(This is not my chapter and the credit of the characters goes to their respective authors)
Loki was not rash. He planned and he schemed and he took every opportunity presented to him. He did not rush into battle recklessly like Thor and his warriors Three. He set his traps and learned about his enemies, weaving his deadly web long before the battle started.
Midgard's invasion was no different. Even with an army at his back, Loki was not going to abandon his tricks. Months before the date of the invasion, he punched a hole in the cosmos and appeared in a dirty back alley of a mortal city. He wore a glamour that shortened his hair and turned his features Asian and his eyes a dark brown. Unassuming and common; perfect to fit in with the bustling crowds of Norway.
Of course, Norway was only his landing point. With a quick bit of godly scrying, he was on his way to the director of SHIELD's quarters.
The best way to find the weak points of Earth's greatest defense was to take its strongest leader. With Nick Fury captured, he could see how the organization scrambled. Their panic would make it perfect for him to analyze their procedures.
Fury's abode was rather humble – a comfortable brick building settled among inconspicuous neighbours. The first two floors belonged to the director, and the top two to a reclusive author and a social service lawyer. With a quick bit of magic he slipped through the thin window panes like mist and alighted on the hard-wood floors.
The place had fairly good security, pinhole cameras whose feed remained within the house (no chance of someone hacking it) and the alarms and locks would keep most mortals out.
Loki was not a mortal, however, and he crept to the couch in the sitting room, where his target slept. It was midday, but Nick Fury must have been very tired because he slept heavily without any awareness. He did not stir as Loki leaned over his resting form, though that was because of Loki's handy cloaking trick. With a twisted smile, he waved his hand, and he and Fury both disappeared.
But, not in accordance to Loki's plans, another great power who had taken to watching over Fury stirred.
"Damn," Hermes said, staring down at the empty apartment, "Percy won't be happy to hear this."
————
True to Loki's heritage, he quickly settled himself in a place that was both remote and cold. With the aid of a few enchantments he secured his base, because while Antarctica might feel comfortable to him it could be deadly to him mortal captive.
Fury was bound to a great pillar of steel he conjured, and Loki contented himself with strengthening the wards against technology until he woke. The chocolate-skinned spy was a very still sleeper, aided by the minor spell he'd put on him, and the minutes before his awakening were as heavy as stone.
Several minutes after their arrival, the spell lessened, and something in Fury's primal mind registered that all was not well. He woke quickly, with only the opening of his eyes to give him away. He swept his gaze across the small cavern they were in, and stared at Loki when he'd located the (one) exit.
"Who are you?" asked the man, his voice raspy.
"Hmm," Loki said, eyes gleaming in the light cast by the one brazier he'd lit, "I'm sure you'd like to know that very much."
He saw the director's jaw clench, and amused himself with the thought of Fury's wrath being aimed at a fake identity. Giving the mortal the smirk that he knew infuriated everyone, he propped his chin on his fist. "And before you ask why I'm doing this – panic always reveals the weaknesses of every colony. I plan to take advantage of such a situation." Because there were always little things that Fury would not be able to fix before the invasion that would allow him to take SHIELD down easily.
The white of the man's eyes stood out wonderfully as he stiffened in shock.
————
Hermes' flight was quick and hurried – in moments he appeared at the front steps of Olympus. He made his way to the throne room's exterior courtyard, where a massive fountain to Poseidon was built. Not far away was the recently constructed black stone ornament garden for Hades' and beyond that he could see the faint shining of Aphrodite's mirror arrangement. The god's personal gardens were always quiet and were made only for the gods' and their children's use, though it was rarely occupied.
Today, however, was the day of Percy's monthly chat with his father. The two of them sat on benches constructed into the fountain, water streaming in small trenches by their feet and falling gracefully in a curtain around them. Their voices were slightly muffled by the trickle of water, but he could make out Poseidon's coarse laugh and the low murmur of Percy's words.
"Percy!" He called, alighting precariously on the edge of the marble basin. "Percy, it's urgent!"
"Hermes?" The water split open seamlessly without a touch and Percy's face became visible. "What's wrong?" His voice was held an edge of solemnity – he knew that Hermes didn't mess around with urgent messages.
"It's Nick," Hermes said, the wings at his heels fluttering anxiously. "Someone snatched him from the apartment, minutes ago." Percy stiffened and immediately stepped from the fountain. Hermes continued on with the important details without prompting. "It was a man, Asian descent, black hair, brown eyes, mid-thirties. He had magic, but I couldn't tell the origin; he had a wrap on it so it was impossible to sense any traces of unique signatures. I only got there after he snuck in, but I saw him teleport out."
"Do you know where he went? Can you trace his magic?" Percy said, rushing past him as he spoke.
"No, the wrap he had on blocked my senses, but if we can find Hecate she'll be able to find where he went to. Any and all magic on Earth and the Olympic planes not used by the Olympians themselves is in her domain, so she'll know (1)."
"Hecate?" said Poseidon from within the fountain. "But she won't answer you willingly – she hates all men."
Percy's eyes were dark as he made for the stables to saddle Blackjack. From there he could fly down and find a good ship and sail himself to Hecate's island. "Who said anything about willing?" he said, a grim look on his face.
After locating a well-made sail boat at the Bew York docks, Percy's journey to Hecate's island was quick. Because of the massive enchantments on the place the Olympians couldn't teleport him there without punching through a wall of magic as tough as bed rock and expelling a massive amount of energy, he had to rush his stolen boat through wind and wave.
Hecate was obviously not pleased at his arrival, but one look at the cold expression on his face and the sword levelled her way and she consented to searching out the man's magic. After several minutes she opened her eyes.
"I've found him," she said, "but I don't know who he is. His wrap on his magic is too strong for even me (2)." She looked disgruntled by the notion.
"Never mind that, where is he?" Percy demanded, already going for the door.
"Antarctica. Here's the coordinates."
————
Loki was feeling very pleased with himself. Everything was falling in to place: SHIELD was acting just as he'd predicted, scrambling and pulling connections as he gleefully watched through the shining ice he'd enchanted. It had taken them hours to realize that their director was missing; it wasn't until one of the few capable agents took notice that all of the messages sent to the man had gone, uncharacteristically, unanswered.
"You even work during your days off?" He asked, picking at his fingernails as he spoke. He was sprawled comfortable on a smooth outcrop of ice, watching Fury try to contain his instinctive shivers at the cool air.
"There are no days off when you're saving the world," Fury said, valiantly managing to spit out the phrase without chattering teeth. Loki scoffed at the answer, rolling his eyes.
"How melodramatic. It's most amusing because you think it's true."
"Well, isn't it? You're here," the director said.
Loki hummed under his breath and refrained from saying anything. He would love to tell this mortal about how helpless he was against some of the things in the realms. Should even one of those threats decide to converge upon Midgard then all mortal life would crumble before it, save a few select ones that weren't all mortal to begin with.
An example of that was the Chitauri, so it really was bad luck that Midgard just happened to be the most convenient place for him to take over. He would let them cling to their hope in the months left before his invasion, and let them think that he was just another magic user in the world with a grudge against SHIELD...
He felt something tug at the edge of his senses, and sat up to face it. The enchantments he'd set to conceal his presence and keep Fury alive in the cold trembled as a foreign presence drew near. It was moving speedily from the frozen waters to the east, approaching rapidly with a sense of malice hanging about it. A quick scan informed him that his intruder was not all mortal, powerful and somewhat familiar.
"Who could this be?" He asked himself.
He found out a moment later when the eastern-most wall of ice collapsed inwards in a spectacular burst of movement. A tall figure made its way through the hole, form deceptively loose as they held a sword at the ready.
"Why do you come, half-mortal?" He called, causing the man to turn towards him. His eyes widened minutely when he recognized the intense green eyes that were staring at him.
Perseus Jackson, his mind whispered.
Why was he here?
Perseus raised a hand and swatted at nothing. For less than a moment Loki was confused, then a tremendous force slammed into him from behind. Tumbling head over heels, he gasped in surprise at the throbbing in his spine the attack had left him with. Another movement of Perseus' hand had him scrambling back as the wall of ice-cold water surged forward at his command.
He managed to steady himself and smashed apart the attacking wave with a pulse of magic. Another tendril came at him from the side, and he had to rend it completely to stop even the smallest of drops from attacking him. There was a rumble as the ground beneath his feet shook ominously, and he had to leap across the room to avoid the crack in the ice that suddenly snapped at his heels.
It just had to be the half-mortal with control over ice and water that found his Antarctic hide out. Frustrated with his ill luck, he sent out an invisible force that scored deep gouges in the ice, and caught Perseus neatly in the shoulder. The man grunted as blood splattered to the floor but didn't falter. There was a frightening light in his eyes as he advanced, like that of a dog of war.
Normally that wouldn't have been too much of a problem, but Loki had placed himself under limitations. He had to keep a wrap on his magic so as to stop the other godly powers on Midgard from sensing his identity. He also couldn't give away too many of his abilities, and still he had to give them the impression he was somewhat mortal.
So Loki found himself floundering as a very powerful demigod advanced on him. In the minutes that had passed, Loki hadn't managed to wound Perseus a second time. The son of the sea god had, on the other hand, torn Loki's very comfortable jacket and cut deeply across his cheek, abdomen and thigh. He constantly had to dance about to avoid being impaled by the ice spikes that formed spontaneously. That probably aggravated him most of all – ice was supposed to his element, damn it. His grasp on ice magics was still shaky, as he'd only learned of his Jotun roots recently. The presence of ice and cold empowered him (hence his choice of location) but it wasn't as easily mouldable for him as it was for Perseus.
It was a bit sobering, for the god of Mischief and Magic to be beaten in his own element.
Fury watched it all in the only corner of the cave that remained untouched. Neither combatant wanted to do him harm – Perseus for obvious reasons, and Loki because if the mortal was killed and then replaced, SHIELD's procedures could change and make his info useless. Of course, in his quiet corner, Fury was not sitting helplessly. He wriggled furiously against the invisible force that kept him bound to the pillar, but managed only in getting ice chips up his pant leg and down his back. Loki sneered at the dark-skinned man, enjoying his struggles like a worm on a fish hook. His distraction was rewarded when he was slammed into the ice by a vicious wave, and the force of it knocked the breath from his fake-mortal body and left him dazed. He slumped helplessly, his traitorous body limp, and watched with wide eyes as Perseus stepped forward with dark eyes. With quick rush of power, he forced himself to be intangible, disappearing from the demigod's senses.
"Tch," Perseus scowled at the seemingly empty air, unable to locate the man he'd been fighting. "What a coward." He hurried over to Fury and snapped the magical bonds holding him tight. Loki watched them leave the cave, Perseus subtly looking over Fury for injuries and the chocolate-skinned man ignoring the other's hovering stoically.
Why had Perseus appeared? How were the two connected? Did SHIELD know of the demigod's existence? No, he would have heard them discuss it then. So how...?
Loki needed a drink. And answers. Luckily, there seemed to be place where he could find both of those...
————
Loki reappeared in the mortal alley two weeks later, wearing a different face. His magic was wrapped differently this time, giving his separate identity credit, and he stepped into the busy streets with a mission on his mind. He was only a block away from the comfortable building that housed The Golden Fleece – Perseus' bar. It was a few hours after sunset so the front door was brightly lit and the sound of laughter and talk rang over the front step. Loki cautiously pushed open the door and stepped into the warm room.
Perseus was there at the bar, smiling and working alongside a red-haired man who had the iron-flavoured aura of a child of Ares, but was obviously comfortable as he wasn't tensed for battle. He could be a problem should things degrade to blows...
Loki quietly stretched out his senses as he settled at the bar counter. The Ares child served him his drink, and the Norse god purposely did not look towards Perseus. He was confident in his disguise, and nervousness would only give him away.
After a moment of observing the beings he could sense within the building, he located Fury. The man was in the back area of the bar, a contented air about him. Loki had to guess that there was a couch or chair there because Fury was not a man who gave up his comfort.
There was a call from the back, the voice sounding vaguely like Fury's, and Perseus moved out of sight. With his still extended senses he could feel Perseus approaching Fury, warmth rolling off his aura. Fury's felt the same, though gruffer, but the two relaxed happily in the other's presence.
Curious, curious...
He finished his drink (it was enjoyable, for a mortal's creation) and slipped into the washroom. With yet another flex of his magic and a small crack in the existential planes, he slipped out of substance and phased into the back area of the bar.
He didn't know what he was expecting, honestly. He wouldn't have been altogether surprised to find that Fury and Perseus had become friends. They had experienced similar things, and had equal experience in fighting. Their strong opinions and selves complemented each other well. What was that Midgardian saying? Birds of a feather flock together.
Only Loki hadn't expected them to compliment the other so well. Or for them to be that together.
The scene he had walked – well, appeared – into nearly made him choke on his spit in shock. Perseus – saviour of Midgard from the hordes of dark Tartarus, the abominable spawn-pit that made even Asgardians shudder – was seated on Fury's lap, green eyes half-lidded and smoldering. The spy director had his hands on the Greek's hips and looked equally intense. They both had smirks on their faces, but despite the heated atmosphere seemed content to remain as they were.
Well. He hadn't anticipated this kind of relationship. Turning in the air, he considered them and their soft murmurs. Mortals were strange creatures. The fates that ruled over them were ever so fickle, for these two from different worlds to meet.
It was a terrifying combination, really.
Maybe his plans needed some altering. It was best if he arranged a distraction for Perseus during the invasion, and if he avoided Fury more than originally planned...
Well, no one would call him out on it.