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Description
"Run. Run, and don't look back. It isn't safe for you. There's nothing you can do but search the surface for a place to hide. Warn them, if you can. Maybe they will succeed where we have failed...I love you."

"... You should have come with me, brother..."

The wind ruffled your hair, the dawn greeting you with a blinding array of color and light for the first time. This was your first time meeting the sunrise from above the waves of your underwater homeland. That same homeland was in danger of destruction, from within. The woman who had been the advisor to the king had been the one to poison him. Now, she was on her way to causing a civil war among the people, stirring up unrest and old grievances as the Crown Prince had been on the verge of coronation. She wanted the throne -- that much was clear -- and she would stop at nothing to get it. She was doing all within her power to either threaten, coerce, or convince your people that she would be the one better suited to rule.

"My Lady Captain, you need to rest. You're wounded."

A grave smile flitted to your lips. You could barely feel the pain of the burn she had blasted your way before you could fly off. Norrica, advisor to the late king, temptress, and betrayer of the Crown, had done her best to eliminate you. But your brother, kind-hearted and brave to the point of recklessness, had pulled you to safety at the last moment.

A consoling hand came to rest on your uninjured shoulder. Gentle hands pulled you to face the kind, concerned and loving gaze of your best friend. The morning sun gave her golden hair a faint blush to match the wispy clouds above you, and her eyes held all the warmth and care a best friend could give when she knew you were hurting. Emotionally.

"I cannot feel it, Ayra. I can't afford to be hurt over something so small when my own teacher, my mentor -- the one I used to look up to, when I was small -- is tearing my country apart from the seams! Ayra, she is going to kill my brother! And he is the only one I have left--!" A harsh sob cut your voice short.

Norrica had slit the throat of the Queen in her sickbed. The Queen had been ill since she had the last of her children, and it had worsened to the point of complete confinement to her bed after the death of her husband. You had been the one to discover the lifeless body of your Queen and mother that very day.

Ayra helped you sit down on the deck of your ship -- the one you had been given on your twentieth birthday to help you learn and discover all there was to know of the surface, like you had dreamed of doing as a child -- and began to treat your wounds. Some feathers had been singed in the escape, and Norrica had been sure to use fire hot enough to give even you some nasty burns to your shoulder and arm. At the moment, Ayra was cooing softly in the Old Tongue, a faint blue glow surrounding her hands as she hovered them over your burns.

"You know, I remember doing this for you so often when we were children," she teased lightly. You knew what she was doing. And it wasn't going to work.

Still, a faint smile, one full of bitter-sweet memories, tilted your lips upwards. "And I seem to recall," you added wryly, "casting warm waves to melt you out of the ice blocks you frequently found yourself encased within."

For a moment, you two indulged in the nostalgia of childhood. And you held onto that sweetness for as long as you could, but as the day grew brighter, your thoughts fell darker. In seeing your expression fall into a scowl of stress and confusion, Ayra began to panic. The shock of it all hadn't fully caught up with you yet, and she feared that you would fall into an abyss that she could not joke and tease you out of. So, to prevent your total collapse, she tried to give you a goal to catch onto. One that would give you even a glimmer of hope, when the darkness and fear of the night previous had faded and the brightness of the surface sun shed some light onto the events beneath the waves, in your mind.

"What do we know of the surface, my lady? Where do we begin?" Ayra asked quickly.

Torn from your thoughts, you began to mentally gather all the things you knew and had heard of about the surface. Some things seemed strange, but others that seemed irrelevant before made all too much sense now. "My brother told me that the closest lands to where we pop out of the bubble are called 'the United State of America,' and that there are people there we could contact in case of emergencies..."

Ayra joked, "Well, if this isn't an emergency, then I don't know what is!"

But you couldn't smile at that. You locked your gaze with Ayra's gray-blue eyes, the seriousness of the situation clamping onto your mind with tenacity of the jaws of a hungry shark.

"Yes," you uttered solemnly, "the ones that go by the name of SHIELD need to know..."

You looked out onto the horizon, some part of you quietly admiring the rising sun on the tops of the waves, knowing that the light of it would soon even touch your beloved homeland beneath.

"... Atlantis has fallen."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki sat staring at nothing from within the confines of his cell. There was nothing he could do.
Abandoned.
Betrayed.
Alone.
Confused.
Feeling like an imbecile.

What was a deity of Mischief supposed to do?

When his only crime was actually a silent plea of acceptance and love and fairness and equality from those whom he had cherished, what more could he do? The ones who were supposed to encourage him to reach for the stars had been the ones to throw him into the deepest pit of despair and loneliness. The ones who had been were supposed to see him through the brightest hours had not been there in his darkest. The ones who were supposed to love him unconditionally had been the ones to betray him when he needed them most. The ones who were supposed to be the most honest and trustworthy had turned out to be the biggest liars, bigger than any he had ever told in all his lifetime of trickery and mischief.

Angry.
Bitter.
Confined.
Destroyed of will.

The pallor of the ceiling was the same as ever, he noted. Had that crack always been there? The sipderweb in the corner had gotten bigger since he last observed it.

The heavy thump-thump of boots clanking down the corridor was of no concern to Loki. He wasn't going to talk to the man he had once called brother. Not even with bribery, threats, or deals.

"... Loki."

Loki didn't even spare Thor, the wielder of Mjolnir and possessor of Thunder and Lightning, a glance.

"I am taking you back to Midgard tomorrow. When we get there, you will answer to the scientists of SHIELD about the abilities of the Tesseract..."

Thor stared at Loki; Loki stared at nothing.

"... Just thought you should know."

And he walked off, his boots thump-thuming all the while.

Oh.
Well, then.

A smirk, one that didn't meet his harsher gaze, skated onto his face and stayed there.

Oh, what was a fallen god of Mischief to do with himself when he could taste freedom awaiting him just around the bend?

Description
"Run. Run, and don't look back. It isn't safe for you. There's nothing you can do but search the surface for a place to hide. Warn them, if you can. Maybe they will succeed where we have failed...I love you."

"... You should have come with me, brother..."

The wind ruffled your hair, the dawn greeting you with a blinding array of color and light for the first time. This was your first time meeting the sunrise from above the waves of your underwater homeland. That same homeland was in danger of destruction, from within. The woman who had been the advisor to the king had been the one to poison him. Now, she was on her way to causing a civil war among the people, stirring up unrest and old grievances as the Crown Prince had been on the verge of coronation. She wanted the throne -- that much was clear -- and she would stop at nothing to get it. She was doing all within her power to either threaten, coerce, or convince your people that she would be the one better suited to rule.

"My Lady Captain, you need to rest. You're wounded."

A grave smile flitted to your lips. You could barely feel the pain of the burn she had blasted your way before you could fly off. Norrica, advisor to the late king, temptress, and betrayer of the Crown, had done her best to eliminate you. But your brother, kind-hearted and brave to the point of recklessness, had pulled you to safety at the last moment.

A consoling hand came to rest on your uninjured shoulder. Gentle hands pulled you to face the kind, concerned and loving gaze of your best friend. The morning sun gave her golden hair a faint blush to match the wispy clouds above you, and her eyes held all the warmth and care a best friend could give when she knew you were hurting. Emotionally.

"I cannot feel it, Ayra. I can't afford to be hurt over something so small when my own teacher, my mentor -- the one I used to look up to, when I was small -- is tearing my country apart from the seams! Ayra, she is going to kill my brother! And he is the only one I have left--!" A harsh sob cut your voice short.

Norrica had slit the throat of the Queen in her sickbed. The Queen had been ill since she had the last of her children, and it had worsened to the point of complete confinement to her bed after the death of her husband. You had been the one to discover the lifeless body of your Queen and mother that very day.

Ayra helped you sit down on the deck of your ship -- the one you had been given on your twentieth birthday to help you learn and discover all there was to know of the surface, like you had dreamed of doing as a child -- and began to treat your wounds. Some feathers had been singed in the escape, and Norrica had been sure to use fire hot enough to give even you some nasty burns to your shoulder and arm. At the moment, Ayra was cooing softly in the Old Tongue, a faint blue glow surrounding her hands as she hovered them over your burns.

"You know, I remember doing this for you so often when we were children," she teased lightly. You knew what she was doing. And it wasn't going to work.

Still, a faint smile, one full of bitter-sweet memories, tilted your lips upwards. "And I seem to recall," you added wryly, "casting warm waves to melt you out of the ice blocks you frequently found yourself encased within."

For a moment, you two indulged in the nostalgia of childhood. And you held onto that sweetness for as long as you could, but as the day grew brighter, your thoughts fell darker. In seeing your expression fall into a scowl of stress and confusion, Ayra began to panic. The shock of it all hadn't fully caught up with you yet, and she feared that you would fall into an abyss that she could not joke and tease you out of. So, to prevent your total collapse, she tried to give you a goal to catch onto. One that would give you even a glimmer of hope, when the darkness and fear of the night previous had faded and the brightness of the surface sun shed some light onto the events beneath the waves, in your mind.

"What do we know of the surface, my lady? Where do we begin?" Ayra asked quickly.

Torn from your thoughts, you began to mentally gather all the things you knew and had heard of about the surface. Some things seemed strange, but others that seemed irrelevant before made all too much sense now. "My brother told me that the closest lands to where we pop out of the bubble are called 'the United State of America,' and that there are people there we could contact in case of emergencies..."

Ayra joked, "Well, if this isn't an emergency, then I don't know what is!"

But you couldn't smile at that. You locked your gaze with Ayra's gray-blue eyes, the seriousness of the situation clamping onto your mind with tenacity of the jaws of a hungry shark.

"Yes," you uttered solemnly, "the ones that go by the name of SHIELD need to know..."

You looked out onto the horizon, some part of you quietly admiring the rising sun on the tops of the waves, knowing that the light of it would soon even touch your beloved homeland beneath.

"... Atlantis has fallen."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Loki sat staring at nothing from within the confines of his cell. There was nothing he could do.
Abandoned.
Betrayed.
Alone.
Confused.
Feeling like an imbecile.

What was a deity of Mischief supposed to do?

When his only crime was actually a silent plea of acceptance and love and fairness and equality from those whom he had cherished, what more could he do? The ones who were supposed to encourage him to reach for the stars had been the ones to throw him into the deepest pit of despair and loneliness. The ones who had been were supposed to see him through the brightest hours had not been there in his darkest. The ones who were supposed to love him unconditionally had been the ones to betray him when he needed them most. The ones who were supposed to be the most honest and trustworthy had turned out to be the biggest liars, bigger than any he had ever told in all his lifetime of trickery and mischief.

Angry.
Bitter.
Confined.
Destroyed of will.

The pallor of the ceiling was the same as ever, he noted. Had that crack always been there? The sipderweb in the corner had gotten bigger since he last observed it.

The heavy thump-thump of boots clanking down the corridor was of no concern to Loki. He wasn't going to talk to the man he had once called brother. Not even with bribery, threats, or deals.

"... Loki."

Loki didn't even spare Thor, the wielder of Mjolnir and possessor of Thunder and Lightning, a glance.

"I am taking you back to Midgard tomorrow. When we get there, you will answer to the scientists of SHIELD about the abilities of the Tesseract..."

Thor stared at Loki; Loki stared at nothing.

"... Just thought you should know."

And he walked off, his boots thump-thuming all the while.

Oh.
Well, then.

A smirk, one that didn't meet his harsher gaze, skated onto his face and stayed there.

Oh, what was a fallen god of Mischief to do with himself when he could taste freedom awaiting him just around the bend?