The Asgardian throne room never failed to shine—in all of its grandeur, it could lift up even the saddest of souls, including the soul of yours truly. As I was kneeling before the All-Father, I looked up, and I, for the thousandth time, saw the several golden steps leading up to his throne; they were ornate, and the light rays reflected off them beautifully.

"Son," my father said, just loud enough for the two of us to hear comfortably, "I was looking to talk with you." He was wearing his usual regal outfit sans the helmet, and he motioned for the cessation of my kneeling. I stood up and made eye contact—my two orbs to his one.

"Indeed, father, I suspected as much. I made my way here as soon as I knew. Now, what brings me here, exactly? Of course, I mean no disrespect—"

Interrupting me, Odin said, "Don't worry about it, Loki. Incidentally, I am in need of a favor." At this, my eyebrow raised; seldom did he ever request that from me, and when he did, Thor was usually at my side. I suppose just that one reality was a small example of our already-strained relationship. I was cognizant much jealously and hate coursed through my veins, and thankfully, that cognizance and prudence prevented a lot of bad decisions—still, though, emotional satisfaction was a rarity. That thought, I quickly realized, was of no importance when I considered I was a prince, and a manipulative, intelligent prince at that.

"A favor, father? Must we visit the healer for you so soon?" I asked in jest, to which Odin smiled a small, bittersweet smile.

"Senility is no friend of mine, my son—and actually, yes, I do need a favor, and it's large, all things considered. I need you to, ah, pay a visit to Midgard."

I cocked an eyebrow—Midgard? I wasn't astonished, but I was a bit confused. Midgard, was, well, mundane, boring, and unimportant. The silly Midgardians—humans, I think they called themselves—hadn't really done much, and very few, if any, were important. Nonetheless, I inquired more into the matter. Odin wouldn't have asked me to visit Midgard for a simple visitation.

"Of course, father, I will do whatever you ask of me," I said, internally rolling my eyes, "but I must confess, I am not exactly certain of Midgard's relevance." Odin nodded understandingly.

"I expected that response, and trust me, I would've thought the same thing up until a few days ago. However, recent intelligence has led me to believe otherwise. Simply put, the Midgardians might have a grainy 'photograph'—a permanent etching, to my understanding—of Asgard. Apparently, their technology has progressed enough to the extent that they can see us, however blurrily."

I considered this. Midgard, supposedly, had the capability of discovering Asgard. Knowing their foolish history from my childhood lessons, I was extremely concerned. The vast majority of them, needless to say, could do nothing. However, the few, relatively-powerful entities might pose a problem in the far future. It was better to eliminate the threat of Midgard discovering us as soon as possible, and Odin agreed.

I sighed and rubbed my temples. "So, allow me to guess—are Thor and I to infiltrate any and all human facilities housing these 'photographs', destroying the photographs along with the new technology?"

Odin frowned and replied, "No; in fact, Thor knows not of this, and it needs to stay that way; and in regards to your assumption of infiltration, not exactly, no."

"Father, I am unsure that it would be beneficial to leave him behind, as he's a powerful fighter. But more than that, if I am not to interfere with these 'photographs' nor the technology, what am I to do?"

Odin looked down at me for a moment and then decided to walk down to my level. "This favor—a mission, really—is going to have to be clandestine and covert. What sense does it make to cause a ruckus during a mission in which we're trying to prevent awareness of us? Your brother, as great of a warrior as he is, isn't really cut out for that—he'd agree, and besides, I'll have him do another thing."

After considering my father's logic, I realized he was correct—not that I was incorrect, by any means. With all this sneakiness and intrigue, I presumed, this mission was going to take longer than I had originally thought. There was one thing my father hadn't addressed, though: the actual mission's procedure.

"I suppose you're right," I conceded, "but what of the nature of the mission itself?"

"It will be painstakingly slow," Odin responded, confirming my earlier thoughts. "But there will be an 'easy in', so to speak. Amazingly enough, the researchers, per our spies there"—I was a bit surprised about the presence of Asgardian spies on Midgard, but I remained mum—"only have the intelligence on us in one location—they apparently don't know what they have, so they're not too hasty in doing more research."

"This is all well and good, but how exactly am I to... do this?" I asked after I had processed all the new information. I made sense of it quickly, but Odin's role for me remained unclear.

Odin smirked, but it came off more as a wide smile. "I'd never considered you to be one to teach, but, well, here we are—you're going to be a teacher in Little Creek, Massachusetts for a while."

I seldom, if ever, got headaches, but I could feel my godly temples beginning to pound. I just wanted to come here, harmlessly scheme and manipulate—I'm sadistic—the lesser entities, and now this is on my plate. I couldn't allow my façade of innocence—or what remained of it—to slip, so I nodded nevertheless.

My tired eyes met my father's uncharacteristically-energetic countenance. "Please, elaborate," I asked, mustering all my patience and goodwill into a single imploration.

Odin pulled out an extremely archaic form of documentation—paper—from his side and began to flip through the semi-thick packet.

As he was searching for an answer to my question, I assumed, I asked, "Why is the packet in paper? Surely more contemporary, native methods of storage are better?"

"Well, yes, but you're taking this to Midgard, and you can't take Asgardian technology with you, so here this is," he muttered, and I nodded, and my throbbing only increased. As much as I loved to glean intelligence, I wanted to glean useful intelligence, not Midgardian nonsense. Odin spoke once he had found the relevant page: "Little Creek High School of Little Creek, Massachusetts"—How original!—"is located only a few miles away from the Massachusetts Astronomical and Extraterrestrial Research Center—Loki, that's the facility in which they have all the documents we need."

I comprehended everything he said, but still, the educational aspect of it was illogical. "So why do I need to become a teacher?"

"Well, the facility is watched very carefully, and the US government—the most powerful government on Midgard—seems to have taken a special interest in the facility's research. Like I said earlier, going in swords blazing will be neither smart nor successful. The high school—a school for the older children of Midgard—will be your cover and excuse for being in close proximity to the facility."

Great—I didn't want to do this, but honestly, I knew in the long run it would score me a place closer to Odin. From this, I could not only bond with him, I could also use it to advance my place in all the realms. Aside from that, I did want to do something a bit different, but really, this wasn't what I had in mind. I was an Asgardian prince, not some lowly Midgardian whose job was to teach a bunch of rambunctious teenagers. Hello, throbbing!

"All in all, I am to become a teacher at some school on Midgard as a cover to size up a nearby facility, in which I will eventually infiltrate?"

Odin nodded in confirmation. "Precisely. Now, it's only midday, and I'd like you to leave by tonight. I've already informed Heimdall. However, we're not done here just yet. I still need to sort out a few things with you," he continued.

"Such as?"

"Well, most of it is covered in this packet"—as he said that Odin handed me said packet—"but the more important aspects need to be understood here, like housing. We've already procured an upper-class place of residence for you, and I'm sure you'll like it." Odin winked and continued, "You're also going to be in possession of a false ID and history, so when you first talk to Little Creek's principal, you just need to sweet talk them—I have no worries about the success of that. We've already submitted your application as well, and they've accepted. You just need to be formally interviewed for the job, and you're to start teaching the same day—as rushed as that sounds, keep in mind that from their perspective, you've been preparing for months."

I looked up at him, and for the first time in a while, I felt a small inkling of genuine appreciation. My father could've just sent me on my way, and while I still would've been able to sort everything out, my father's actions only made my godly life easier. "Thank you for all this preparation. Is there anything else I need to know before I go?"

Odin looked at me for a few moments and then clasped my shoulder. "Not anything in particular—but, as usual, take care of yourself. Fellow Asgardians will never be far. Oh, and take this key. It's for your new home. I'll tell Thor of your leaving once he returns. Remember, Loki, you're not stuck there—you can come back whenever necessary, but please, keep it to a minimum. It'd be bad news if the Midgardians saw you."

My only response was a detached nod and a small smile.

Later that day, after preparing, I had elected to walk down the Rainbow Bridge. Running would've be speedier, undoubtedly, but I wasn't really too keen on leaving Asgard. Midgard, to my understanding, wasn't extremely pitiful—but when compared to Asgard, it fell short in all categories: morals, history, achievements, beauty of the female race, etc.

Small, rocky islands were scattered around me for miles on my left and right. The bridge, true to its strength, held up my godly person like a mighty throne. My hardened, black boots made a quiet 'clap' as they struck the bridge, and my forest-green and sable cape softly fluttered behind my torso.

Heimdall was waiting for me when I entered his observatory.

"Hello," I greeted the guardian. "I am ready—I am to go to Midgard, per my father's wishes."

Heimdall looked at me and nodded respectfully. He and I had never been particularly close—when was I close with anyone?—but we retained cordiality.

"I can send you immediately, if you wish," Heimdall suggested.

"Well," I began, "seeing as there's no reason for me to prolong my inevitable leaving, you should open the Bifrost now," I finished, my words not revealing the annoyance and impatience in my bosom.

Without looking at the other man, I began walking toward the Bifrost, only the off-white packet in hand. Soon, the Bifrost's embrace made itself known, and I was zooming toward Midgard, stars, moons, and other celestial objects leaving my line of sight as soon as they made themselves known.

With no forewarning, the Bifrost was nowhere in sight, and I found myself falling toward a grassy ground only a few meters below. Instinctively, my knees bent down, and I landed gracefully on the yard, only a temporary imprint hinting at my interplanetary travel. I looked up at my surroundings, and while it wasn't as nice as Asgard, it wasn't too unbearable.

Midgard's sky was sapphire and her trees emerald. My new home was just over a hundred feet away, with a smooth, concrete driveway leading up to it. I recognized the three-story building from the packet, over which I had briefly skimmed. According to the documents, it was approximately nine thousand square feet, which was supposedly large for a home on Midgard. Its high, ornate stone walls contrasted nicely with the windows and beams that ran parallel to the ground. It looked oddly picturesque in that moment, as if it was a far-away home on an alien planet, as portrayed in the many books I had read as a young god.

As I approached the door with my key in hand, I noticed a primitive vehicle in the driveway. It was sleek, shiny, and black. It piqued my interest slightly, but I was tired, so for the moment, I ignored it.

I wanted to explore the rest of the home, but considering my exhaustion, I decided to simply sleep for the night. The large, hardwood staircase in the middle of the foyer directed me to my room, which according to my document packet, was the main residence of Midgardians when they slept.

It wasn't difficult to find the largest sleeping chamber—just right of the top of the initial staircase and down the hall. The four-poster mahogany bed looked okay with its red duvet spread atop, but at the moment, I was only concerned with sleep. Traveling the Bifrost screwed with my circadian rhythm—even gods had those. Before I just crashed on my new bed, however, my father had apparently had one of his men place a note on my bed. It read, "Read pages two through three."

I plopped down, and wisely, I heeded what the note said. Those specific pages were relatively dull, but it did inform me I needed to set my 'alarm clock' to awake me at six o'clock sharp. The meeting with the local principal was at half-past seven o'clock, but being new to Midgard, even with my innate cunning, it would've been prudent to give myself some time. The vehicle—a Maserati—was going to be my primary form of travel for the foreseeable future. Thankfully, in theory, I knew how to drive it, as the packet explained the rudimentary aspects of vehicle-driving on page three.

"Well, this is going to go great," I muttered to myself before fiddling with the clock next to my bed. It was a nasty thing, as it contained at least a few dozen buttons, but I got it working relatively soon.

Once that thing was settled, I removed most of my clothing and folded them neatly on a side table. My red duvet soon encompassed my form, providing a rarely found comfort.

A horrible, ear-eviscerating noise hammered me out of my sleep. I jumped out of bed, my form tightened all over. A semi-familiar scene was before me; then I recalled yesterday's events and slumped back down onto the bed. The perpetual screech of my alarm only served to arouse my ire and annoyance. I got up and put an end to the dreadful noise.

I needed to prepare for the day. As much as I secretly resented Odin for giving me this mission, I was equally looking forward to face something new. I only hoped this mission's novelty didn't fade too fast, as I was sure it would eventually.

My Midgardian outfits were located in the closet. I knew, roughly, what the ideal outfit would look like—again, the packet was extremely helpful. I'd have to store that safely somewhere. It was essentially my guide until I grew familiar with this lesser realm's customs.

The suit I selected looked quite nice on me, I believed. Thor, being the oaf he was, would've made jests ad nauseum about me admiring my newfound, Midgardian fashion sense. I mean, what could I say? The sable suit accented my slim waist and broader shoulders, so of course, I was impressed with myself.

I walked out of my room, documents and key in hand, and down the staircase. Careful to lock the door behind me, I only just realized I hadn't looked around the house yet—no matter. I could do that once I had returned home. With my key in hand, I unlocked my Maserati and hopped in.

It'd be slightly deceitful to claim I wasn't totally not nervous. You see, I'm almost never nervous, and if I am, it's warranted by a real threat—and this is, by no means, a real threat. I ignored my unimportant nerves, however, and began to drive backwards, only in that moment realizing just how sensitive the pedals were.

Like lightning from Thor's palm, I sped down the road, only ever looking down intermittently to check the directions to the school, and I purposefully wore a cold and determined mask.

Author's Note: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this new creation. There's not much to say, but I will be updating soon.