fight.

Jane took a deep breath, counted to three, prayed to the gods of Erik’s people for strength, and threw herself out of the vent.

**
“Jane, when you inherit my title, you will also inherit the past of my forefathers.  I pray that their actions and my own will not come back to haunt you.  But listen well, Jane, for if the time ever comes when your back is to the wall, and your enemies have you surrounded, go to the vaults on the lower level.  Within the last of them, the one without a number, you will find the key to your salvation.”

**

Jane followed the twin rows of unadorned heavy metal doors, reading the succession of numbers to herself.  She was just past vault number ten and the opposite wall was drawing nearer.

This place had been easy to find once she had gotten by the place where the path split off into two.  Some might call it the work of the gods that Jasper and his men had chosen the other way to search first.  Others would say it was simple dumb luck.  Jane didn’t know what to call it, but she would count her blessings after she found whatever it was Erik wanted her to find down here.

At the end of the hall, Jane paused to catch her breath.  She bent to rest her hands on her knees as her ears picked up a distant thud that could’ve come from anywhere.  An oblivious housekeeper upstairs, contentedly mopping the kitchen floor or an extra spy of Jasper’s who had been tailing her from the start.  Before she could come up with too many more frightening scenarios, Jane lifted her head and raked her eyes over the barren gray door she had stopped in front of.

No number.

Another thud accompanied the sight, this one louder and closer.  With a heart pounding out of her chest, Jane withdrew the skeleton key Erik gifted her with one birthday long ago.  It had been one of the few useful items she’d been able to take from her room when her would-be protector came for her head.    

The door was lighter than it appeared, but Jane still struggled to create a wide enough space for her lithe form to squeeze through.  She plunged into near darkness.  The only visible light came from outside.  A single, weakly flickering lightbulb cast a dim glow over the place: a medium sized box shaped vault room that carried a great chill in the air.  It seeped through the long sleeves of Jane’s shirt all the way down to the bone.  Jane rubbed her hands together, walking around the room as her eyes adjusted to the dark.  A flashlight should have been one of the things she took, but even without it, Jane needed only to walk along the walls, one after the other in a circle, to know that this vault was completely empty.

At least, that was how it appeared to Jane, before she walked backwards into the center, up against something hard and smooth.

With a gasp, she stumbled back.  She had only the barest visages of light to guide her, yet somehow she could see perfectly what she shared the room with.  It was a large, rectangular block of ice; bright blue as if illuminated by fluorescent light.  Jane knew it was ice and not just colored marble.  The omnipresent chill that wrapped her in its unfeeling tendrils was at its strongest the closer she came.  That was why it made no sense for Jane to reach out and touch it with the bare skin of her hands.  She was liable to lose that hand to frostbite if she dared.

But dare she did.

The surface of the block hummed, low and slow.  Not like any machine or generator Jane had ever seen before (and in her many years of scientific curiosity and tinkering, she’d seen a lot).  It changed constantly.  Ebbing and flowing between strong enough to rattle Jane’s teeth and so weak that she had to press in just to feel it.  The change was steady and constant, and in its own way relaxing.

It was as if… the ice was breathing?

Even that made more sense than how warm the ice was with direct contact.  As soon as Jane moved away, the cold returned with a vengeance and she shivered.  Only through touching it again, in the tiny indentures her fingertips left behind, was she once more eased.

“What is this thing?”

Jane looked around the room once more, hoping that there was something she’d missed.  Some kind of tool or instructions for what she was supposed to do.  Anything that could explain how this giant hunk of ice was supposed to be her salvation.

She stepped back, wrapping her arms around her body.  Her shirt, while it covered her arms and torso to the neck, was made of thin material and lacked the ability to keep her warm (she was better off next to the ice).  If she squinted her eyes and looked at just the right angle, she could almost make out a slightly darker shape within the ice.  Whatever it was, if it was anything at all, it was taller than her and vaguely humanoid.  Unless of course her mind, in its desperate state, was merely playing tricks on her. 

“Well, if nothing else, I guess I can hide behind this thing for a while.”

With heavy steps, Jane moved around the ice tower, placing it between herself and the door.  She sat with her back, the humming a calming presence.  If she closed her eyes she could imagine there was a living person guarding her, and in spite of herself, she laughed.

“I guess you wanted to play one last prank on me, huh, Erik?”  She rested her head on the ice.  “It’s not a very good one, but then again, who would’ve expected that Jasper of all people would do a thing like this?  He couldn’t even wait until you were buried to come after me.”

Jane brought up a hand to brush the hair from her eyes.  She caught sight of her palm.  Her eyes traced the healing wound that, from this angle, looked like a crudely drawn letter ‘S’. 

“It’s not like I asked to become head of the family,” she said bitterly.  “I never wanted any of this.  All I ever wanted was a peaceful life.  A home of my own, where I can spend the nights watching the stars, a few close friends… maybe even a nice guy I could settle down with... but I guess it doesn't matter anymore."

She could no longer listen for the sound of footsteps.  Either they had disappeared or her mind was blocking them out, sparing her the pain of knowing exactly how many minutes she had left on this earth before she went to see Erik and her parents again. 

The door was thrown open.  Light flooded the vault.  Jane closed eyes brimming with unshed tears that she would never let them see.

“Jane, come out here,” Jasper sang.  “We know you’re in here and we have you surrounded.  No sense in hiding anymore.”

He was right about that, if nothing else.  Sucking in air, Jane wiped her eyes until they were dry and red, and she made herself stand. 

There were at least ten men flanking Jasper on both sides.  The man himself in the center of the group had his hands in his pockets and a smugly satisfied grin on his face, like a cat with a mouse in its claws.

“Got you."

Jane swallowed.

“Jasper, please,” she said, feeling sick.  She was too proud to cry, but not to beg.  “I know you’re angry right now, but you don’t really want to kill me, do you?”

The smile left his face, but if Jane thought that was a good sign, his next act negated it.

“Of course I don’t want to kill you,” he said, stepping forward.  “I don’t want to kill anyone, and if Erik had done the right thing and made me head of the family, I would have nothing against you at all.  I would have let you keep your room in the mansion, and even given you that money for college Erik saved away. It’s only because he forced my hand that I have to do this.”

From the depth of his pocket, Jasper withdrew his gun.  Whimpering,  Jane backed up into the ice, pressing her whole body against it.

“So, Jane, I want you to know that this is nothing personal.” 

He released the safety, ran his finger along the trigger.  Jane shut her eyes one more time, no longer caring if it made her weak.  If these really were her final moments, and the only ones around to witness it already wanted her dead, what difference did it make if she faced them with dignity or not?

‘I’m sorry Erik.  I wasn’t as strong as you hoped.’

Any second now.  Five… four… three… two… one…

…one half… one quarter… one eighth…

Nothing happened.

She was still breathing.  Still alive.  Still in one piece with no bullets riddling her body.

She picked up on an odd sound rippling through the crowd, and when she opened her eyes, the soulless faces of Jasper’s men had transformed into shock and awe and maybe a little fear.  All of them looked at something just over Jane’s head.  A few of them pointed.  Only one dared to raise his voice.

“Hey, what’s happening to the ice?”

Jane turned around.  At first, she couldn’t comprehend what was bothering them.  The ice looked no different.  It was still blue, still square on top, still taller than her by at least a foot… wait... 

She watched it a few more seconds, and slowly, her eyes following every step of the way, she saw the ice change shape and shrink.

It was shrinking.

Not only that, but whatever that formless shape was inside was growing darker, and longer.  As the ice peeled away, Jane could make out a pair of arms attached to a tall, slender form.  A head rested atop with a mass of flowing black hair.  Facial features appeared a little at a time: first a long nose, then high cheekbones, then a thin mouth.  Tiny red pinpricks of light shined like laser beams through the blackness.  They pierced the cold with strange heat.

Jane backed away, from the men and from the ice.  It continued to recede, disappearing into the holes her body had left behind.  By now, the top of the head was free, from the forehead up.  The body inside was jerking left and right, arms reaching through the weakened walls to send bits of ice flying in all directions.  Jasper stumbled back to avoid one large icicle that would have embedded itself in his foot.  It shattered on the concrete with its brothers instead.

The ice block was no more.  From within the gnarled shards, a fully formed figure stretched up through the mist. 

From the shadowy corner where she now hid, Jane observed that the man (if he could be called such) was naked from the waist up.  A pair of tight black pants was his only source of modesty.  His body was thin, but muscular.  He looked not to have a hint of fat on him.  His hair fell straight down in perfect, shining tresses, reaching as far as his lower back.  One would think that all that time trapped in ice would give him at least a little body and wave, but no.  His strangest feature of all were the upward curved black horns jutting out from the side of his head, but upon closer inspection, they seemed not to come from his skull, but from a headpiece that wrapped around the back of his head above the neck; an adornment not unlike a crown.

The creature apprised the gathered men with cool eyes, his expression calm, perhaps even bored.  For all the guns pointed in his direction, he was as serene as if standing by a clear lake on a summer’s day.

“Boss, what the hell is this?”

Jasper hissed at the man who spoke.

“It’s nothing,” he said, though his trigger finger was no longer so steady.  “I don’t know what kind of secrets my crazy brother was hiding, but this… this just means Jane gets an escort to the great beyond, doesn’t it?”

He aimed at the man’s forehead, but didn’t shoot.  The man’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly.

“Everyone fire at-“

The man moved. 

At least, Jane thought he did. 

Whatever he did occurred in the blink of an eye.  One minute, he was standing in the ice, the next he was in the crowd, one hand clutching Jasper’s wrist.  His touch burned through the fine silk fabric of Jasper’s suit.  Frayed bits of cloth rained down like confetti, mixed with the blackened skin of Jasper’s wrist.  He screamed like a banshee, sinking to his knees as he fought in vain to free his nearly severed hand from the creature’s iron grip. 

The rest of the men began firing, a cacophony of bullets and explosions signaled by the shriek that ripped past Jane’s lips.  She curled herself into a ball, covering her ears and waiting for pain that never came.  She peeked through the space between her fingers.  She watched bullets bounce off the creature’s body and whatever invisible wall he had erected around him.  Whenever something hit the air, a shock of blue appeared as the bullet ricocheted in the other direction.  This was how the first line of defense fell to their own attacks.

When their ammo ran out, a few tried to run.  They didn’t get farther than the door before the blue man appeared, blocking the exit.  The closest man, a red faced, pudgy fellow who often stayed at Jasper’s right hand, received a hand through his chest that froze him solid from the inside out.  The creature threw the twitching corpse into the next closest man, and before he could recover, his head was divested from his body, pulled as if removing a tissue from the box.  Aside from them, most of Jasper’s men fell to magic.  Green and blue bursts of energy issued from the creature’s fingers, slicing off arms and legs and heads alike, turning grown bodies into fine ribbons.  However long the carnage lasted, Jane couldn’t say.  It could have taken under a minute, or it could have been dragged out for hours.  Time had slowed for Jane.  Every new splatter of blood that adorned the walls sank her stomach a little more, and it was a wonder she didn’t lose any this morning’s meager breakfast.

She couldn’t stop replaying in her mind that day six years ago, when Erik had neglected to tell her what became of the Ice King after Abraham Selvig defeated him.

Now she knew the answer.

He turned to Jane, having nothing left to kill.  He looked at her with those glowing red eyes that never once changed from dissonant serenity as the bodies of so many 'elite' agents fell like husks of meat.  He took practiced steps away from the bloodshed.  Jane’s mind roared with a need to get up and run that her body wouldn’t obey.  She had already seen firsthand how much good would do.

“Are you injured, Lord Selvig?”

Jane’s heart missed a beat.  Never had she expected him to address her in such a way, let alone in so rich and pleasantly deep a voice.

If that was strange, what happened next was downright astonishing.

The Ice King stood over her, tall as a skyscraper.  Jane’s neck hurt from craning upward, trying to meet his gaze.

Then he sank to the floor on one knee, his head bowed low so that his hair covered his eyes.

“Command me as you will, my master.  I am your humble servant."

There was a funny sound in the air following this proclamation.  It sounded rather like a ball deflating, and after a time, Jane realized that it was coming from her own mouth.  She closed it with some difficulty.  The Ice King held his submissive pose as she struggled to find the right words.

“Wh-what?  I…”

He looked up.  If Jane didn’t know any better, she’d think there was warmth in those eyes.

A gasp alerted Jane that not all of her would-be executioners had been taken care of.  She looked up to see Jasper, barely alive and heaving as he fought his way to his feet.  Wild eyes stared back at her.  She had never seen this man in such a state, like he was a completely different person, a stranger to her.

“You…” he spat out some blood, and only now did Jane see the massive red stain spreading out over his shirt.  “You stupid little… you’re just like him, you know that?  You won’t die when you’re supposed to!”

He had retrieved his gun and held it tight in his non-dominant hand.  With his injured one shoved into his armpit, he leaned heavily on the wall for leverage.   He sucked in air through his teeth and pulled the trigger again and again, but there was nothing left in the chamber to shoot.  He kept trying, cursing all the while, and Jane stared at his crazed face as his words sunk in. 

‘You’re just like him.  You won’t die when you’re supposed to.’

That was what Jasper had said, in those final moments of desperation before his life was sure to end.

Fragments of words and actions filtered through Jane’s mind as one, fitting together like pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t known needed solving. 

What he had said before about how hard he worked to become head of the family.

The way in which he stopped allowing the servants to bring Erik his food in those final months, while Erik just got sicker.

“You…” she whispered, and somewhere deep inside Jane, deeper than even she knew she possessed, a fire was lit.  “It was you, wasn’t it?”

She would never know where she got the gun from.  Most likely it slid away from one of Jasper’s men in the chaos, and just so happened to land close to her feet.  Close enough that she could grab it, and know that it was loaded and remember everything she had ever learned about using one.

“Erik is dead… BECAUSE OF YOU!!”

Jane fired twice.  Two bullets were all the weapon would allow her.  The first sunk into Jasper’s shoulder, but the second was true.  It cut off the scream on the tip of his tongue.  His body crumpled to the ground, still and pale with a tiny trickle of blood trailing out the hole between his eyes. 

His death doused the flames, and Jane sunk once more to her knees.  Her strength, fueled for so long by adrenaline and force of will, left her at last.

“So,” she looked up at the Ice King, still kneeling over her, protecting her from whatever foe might come next and meeting her gaze with something akin to pride.  “Do you have a name?”

“I have had many.  Some good, some bad.  You know at least one of them.”  He stood up, but not before gathering her in his arms and resting her head on his shoulder.  As with the ice, he was shockingly warm to touch.  “Many years ago, a kindhearted woman gave me the name Loki.”

“Loki, huh?”  Jane’s eyes began to flutter.  “Okay, then.  I think I need to go and take a very long nap.”

She thought she saw a smile.  Knew she heard a chuckle.

“Yes,” he said, and that voice of his was so melodious that Jane relaxed instantly.  “Sleep well, my master.  I will be right here by your side when you awaken.”

Jane’s vision blurred, and in this exhausted state, her mind played tricks on her.  They made her think that his skin was shifting from blue to white and his eyes from red to green.  Whether or not it was true, there was one thing and one thing only that Jane Foster, now undisputed Lord of the House of Selvig, knew for a fact: nothing in her life was ever going to be the same again.

But at least she wouldn’t be alone.