It was really no trouble at all, convincing Thor that he was dead. Simple. Easy. In fact, it was child's play. Loki was extremely cheerful as he teleported back to Asgard. And, in fact, his cheerfulness made him reckless. Who better to deliver the news that Loki was dead to the Allfather than Loki, himself, right?
Wrong.
So wrong it was almost hard to believe. Loki's plans were typically foolproof, to the degree that there were typically three or four layers of backup plans to, well, back up the previous plans.
He was getting sloppy. It must be Frigga's death. Loki would never admit it, never speak of it again, but his adopted mother meant a great deal more than he let on. She'd always been there for him, always been able to hold him up when everyone else was pushing him down. And now she was gone.
That must be it, he told himself, as the Einherjar grabbed his wrists, and forced him down into a kneeling position before Odin's throne.
Yes. Odin had caught him in the act of pretending to be dead.
Loki had grown up under Odin's watchful eye. How could he have thought the Allfather would be duped that easily? It would have been better to simply let Thor carry the news.
"Come on, now…" Loki grinned cheekily up at the throne. "What did you expect?"
"More." Odin admitted. "More repentance. More effort."
"I realize I've never been enough." Loki shrugged easily. "Can I go back to my cell, now?"
Odin shook his head sadly. "You are enough, Loki."
Well, that was unexpected.
"I had hoped that your stay in the dungeon would teach you humility." Odin went on. "Kindness, perhaps. I wanted the little prankster boy who loved reading, and playing with his brother back. Whatever happened to him?"
"He's dead." Loki spat, struggling against the grip of the guards, in an attempt to rise. "He fell off the Bifrost bridge, and died."
"I don't believe so." Odin countered. "You have been blinded, my son."
Loki balled his hands into fists, now extremely angry. Why was the one-eyed fool even keeping him here? "I'm not your son." He muttered under his breath, controlling himself with a herculean effort.
"Blinded by your rage, your jealousy." Odin went on. Perhaps he was growing deaf, as well as half-blind in his old age, but it seemed as if he hadn't heard Loki at all. "You need help, Loki, and I don't believe you can find that, here."
Great. He was going to get banished. Where? Muspelheim? Jotunheim?
Odin shifted slightly, leaning forward to look Loki in the eye. "I love you very dearly, my son, but the dungeon was doing you no good. I have considered your deeds, and have come to a decision. You attempted to enslave the mortals; therefore, you shall be slave to one."
"Poetic justice." Loki scoffed, staring in disbelief up at his adopted father. "Nice."
"Your mother thought so." Odin glanced down in sorrow. "We were going to change your sentence, anyway. Even before all this happened. But now I see you need it more than ever. You shall not return to the dungeons."
Loki was speechless, for once. But not for long. "Who?" He demanded, keeping his face carefully neutral. "The Man of Iron? Or perhaps the Hawk?"
"You don't know her." Odin stated, a small, mischievous smile appearing on his face. Loki shifted uncomfortably, partly because of the cold, hard tiles beneath his knees, and partly because mischievous was never a good thing, when it came to the Allfather. Never.
It was your typical, average, absolutely-nothing-can-go-wrong kind of day for Payton. People who often read, or know any stories at all, know, for sure, that this kind of day, when there isn't a cloud in the sky, not a care or trouble in the world, is when things Go Wrong.
And Go Wrong things did.
Payton was comfortably sitting in her studio, sketching the concept art for a new series she'd been hired to illustrate. She had told everyone to leave her alone for the next few hours, so that she could do this part of the process in peace. That meant no texts, no emails, no nothing. Just her, the sunlight, her pencils, and Lorde's Melodrama album playing in the background.
Apparently, the Bifrost doesn't count as any of those things, but still, when Payton was picked up from her desk by a rainbow of flashing colors, she was slightly annoyed. Then again, getting abducted by aliens was rather cool. Unless she had to talk to them…
When she felt ground under her feet, again, it came as a bit of a shock, and she stumbled forward a bit, and promptly fell on her face.
A snicker was heard from behind her, and, cheeks burning, she struggled to her feet, and cast a quick glance around her new surroundings. The room was huge, golden, and bright. It would have been beautiful, if Payton hadn't been internally screaming. Why was she… here? What did they want from her? Dusting her hands off on her jeans, she glanced around the room nervously.
There was a huge, golden throne in front of her, and old man in strange-looking armor sat imperiously on top of it, a spear clutched in his right hand. Behind her, were about seven muscly men in even stranger armor, all surrounding one man who stared at her with incredulous amusement in his striking green eyes.
"Perhaps you could pick a different mortal?" He drawled, his voice low, and strangely… familiar. In fact, everything about this guy was familiar. "This one can't even stand up straight."
Payton straightened self-consciously, and glanced between the two men. "Wait… who's being picked for what?" She demanded, backing up warily.
"Payton Plantt." The man on throne intoned, standing up, and made his way down the steps before his throne. The man behind guffawed in amusement.
"Her last name is… Plant?!" He giggled, and shook his head in delight. "Of all the peculiar mortals, this one is certainly the stupidest."
"Stop your mockery, Loki." The man ordered.
Oh.
Oh.
This was Loki. The same Loki who had destroyed most of downtown Manhattan. The one who'd killed eighty people in two days. In shock and terror, she scrambled backwards, away from the man, despite the seven buff dudes who were holding him in place. He was dangerous; he could kill her, if he wanted. Buff dudes or no. He seemed to take great delight in her fear, and grinned maliciously in her direction.
"Calm yourself, Miss Plantt." The other man assured. "Loki is no threat to you, and even if he was, he is not wicked. He would not harm you needlessly." Payton's large blue eyes flicked back to Loki, who looked a bit surprised at this revelation. No wonder. He killed eighty people. Including...
"Who are you?" She demanded, twisting a lock of her golden blonde hair around her finger nervously. It was a nervous habit she'd never really gotten over, from kindergarten. "And what do you want from me?"
"I am Odin. King of Asgard, and Allfather of the nine realms."
Payton blinked in surprise. "Oh."
"My son, Loki is troubled." Odin went on, laying a hand on her shoulder. Nervously, she pulled away. "I was hoping, perhaps, you could help him."
Payton's jaw dropped in shock. "Why me?"
Odin glanced around. "Why not?"
"Because…" Payton hesitated. 'Wait, how, exactly, do you want me to help?"
"Loki has been sentenced to be the slave of a mortal, and I think you'll do nicely." Odin explained. "Only temporarily, of course. Until he learns humility and repentance."
"And how am I supposed to teach him that?" Payton demanded.
Odin shrugged. "In any way you choose."
Payton and Loki glanced at each other, a bit of nervousness creeping into his gaze. "But…" Payton began to protest, but the Allfather would have none of it.
"Loki wears a collar, that will hinder him from disobeying you. He may not use his magic, or attempt harm towards you, your belongings, or any other mortal."
Loki was looking more and more incredulous as the king continued talking. "And if he doesn't… comply?" Payton wondered.
"This." Odin snapped his fingers, and the collar began to glow white. Loki's eyes widened in abrupt pain, and his hands flew up to clutch at his throat, his teeth gritted together, obviously in immense pain, until Odin snapped again, and he collapsed, gasping, onto the marble tiles, eyes wide in sudden shock. He stared between the two of them in horror, his lips trembling, and Payton could swear she saw tears in his eyes.
"Uh… yeah, that won't be necessary." She whispered, eyes round in shock. A wave of gratitude swept over Loki's features, and Odin nodded briskly. "So, you're willing to do this for us?"
Payton spent a moment to consider. If this Odin guy was willing to do… that, and just as an example, Loki wasn't safe, here. On the other hand, he had killed eighty people in two days. Didn't he deserve some form of punishment?
On the other hand, did anyone deserve that? Loki stared at her in panic, his face pale, hands clenched into fists. He was helpless. She was his only hope. On the other hand, Payton was terrified of people – him most of all. Could she live with him in the same house?
On the other hand, Payton was a good person. She knew that much. She couldn't just stand by while this criminal got… tortured. Even with all that he had done. On the other hand…
No. There was no other hand.
"Yeah." She responded firmly. "I'll take the job."
"Thank you." Odin beamed. "You'll be rewarded with much gold for your service to Asgard."
Payton barely registered the words, as she stared down at her shoes. What had she signed up for? As the swirling colors of the portal-thingy enveloped her and Loki at the same time, returning her to her home in Missouri, she mentally groaned.
How would her sister react to her new… slave? She really didn't like that word. Pet? Nah. Friend? Yeah, let's go with friend. Said "friend" toppled over, as soon as he hit the ground, and lay curled in a frightened ball on the floor, wide, green eyes blinking up at her fearfully. Payton inspected his huddled form in great irony. Only five minutes before, he'd laughed at her for falling over, coming out of the portal-thingy.
For a good thirty seconds, she simply stared at him in silence, then turned on her heel, and locked herself in her studio, again, leaving Loki in a confused, and extremely nervous pile on the carpet.
TheOnlyHuman.