Green Tinted Glass

A month passed by in a blur as Lucia stayed on Asgard. She trained daily with Sif and the warriors three, Thor as well when he wasn’t off in war meetings, public appearances, or whatever other princely duties he might have. Fandral had been particularly impressed with her skills, it seemed he had expected her to topple over with the slightest breeze, but she had managed to best him a couple times when they spared together. Sif had even begun training Lucia in the art of the sword, though she wasn’t particularly good at it. 

When she wasn’t training, exploring Asgard, or with Sif and the others, she was huddled up in the library. It was a vast, grand place. Multiple floors, and with a huge domed skylight as a roof. Every shelf was overflowing with books, tomes, and scrolls, and Lucia greedily read through them, curious to know all she could about this alien civilization, and the others that lay waiting in the stars. She dutifully wrote down everything of note in the journal she had requested on the first day, ready to arrange it all into a report when she returned to earth. 

It had been a shock to her that the books were in English, but Thor had explained that they weren't; it was the Allspeak, illusioning what she saw and translating it for her. Apparently they all spoke to her in Asgardian, though to Lucia it sounded like English. The reverse was also true, when she spoke English, they heard their own tongue. Lucia had questioned Thor about the invention, wondering how it was possible. “Magic.” was all he had said. 

It was on one of these days huddled in the library that a rosy-cheeked girl came up to her.

“Excuse me, miss emissary.” She squeaked, “Her majesty the good lady Frigga requests your presence, if you would be so inclined.”

Lucia looked up from her book -a nonfiction on Asgardian war strategy- and rose from her chair. “Of course. What for?” She asked, putting the book safely back on the shelf and following the girl out of the library. 

“She didn’t say. I’m only to collect you and bring you to the gardens.” 

Lucia nodded and followed her through the halls of the palace. The gardens were beautiful and grand, rows and rows of every flower and pretty plant you could imagine. Sometimes when the weather was particularly nice, Lucia took a book from the library and read under a willow tree hidden at the center of the rose maze. It was through this maze that the servant girl led Lucia through now, but not left to the willow tree, instead she took a right, navigating the maze with a sure step. 

When Lucia thought the maze could surely go on no longer, the hedges abruptly stopped, giving way to a lovely terrace. Frigga was seated at a white marble table, staring off at the magnificent view of the snow-capped mountains. She turned, sensing their presence, and smiled while patting the seat next to her. The girl that had led Lucia here curtsied to the Queen and scurried away as Lucia walked over to the table. It was laden with fruits, cheese, jams, bread, tea and pastries of all different shapes. Her stomach growled. It was well past lunch, and she hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. 

“Sit, dear. Help yourself to the delicacies. I’ll pour you some tea.” She said, and Lucia grabbed herself a plate, serving herself a savory muffin and miniature pancakes with jam. Frigga poured her a cup of tea, and Lucia added sugar and milk to it. 

“It's a spectacular view.” Lucia said, gazing at the white-capped mountains, and the tree-covered valleys below. 

“Truly a marvel.” Frigga agreed. “This is one of my favorite spots.” She sipped her tea contently. 

They sat together in silence, sipping tea, eating and gazing at the mountains, for quite some time.  “Why did you call for me?” Lucia asked tentatively, when she could no longer stand the silence. Frigga breathed a sigh.

“The Bifrost has been repaired.”

Lucia sucked in a breath. She hadn’t expected it to come so soon, she thought she would have more time. It seemed her plans to break into the dungeon had to be sped up.

“Right.” she said carefully, “Does that mean I should pack my stuff?” 

Frigga smiled. “Not quite. Do you know what the convergence is?” 

Lucia shook her head dumbly. 

“It’s a celestial event, one that hasn't been seen in millennia. The alignment of the realms. It’s date approaches, and there will be a ball held in celebration. I would like you to stay until then, if you would like.”

Lucia tried her best to hide the grin that threatened to split her face. 

“Of course.” 

“And I would like for you to attend the festivities this evening.”

Ah. Thor, Sif, and the warriors three had recently returned from a battle on Vanaheim, minus Hogun, who had opted to stay and help his people rebuild. Revelry always followed their triumphs, though Lucia rarely attended. Instead, she used the opportunity to search and document the palace. With everyone at the feasts, the halls were always eerily empty.

“I don’t know,” Lucia shrugged, “I’m not much fun, and the feasts Sif has managed to drag me to always end in embarrassment for me, one way or another.”

“Is that why you crawl around the palace after dark?” 

Lucia froze, fumbling for an excuse. “Your majesty, I-”

“Fear not, child. I have no interest in reporting you to my husband, nor anyone for that matter. I know you hold no ill intent.” She hummed, “...by my standards, at least.”

Lucia let out a nervous chuckle, “How could you possibly know?” 

“I have my ways. If you want to talk to Loki, dear, all you need do is ask.”

Lucia scoffed, “Yeah, because the Allfather’s going to let some lowly Midgardian talk to the number one prisoner. Sure.” She rolled her eyes, and then remembered her place, and mumbled a ‘sorry’ to the Queen of Asgard. Frigga smiled mischievously. 

“I never said the All-father had to know, did I?” 

Lucia’s mouth dropped open in shock. “But that would be-”

“Treason?” Frigga hummed once again, stirring another spoon of sugar into her tea. “Most likely. But my allegiance is to my children first, not my king.”

“But he's your-”

“My husband, yes, but he is not my blood.”

A strange, contemplative expression came across Frigga’s features. 

“I suppose Loki isn't either. But I raised him well and taught him my magic. My blood will spill for him. He is as much my son as Thor.” 

Lucia didn’t know what to say. What does she mean, her blood will spill for him?

“Chevsya is the captain of the royal guard, and is the only person other than the Allfather to have a key to the dungeons. He likes his liquor, and often falls asleep in his office after he has finished his watch. He keeps his key on him at all times. This is your last chance, after tonight's festivities you can sneak into his office and steal it from him. Be sure to have returned it before he wakes.” 

Lucia simply nodded in reply, and stood to leave. Frigga grabbed her arm. 

“One last thing, dear. When I visited Loki last, he said, he said-” She turned away, dropping Lucia’s arm. “Tell him that his mother loves him very much.” She whispered, gaze returning to the mountains. 

Lucia really didn’t know how to reply to that. “Thank you for your company, Lady Frigga.” She said, and made her way back through the maze. 

-

The maze had taken Lucia over an hour to find her way out of, and by the time she got back to her room the sun was already dipping below the horizon. She rushed into her closet, pulling out the first dress she touched. It happened to be the same green dress Lucia had worn on that first day in Asgard. She hadn’t worn it since. 

After struggling to put it on by herself for fifteen minutes, she gave up and called for Aliex, who huffed when she saw Lucia failing to do up the tassels at the back, muttering something about how now you decide to go to a feast when she didn’t even have half an hour's warning. 

She helped Lucia with the tassels and braided a few strands of her hair, weaving in green thread and dried flowers to match the detailing of the dress. After much whining on her part Lucia gave in and let Aliex paint her eyelids with gold and dab rouge on her cheeks. 

“Ugh, don't you look simply gorgeous!” She exclaimed as she spun Lucia around to face the mirror. She blushed, though it was barely noticeable under the painted-on flush. 

“I guess.”

Aliex rolled her eyes. “Of course you do, I helped. Where would you be without me?”

“Hopelessly lost.” Lucia smiled at her through the mirror. She smirked back, slapping Lucia’s shoulders. 

“Right. Off you go then, you’re already late!” 

Lucia did as she said, but paused by the door. “Will you be attending?” 

Aliex sighed, looking wistfully out the window. “I would, but I promised my nephews I would take them to the pier tonight.” she waved her arms at Lucia, “Now shoo! You have a feast to attend.” 

Lucia nodded and walked out the door, her feet easily finding the way to the feast hall without her having to look at the map. After all, she hadn’t missed all the feasts, god knows Fandral would strangle her if she did. 

Soon enough Lucia was through the huge carved doors and into the fray. Volstagg waved her over to where their party was seated, and with a chuckle, Lucia realized that Sif and Fandral were having an arm wrestle. Fandral's face was near purple with effort, but Sif barely seemed to have broken a sweat. She waved at Lucia with her free arm. 

“Care for an arm wrestle?” She grinned. 

“I think you’d shatter my arm into a million pieces.” 

“You know full well we could fix that, Angel.” 

Lucia groaned at the nickname, which had caught on after she had revealed her wings in the middle of a feast one night, while drunk on Asgardian mead. Apparently Loki wasn't the only one that thought it suited her.

She was right though, one trip to an Asgardian healer had fixed her wounds, and it felt like they’d never been there, the only reminder a thin scar on her leg, and a bit of scar tissue from Loki’s blasts. 

“Wouldn’t save me the pain.” Lucia muttered, watching as Fandral struggled to put Sif’s arm down. Sif sighed and smashed his hand onto the table. A cheer went up from the spectators, and Lucia swore she saw the glint of coins being exchanged.

“You know, you could at least let me win every once in a while.” Fandral sighed. 

Sif chuckled, “Where's the fun in that?”

“Break the monotony?” A deep voice said, and the four of them turned to see Thor, holding a huge bottle and five glasses. Lucia groaned. 

“Get that stuff away from me.” 

Thor chuckled, setting the bottle down in front of her. “What, this?”

“I’m feeling nauseous just looking at it.” 

“Remembering your past escapades, perhaps?” Fandral said with a sly grin. Lucia hid her face in her hands. 

“Don’t.” 

“If I recall correctly, you got up on the table and, oh what was it you called it?” He said, clicking his fingers as if he had forgotten. 

“‘Dirty danced’?” Sif offered, grinning at Lucia. She groaned in embarrassment.

“That's the one!” Fandral beamed.

Volstagg’s laugh boomed, “Or when you challenged Hogun to a battle of knives?”

“I won that fight!” Lucia protested. 

“Barely, and you threw up into a vase after.” Sif countered 

“Those poor flowers.” Fandral lamented, pouring himself a glass. 

“I still won. And anyway, I’m vowing to never drink Asgardian liquor again. Do you have any honey mead, though?”

Thor laughed, “We’re in a feast hall, of course we do! I shall fetch some for you.”

He merged back into the crowd, and a few minutes later appeared with a bottle full with the golden liquid. Lucia poured herself a glass and drank it down greedily. 

She piled her plate with food from the feast table and ate as Thor and the others regaled her with the tale of their battle late into the night. Eventually Fandral grew bored, and suggested that everyone dance. Lucia had already been tapping her foot to the merry music, and agreed instantly, dragging Sif with her to the dance floor. Thor opted to stay and brood - god knows what he was so angsty about, though it had not gone unnoticed to Lucia that he disappeared from the halls of the palace every night. 

Lucia danced with Sif, Fandral and Volstagg until her feet hurt, making a good show of exhausting herself. She slumped onto a low recliner, Sif joining her, and noticed that Fandral had disappeared- probably off in some darkened hallway with a lady on each arm. Lucia sighed, brushing out her hair with her fingers- the braids Aliex had so carefully woven had stayed put, even with the dancing. 

“I think I’m going to go to bed.” Lucia told Sif, making to get up from the recliner. Sif grabbed her sleeve, pulling her back down. 

“Noooo!” She moaned, face flushed from the Asgardian liquor. “Stay! I want to dance.”

Lucia tried to tug her arm out of Sif’s grip and sighed. “I’m spent. No more dancing for me. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” 

Sif pulled at Lucia’s arm. “I could keep you company…” She said slyly, a fond blush covering her cheeks. Lucia laughed. 

“You wouldn’t remember it in the morning.” 

Sif huffed, but let her go. 

“Don’t be late for training!” Lucia called over her shoulder at her as she left the feast hall. 

As the great wooden doors slammed shut behind Lucia and the sounds of merriment were muffled, clarity overcame her. 

“Captain of the guard's office.” She muttered to herself, and willed her tired legs to move. A dull headache pounded in her head. Maybe the dancing wasn't such a great idea… she thought to herself as she strode through the palace halls. She had memorized the map a while ago, and made her way towards the captain's office. 

Before she knew it, Lucia was standing before a golden door engraved with a scene of battle. So much gold, where does it all come from anyway? She thought to herself, and tentatively tested the handle. To her surprise, the door swung open on near-silent hinges. 

That was easy. 

Quietly, she slipped inside, and saw that the room was fairly small. The wall opposite her was covered with a large bookshelf. To her right was a floor-to-ceiling window, through which she could see the glistening city of Asgard, beautifully alive even at this time of night. To her left the wall was taken up by a large map of Asgard and the palace, and a sideboard displaying various weapons. A small fireplace crackled in the corner, its embers faintly illuminating the space. 

Most of the room was taken up by a large mahogany desk, slumped upon which was a snoring man of large build, the muscles of his arms clearly defined even in his relaxed state. He was clutching a bottle of liquor in one hand, and was drooling across some paperwork. Ew.

Lucia crept over to Captain Chevsya’s sleeping form, scanning the desk for the key. her eyes caught on something metal, and she groaned as she realized the key was hung around the Captain’s neck. 

“Shit.” Lucia whispered to herself, as she tip-toed over to him. The key was on a leather string, held together with a metal clasp. Holding her breath, Lucia carefully picked the strap off his skin, and undid the clasp. She slid the necklace out from underneath his neck and stepped back, half-expecting him to jump up shouting obscenities. But the captain snored on, and Lucia fled the room, closing the door quietly behind her.

All exhaustion forgotten, Lucia sped through the palace, the key firmly in her hand. When she neared the entrance to the dungeons, she slowed down, forcing her breathing to regulate. She peeked around the corner; as she expected, there was a guard pacing. Lucia waited until the guard was walking away from her, and crept up behind him. With a sharp hit to the head from behind, the guard grunted, falling to the ground in a slump. Lucia hurried to the door, key ready in her hand. She fiddled with it for a moment, and then the door swung inward, revealing a dark passageway.

Lucia took a steadying breath and plunged into the darkness of the passageway. She felt her way down cold stone steps, unable to see anything in the complete darkness. As she got closer to the dungeons, Lucia could feel a group of pulses, spread out from each other. Two were moving, pacing a length. Guards. As light started to infiltrate the inky black of the passageway, Lucia slowed her steps, listening intently from an alcove just before the entrance to the dungeons. 

“It’s terrible to miss out on the feast.” A gruff voice said. “Why do we always get stuck with prison duty?”

“Relax, Gladior. There's a feast every week, we’re hardly missing out.” Said another voice, this one smooth and silky.

“Still, I’m in the mood for some wine. How long until the changeover?”

“Three hours.”

“Cursed be!”

Lucia sighed to herself. Two guards meant she would have to knock them out in quick succession, to avoid a scuffle and her face being recognized. She rolled her shoulders to release some tension. A small voice in her head said You could always knock them unconscious from the safety of the passageway… Lucia shook the thought away. She refused to use that power on people who didn’t deserve it. She stepped into the dim orange glow of the dungeons' braziers, sneaking up behind the first guard. She knocked him roughly over the head, catching him as he fell. They barely made a noise, but the other guard started to turn around. 

“Gladior, what say you we- ” Lucia didn’t give him a chance to finish, knocking him over the head with his colleague’s spear. When she was sure they were both out like a light, she stood, examining the room. 

It appeared to be cut directly from the rock below the palace, dark gray walls rough and glistening with moisture. Cells lined the walls; square and white, separated from the main room not by bars, but with what appeared to be orange force fields. Lucia walked past each one, the prisoners inside saying nothing as she passed. Eventually, she reached Loki’s cell. 

His cell was much more comfortable than the others, with plush chairs and bookcases, as well as a comfortable looking bed and a table and chair. Frigga’s work, no doubt. He was reclined on his bed, reading. Lucia approached the forcefield.

“Well, well, well.” Loki said, not bothering to look up from his book. Was that- Shakespeare? “If it isn’t the Angel.”

“Loki.” Lucia greeted him. 

“How nice of you to pop in.” He said, eyes flitting up to her. He was in simpler dress than Lucia had seen him last; still green, but Lucia noticed that only one arm of his garment was detailed: Perhaps an Asgardian fashion? “Are you here to kill me?” Loki asked.

“No, despite how satisfying that would be.”

“Do get on with it then, Agent.” Loki said, eyes roaming Lucia’s figure. 

“Here's the deal,” Lucia started, “You cooperate and tell me the truth, and I’ll get you out of this cell.” Lucia said. Loki just scoffed. “Why did you really invade Earth?” She asked.

Loki’s eyes glinted dangerously in the low light. “I was destined to rule. I was only taking what was rightfully mine.” 

Lucia could feel his pulse quickening. She shook her head, chuckling lowly. “You’re lying.” She knew it for a fact, but his motives stumped her. “Your behaviors makes no sense.”

“What would you know of my behaviors?”

“Well, you're a textbook youngest child. Always in the shadow of your brother, never getting enough positive attention no matter how hard you try, so you gain negative attention by acting out." 

Loki grinned. "Are you describing me, or yourself?" 

Lucia crossed her arms. "Oh, look at that, you're deflecting. Are you going to cooperate or not?"

"It's amusing you think you'll be able to change Odin's mind." Loki sighed, tilting his head and studying her. "Or perhaps that's not what you're planning at all. Do you think you'll be able to trick him?" Loki tutted. "Oh, Angel, you disappoint me. How about this: The guards hold the key to this forcefield. Disable it, set me free, and I promise never to harm your precious earth again." 

Lucia raised an eyebrow. Loki's pulse was steady: he was telling the truth. That, or he was a very smooth liar, and Lucia was leaning towards the latter. "You're crazy if you think I'm letting a terrorist lose just because he makes some fancy promises."

Loki let out a laugh as he turned the page of his book. Definitely Shakespeare. “Right. The agent, ever loyal to her cause.” his eyes met hers. “Tell me Angel, what did the people of Earth ever do to earn your loyalty?” he stood, discarding his book and walking over to the force field. “The same people who tried to kill you countless times? Who tore you apart in their stories?” He towered over Lucia, his voice lowering into a deadly whisper. “The same people who experimented on you, chewed you up and spat you back out? If I had ruled you, none of that would have happened. Why do you defend them?” He growled.

Lucia didn’t let her shock register on her face.  “How do you know that?” She asked calmly, though the answer came to her a moment after she asked the question; Clint must have given him access to the S.H.I.E.L.D files during his jaunt as a mind controlled lackey. 

Loki grinned. “You’re out of your depth, Agent.” He gave her a pitying look. “Whatever mad theories you have, discard them.” He turned his back on her, walking back to his bed. “I’m afraid I’m exactly what I seem to be.” 

“You know, for the god of mischief, you’re a terrible liar.” Lucia poked. She knew there were bigger things at play, she just knew it, all he had to do was help her prove it. 

“That dress looks good on you.” Loki said, ignoring her. He started reading his book again.

Lucia let out a huff of frustration. “I should’ve killed you when I had the chance.” She muttered. 

“Yes, you should have. Pity.” Loki said, not bothering to look up.

“Oh, come on. Do you really want to rot in here for the rest of your life? To never see your mother again? I’m trying to help you.”

“I wouldn’t bother. I’ll end up killing you.” His eyes locked with hers: “Just like I killed your dear friend Coulson. Though, I think I'll draw out your end more… Coulson's death was theatrical, but so short lived.” He chuckled at the pun, grinning as he saw anger alight on Lucia’s face. “Yes, I think yours will last longer. Perhaps I'll get my hooks in your brother’s mind, use him to do the work for me. I’m sure his screams will be sweet when I release him and he realizes what he’s done.” 

He’s manipulating you. Lucia reminded herself, even as her blood boiled. Lucia was grateful for the magical force-field in front of her that blocked her powers from reaching him, because in that moment, she would have made him drop dead. 

“Fine.” She said through gritted teeth, hands clenched in fists at her sides. “Be a callous monster. Swing for it, for all I care. I’d happily read your obituary. Just don’t come crying in your dying hour.”  

With that, Lucia turned heel and stormed out of the dungeon.

—

Lucia huffed in frustration, muttering obscenities as she prowled the palace halls, headed back to the Chief guard’s office. Nothing. He had given her Nothing. She had exhausted what could have been her last chance to interrogate him before heading back to earth, and she had fuck-all to show for it. She had lost her temper. Unacceptable. 

“Fuck.” she muttered to herself. Maybe Fury was right, and she was seeing something where there was nothing. 

Her training told her not to bother interrogating him further, that he was a textbook villain who was manipulating her. Not to be trusted. Was that conversation not proof of it? And yet, alarm bells were still blaring in her head, her instincts telling her to look again, that there was a piece of the puzzle missing. He didn’t object when I said he was a bad liar. His pulse was steady when he promised no to harm Earth.

“Instincts, feelings, are not to be trusted in an interrogation scenario.” Countered Fury's voice in her head, an echo of something he had said during her training long ago. And yet… What was it Frigga had said when Lucia first arrived on Asgard? Trust your instincts.

“Fuck!” She said again, loudly this time. There was no one in the halls anyway. This had always been her fatal flaw. She was far too willing to see the good in people.

Even if there was none.

Lucia rounded a corner, spotted the door engraved with battles. She crept back into the Chief’s office, delicately replacing the key around his neck. He snored on. Through his window, the sky was already starting to lighten. Lucia would definitely be sleeping in. 

Her mind still swirling with emotion, Lucia trudged to her room, peeled off her dress, and collapsed into bed.