Loki paced back and forth in his cell. He recited love ballads and war hymns, spells and sword exercises, the names of the stars and a recipe for honeyed mead.

He knew his struggles were useless. Boredom and fatigue pulled at him. In time, his eyes would close. He would succumb, and they would return.

The dreams.


Miyako Ayuma had seen many strange things.

It had really changed how Miya watched science fiction. She no longer doubted that zombies might ravage small towns. That mad scientists might randomly unleash giant lizards on unsuspecting college students. If anything, she was surprised by how shocked the actors seemed to be when things like that happened.

So when she considered how many strange and exotic things happened in the career of a SHIELD agent, it was a bit disappointing that the most important of her day for the past two months involved kitty litter receipts. Which was why, on yet another mind-numbing Tuesday afternoon, she was half tempted to give in when Agent Vahan tried to pawn off his report on her.

But only half.

Apparently something had gone, very, very wrong, and she didn't have a death wish. Yet.

"Please?" Agent Vahan said, leaning on her desk, holding the report in front of him, "If I can avoid Fury until next week, things should have improved enough that he'll only maim me."

"You really think you can hide from the Director for an entire week?" Miya answered, "Do you have an invisibility cloak or a portal into another dimension you're not telling me about?" She didn't look up from the report she was typing. It was hard to pretend to be focused on how many bags of kitty litter this target went through a week.

She really hadn't expected her career to end up like this. Stuck behind a desk in a bland office with five other agents, assigned to an operation named, of all things, "Beachsweep". The title didn't rank very highly on Miya's list of interesting titles for covert operations. It sounded more like she was on a cheap cruise than working for a secretive government agency.

Her involvement in the rather banal surveillance operation was as disappointing as its name. She typed up tidy little reports on the collected data which would be skimmed and ignored by the Powers-That-Be. Miya was an excellent analyst, but one could only describe the significance of a target's affection for his cats in so many ways before going mad.

And Vahan really wasn't helping her maintain her sanity.

"I'm reaching out to you in my hour of need," he said, "are you truly so heartless? Does our friendship mean nothing to you?" He gave her a look which must have been an attempt at puppy dog eyes.

"Friendship has its limits, I'm afraid," Miya replied, unimpressed, "If there are regulations against killing the messenger, I doubt Fury got the memo."

"We're SHIELD agents," Vahan gestured wildly, nearly knocking a stack of files off her desk, "we face death every day and laugh."

"Then start laughing," she responded, rescuing the files, "there are too many things in this life for me to seek Death by Fury."

"Like?"

"Like…finishing this report. And getting approval to carry my katanas again. And don't forget my vital role in Beachsweep."

"As if you have anything pressing to finish as a part of Beachsweep," he snorted, peering over her shoulder, "It really is impossible to say that name with a straight face."

"Thanks for reminding me," Miya said, "As if my morale wasn't low enough."

"Have the higher-uppers shown any interest in those 'side projects' you've been working on?"

Miya shook her head. "Not that I've heard," she said with a sigh, "I'm starting to feel like a conspiracy theorist. I wish they would tell me whether I'm paranoid or not."

Vahan gave her a look. "You are paranoid. They wouldn't have hired you otherwise."

"More paranoid than usual, then," Miya corrected herself, "If you want to procrastinate some more, you can look over the last one I turned in. I've got an extra copy in that folder."

"The weather one, right?" The tall man leaned against her desk and flipped the file open. "You named it Hoarfrost?"

"Hoarfrost is a word for ice crystals," she retorted, "what's wrong with it?"

"Just try saying it out loud again."

Miya winced. "Read it or leave, Vahan." For a few moments the room was silent except for the clack of keys and the shuffle of paper.

"I'm considering requesting a transfer back to New York," she said suddenly. Vahan's head darted up from the report, surprised.

"What? Miya, I know that you've been frustrated, but…"

"I'm not frustrated, Vahan. I'm going mad. The only thing that's been keeping me from jumping off the side of the Helicarrier is my side projects, and no one's paid any attention to them at all."

"Hey!"

"Right, no one but you." Though Vahan was probably only feigning interest because he was assigned to monitor her. Which was another depressing fact she really didn't want to think about right now. She ran her hand over her face and explained.

"Back in New York, I was as a high level analyst and field agent. I thought getting transferred to the Helicarrier was a kind of promotion, but I haven't been sent on a single away mission, my clearance has been suspended, and I'm stuck behind a desk assigned to projects the greenest recruit could complete on his lunch break.

"I can understand why I haven't been sent on away missions. I don't look impressive physically..." Vahan snorted at her understatement. At a slender 5'5", Miya didn't exactly strike fear into the heart of evil-doers. "It might take time for a superior officer to gain an understanding of my combat skills. But," she kept her voice calm despite her rising frustration, "this does not excuse the blatant disregard for my skills as an analyst."

"Look, I know this is hard," Vahan said in a comforting tone. Miya hid her flinch when he laid his hand on her shoulder. "But it takes time to work your way through the hierarchy around here."

"My greatest contribution to SHIELD these past two months involved deducing that a target had adopted another cat," Miya replied dryly, "I'm not certain why I was transferred if this is the type of work I'm going to be assigned. To be honest, I don't know why I joined SHIELD anymore. How is analyzing kitty litter going to help save the world?"

Vahan looked pained for a moment before bursting into laughter. "I'm sorry," he snickered, "but that really wasn't something I expected to hear today. Look," he said more soberly, "I know this is hard. But we don't get to see the big picture. What you're doing may seem small and meaningless to you, but it takes a thousand small, meaningless things to make up one big, world-saving thing. So don't give up yet, okay?"

Miya bit her lip and looked down. Returning to New York would mean she'd be back in the field. She wouldn't have to wait another three months before the Powers-That-Be granted her permission to carry her katanas on the Helicarrier. And she'd be closer to home.

And her mother.

On second thought, maybe it'd be better if she stayed on the Helicarrier.

"I guess I'll tough it out little longer," she sighed, "Now you'd better deliver your report before Fury hunts you down."

"Some friend you are, throwing me to the wolves like that," Vahan grimaced.

"My instinct for self-preservation is too strong to ignore," Miya answered, taking the folder from him, "Survival of the fittest and all that. Now leave me in peace to describe the significance of Mr. Guilroy's lint roller purchases. I might be on the verge of a breakthrough here."

Vahan opened his mouth to reply, but was silenced by a quiet ping which emanated from Miya's screen.

Miya clicked on the memo and frowned.

Report to Assistant Director Hill's office at fifteen-hundred hours.

"Three pm?" Vahan read over her shoulder, "And it's already 2:40."

"Vahan," Miya said, plastering a winning smile across her face, "You wouldn't consider a trade, would you?"

He grinned back at her.

"Her office is on the other side of the Helicarrier. I suggest you run."


Loki leaned against the wall, his fingers playing with a scrap of blue ribbon. Slowly, his eyelids began to flicker lower and lower.

His breathing evened out as his chest rose and fell.

The ribbon fluttered to the ground.


"Did you write these reports?" Hill gestured to a pile of manila folders on her desk. Miya's heart sank a little as she picked them up.

A potential rift between dimensions. A cult conducting genetic experiments. Suspected abduction of mutant children. Aberrant weather patterns in Europe.

They were all there.

"Yes," she said, looking Hill in the eyes.

There were two directions this conservation could head.

There was the optimistic version. Hill would ask something like, "What led you to assume that there was an interlinking cause of these phenomenon?" Miya would explain how she'd noticed aberrant weather patterns across Europe that appeared to originate in East Germany. Storms that could not be explained by natural causes or global warming. This would lead to a discussion of possible sources, such as A.I.M. experiments or a mutant whose powers were out of control.

And then there was the pessimistic version. That conversation went along the lines of "On a scale of one to ten, how big of a nut job are you?"

She wasn't a big fan of that one.

"Do you have any idea why you were assigned to Project Beachsweep?" Hill asked, "Why you suddenly lost your clearance level?"

Miya blinked. This didn't fit within her predetermined lines of questioning. "I...assumed that is was protocol. That I had to work my way up from the bottom. Or" she added, "I'd really managed to tick someone off."

"You were assigned to Beachsweep under the recommendation of Agent Phil Coulson."

Miya felt as though Hill had reached across the table and slapped her.

Coulson?

"Why would Coulson recommend this?" she asked, voice steady despite her reeling head, "when I was transferred, he said he'd highly recommended me." 'You're one of the best I've trained' were his exact words. She hadn't told anyone. Coulson was not the kind to pass out compliments lightly, and she'd treasured those words.

"Coulson told us to give you two months with nothing to do," Hill said as she pulled out another manila folder, "And to watch what happened."

She opened the folder and started pulling out papers.

"A rift between dimensions was sealed last month with the help of a Doctor Strange. We were able to catch it before it grew to an unmanageable size." She set the report on the desk and grabbed another. "A SHIELD strike force busted a lab belonging to the cult of Mag Sleact. They were trying to resurrect a Celtic death deity named Crom Cruatch through the use of gene splicing, among other things. In the meantime, they'd created a series of monsters they were preparing to release as an act of worship. Both the research and the experiments have been destroyed."

I wasn't crazy after all, Miya thought as she examined the reports.

Coulson believes in me!

That's why I've been stuck studying kitty litter receipts for two months.

I'm so going to punch Coulson.

Repeatedly.

In the face.

And then bake him cookies.

"Not all of your conclusions were correct," Hill noted, "The 'missing' mutant children, for example, have all been enrolled in Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Students. But this was still impressive, considering how low your clearance level was."

"Was?" Miya interjected. The corner of Hill's mouth pulled upwards.

"You heard correctly; you're being promoted." Hill opened a drawer and started to pull out various items, including a new ID card and several manila folders. "As of now, your level 7 clearance has been reinstated and you are promoted to team leader," she said, handing over the ID, "and receive all the rights and responsibilities associated with such. You will be required to sign these nondisclosure agreements," she presented a large folder, "become familiar with the following protocols and codes," two more folders, "pick up your new gear," a stack of request forms, "and prepare for your first mission," two folders and a mammoth binder. SHIELD really had an unhealthy obsession with manila folders. The next time aliens invaded they should just chunk paperwork at them.

Miya noticed the project title on the engorged files. "Operation Blackfrost?" she said with dimming comprehension.

"Yes," Hill said with chagrin, "we simply had to change the name. Stark still hacks our servers from time to time, and we'd never hear the end of it if we used the name you suggested."

Miya flipped it open and skimmed the information with anticipation.

"Your involvement with Beachsweep is finished," Hill informed her, "Agent Vahan will show you to your new office."

Miya's head popped up from the folder.

"Office?" she gasped.

"Office," Vahan said, appearing in the open door behind her. He was grinning broadly.

"Dismissed, Agent Ayuma," Hill told her.

Miya thanked her and shook her hand, exiting the office with a pile of folders clutched to her chest.

"How'd the meeting go?" Vahan asked her, a smug look on his face as he led her through the maze of hallways, "Here, let me take some of those."

"Like you don't already know," Miya said wryly, handing him half of the stack, "and don't even try looking innocent. Hill assigned you to keep tabs on me, didn't she?"

"She wanted first-hand reports on your work," he acknowledged, "personally, I voted that we end this weeks ago, but Hill is a stickler for the rules. She insisted that we wait until the two month deadline." He chuckled. "You have no idea how nervous you made me when you started talking about transferring. I was afraid you might resign before Hill told you the good news."

"That woman is as rigid as Steve Roger's back in a roomful of strippers. If regulations demanded that all reports must be sung and accompanied by a dance number, Hill would issue a memo with suggested jazz shoes and choreographers."

Vahan snorted at the thought. "Just out of curiosity, did you just figure out I was keeping tabs on you, or did I give myself away earlier?"

"You've been trying to get me to do your dirty work for weeks," she told him, "failing, that is. There was no way you actually expected me to run errands for you. Unless you were an incurable optimist or incredibly stupid. And you were the only one interested in my extracurricular analysis. I knew something had to be up, though you should have heard the theories the other agents had. It was generally accepted that either you were a serial procrastinator or had a weird way of expressing attraction." Vahan rubbed the back of his neck in discomfort

"Well, now that that's been cleared up," he said, "congratulations on the promotion." He opened the door to a large shared office space. They walked between the empty desks and came to a stop outside a door at the end of the room.

The nameplate on the door said 'Agent Miyako Ayuma'.

"Who else works in this office?" Miya asked, looking around at the unused space.

"This is for your team," Vahan said, cheerfully.

"Team?" Miya asked.

"Team," he affirmed, grinning, "You wouldn't be much of a team leader without team, would you? Don't worry; they won't be moving in here until tomorrow, so you'll have a chance to get used to this before you meet them. Their files are on your desk." He opened the office door for her.

"Everything was transferred while you were meeting with Hill," Vahan said, giving her his share of the files, "And now I've got to go. I'll see you around." Miya entered the office (her office), and he closed the door behind her.

The room was small, but private. Her computer was on the desk along with her files and gear. A large brown box was perched on a shelf in the corner of the room.

Miya dumped everything in her arms onto the desk and sat down in her new chair. She spun around in it, laughing, letting everything sink in.

Pulling out her phone, she dialed a number. It rang exactly one and a half times before the owner answered it in an even tone.

"This is Agent Phil Coulson."

"Hey Boss," she said, "Have something you want to tell me?" She propped her booted feet up on the desk, avoiding the towering stacks of files.

"I suppose I should inform you how fascinating your reports have been. Especially the one where Fluffy goes to the vet. It was quite gripping."

"You've been reading my reports?" she said in a shocked tone, "why, Coulson, you never said you cared."

"Agent Hill talked to you today," he said, more a statement than a question.

"Yes, just a few minutes ago. Two months of kitty litter receipts; that's going on the list." She cleared her throat, glancing at the box on her shelf. "Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. For recommending me."

For believing in me. For being the first, the only.

She didn't say that part. She didn't need to.

"No problem," he replied, "Now, if I'm not mistaken, you've got a long night ahead of you."

Miya said goodbye and hung up. She should probably call her mother, but she could always do that later. Instead she turned to her computer. With Level 7 clearance and as a team leader, Miya now had the authority to make grant certain requests autonomously…say an application to carry katanas. As her fingers flew over her keyboard, she smiled to herself.

Things were looking up.


Asgard was burning.

Flames licked the city walls as the screams of the inhabitants mingled with the clash of weapons. Those left alive fought on, desperately, futilely.

No enemy had assaulted the gates. No adversary had overcome them. The Asgardians themselves tore one another apart. Warriors, driven mad, killed their families and drank their blood. Only after the deeds were complete would they wake from one nightmare into another.

Odin sat motionless on the throne, ignoring the flames which engulfed the throne room. Blank-eyed, Thor stepped over Sif's broken body as he stalked towards the All-Father with lightning at his fingers.

"Are you prepared, fallen prince? Prepared to pay the price of your failure?"

Loki woke with a start.

He was coming for him. There would be no mercy.


Author's notes:

This is set two years after the Battle of New York. The Teen Rating is for later chapters; there will be some violence and mentions of past sexual assault (non-explicit). I'll post any warnings at the beginnings of each chapter, and if anyone has any triggers, just let me know and I can message you an edited chapter or something.

This should also conform to Thor 2 and Captain America 2, but darn it, I've been working on this a long time and am NOT going to change certain relationships to work around Avengers 2. Not doing it.

Comments and criticism are both welcome. "I spread my dreams under your feet. Tread softly because you tread upon my dreams."- Yeats