Hi, thank for taking time to read this, it's much appreciated. So this is the first story that i have ever written. I'm a little bit scared putting it on here to be honest, but i'm enjoying it so much that I had to share! It might start a little slowly for some but I wanted to introduce Loki through someone elses eyes. This is set after the Avengers, after Loki is once again banished.

Unfortunately I don't own Loki, The Avengers or Thor. Please forgive spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Enjoy. XX

The day dawned perfectly. The sky was clear, the air not to warm. It would be truly glorious later. A good day, I had thought, to be born into another world. But now sitting in the bushes in the middle of the forest and feeling the malevolent build up of energy all around me, I wasn't so convinced. This crossover felt different, wrong somehow. Gods, why did they only send two of us out here to deal with these things?

The thrum of magical energy suddenly deepened and the hairs on my arms rose. There was a massive flash of bright light near to where my friend Ray was waiting, hidden in his own bush. The thunderclap that came after reverberated through my chest. Instinct told me to draw my sword.

I heard Ray make a grunt of pain and then he was shouting, "Charlie, he's coming your way!"

I dashed out from my hiding place and tried to trip the man that ran past me. He turned, cat quick, and thrust the spear that he was holding at me, catching me below the eye and drawing blood. I was momentarily blinded by the pain but was quick enough to block his next jab with my sword. He caught my next parry in the trident shaped spearhead and we both twisted our weapons and pulled at the same time, the movement disarming us both.

I went to reach for my weapon, a stupid mistake, and his right hook caught me square in the jaw, making me stagger backwards a step. As he reached for his own weapon, I kicked out at him, catching him in the knee, and then I was on him, pushing him to the ground trying to punch at him in the small space that his arms allowed me. I had an image of black hair, pale skin and eyes a vivid and startling green before he managed to push me off. He managed to get on top of me and started to try to throttle me. This fight was now so much like a pub brawl that I laughed aloud, waiting for the moment when he started to insult my mother. I bucked him off and as I tried to rise, he dealt me a stinging slap across the face, catching me right on the place his spear had cut me. The world greyed for a moment.

Ray was there then, with the tip of his great sword pointed right at the man's throat.

"Ah," he said, raising his hands. "You appear to have the advantage of me."

"Took your bloody time didn't you?" I say to Ray, who just looks at me reproachfully.

I regained my sword and took up the other guy's spear as Ray bound him. The spear is a beautiful weapon. The shaft is wood carved with intricate runes, the head iron teased in to an ornate trident shape. Wiping blood from my face, I go and inspect our newest charge.

What I see before me is a man, I think. His smell is strange though, and he is still shrouded in the dark mist of another world. I have seen this before, of course, but never so dark. It is taking ages to dissipate. In addition, I am wondering how he managed to move so quickly after appearing.

We had people appearing from other worlds here quite often, and it was normal for them to be muddled and unable to stand. This man could both stand and fight in this worlds heavy atmosphere, and it spoke of one used to such travel.

He was now sitting on the ground and I went over to stare down at him.

"I'm sorry that thing's turned out this way," I say, as if it is my fault that he tried to stab me in the eye. "We don't usually do things this way." His eyes really are amazing, a bright, vibrant green and I find that I am having difficulty looking away.

"My name Is Charlie Lefevre and my friend here is Ray Wilding." I say this more to distract myself than out of politeness. He does not offer his name but he does nod slightly. Ah well, I think, I didn't even expect to get that much out of him. I leave Ray with him and go to fetch our horses.

0000000

The ride back to town is uneventful. I notice that our green eyed friend also rides pretty well considering that he is bound to the pommel of the saddle. He has a sure and quiet seat and the horse responds easily to his commands. He does not try to escape.

My face is hurting pretty bad once we get back to town and Ray is insisting that I get my wound looked at. Half my face is covered in blood and my shirt is stained too. We make it to Arber castle and Ray takes the other guy off to our wing while I go to see the physician, Guy.

"It's going to need stitching," he says firmly.

I laugh softly. "There won't even be a mark next week."

"And if we wait till then, I'm sure you'll bleed to death." His eyes sparkle with his familiar good humour. "Let's get to it."

While he is stitching me up, I try to think about our new friend to distract myself from the pain. He had fought viciously, but had calmed down pretty quickly once we had the advantage over him. I had thought that maybe he was waiting for something, some window of opportunity before he tried for escape. I had no illusions that he would try to escape.

His clothes were well made but worn. He looked as if he had been in them for some time. The only thing that had really stood out was his cloak, a dark colour that was not truly black on the outside and a deep, forest green on the inside. He looked very otherworldly, with is raven black hair and pale skin. On the ride back I had had difficulty not staring at him.

The stitching is done and Guy hands me a clean shirt. His eyes roam over the scars on my shoulder as they always do, and sadness briefly flashes in his eyes. Feeling guilty, I quickly pull the shirt down. His whole family were killed by werewolves a few years ago. I try not to remind him of it but sometimes I forget. The scars are surprisingly the easiest things to forget about.

Guy's assistant comes in, barely able to breathe from running. He takes a few moments and then hands me a note. On it, written in Ray's rather elegant hand is:

Things have gone bad with our new arrival,

Please come at once.

00000000

When I get back, I find absolutely no one in our main rooms of work. Making my way down to the small dungeon, I hear raised voices. They are all standing around in the corridor. Ray walks down to me and takes my arm.

"What's going on?" I ask, studying his pained expression.

"We had a bit of a problem with him." He nods down towards the cell where our new friend must be. "Some of the men of the garrison….sort of…well, beat him up a bit."

"What? Why? What the hell would they have against him? He's only been here five minuets!"

"Well, he set one of them alight." He looks uncomfortable. I just gape at him. "With magic," he says at last.

"Impossible," I say, turning to Percy to make sure.

Everyone in this world has magical potential, but it depends on your strength of will and mind as to weather you have the capacity to wield it. This magical potential takes time to build up too, years in fact. I have been here five years and can just about do a small fire casting without killing myself in the process.

"He managed it Charlie. It did leave him almost completely drained though; he couldn't defend himself when the others attacked him. I think he was expecting a different outcome." Percy is our go to man when it comes to magic. If I was magically on the bottom of the food chain, this guy was definitely somewhere near the top. He was one of the highest initiates of magic on the planet and had been sent to us as a punishment, for doing something rather naughty. I had never heard the full story but I gather that it involved a foreign princess of ill repute. I don't think he was too upset about his new station; he had stayed here for three years.

Jim, our resident vampire, stands down by the cell. I walk down there and peer in. The green eyes regard me coolly. His right eye is black and his lip is split. He has another large bruise on his left jaw.

I look at Ray incredulously. "I thought you said he was beaten a bit? He looks like a fucking rainbow!" He just shrugs and retreats back down the hall.

"He say's that his name is Loki," Jim says from beside me. I look at him and see something in his expression.

"You know him?"

"I know of him, yes. He's part of my world's myths and legends. He was a god." He smiles, almost fondly I think. A good memory then.

"So he's the good guy?" I hedge. Jim looks at me like I'm an idiot. "What was he the god of?" I think to ask.

"Mischief," Jim says quietly. I snort laughter but stop quickly when I see his face. "He's a trickster, a thief. He's done some truly terrible things."

I shake my head, not really liking where this is going. "So maybe he's just named for the god or something." Jim looks at me in that way he has, willing me to figure it out for my self. As he stalks away, I look at Loki, really look at him. God he may have been, but all I see is a battered and bruised man. Jim's wisdom does not stop me from continuing as I had planned.

I enter the cell and stand with my back to the wall opposite from where Loki is sitting.

"Mr Lefevre," he says nodding slightly.

"Make it Charlie, please. It's Loki isn't it?" Another nod.

I know that I should apologise to him, say something consoling, anything really. I open my mouth and nothing comes out. How many more times am I going to have to apologise to him.

Seeming to realise this he says, "Don't worry, it's not the first time I've been beaten at the hands of stupid, small minded men." He says the word men as if he dose not consider him self one.

"Charlie," says Ray, from outside the bars. I step over and he hands me a folded paper. The words on it make my heart sink.

"There's been another one," I say, looking up to Ray and pleading with my eyes. He shakes his head.

"I'm sorry Charlie; you know that I can't come with you on this one. I have matters of my own to attend too." He gives me another look of apology, and then leaves.

I stand facing the bars, the paper crumpled in my hand, and fret. How was I going to make sure that this man in my care didn't get beaten to death while I was gone? How was I supposed to do my investigative work on my own, speaking to witnesses and documenting the crime scene?

I turn around and he is standing right there behind me. I manage not to jump, but it's a pretty close thing. I suddenly realise how tall he is, almost a head taller than me. Sighing, I rub a hand over my eyes. Then the answer comes to me.

"I need to leave, I have an errand to run," I say, noting the fleeting look of fear flash across his face. He knows what will happen if I leave him here alone.

"Don't worry," I say. "You're coming with me."