Who are they compared to a god? Loki thought. Twigs and crisp brown leaves crunched beneath is feet as he marched through the thick Scandinavian Forest. Autumn leaves scattered like pencil shavings with a thin veil of frost. He'd been following a babbling creek for half an hour. The stench of the planet offending his sense for far too long. Even in a remote place like this, he could smell the foul odor of mortals and their ilk. Miles from civilization, Loki still stumbled across a lost wrapper and empty plastic bottles. A reminder that humans will ruin anything when given the chance. "Disgusting," he mumbled to himself.
If only he had his sword. It was here somewhere. Lost by some fool who had no business finding it, let alone wielding it. How dare some simple human touch my sword. Loki thought. How weak do you have to be to wield such power and still end up a rotting corpse in the ground? No one even remembers the idiot's name. He deserves to be a feast for worms. I hope his ending was as unremarkable as he was. His jaw tensed with anger at the though. Some peasant playing warrior, swinging his sword only to lose it along with their life.
He could feel the sword. A low hum echoed in his head, like tuning fork being struck against glass. The closer he got, the louder it rang. Loki held out a hand and slowed his breathing. His nerves vibrating. There was magic in the wind. His magic. It was like the air was made of silk. The breeze circled around his fingers, ensnaring his hand with an invisible force.
He closed his eyes and drank the breeze. Visualizing the hilt in his hand, Loki took a long deep breath. The faint charge of magic tickled his fingers. Slowly, something manifested. It was just within his grasp. "Come to me, Laevateinn," Loki commanded.
Green smoke curled around his hand and up his arm. A chilling burn stung his skin. The familiar frost-bitten flame.
The soil here was rich with power. Somewhere deep below his feet, the ancient Asgardian relic laid in waiting for him. The waiting was over now. He'd found it. It was right there, so why was it so hard to summon?
He coiled his fingers, pressing his nails into his palms. Loki imagined the leather grip closed in his hand. He imagined it's smooth finish. The cold enchanted gold wrapped in expertly crafted Asgardian leather humming in his hand. "Come to me," he demanded, his frustration laid thick on his voice.
The soil buzzed with vibration. He rooted himself to the ground and cried out in vexation through clenched teeth. Sweat appeared along his furrowed brow. "Come to me!" he shouted. The humming stopped. The smoke disappeared as if it were never there. The flame was gone. He was just standing in a pile of dead leaves. His chest was heavy with resentment. His heart full of lead.
He creased his lips in disappointment and sighed irritatingly. "Fuck," he muttered.
The sky became loud. Whirling blades sliced through the wind in obnoxious pulsations. Dark blue helicopters descended from the clouds, scattering the leaves around him. "Loki of Asgard!" a voice boomed from a sound system inside one of the choppers. "We have you surrounded. Please do not resist!"
The white eagle emblem of S.H.I.E.L.D. pulled into view as the helicopter tilted to the side. "Fuck," he mumbled again. Daggers slid into his hands.
From the trees, three dozen agents clad in their black armor vests appeared, pointing their guns with the intent to kill. They were given the orders. One wrong move and they would unload on him. More agents descended on ropes from the sky. He counted three. Thirty-nine agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. They underestimate me. He thought.
He readied a dagger. Before he launched it through the air, a pair of heavy metal cuffs clasped around his arms. An unseen agent with a dark brown bun secured them behind his back. The daggers disappeared. "Get your hands off me!" Loki griped.
She slapped something flat and metallic across his mouth. A mechanical chord latched around his head, securing the gag to his face. He yelled more, but it was all muffled.
"Loki of Asgard, my name is Agent Katherine Hanna. You're under arrest for the invasion of New York in 2012 and you're a suspect in the disappearance of Thor Odinson," the woman exclaimed.
He couldn't protest despite the burning desire. A metal rope descended from a helicopter. Agent Hanna tethered it to Loki's cuffs and gave it an affirming tug. The prince was hoisted into the air with a quick and painful jerk. The woman smiled and waved as he was pulled into the clouds.

Three days passed. Three awful days. They fed his beige paste and murky bean water they called "coffee". Loki decided he'd rather starve. Heavy vibranium cuffs weighed down his wrists and his neck, digging into his skin. They did something to him. He couldn't use his magic. He'd been trying.
For three sleepless nights, Loki laid on the rough lumpy cot they provided for him. It was like lying on rocks covered with a thin itchy sheet. Though his eyes were leaden with fatigue, Loki chose to stay away, staring daggers at the cameras that watched him from the corners of his cell.
He only had one visitor in those three days. Agent Katherine Hanna. She was a harsh woman with a bleak face. Her features reminded him of a fox, or a wolf. Broad sharp angles with narrow focused eyes the color of an eclipse. She always looked angry, but she spoke with a calm, yet stern voice. No emotion. Loki couldn't read her. She made sure of that. Agent Hanna was clearly a seasoned soldier. She walked with a commanding march that made you want to follow behind her. Her face was always blank. Her gaze focused on her goal.
Agent Hanna would deliver Loki's meals and ask him a series of question. "When was the last time you spoke to Thor Odinson?" Loki just shrugged in response. "Do you know the whereabouts of Thor Odinson?" Loki shook his head. "What were you doing in that forest?" Loki just smiled. After a few minutes, she'd leave him alone. He wish he could get the satisfaction of making her mad, but that anger never came.
Instead, Agent Hanna sent him a pet.
She shook like a bunny walking into the den of a viper. Her manila folder clenched in her arms like a bible meant to protect her from evil. Her cardigan was a size too big. The sleeves fell over her hands and slunk below her knees, making her look child-like and small. The look on her face was delicious to him. That rampant fear. Her eyes were like saucers in her pretty little head. A helpless doe standing in front of an oncoming truck. The viper licked his lips.
When she spoke, her words rolled along a trembling tongue, and sputtered past a quivering lip. He tilted his head to the side and examined her eyes. Heavy purple bags hung below them. She wasn't sleeping. She must be too scared to sleep at night. Loki thought. It amused him.
"My name is Elaina Bright, and I'd like to ask you a few questions, if that's okay," she muttered quietly. Elaina Bright. Loki twiddled her name inside him head, letting his tongue form the sounds that never made it past his lips. She used so much of her courage just ask his permission to sit down. It was adorable.
"If you must," Loki answered. He watched her with an attentive gaze.
She asked him about his sleeping habit. A bitter subject. He tried to brush her off with an apathetic response, but she continued.
"It can be difficult to rest in a place like this, given your history with S.H.I.E.L.D," she sputtered.
"Is it your job to bagger me about my sleeping habits?" he snapped. The girl recoiled and froze, like a bunny who just dodged the viper's bite.
"No. I'm sorry. I need to ask you a few questions about your presence here on Midgard and the lack of presence of your brother, Thor," she replied. Her voice trembling more than ever. She began to open her folder, but Loki quickly stopped her.
"I can't help you, sorry. I'd love to, but I can't. Can I go now?" he shot a glare at the camera. Come on, Hanna. Is this the best you can do?
 "Mr. Laufeyson, you're considered a top level threat as far as S.H.I.E.L.D. is concerned. Your arrival on Earth is not taken lightly and we need to take every precaution to make sure you're not a danger to our people," Elaina managed with a little more vigor.
Loki was almost taken back by her brazen veneer. He wanted to see how quickly she could be knocked back down. He smiled coyly, entertained by her display. "That's very cute. Did you rehearse that in a mirror?" he growled. The bunny was getting too brave for his liking.
He rose from his seat and in one quick stride, he was upon her, craning over her frail trembling frame. He quite liked the sight. He locked eyes with her. The cold gaze freezing her stiff. "Next time, try to make sure your lip isn't quivering," he purred, brushing her lip with his thumb.
The room went dark for a moment. A tidal wave crashed into him. Heavy currants pulling and pushing him every which way as he collapsed into his own mind. Tiny shards of glass tore his chest asunder as he gasped for air. His veins felt like they were frozen and burning at the same time. He'd never been this cold. Not even the winds of Jotunheim made him shiver this bad. He'd never seen this darkness before.
He saw a flash of gore splattered walls. A woman's screams clawed at the back of his mind as he watched his mother's face appear. Pale and lifeless. He tried to breathe but the glass kept piercing through the tissue. His heart throbbed slowly to the chime of an old clock. Tick...tock...tick...tock...tick... He waited for the next tock. His heart couldn't beat until it came. Panic set in, thriving in the stillness, billowing inside him with nowhere to go. Is this how I die? He thought. Tock.
Like a punch to the gut, Loki sucked in a lungful of cold air. He choked as he panted. The girl was on the floor, panting for the same air. "What the hell did you do to me?" he shouted, preparing to rip her head off, but he paused and dropped his hand. Who knows what would happen if he touched her again.
"I'm an empath. I can physically feel the emotions of those around me. Your emotions can manifest within me. That's how I know you haven't slept since you got here. That's how I know you're scared. I don't know what you're scared of, but you're terrified. When you touched me, you gave me a glimpse of the emotional baggage you're holding in there," she explained through desperate gasps.
An empath...Loki thought. Memories resurfaced of his mother and home. She was right, he was scared. He had always been scared. Not a day went by that didn't fear for his place in the universe. It only grew as he got older. As time ticked on, throwing new impossible feats at him. Like a shadow constantly watching in the corner. He was scared of so many things. He just perfected the art of covering it with cruelty and tricks.
But he saw something else when they touched. Something in her. Fear? There was so much blood on those walls. The scream belonged to her. Had she...killed somebody? He thought for a second and almost laughed out loud. No, she could never. She felt her fear echo inside him. A shiver that rippled from her memories. Memories that now whirled inside his head.
It was like watching a movie with only half the picture and even less sound. Loki saw Elaina with a man. His face obscured by a strange blur. He saw them nestled in a bed, kissing, embracing, and caressing each other. As this memory played, he felt a strange tinge of emptiness, like a hunger resounding from below his stomach. Yearning. Not his yearning. Hers. A smile crept across his lips as she was escorted out of the cell.

Loki was sure that Elaina Bright was his way out of this hell, but he couldn't figure out how. He racked his brain trying to think of a scheme, but eventually he realized that he was just too tired. Easing into the lumpy cot, he tried to shake the girl from his mind. Tried, but couldn't. It was like left a mark on him. He thought of her eyes and how fierce they became after they touched. How her strength seemed to rise. He recalled her pretty face, stricken with fear only flash with a fighter's spirit in the last moments. Something warm flickered in his chest.
I must admit, I admire the girl. He thought but admire didn't quite fit. He thought of Frigga again. Her sweet motherly face. The way she'd beam at his accomplishments no matter how small. Her strength, not only as a mother, but as a warrior and a sorceress. Did he simply admire her? No. He revered her. Adored her.
Loki's mind trailed back to Elaina. The trembling rabbit that hopped into the viper's burrow and struck first. For now, admiration was the word he chose for her.

Every day after them, he found himself excited to see her again. During the day and especially at night. What began as a half-baked scheme to win the girl over was quickly thwarted by this admiration. He grew fond of her company. The softness of her voice. The way the air felt light when she was around. It was like she took every fear, every pain, and every regret and molded it into something warm. Something soothing.
Their uninhibited nights of passion and their ataractic days of passive intimacy stirred a forgotten emotion in him. Something light and lovely that resonated like song.

Agent Hanna continued to visit him when Elaina would leave. Loki didn't like her. At first, he thought it was hard demeanor. The vast authority she displayed over him. The fact that she was her helpless prisoner. That was enough for him to hate her, but, unfortunately, there was more than that.
It began when Elaina left, the day he told her about the sugar cookies he baked with his mom. Agent Hanna entered the room and threw a picture of Laevateinn on the table. An artist's rendition of the sword, but it was the sword, drawn in blue ink on printer painter.
"Aw, you drew me a picture, how cute. Thank you. I'll have to make you something next," Loki smiled sarcastically as he turned his gaze.
Hanna sat across from him, a smile brimming against her cheeks. "Where's the sword, Loki?" she asked without skipping a beat. He realized that he'd never seen her smile before. It was terrifying.
"What sword?" he replied. "This sword? Well, it's right here." He shrugged and reclined in his chair. He knew the legends of Laevateinn were sparse on Midgard. No one ever kept a decent document of the sword. For all they knew, one time a thousand years ago, some unnamed Viking may have handled a pretty piece of metal once before losing it in battle.
Agent Hanna leaned into the table; her face darkened by shadow. Her eyes were black circles on a white sheet. "You found it, Loki. I know you did. Your lies won't work on me, boy," she hissed lowly. There was something about the way she said his name that made him nervous. The mockery ringing her voice that rubbed him the wrong way.
Loki leaned into the table and tried to match her severity. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied just as low and just as harshly.
She chuckled herself. "You Asgardians are so cute when you try to be scary," she teased with a jovial grin. Loki watched her lean back in her chair and shake her head, arms crossed. He didn't see her pull the dagger. With a swift motion, Agent Hanna stabbed the picture with a small, curved dagger. It wasn't longer than five inches, two of which were imbedded in the table. She tightened her hand around the red scale grip, letting Loki admire it for a moment. Just long enough to realize. The bronze hilt that continued into the dull slope of the blade like a guard. The intricate wing that was engraved in the bronze. The pummel was an eagle's head with red gems for eyes. He could feel the whirl of Vanir magic from inside the blade.
Hanna dragged the picture back over to her side of the table. "I'll just take this with me and leave you alone. Hvílað sváss, Loki," she crooned in perfect Asgardian, her accent whimsical as the Vanir.
He was too stunned to speak.

As days went on, Loki found a new threat inside Avenger's Tower and within S.H.I.E.L.D. itself. Hanna, or rather, whatever had possessed her. The witches and sorcerers of Vanaheim were clever and kind people who used their magic for the good of the people. To help themselves thrive in an otherwise cruel world. He knew best, there was always darkness hiding in the brightest places.
Illerhag. The spirit of an evil witch that used her dark magic to become a sort of parasite. Sucking the life and light from others, hoarding for themselves. They couldn't hold on to a host for long. Especially not a mortal one. Hanna's desperation to work with Loki became clear. She needed the sword. Perhaps she thought it held some power that might give her a corporeal body. Maybe she just wanted to drain it for its magic. He wasn't certain, yet, but he feigned complacency in exchange for small freedoms. During another visit, he lied his way out of his heavy cuffs and into a slimmer bracelet. He was given small excursions with Elaina, the only person who made him feel...not evil.
She looked at him with trust and care. Something rarely given to him. When he learned of her past, the abuse she endured, it made her faith in him twice as valuable. He wanted to do the right thing for her. He didn't want to lose that trust. It hurt him to throw her into the middle of the silent war between him and the Illerhag. He worried for her, but, if he was going to get the sword before Hanna, he needed her. When this was all over, maybe he could try the good-guy thing for a while.

Elaina was missing from Banner's lab. Odd, Loki thought. Banner sat quietly at his desk, tapping away on some screen contraption. Hanna was also missing. A pang of worry shuddered through his chest. "I'll be right back," he called to Banner before shuffling back through the tower.
When he reached Elaina's room, he knocked fervently on the door. No answer. Three more sharp wraps. No answer. He jostled the knob and opened the door. Stupid girl, lock your damn door, he thought before pushing through the doorway. Everything was in its place. Tattered clothes still strewn across the floor. Her half-finished painting hadn't been touched. Her bed was messy, and her bathroom was empty, but her sweet floral scent lingered in the air.
Loki locked her door behind him and jogged back to Banner's lab. He borrowed his phone to call her. "Answer, damnit," he muttered to himself as the phone rang. On the last ring, her voice trilled pleasantly in his ear.
A weight vanished from his shoulders. "Hello, little earth girl," he breathed joyfully.
Assured that she was okay, Loki gave the phone back to Banner so he could show him how to end a call.
Just as he was about to relax and flub some more work, Hanna walked into the lab. "Loki, I need you. Now," she insisted.
Ugly hag, he thought to himself as he followed begin her. She led him back into the basement. He figured they were going back into her office to discuss something not meant for mortal ears, but when they past her office door, Loki became uneasy. "Where are you taking me?" he asked sternly.
"You'll see, just hurry up, boy," she snapped.
Deeper they trudged into the bowels of Avenger's tower. Past her office, even past his cell. How far were they going? Five flights of stairs lower than the basement, they reached a dark and shabby corridor. Some kind of dank floor to hold records that no one cared about anymore. Hanna opened the door for him, ushering him into a spacious storage room. His eyes didn't have time to adjust to the dim flickering fluorescent lights. His attention went straight to the hulking battered body of Thor hanging from shackles bolted to the ceiling.
All this time on Midgard must have made him soft. Loki couldn't believe he'd walk straight into such an obvious trap. Hanna knocked him on the back of the head with the pummel of her dagger before kicking him into the room. He stumbled to the ground disoriented. With a twist of her hand, Hanna summoned more chains that latched around Loki's arms like a vice. He was quickly hoisted into the air with enough force to nearly dislocate his shoulders. He grunted in pain.
"You filthy hag," he grunted. She landed a hard kick to his stomach. He spit out a gust of air, coughing as he swung. His feet just managed to touch the floor.
"Now now, boy. I know Frigga taught you better manners than that," Hanna teased.
"Keep my mother's name out of your foul mouth!" Loki cried. Another kick, this time to his ribs.
"Insults won't you get you anywhere, child," she said. The chained tightened around his wrists. Loki winced in pain. Each new surge sent a hot burst of anger through him. "Just tell me what I want to know, and I'll let you free. Then you can have a nice little date with your silly lover. How nice would that be?" the hag smiled mockingly.
Loki spat in her face.
The pain was immense. The strength of an elite S.H.I.E.L.D. agent mixed with hundreds of years of dark magic. She punched and kicked, but also cut him with animal-like claws. Pierced his stomach with invisible swords. Coiled a chain around his neck and choked him until his face turned blue. His true blue.
His wrists ached as the metal wore away at his skin. His face was bruised and bloodied. Blood mixed with spit fell from his open mouth as he slowly spun helplessly in the air. He counted eight broken ribs, a dislocated shoulder, broken nose, busted lip, a broken wrist, and one swollen eye. That was only the physical damage. Inside, her magic stirred inside him like an ice pick writhing through his organs. She used illusions to drive invisible needles into his abdomen. He tried to scream from the pain, but his throat was horse from being choked.
Elaina...
 Her face flashed through his mind.
Please don't save me, he thought.