Since you're being so awkward, I caved and found this. Eight days until you can go back to your pathetic excuse for a planet.
"How romantic," she murmured, and unwrapped the paper from the block that had been left on the table. It was a book, a humungous book; its title was in old Slavic runes, but almost as soon as she focused on them they rearranged themselves into words she could understand; A Compleat Hiftory of Afgard.
She opened it to the first page, and laughed disbelievingly as she watched the gilded drawing of it move. She recognised it as Yggdrasil, with nine globes shifting slowly between its branches as stars pulsed between them. Her fingers drifted to the blue one, streaked with green and white- the silver light around it grew stronger at her touch, as if it recognised one of its own.
She chewed her lip and leafed through the first few pages, before skipping to the very last one as she always did. It was blank, save for a handwritten message in faded ink. Unfortunately for Gwen's nosy nature, it was written in Nordic runes.
"But fortunately," she said to herself, "I did those as part of my university course." She rifled through Heimdall's drawers until she found a quill, some ink and a scrap of parchment, then slowly began to decipher the writing. It took her about ten minutes, and she was so intensely focused that she didn't even realise what it said until she was finished, and could look at it as a whole.
For my son, Loki. May you learn from the mistakes of your grandfathers, and the wisdom of your grandmothers. All my love, always, Frigga.
Gwen realised she was crying, and hastily wiped her eyes on the off-chance someone might walk in. I can't keep it, was her first thought, which was immediately chased away by another. Of course you can. You have to, he gave it to you. And stop crying, for hell's sake.
"What's got into me, Algernon?" she asked the mouse on her shoulder as she balled up the scrap parchment and threw it in the fire. "We need to sort me out, asap."
She slammed the book shut and walked out into the tiny courtyard that backed onto Heimdall's home. The cottages on either side had similar such courtyards, and luckily for Gwen they were all filled with laundry. She scrambled up onto the wall and crawled along it until she reached a line full of clothes, grabbed an armful before anyone noticed, and dropped back into Heimdall's yard.
"How the shit do these even work, Algernon?" She pulled off her own clothes and inspected the ones she had nicked. "So… trousers first, thank god they fit, then this shift thing, and then the tunic goes over the head and you lace it up at the back… no, the front… ha!"
She looked down at herself, and scrunched her nose up at the coarse fabrics she was now wearing. Shoes would be harder to obtain, so she would have to go barefoot and hope nobody noticed. Her hair was another problem, especially with two inches of roots showing- she ended up braiding it tightly along her head like a medieval milkmaid, which both hid most of the pink and made it look longer than it was.
"Why do the men have hair longer than me here, Algernon? It's impractical." She tucked the mouse into the pocket on the front of her tunic, took a deep breath and slipped out into the Asgardian market.
As impressive as the palace was, this was where she belonged- a densely packed street where everyone was busy, too busy to watch their stalls all their pockets all the time. Gwen was starving, so she drifted innocently past a fruit stall and took a plum the size of her fist as she did, without anyone noticing a thing.
The sun-baked cobbles were pleasantly warm on her bare feet as she walked, glancing up at the palace every so often. Its structure reminded her of a church organ with its gradually ascending golden pipes, and although it was certainly beautiful she definitely preferred the castles back home.
After an hour or so (and three more plums), the thing she had been waiting for sauntered down the street in a linked-arm group of three. A tall woman and two men, one large and the other slender, all dressed far more opulently than the people surrounding them. All with their weapons safely sheathed, and purses clinking with money at their belts.
I should really pay Heimdall some rent or something, she thought as she stood up and started to follow them. Yeah, that sounds like a legit reason to do this, instead of "I was bored".
"Volstagg," said the woman, "if I didn't know you better, I would say your eyes are bigger than your stomach. Surely we do not need to stop at every stall?"
"But what if I miss something?" Volstagg responded.
"Or someone," added the slim blond man, giving the girl at a fabric stand a dazzling smile.
"You are both despicable," the woman said with a small smile.
"I'll drink to that," the blond one said, and Volstagg guffawed. He approached a mead seller and his hand went to his purse- or rather, where it had been. "Ah… this could be a problem."
The woman raised an eyebrow at him. "Caught short, Fandral?"
"No! It must have been stolen from me!" Fandral retorted hastily, as a blush suffused his fine pallor.
Still chuckling, Volstagg stepped forward. "Then allow me, my friend… hang on. No, no, no, I refuse to believe this…" he patted his tunic anxiously, looking for the bulge of money that wasn't there. "Impossible! This has never happened before!"
"Perhaps you were both so distracted by food and women you forgot to mind yourselves," the women smirked, "crime such as this in Asgard is rare, my friends, but you should always be wary of it."
"Sif, you are too paranoid of people trying to drain your wealth," Fandral warned her, "now buy Volstagg and myself some drinks."
"If you insist," Sif said, swaggering forward to the seller. She stopped abruptly just in front of him, pursed her lips and hung her head. "For the love of Yggdrasil… I have been pickpocketed as well."
"This is outrageous!" Volstagg thundered, "some street scrod plundering Lady Sif and the Warriors Three? Well, two of them."
"Hogun must never hear of this," Fandral told the other two, "I may never live it down - Sif, what is the matter?"
"I believe I have located the culprit," said Sif, and nodded to Gwen.
The Midgardian looked up from the fat, funny coins she had been distracted by, saw her three marks approaching her, and swore. As they broke into a run she did too, dropping the heavy purses and weaving through the crowds. She was fast and nimble, but there were three of them and they knew the streets far better than her- she was just looking over her shoulder for the blond one when she ran into the stomach of Volstagg.
"Any chance you'll just accept an apology?" she asked hopefully, and groaned as she felt her hands being tied behind her. "I guess not, then."
%
The cells in Asgard were very nice and clean, if fairly boring. She had been put in one on her own since the rest were filled with monsters and murderers from other realms, and she had spent the last couple of hours lying on her back, staring up at the uniform white ceiling and becoming increasingly hungry.
She didn't notice the guard walk in, but she did notice the plate of food that was placed by her head - and the mouse that followed it.
"Algernon!" she exclaimed, scooping him up and checking to see he was okay before looking up at the guard who had brought him in. His face was unfamiliar, but his expression- a familiar mix of amusement, affection and disdain- was one she recognised immediately.
"I heard rumour of a pink-haired pickpocket by the name of Ratatosk being taken into the palace cells, and thought to myself, 'surely, this is just a coincidence that they bear the title of a rodent.' And then I remembered whom I was dealing with. What happened to staying inside and not doing anything?" Loki asked in a stranger's voice.
"I got bored. And I totally would've got away with it, if I hadn't been distracted by your weird currency. The coins' weight in gold is probably worth more than the worth they actually represent, if that makes sense."
"Somewhat. Are you alright?"
"I'm fine, they were much nicer to me than Earth cops. Thank you for the book, by the way."
"I never finished it, so it was no trouble to give it to you. Heimdall tells me the search for you in Midgard has been called off, so you can return to your home, if that is what you desire."
"Hell yeah, it is!" she said excitedly, then hesitated. "How am I supposed to get out of this cell?"
"Surely a woman of your cunning could figure it out," he replied with a smirk.
"I don't even know how the golden window hologram thingies work, let alone the door. You could always, you know, let me out, Mr Guard."
"And why would I do that?" Loki asked, smirk growing to a full on, god-of-mischief grin.
"Because you love me?" she suggested. "Also, please?"
Loki considered this, then crooked a finger at her to stand up and approach him. She did, cautiously, and he slipped something small into the pocket of her godawful tunic.
"That knife is imbued with venom potent enough to knock out an Asgardian for ten minutes," he said, "and the stairs to the left avoid the main hallways. The back passages are like a maze, however, so you'll probably get lost and starve to death before I even notice you're gone."
"You're so nice," she said, "when does the next guard come?"
"Now," Loki said, and disappeared in a shimmer of green light as her cell door opened again.
"Were you just talking to somebody?" the guard asked, looking around. Fortunately, the plate of food had disappeared along with its deliverer.
"No," she said, "just myself. I've been a little starved of company, in here on my own." She walked forward and slipped her arms around the guard's neck.
"Listen, wench," he said, "I have no interest in…" he slumped forwards onto her as she jabbed the blade into the exposed skin on his neck.
"Well that's fast-acting," she murmured, and dragged the guard out of the open door by his feet. "Jeez, you're heavy. Do they have diets on Asgard?"
She left him slumped in the nearest alcove of the dark corridor, which she followed until a symmetrical set of staircases. She followed Loki's advice and took the left flight, which indeed led into a labyrinth of spider-webbed passages.
"Like a maze…" she muttered to herself, "well, that makes it easier." She placed her hand on the wall to the left of her and walked forward, following the corridors and not once removing her palm. It was an old trick she had only ever heard about, she didn't even expect it to work- but after half an hour of walking she found herself in bright sunlight, blinking rapidly.
She took a couple of seconds to get her bearings, then pulled a silk banner from the wall beside her and tied it around her distinctive hair, which gave her a little more of a disguise. She rolled her neck and cracked her knuckles, then ran at the nearest low wall and jumped up onto it, followed it to the side of a house, grabbed the overhanging slate and pulled herself up onto the roof. She jumped silently from building to building, keeping low as she did, and headed south until she dropped into Heimdall's courtyard and grabbed her bag, shoving the book into it and slinging the whole thing onto her back.
To get home, she would have to reach that Bifrost thing, which would involve traversing several hundred yards of completely exposed bridge. But as she approached it, sticking to the shadows, she saw that its underside was supported by a network of gold arches and struts that couldn't look any more like a kids' climbing frame if they tried.
She discarded the restrictive tunic, wiped her sweaty hands on her shift and tightened the straps on her rucksack. "Sorry Algernon," she said, "but you're gonna have to go in my bag if you don't want to fall to your death…" as she said that, she looked down at the death-inducing drop from the verge of the cliff the bridge connected to, a drop she was uncomfortably close to. "Oh, dear god. That's terrifying." She swallowed. "Don't look down, just… don't look down, and wait until you're out of here before you start screaming and throwing up." She tensed her muscles to stop them shaking, and began to climb one of the massive golden pillars.
"Holy shit!"
Two hours, the worst two hours of her life, later she staggered into the Bifrost and up to Heimdall. "Please can I go home now?" she asked, with blue-tinged lips. She liked her home. At its tallest, the burrow was only two storeys high, like all sensible things should be.
"If you wish," Heimdall said, a very subtle smile tugging at his lips.
"Thanks for letting me live in your house, by the way," she said in a shaky voice, one hand on the gatekeeper's chest to steady her.
"At least it was useful for once."
She patted his chest with her other hand. "You're a cool guy. You'll probably want to zap me before I sick all over you."
A/N writing other Asgardians is super-duper fun, and I couldn't resist the temptation of Gwen naming herself after the squirrel that runs between the nine realms in Norse mythology. That name may or may not become useful to her again, but not for a few dozen chapters yet.