A/N:

So, I'm writing my first Thor/The Avengers Fanfic, and for the purposes of ease, I will be referring to the gods' and goddesses' ages in human terms. If anyone thinks this should be changed, please give me your feedback and tips on how to mark this accurately.

Thanks!

TB&TB xox

Chapter One: Erudition

He was seventeen when he bumped into her.

Quite literally.

They'd crashed into one another and tumbled down, landing in a heap on the floor. Thor had laughed loudly.

Pushing himself up, he was met with the brightest blue eyes that were clouded with horror. She was quite clearly mortified. He stood and raised an eyebrow as she stared at him, open-mouthed, her mop of red curls falling over her face.
"I- my... my lord, I beg your pardon." She stammered, bowing her head. "Forgive my lack of observation." His mouth quirked into a smile and he responded cooly.
"You are excused." She stood up quickly and curtsied and then charged back the way she came. Loki let out a snort and turned to his brother, who wore an amused expression. "Not a word, Thor."
"Brother-"
"Not. A single. Word."
They continued on their way, and Loki peered back over his shoulder, staring down in the direction she had vanished.

He had never seen someone so beautiful in all his life, despite knowing that many would think her plain, and he aspired to discover who she was immediately.

It didn't take long. Sat in the library late that afternoon, his nose buried in yet another spellbook, and his back pressed against the shelves as he sat on the ground, his ears twitched at the sound of footsteps and he raised his head, frowning. Save for the servants who occasionally graced the vast space filled with books to remove the dust, Asgardian's other than himself were seldom in there. His eyes fell on her - she had dropped to her knees and was scrubbing the floor vigorously by hand, her hair tied up in a sloppy updo, the odd wisp falling over her forehead. So, she was a maidservant. He smirked, knowing full well that she was aware of his presence, but was attempting - in vain - to ignore him. He could see out of his peripheral vision the way her eyes occasionally darted up to take in his form. Being the mischievous boy he was, he decided not to approach nor look at her directly. No, he would simply wait for her to reach him. He had his books and a lot of time, his brother was busy sparring with his friends and discussing kingship with their Father, Odin, and their Mother, Frigga, was busy planning an illustrious ball in honour of her eldest son's impending birth celebrations.

When she finally reached his feet, he heard her gulp nervously and resisted the urge to chuckle, instead lifting his face from his book again and watching her intently. She paused after realising that she would need to wash the place he was currently sat and shakily pushed her hair out of her face. She licked her peach coloured lips and cleared her throat.
"My lord Prince," she breathed wobbily, so audibly afraid that it made him grin, "I am instructed by my superior to clean the entire floor. Would I be too bold to ask you to vacate so I could..." she took a breath again, her voice quivering, "...complete my duties?"

Now, Loki knew that he could be nice and simply move for her, but he was enjoying the emotional torture a little too much. He allowed his face to turn cold and his voice to be stern.
"You dare to speak to a Prince of Asgard without his permission?" He enjoyed the way her eyes looked like they were going to pop out of her head. She looked at him fearfully. "That is twice you have done such today." He took in the way her shoulders shook, her hands, blistered and red from scrubbing, clasped in her lap, and she bowed her head quickly, not daring to look at him any longer. He chuckled aloud this time, noting the way her face twisted in confusion, and yet she still did not lift her head to meet his gaze. "Your name?" She stole a glance then, if a fleeting one.
"My name is Eir-Iðunn, my lord." He raised an eyebrow.
"You are named after the godesses of healing and youth?"
"Yes." His lips twisted upwards.
"And pray tell me, what brings you to the Asgardian palace?" Her breath hitched in her throat then, and he noticed a stray tear fall from her eyes, which she quickly wiped away.
"My... Father was in battle... for the All-Father." She whispered. "He died with honour, and the All-Father took pity on my Mother and I, allowing us our own living quarters in exchange for our service." Loki scowled at the mention of King Odin.
"Your Father died protecting the All-Father?" She nodded slowly and Loki finally shifted his position so she could clean. She did so in silence as he continued to survey her. His eyes scanned her from head to toe, dancing down over her wild red hair, pale freckled face, eyes that were tired and worn beneath them, and perfectly plump peach lips, her body - which was still underdeveloped for an Asgardian girl her age - was clothed in a simple maidservant's gown, and her hands that were sore and weeping from the blisters caught his attention once more. He sighed. "I think that will be quite enough, Iðunn." She stilled and looked up at him, her brow furrowed, causing her blue eyes to almost vanish beneath them.
"My lord?"
"Cease your cleaning, child." He saw her eyes fill with fear. "Worry not," he murmured quietly, "I shall see to it that no trouble befalls you for finishing before you were due. Who is your superior?"
"Erling of Fyrisvellir."

Loki frowned. He knew of Erling, the son of a nobleman. He had been cast out of Fyrisvellir by his family, having desecrated the sacred temple of Uppsala with his toxicity and slander of the gods. He was banished to slave under the rule of Odin in Asgard, and though he was held with disdain by many, his hard work had earned him the All-Father's favour, and he was soon given a position of power over the servants of the palace. Upon knowledge that Eir-Iđunn had ended her duties prematurely, he would surely chastise her in a manner most foul. Fortunately for the young girl, Loki was far above Erling, both in position and physical stature. Erling was a short, round fellow with a red face that looked permanently angry, his blonde curls feigning innocence. No, Loki would see to him on the matter of Eir-Iđunn.

"I will speak with him. Now," he stood and extended his hand to her, "Arise, we will scour the shelves together and find you something to read so that you might rest." She hesitated at his outstretched hand, but with another sharp look from the Prince, she obliged, taking his hand and allowing him to bring her to her feet. Loki ignored the warmth that spread through him at her touch, and released her, turning and marching along the rows of the bookshelves. She followed behind him quickly, her eyes never once leaving the back of his head. He could sense her nerves... her confusion. He knew she was frightened but dared not question him. Stopping, he pondered the shelves and retrieved a text from their place. It was one of his favourites, speaking of the magic and mystery of the nine realms. He held it out to her. "Here. Take it. Read it, let it's words fill your mind." She looked at the book and then back to him and sighed.
"Your kindness is appreciated. But I... I must confess something, my Prince." Loki tilted his head to one side and gazed at her.
"What ails you?" She breathed in and wrung her hands together, wincing as she caught a sore spot.
"I cannot read." For the first time in his life, Loki was surprised. Even the lowliest of people in this realm knew how to read, she was the first he knew of who could not.
"Very well. I shall have to teach you." He replied coolly. Her jaw almost hit the freshly cleaned floor in response.
"My lord! I am afraid I must decline, I have services I must perform-"
"And I will see it done that you are released from these services so that you may learn from me." He cut her off smoothly. "You are dismissed. We will begin your studies tomorrow, at dawn." And with those words, he turned on his heel and left her, staring after him, the book still clasped firmly in his hands.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Loki watched her closely as she tried to make sense of the words, her frustration evident on her face.

Frustration, actually, was an understatement.

She was close to tears, trying in vain to distinguish between the letters and the clusters of them that somehow held a larger meaning. For once in his life, Loki pitied another soul. He couldn't imagine his life without books, now that Thor was too busy with his training to take the throne, and to think that Iđunn couldn't enjoy them made him woefully sorry for her. He realised that his love of books gave him a soft spot for the lowly young woman, but he was neither naive nor blind, he knew there was something else there - he was attracted to her. Every part of him wanted to pin her down and take her where she was, but there were certain rules to adhere to in society. Forcibly taking a woman's innocence for your own was greatly frowned upon, and Loki didn't particularly find the notion very fair. She had a right to choose when and whom to give her delicates to, and Loki, as carnal as he was, knew that the last thing he needed right now was a lover.
He needed a friend.

"Iðunn." Her eyes snapped up at him.
"Yes, my lord?"
"How do you fair?" She blinked at him a couple of times and then sighed and placed the book in her lap.
"I cannot do it, my Prince." He frowned, and much to the surprise of the both of them, found himself sitting on the floor next to her, his legs crossed and his shoulder pushing hers.
"Let me show you. And stop that." Her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Stop what, my lord?"
"That." He responded. "Just call me Loki."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Two years had flown. Two years and he had opened up entire new world's to her and their friendship had blossomed. They had become inseparable, Loki found himself yearning for her company whenever night fell. He spent every waking moment with her, to the chagrin of Erling and her Mother, who Loki now realised was not a woman he liked, nor did he like her around Eir-Iđunn. She was a cruel-spirited and harsh woman, and for the first few weeks of their friendship had hounded Iðunn relentlessly, feeding her lies about Loki and doing all she could to break their fast-forming friendship. Loki had made a point of shaming her in front of his own Mother, Frigga, and for once Frigga agreed with his actions. Embarrassed, Eir-Iðunn's Mother had stopped meddling and let them be, though she still gave Iðunn a hard time behind closed doors. A few times Eir- Iðunn had been sat with the Prince and he'd seen the tears she was trying to hide behind her books. Today was no exception.
"Iðunn ." He was sat opposite her and had been studying her closely. Her face was flushed and there were fresh tear tracks on them. She hadn't realised he was watching, too busy staring at the book. She hadn't turned a page for the last fifteen minutes. "Iðunn." He repeated and she finally looked at him. "What troubles you?" He didn't really need to ask, but he knew she wouldn't bring up the subject herself.
"I don't wish to talk about it, Loki."
"Well, I do." Placing his book down, he took hers from her and then sat by her side again. "What has she said now?"
"How do you know it's about her?" Frustrated that she wasn't going to admit to him that her Mother was hurting her again, he found himself turning towards her and cupping her face in his hands. He didn't fail to notice the slight hitch in her breath and that her pupils had dilated slightly, but he ignored it.
"Because you have nothing else to be upset about." Her blue eyes were watering again. "Oh, come here." He sighed, wrapping his arms around her. Had anyone seen the display of affection, they would surely have been mortified. It was already strange to many that the Prince and the maidservant were so close friends, but to have them physically touching in such a manner was something else entirely. Fortunately, Loki knew that nobody of importance would step foot in the library, and he intended to keep it that way.
After a few minutes of silence as she composed herself, he finally found it in him to speak again. "What are you reading?" She sniffed a few times.
"Midgardian Flowers." She mumbled. He smiled to himself. She was fascinated by Midgard, particularly the plant life.
It was her sixteenth birthday soon, and Loki hoped to make it a memorable one, and to somehow bring a little piece of Midgard to her. He would have to query his ideas with Heimdall, as much as he detested the fellow's loyalty to his King, he was nevertheless a great and useful asset to the Kingdom, and at this particular time, he would be useful to Loki.
"Shall we go to the grounds for some air? It is quite suffocating in this heat." He suggested. She sniffed once more and then nodded, wiping her tears on her sleeve. He smiled and helped her up, scooping up their books and slotting them under his arm, and they walked in quiet, Eir-Iðunn sniffing occasionally and Loki frowning each time that she did. How he hated to see her like this.

The air was cool, despite the sunlight and the humidity, the breeze was welcome on their skin. As they walked, Loki observed her sad face and decided he had had enough. "Are you going to tell me what she said to you?"
"Loki-"
"I cannot bear seeing you like this." He snapped, taking her by surprise. "I have no friends, Iðunn, none but you, and I do not wish for you to hide matters from me. Now tell me what she said!" She stopped walking and faced him, her eyes alight with pain.
"I will not tell you. This is private, Loki, and I implore you to question me no more." He scowled at her, but said nothing, keeping his eyes locked on hers. She blinked for a moment and then sighed, turning away from him. "Very well. My Mother thinks you are a terrible tempter and she wishes to keep me locked away from you." She was surprised when all he did was laugh. "Why is this so amusing to you?" She demanded, planting her hands firmly on her hips. "Loki! Tell me why you laugh!"

"Oh, my dear Iðunn, she is under the services of the All-Father, do you not realise that even if she wants to keep you away, she cannot without his word?"

"But she has been convinced so by Erling that it would be in our favour to do so, and if anyone can convince Odin it is him. She will not listen to reason." Loki snorted.

"Erling." He scoffed. "He is a foul little man. Worry not, I shall speak with Frigga." For the first time that day, Iðunn smiled.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Erling of Fyrisvellir was not happy. He had spent two years waiting until he could snatch Eir-Iðunn back out of the hands of the Prince, but he had so far had very little luck. He had 'befriended' the young woman's Mother, even though he disliked her intensely, because they had a common purpose: neither were prepared to let the young Asgardian out of their clutches. Her Mother, Borghildr of Asgard, was a formidable woman, her tongue was venomous and her eyes were hard and cold. According to her, the death of her husband was of no great trouble to her. After all, it had given her a place in the palace, and under Erling's command she was given an easy life, all the work had been shouldered off on her young daughter, but now she had to work to earn her place, seeing as Prince Loki had taken her attentions away. And so an alliance was formed between the pair. They would leave this place in the dead of night and steal her away with them. Erling smirked at the thought. He had neglected to tell Borghildr that his intentions towards her daughter were anything but pure, he was not merely concerned for her well-being with the trickster god, but his thoughts had strayed to the way she was growing and developing. He ached to touch her young body, to the point that abandoning his post in the balance seemed a deliciously devious and attractive idea.

Yes.

He would steal her away and bind himself to her, and get rid of Borghildr in the process.

Everything was coming together beautifully.