The pain was incredible. He underestimated how powerful Loki's knives were, how deeply they cut. But Jane was still there and unarmed, and he needed to get up and protect her, never mind his own pain. He struggled to stand, almost getting up, then felt his head explode with pain, and through the thousand colors and white lights and agony he heard his brother sneer.

"Hail, Son of Odin, King of Asgard. See how far you've fallen, dearest brother. I told you that you were foolish to trust me," Loki mocked, smirking at his brother's pain. "Now, I shall take what is rightfully mine through destroying what is yours."

With that, Loki left his brother writhing in agony, clutching his head while trying to remove the deep knives, so deep in his side, and turned to Jane. Her eyes widening in fear and understanding that her protector was gone, she turned to run – nowhere. The vast plain was endless and without escape. She swallowed hard, choking on dust amidst the swirling wind that whipped her hair and stung her eyes, and turned to face Loki, holding back the tears.

"Not going to run, dear Jane?" he asked, mockingly polite. "Come now, your King allows it. Run, little one. Run for your life." He stalked toward her, his long hair slicked back tightly, his eyes locked on her deep brown ones.

She refused to back down. Walking to meet him, Jane looked up into his cold eyes, leaned forward, and whispered two words into his ear, words that sealed her fate. But Jane Foster was never a woman to go down without a fight. True, her time on Asgard and in the neighboring realms had frightened her, pushed her beyond her limits, and made her question everything she believed, but Jane knew that this was her final test. She had to be brave, now, in the face of death.

"Bite me," she whispered into Loki's ear, and leaning back, she pulled one arm at striking distance to his face, offered up a prayer, and shot out at him.

He caught her arm with ease, tightening the grip on her wrist until Jane cried out in pain. He leaned forward, lips brushing against her ear, and whispered:

"Maybe later, dear."

He relished in her futile attempts to jerk away, brought on by his words. Smirking, Loki released her wrist and in one smooth motion, returned a stinging slap to her face, grasped her whipping hair in one hand, and flung her around his body, throwing her at his feet.

As Jane looked up in immense pain, she looked pleadingly into the eyes of the dark-haired man before her, the man who stared back – staring, not seeing. His eyes were cold, and Jane's stomach plunged with the sickening feeling that had forgotten everything; that he had forgotten them.

But Loki had remembered. In that split second, staring back into the small woman's dark brown, frightened eyes, he remembered their first meeting, when the mortal slapped his face with an admittedly solid punch. He remembered their hours spent arguing about star charts and the physical properties of the Bifrost while Thor practiced in the yard. He remembered finding her alone, on the balcony, during a grand feast given in her honor, a feast he had reluctantly been allowed to attend. He remembered their walk in the garden that night, and he remembered the kiss underneath the sky that sung with purple and blue and stars of unending light. They were drunk on passion and, in that moment, he swore they would be together.

That was before Thor found them, sitting quietly on a bench among lavender bushes, and exclaimed that it was good that Loki was here. That he intended to ask Jane's hand in marriage, and there was no better witness than his own brother. And as Thor knelt before Jane, Loki scarcely heard the shaky and mumbled "I suppose" from the mortal woman. As Thor enveloped her in a crushing embrace, Loki stood and walked quietly away, leaving a sprig of holly on the bench where he had been seated.

Loki snapped back to reality as Jane cried out his name, pleading with him, begging him to remember. Her hair whipped violently in her tear-streaked face, and Loki caught a glimpse of color tucked behind her ear. Green leaves and red berries. A holly sprig. Loki's eyes widened, and as Jane realized what he had seen, she wrenched the spring from her hair and laid it at Loki's feet in an final gesture of love, in a last attempt to save herself and Loki from hatred and death.

But it was a long shot, and Malekith was already lifting her high into the air. And Loki was silent.