Chapter Text
You look like an angel
Walk like an angel
Talk like an angel
But I got wise
You’re the devil in disguise
Oh yes, you are
The devil in disguise
You fooled me with your kisses
You cheated and you schemed
Heaven knows how you lied to me
You’re not the way you seem
-“Walk Like an Angel” by Elvis Presley
“For the record, I think this is the worst idea in the history of mankind. Worse than pineapple pizza, credit scores, and reverse mortgages.”
Tony Stark narrowed his brown eyes at the demigod seated at the opposite end of the conference table. Well, one of the demigods seated at the conference table, anyway. Loki, God of Mischief, had poured himself into the seat and had a misleadingly relaxed posture as he met eyes with his former enemy, a perfunctory smile on his lips. He was a tall, lithe man wearing an expensive black suit with a gold tie and cuff links. Thor, God of Thunder, sat to Loki’s left dressed in a flannel shirt, t-shirt, jeans, and boots, attentively listening along. Tony stood at the head of the table, his hands in the pockets of his Tom Ford charcoal grey suit.
And the final occupant in the room was me.
I was standing beside Tony with my hands laced in front of me, also listening attentively as the billionaire continued. “But since Thor’s a good guy and has saved this planet multiple times, we have decided to humor him and give you a second chance you obviously don’t deserve.”
Loki’s crocodile smile stretched wider, his velvet voice deadpan. “How generous of you, Anthony.”
Tony’s right eyebrow twitched. “Not me, jackass. The US government has agreed to release you into our custody contingent upon one very important fact.”
He gestured to me. “This is a very good friend of mine. She’s a SHIELD psychiatrist. You’re going to go into session with her. If she feels confident that you have reformed, you will be pardoned and allowed to live on Earth provided that you either choose to stay in the Avengers compound or in Norway where New Asgard is undergoing construction. If she feels that you still harbor hostile feelings towards Earth and its inhabitants, you will be imprisoned by Doctor Strange until further notice.”
Loki’s smile evaporated. “Are you bloody serious?”
“Dead serious,” Tony said, glaring. “No one in this room has forgotten about New York, least of all me. Our shrink is one of the best in the country and she can determine your intentions enough to satisfy the World Security Council’s concerns.”
“I am a thousand years old,” Loki spat, shoving his rolling chair back as he stood. “You think some Midgardian woman can poke at my brain and get me to divulge my secrets? And for what? To comfort the paranoid would-be rulers of this pathetic country?”
“Loki,” Thor said in warning. “This is their planet, not ours. They are entitled to enforcing the laws of this country. We have to abide by them—”
“I am a god,” he snarled. “I do not abide by anyone’s rules but my own. This is absurd. An insult to my family line. I won’t have it and if you attempt to incarcerate me, you will regret it for the rest of your short lives.”
Tony bared his teeth in a grin, reaching for the plate in his chest. “Perfect. I’ve been wanting to serve you this ass-whupping for years—”
“Gentlemen,” I said in a quiet but firm tone. “Can we please take it down a notch?”
“Yes,” Thor said. “Listen to her. There is no need for violence.”
“I vehemently disagree,” Loki sneered, crossing his arms. “Why should I listen to this woman? There aren’t enough textbooks on Midgard to allow this woman to understand a god.”
“I’m not trying to understand a god,” I said calmly. “I’m trying to understand you, Loki.”
He cocked his head to one side, eying me. “And just what is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I don’t care about your title. I care about your state of mind. You may indeed be a thousand years old, but psychology works across the borders of species. Asgardian society runs parallel to Midgardian society. You have customs, beliefs, and practices that we are more than familiar with since you pre-date us and much of what we developed was influenced by Asgard. What I’m intending to do is nothing more than an assessment of your mental state. It works whether you’re an alien or not because it’s the same kind of principles.”
“Which are?” the demigod challenged.
“Analyzing your outlook on life, what you think of yourself, what you think of society, and your needs and aspirations. It’s just three sessions, Loki, that’s all.”
He offered me a mean little smirk. “You couldn’t ascertain the needs of a dog, let alone a god.”
Tony stepped forward. “Listen, asshole—”
I rested a hand on his shoulder. “His skepticism is valid. Go on, your highness. Try me.”
“Oh, this will be good,” Loki snorted. “Well, go on then, mortal. Tell me something about myself using your ‘superior’ psychological analytical skills.”
I studied him for several seconds. “You have insomnia.”
Loki stared at me, then very slightly narrowed his eyes. “Do I?”
“Yes. Your skin is a few shades too pale, you’re slouching, you have dark spots at the inner corners of your eyes, and you keep tapping your index finger against your arm, which is indicative of restless energy.”
“Stark, Thor, or that insipid AI could have told you that.”
“And exactly how would they have gotten that information?”
“I could be under surveillance.”
“The guest room in the Avengers compound doesn’t have a security feed,” Tony said flatly. “None of the bedrooms do. We don’t spy on our own people; that’s the government’s job.”
“It’s alright, Tony. I’ll use another example.” I gestured to Loki. “That Cesare Attolini suit you’re wearing is an intimidation display. You knew the price range of Tony’s suits and decided to show him up in order to remind him that you are a prince and even though he’s a billionaire, you possessed more wealth on Asgard before its destruction and you want him to know it. You chose black because it’s more flattering to your hair and eye color, but also because you’re tall and cut an intimidating figure when you wear all black, but you decided on the gold tie for the opulence. You like everything you own to be of the finest quality because you consider yourself to be deserving of only luxury items thanks to your pedigree.”
I smiled at him. “You’re wearing Creed Spice & Wood cologne because the ingredients have Italian origins, much like the suit, and that’s one of your favorite countries due to the fine food, clothing, and architecture. You took a suggestion from the person who sold you the suit about the Bulgari watch since obviously gods don’t necessarily always need to know what time it is and you’re not used to Midgardian customs just yet.”
I lifted my brows. “Is that sufficient, your highness?”
Man. If looks could kill. Loki’s breathing had increased and a slight blush had formed over his cheeks, likely from being exposed so nakedly in front of people he in no way liked or respected. I knew it was a risk, but I also knew he was going to keep questioning me until I showed him what I was capable of. And besides, I had a patient in an hour and needed to get out of this testosterone-soaked conference room.
“How very clever,” Loki said finally, brushing his curly hair away from his brow. “Right on all counts, my darling mortal. I underestimated you.”
A slow, sinister smile crept across his lips. “A mistake I shall not make twice.”
He aimed his cold blue eyes at Tony. “Very well, Stark. I consent to these sessions.”
Both he and Thor blinked in surprise, but I didn’t. Tony then clarified without me having to ask. “Keep in mind, you will participate in the conversation. If she asks you questions, you answer them to the best of your ability or the deal is off.”
Loki rolled his eyes. “Of course. I’m not that infantile.”
“Says the man who’s turned me into a frog several times,” Thor said as he stood, snorting. He offered his hand to me, smiling warmly. “Thank you for undertaking this enormous task, my lady. I am truly grateful to you. Good luck.”
It was easy to smile back at the handsome, polite demigod. “You’re welcome, your majesty. I’ll be in touch.”
Loki towered over me, getting far too close just to make me have to crane my neck to look at him. Jerk. He scooped up my hand and kissed the back of it, his aquamarine eyes gleaming wickedly as he asked, “When do we start?”