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Prologue: Of Gods and Hedgehogs

Who needed to be forgiven?

Nights were never long on Asgard. They fell quickly, passed silently, and burst into glorious sunrise all too quickly. But during the silver-tinted days, he was forced to live in a shadow. At night, the world was the shadow, and the puny creatures that needed light to fool each other into believing each other's' facades would sleep, hiding from the fact that in the darkness, none could conceal their darkest secrets.

Night passed too quickly, but never fast enough.

The second prince of Asgard passed his fingers over the pages of the book he was already tired of reading. The subject was interesting enough, but after the fourth time he could probably repeat it back to whoever wanted to listen. Not that they would. No one listened to him anymore.

He let out a sigh – he wasn't one to talk to himself to keep his thoughts in order. For all that was said about him, he honestly didn't really like the sound of his own voice. After all, compliments mean nothing when they come from your own lips…

In fact, his silence, his refusal to comply with anyone's orders – that was the reason he hadn't been able to leave yet. Until he was willing to renounce all his past actions, he was to be confined in his room… like a stubborn child. His lip curled into a condescending smirk. Did Odin think him still to be controlled like a rebellious adolescent?

He slowly descended into those thoughts, basking in the burning thoughts that mingled hatred and the joy of fooling someone into one bitter pill – for all it raised boils on his proverbial mental skin. So lost was he, that when a voice spoke, he nearly jumped eight feet in the air. Sadly, the ceiling wasn't quite that high, so he had to stop at six-and-a-half before he completely shattered the ceiling.

"Awfully fond of that book, aren't you?" came the voice again, from behind him.

Loki spun, automatically throwing up a guard over his previously open face. The mask was harder to maintain as he struggled with shock for a moment – the owner of the voice was lounging in his favorite chair, with the book in his hand.

"Boring subject. You really read this stuff?" The man, light glistening off his spiky hair, tossed the book carelessly onto the table, and Loki silently disregarded him for the careless way his intruder would treat an ancient tome – for all that he could probably repeat it backwards.

"Yes, I do," Loki answered noncommittally, observing the man with sharp eyes. "Though you obviously do not appreciate knowledge enough to respect its... influence." He didn't let down the guard for a moment, though he did edge toward the window, relaxing enough to lean on the windowsill. "How did you get in here, human?"

For it was obvious that the man was human. The way he lounged back in the chair held none of the Asgardian stillness-to-contain-energy. His short, strawberry-blonde hair was spiked with gel. He was wearing the rather typical human clothing – jeans and a t-shirt. Silver, squarish glasses balanced on his nose made his watery blue eyes look unnaturally large behind the thick lenses.

And most of all, he was munching on a shiny plastic bag of some kind of Midgardian vegetable that he could only guess at.

"How'd you guess?" the man didn't smile though, for all he was laughing. "Don't answer that question."

Loki simply raised an eyebrow.

"So why haven't you called the guards yet? Or blasted me out the window, which wouldn't have been weird, for you. Your temper tantrum trashed New York." The man popped another one of those… things into his mouth, and chewed quietly. At least he had manners.

"I don't think they'd be too inclined to help me at the moment," Loki remarked. "For very similar reasons as those which you have stated." His eyes, like a hawk's, focused in on the man's face. "Why are you here? Or, more succinctly, how did you come to Asgard?"

The man swallowed whatever it was he was eating, then turned over another in his long, pasty white fingers before popping it into his mouth. "I'm Trevor, thanks for asking. And I'm actually here to interview you! Kind of. I'm a journalist, or was, back on Earth. Or Midgard. Whatever you call it." His words started to fall over themselves a bit, as if he was struggling with figuring out what to say.

Loki made a herculean effort to keep the utter, complete disdain off of his face as he stared at the spiky-haired man eating cucumber in his favorite chair. Only humans would find out how to travel between worlds and then send a journalist across to conduct an interview.

"If looks could kill, I'd be dead right now," Trevor snapped, suddenly losing patience. Or was it courage that was lost? "I'm not here on behalf of the authority you're thinking of, so wipe that snobby look off your face. Journalist may be my job, but I'm here for more than that."

Idiotic bravado.

Loki seriously considered calling the guards for a quarter of a second before he grabbed the man by the neck of his t-shirt and slammed him against the wall, wrapping a hand around his neck and drawing the shorter man up to eye-level. "You will stop your insults and tell me your purpose, human. You are not worthy to dance circles around the likes of a go-" he managed to hiss before, to his surprise, he found himself flying across the room and slamming into the opposing wall of his bedchamber.

The other man had collapsed as well, but was already sitting up, rubbing his neck ruefully. "You… should see a… damn shrink," he coughed, eyeing the collapsed figure of Loki from across the room. "They were right, you do snap fast." He was talking far too quickly now, as if words were a crutch to get him out of any situation.

Loki sat up, rubbing his already-aching head. "You're an altered human as well? If so, I really don't have time for th-"

Trevor was already standing, and offered him a slightly trembling hand while impolitely cutting him off. "No, I'm not. An altered human. Don't even have powers. I've just got more capacity than some."

Loki looked at him as if he'd just spoken another language, then coldly got back up without the hand. "You have one more chance, mortal."

Trevor backpedaled. "Honestly, I came to scope you out. Kind of like a reporter, except where I'm from, it wouldn't get written down. All I can tell you is that there's more on Earth than SHIELD, and we're not so quick to believe that you were working alone in this whole mess. And, you know, since this is our planet at stake, we decided we'd try to ask you nicely who it was before trying the not-so-nice." He pointed to himself. "I'm nice, by the way. Not-so-nice will drive you up a wall."

Loki fantasized about stabbing the over-talkative hedgehog with his helmet before speaking. "I was kept from much knowledge, if that answers your question."

"Well, sorry if I don't completely believe you, but you are kind of known as the god of lies back home."

Loki tried to surge up out of the chair he'd settled in to thoroughly murder the man when he realized he couldn't stand up. He blinked in shock as he realized that his wrists and ankles were bound to the chair by some kind of freakish glowing vine of energy. "And you expect me to believe that you're human?" he asked condescendingly. "Tell me, did your chattering tongue come from birth, or is it to cover up the fact that this is the most frightening mission you've ever been on?" Loki's eyes met the other man's with a kind of unflinching intensity – as if he was mentally gutting and filleting him.

He watched the man suppress a shudder with satisfaction. He'd worked on that glare for a long time.

"Birth. I was born impudent," he said – too quickly.

Loki sighed. "As for your question, even if I did know, I would never tell you. For all your chatter and bravado, you simply want to cower in fear," he said, his voice growing lower. "So run away, child. And tell your masters that the God of Lies sends his regards…" he stopped, then quietly stood up. It had taken a lot of effort, prying through pure-energy bonds. But he'd been testing them while he'd been tearing apart Trevor's self-esteem, and they became weaker the more distracted Trevor got. He brushed past the now-terrified man, just a hair too close so that the edge of his clothing brushed against Trevor's arm.

Trevor was the one to jump this time, spinning around so he wouldn't have the god at his back.

Loki slowly bent over a piece of parchment and picked up a quill. A few words would suffice…

To whom it may concern:

If you expect answers, don't send in the nursing babes. It's rather insulting.

Loki, of Asgard

He pressed his seal over the envelope, then slipped back over to the man, still trying to put up his indifference like a shield between him and Loki. "Hand this to your superiors, you sanguine coward." Loki treated the terrified man to his most winning smile. "I'll find out how you got here later… And I'm sure I'll see you again. Though I should tell you… " His smile became even wider as he stepped closer, "It may not be on such terms as might favor you, now that you have revealed your petty gift."

Trevor jerked back, the indifference finally dropping as he clutched onto the plastic bag.

"Such cowardice does not befit a true man. Perhaps I should kill you anyway…" Loki lifted his hand, an illusion of a knife streaming into view –

In a totally unspectacular fizzle, Trevor swallowed the remains of his cucumber before fading in front of Loki's eyes - almost as if he were nothing more than a projection.

Loki allowed the dagger to disappear and sat back on his favorite chair, noting that the deep green leather now smelled uncomfortably of some human cologne.

Who was that man? A coward, obviously. An underling. Definitely a spy, a runner.

Where did he come from? Earth, yes. The man still stunk of the air that surrounds people that spend far too much time in an office.

Whatever organization this was, it hadn't been involved in fighting him, and it wasn't on the radar of any other human organization within his knowledge.

A small man with spiked hair who was normally a reporter.

Over-nervous, not used to combat situations.

Do they normally deal with planet-wide threats? Or threats of any kind, for that matter.

No.

An underground agency. Very underground. They probably didn't even have a name. In pieces, with a covert central authority that granted much autonomy to its branches. That would be the only way to stay off of SHIELD's radar… they were spectacularly bad at picking up scattered pieces of a larger threat.

The confusion on Loki's brow smoothed after he had puzzled the intentities out. They would ask questions soon, and he would give no answers. If played carefully enough, this could become a priceless advantage. He hadn't even searched for this situation; it had come to find him. But because he was Loki, God of Mischief, Tempter of Fate, it would work out in his favor. Let Asgard believe that he was playing the puppetmaster again, mysteriously, from his own prison. It would be marvelously entertaining.

Loki smirked, delicately picking up the dusty tome from the side table to flip through it absently. Perhaps his imprisonment would end sooner than he had expected…

Description
Prologue: Of Gods and Hedgehogs

Who needed to be forgiven?

Nights were never long on Asgard. They fell quickly, passed silently, and burst into glorious sunrise all too quickly. But during the silver-tinted days, he was forced to live in a shadow. At night, the world was the shadow, and the puny creatures that needed light to fool each other into believing each other's' facades would sleep, hiding from the fact that in the darkness, none could conceal their darkest secrets.

Night passed too quickly, but never fast enough.

The second prince of Asgard passed his fingers over the pages of the book he was already tired of reading. The subject was interesting enough, but after the fourth time he could probably repeat it back to whoever wanted to listen. Not that they would. No one listened to him anymore.

He let out a sigh – he wasn't one to talk to himself to keep his thoughts in order. For all that was said about him, he honestly didn't really like the sound of his own voice. After all, compliments mean nothing when they come from your own lips…

In fact, his silence, his refusal to comply with anyone's orders – that was the reason he hadn't been able to leave yet. Until he was willing to renounce all his past actions, he was to be confined in his room… like a stubborn child. His lip curled into a condescending smirk. Did Odin think him still to be controlled like a rebellious adolescent?

He slowly descended into those thoughts, basking in the burning thoughts that mingled hatred and the joy of fooling someone into one bitter pill – for all it raised boils on his proverbial mental skin. So lost was he, that when a voice spoke, he nearly jumped eight feet in the air. Sadly, the ceiling wasn't quite that high, so he had to stop at six-and-a-half before he completely shattered the ceiling.

"Awfully fond of that book, aren't you?" came the voice again, from behind him.

Loki spun, automatically throwing up a guard over his previously open face. The mask was harder to maintain as he struggled with shock for a moment – the owner of the voice was lounging in his favorite chair, with the book in his hand.

"Boring subject. You really read this stuff?" The man, light glistening off his spiky hair, tossed the book carelessly onto the table, and Loki silently disregarded him for the careless way his intruder would treat an ancient tome – for all that he could probably repeat it backwards.

"Yes, I do," Loki answered noncommittally, observing the man with sharp eyes. "Though you obviously do not appreciate knowledge enough to respect its... influence." He didn't let down the guard for a moment, though he did edge toward the window, relaxing enough to lean on the windowsill. "How did you get in here, human?"

For it was obvious that the man was human. The way he lounged back in the chair held none of the Asgardian stillness-to-contain-energy. His short, strawberry-blonde hair was spiked with gel. He was wearing the rather typical human clothing – jeans and a t-shirt. Silver, squarish glasses balanced on his nose made his watery blue eyes look unnaturally large behind the thick lenses.

And most of all, he was munching on a shiny plastic bag of some kind of Midgardian vegetable that he could only guess at.

"How'd you guess?" the man didn't smile though, for all he was laughing. "Don't answer that question."

Loki simply raised an eyebrow.

"So why haven't you called the guards yet? Or blasted me out the window, which wouldn't have been weird, for you. Your temper tantrum trashed New York." The man popped another one of those… things into his mouth, and chewed quietly. At least he had manners.

"I don't think they'd be too inclined to help me at the moment," Loki remarked. "For very similar reasons as those which you have stated." His eyes, like a hawk's, focused in on the man's face. "Why are you here? Or, more succinctly, how did you come to Asgard?"

The man swallowed whatever it was he was eating, then turned over another in his long, pasty white fingers before popping it into his mouth. "I'm Trevor, thanks for asking. And I'm actually here to interview you! Kind of. I'm a journalist, or was, back on Earth. Or Midgard. Whatever you call it." His words started to fall over themselves a bit, as if he was struggling with figuring out what to say.

Loki made a herculean effort to keep the utter, complete disdain off of his face as he stared at the spiky-haired man eating cucumber in his favorite chair. Only humans would find out how to travel between worlds and then send a journalist across to conduct an interview.

"If looks could kill, I'd be dead right now," Trevor snapped, suddenly losing patience. Or was it courage that was lost? "I'm not here on behalf of the authority you're thinking of, so wipe that snobby look off your face. Journalist may be my job, but I'm here for more than that."

Idiotic bravado.

Loki seriously considered calling the guards for a quarter of a second before he grabbed the man by the neck of his t-shirt and slammed him against the wall, wrapping a hand around his neck and drawing the shorter man up to eye-level. "You will stop your insults and tell me your purpose, human. You are not worthy to dance circles around the likes of a go-" he managed to hiss before, to his surprise, he found himself flying across the room and slamming into the opposing wall of his bedchamber.

The other man had collapsed as well, but was already sitting up, rubbing his neck ruefully. "You… should see a… damn shrink," he coughed, eyeing the collapsed figure of Loki from across the room. "They were right, you do snap fast." He was talking far too quickly now, as if words were a crutch to get him out of any situation.

Loki sat up, rubbing his already-aching head. "You're an altered human as well? If so, I really don't have time for th-"

Trevor was already standing, and offered him a slightly trembling hand while impolitely cutting him off. "No, I'm not. An altered human. Don't even have powers. I've just got more capacity than some."

Loki looked at him as if he'd just spoken another language, then coldly got back up without the hand. "You have one more chance, mortal."

Trevor backpedaled. "Honestly, I came to scope you out. Kind of like a reporter, except where I'm from, it wouldn't get written down. All I can tell you is that there's more on Earth than SHIELD, and we're not so quick to believe that you were working alone in this whole mess. And, you know, since this is our planet at stake, we decided we'd try to ask you nicely who it was before trying the not-so-nice." He pointed to himself. "I'm nice, by the way. Not-so-nice will drive you up a wall."

Loki fantasized about stabbing the over-talkative hedgehog with his helmet before speaking. "I was kept from much knowledge, if that answers your question."

"Well, sorry if I don't completely believe you, but you are kind of known as the god of lies back home."

Loki tried to surge up out of the chair he'd settled in to thoroughly murder the man when he realized he couldn't stand up. He blinked in shock as he realized that his wrists and ankles were bound to the chair by some kind of freakish glowing vine of energy. "And you expect me to believe that you're human?" he asked condescendingly. "Tell me, did your chattering tongue come from birth, or is it to cover up the fact that this is the most frightening mission you've ever been on?" Loki's eyes met the other man's with a kind of unflinching intensity – as if he was mentally gutting and filleting him.

He watched the man suppress a shudder with satisfaction. He'd worked on that glare for a long time.

"Birth. I was born impudent," he said – too quickly.

Loki sighed. "As for your question, even if I did know, I would never tell you. For all your chatter and bravado, you simply want to cower in fear," he said, his voice growing lower. "So run away, child. And tell your masters that the God of Lies sends his regards…" he stopped, then quietly stood up. It had taken a lot of effort, prying through pure-energy bonds. But he'd been testing them while he'd been tearing apart Trevor's self-esteem, and they became weaker the more distracted Trevor got. He brushed past the now-terrified man, just a hair too close so that the edge of his clothing brushed against Trevor's arm.

Trevor was the one to jump this time, spinning around so he wouldn't have the god at his back.

Loki slowly bent over a piece of parchment and picked up a quill. A few words would suffice…

To whom it may concern:

If you expect answers, don't send in the nursing babes. It's rather insulting.

Loki, of Asgard

He pressed his seal over the envelope, then slipped back over to the man, still trying to put up his indifference like a shield between him and Loki. "Hand this to your superiors, you sanguine coward." Loki treated the terrified man to his most winning smile. "I'll find out how you got here later… And I'm sure I'll see you again. Though I should tell you… " His smile became even wider as he stepped closer, "It may not be on such terms as might favor you, now that you have revealed your petty gift."

Trevor jerked back, the indifference finally dropping as he clutched onto the plastic bag.

"Such cowardice does not befit a true man. Perhaps I should kill you anyway…" Loki lifted his hand, an illusion of a knife streaming into view –

In a totally unspectacular fizzle, Trevor swallowed the remains of his cucumber before fading in front of Loki's eyes - almost as if he were nothing more than a projection.

Loki allowed the dagger to disappear and sat back on his favorite chair, noting that the deep green leather now smelled uncomfortably of some human cologne.

Who was that man? A coward, obviously. An underling. Definitely a spy, a runner.

Where did he come from? Earth, yes. The man still stunk of the air that surrounds people that spend far too much time in an office.

Whatever organization this was, it hadn't been involved in fighting him, and it wasn't on the radar of any other human organization within his knowledge.

A small man with spiked hair who was normally a reporter.

Over-nervous, not used to combat situations.

Do they normally deal with planet-wide threats? Or threats of any kind, for that matter.

No.

An underground agency. Very underground. They probably didn't even have a name. In pieces, with a covert central authority that granted much autonomy to its branches. That would be the only way to stay off of SHIELD's radar… they were spectacularly bad at picking up scattered pieces of a larger threat.

The confusion on Loki's brow smoothed after he had puzzled the intentities out. They would ask questions soon, and he would give no answers. If played carefully enough, this could become a priceless advantage. He hadn't even searched for this situation; it had come to find him. But because he was Loki, God of Mischief, Tempter of Fate, it would work out in his favor. Let Asgard believe that he was playing the puppetmaster again, mysteriously, from his own prison. It would be marvelously entertaining.

Loki smirked, delicately picking up the dusty tome from the side table to flip through it absently. Perhaps his imprisonment would end sooner than he had expected…