Loki assisted Verda in placing the necklace about her neck and fastening the clasp. As he had done so, he had taken note of the Midgardian clothing Verda appeared to be wearing. To his knowledge she had never been to Midgard. Of course there were books and other information available on Asgard concerning the realm. Perhaps she had consulted them...but why was she there in the first place...and with Sif of all people? The first and last time she had spoken to Sif, she had threatened to kill her. It hadn't exactly boded well for the start of a beautiful friendship.

Loki found those questions crowded out in his mind by what he had just experienced. His heart ached recalling the vision of an einherjar informing him of his mother's death as he sat helplessly locked away in a cell after he had thoughtlessly and inadvertently sent her killer in her direction. He could still feel the Titan's grip around his neck. He could not consciously remember all of the memories of a life that he had not and would not now live. They had washed over him as a river swiftly flowing over its banks, though he was sure the entirety of it was locked away within his mind somewhere. He at least grasped the overarching theme of the narrative. What he did recall was more than enough to chill him to the marrow of his bones.

He had been correct in his feeling that it had been fate that had brought himself and Selvig together, along with Jane. They'd both had a role in his visions as well, though very different ones than they now played, at the moment Loki unable to recall every detail.

What he remembered most from the visions, however, was not any specific event, but the pain. Not physical but of another sort, the mental and emotional equivalent of a wound not unlike Thor's that had grown and festered, rotting away who he had been. Each act he'd committed in response to that pain had only led to more of the same as if he had existed in some hellish loop. Yet there had always at his core existed a remnant of who he had once been, the man he was at the moment, the man that had once wished to be good and noble, that had wanted only to be loved and admired as Thor had been...by the people, by his father...to be seen as his brother's equal. Despite how deeply it had been buried, his brother had known and had never given up hope of somehow reaching it. He finally had as Loki had lain helpless on the floor of a hanger bay, his body jolted by a continual stream of electrical shocks. "You will always be the god of mischief, but you could be more." Thor had said to him, the words acting as if they were the key to a lock or a counter spell, dispelling an enchantment he had been under.

Unfortunately the experience had not given him any insight related to Thor's murder as he had hoped, only raising more questions, though he at least had the satisfaction of knowing he was right. The trajectory of his life had been altered, though why and how that had been accomplished he didn't know. The 'why' was at least as important as the 'how.' Based on what he could recall, he would be glad of it if it were not for Thor's death. Had the only possible way for him to avoid the madness, the darkness he had succumbed to in that aborted future been for his brother to die? It was a sobering thought.

An altogether new thought struck him...was that the motive? Was that why Thor had been murdered...for his sake? But aside from the fact that he believed there to be few who would care enough about him to wish to "save" him, and those who did would never have sacrificed Thor to do so, how could anyone have known what was to be? As he had told Selvig, there were Asgardians that were capable of glimpsing into the future, but not as extensively and in such detail as he had with the assistance of the mysterious Norns he had called upon with the stones. Besides, most of the death and destruction he had wrought that he recalled from the visions had taken place here on Midgard. But then at least two of the assailants had been Midgardian. If the motive were to prevent the havoc he had once been destined to wreak on Midgard would it not have made far more sense to end him and not Thor, who had assisted in defeating him?

Verda held the pendant in the palm of her hand, appearing to be making a thoughtful study of it. It seemed to Loki her countenance was of one that had believed something to be but a myth and now had been handed tangible proof of its existence.

"Thank you...I will wear it always." Verda said before embracing Loki. "Though as it is fit for a queen as you say, I am not worthy to do so."

"My father didn't believe me fit to be a king." Loki responded.

"As you will prove to him, your father was wrong...and not for the first time." Verda replied. Loki was somewhat shocked at Verda's statement. It had seemed to him that just about everyone else but himself believed Odin to be infallible. Thor's hero worship of their father, his blind trust that Odin was always right and never to be questioned or contradicted had been one of his traits that had always irritated Loki. Now, after what he had learned from his visions, what he could recall anyway, Loki knew he had been justified in feeling that way. "You should dress." Verda said as she spied the bag that had held the stones on top of Loki's folded clothing, picking it up. "I'll collect them." .

"No. I'll gather them. I don't wish for you to put yourself in danger."

"There is nothing they could tell me that I need to know." Verda said. Loki looked at her in astonishment. Verda appeared to read his mind, or at least his expression. "I knew what they were. I wanted to know if you did. My sister used to speak of them. She'd hoped if they did exist to possess her own. I suppose it's far easier for a Prince of Asgard to obtain such things."

"I stole them from a purveyor of rare goods I'd had dealings with in the past. I'm certain he had acquired them by similar means. I replaced them with imitations. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he has yet to realize. By the time he does, he will have no idea who it was that took them. It was not a matter of being unable to meet his price. I wanted no one to know I possess them."

"It's frightening to think of such objects falling into the hands of those who do not know their true power. It is no less terrifying to think of them falling into the hands of those that do. Even you almost destroyed yourself." Verda said.

"My father has spent his life collecting such relics in the vault in order to safeguard the universe from such events."

"The Norn Stones should join them. What did they show you?" Verda asked.

"What will no longer be. It doesn't matter."

"It does matter. There exists the same dangers." Verda paused for a moment as she sat on the edge of the bed and stared across the room at the wall as if contemplating before bowing her head. "In your visions, do you recall knowing of me?" she asked. Loki pondered the question, appearing puzzled by it, far more by the answer to it.

"No…I do not."

"That is because you didn't. I am from that future that will no longer be."

"How is that possible? Even my father is unable to traverse through time."

"Though you did not know me, we had met once as children. You saved my life that day. When you returned to Asgard to save us from Hela, you spoke the same words you had spoken to me upon finding me in the pit."

"I remember that day. For once I was the hero. That was you?" Loki said in disbelief.

"After Thanos' attack, I had wanted to stay, to fight, to share your fate. The others lied to me. They told me that you were going with us to lead us away to safety. It wasn't until we arrived here on Midgard that I learned you were not among the survivors. Though it had been said you were dead before, I never believed it, somehow I knew...but this time…" Tears had begun to flow from Verda's eyes, down her cheeks as she called up the memories within her, as vivid to her as Loki's recent experience had been to him. Though struggling to process what Verda was telling him, he reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "For five years I honored you...in rain, snow, the bitterest cold, each day without fail. There were many that believed that like my sister I had lost my mind. Maybe I had. We had met only once, you had not even known my name."

"Each day...for five years?" Loki responded, bewildered.

"When the day came to fight him that had taken your life, though not a warrior, I volunteered to do so willingly. I wished to be the one to kill him, to avenge you, though I'm sure I would never have succeeded though I still don't know how it is I survived such a fray when so many others fell. As did the one who claimed that honor, I would have been pleased to die in the attempt and to join you in Valhalla. I hated Midgard and life itself in a universe without you in it.

After the battle, Thanos was dead, those he had rendered to dust by the power of the ancient stones returned to us, yet for me, nothing had changed. It was not long after that while at the monument as I honored you that a man approached me. I had never seen him before. He was not Asgardian, or at least I don't believe him to have been. He did not live among us. He said that if I would help him he would take me back home to Asgard where you would live once again. The things that had happened could be changed, your life could be saved."

"What was it he wanted from you?" Loki asked.

"There was something hidden in New Asgard. That was the name of the town where we settled here on Midgard. It had been brought there by Thor after the battle. He told me that his son was dying and that the cure was a plant that once grew on Midgard that was now extinct. He needed it so that he could go back to a time when this plant still existed and obtain it to save his son's life.

I was sure I knew where to find that which he sought and I was right. It was in the crypt under the museum in one of the sepulchers that held the bodies of the honored dead of Midgard who had fought the frost giants at your father's side long ago. Few knew of its existence. Your brother had once told me of it. I had visited him a few years before to give him a gift I had made for him for Jul. He invited me to stay for a drink. He had obviously already begun long before my arrival. He was drunk more than he was sober at that time. He rarely left his abode. We spoke of many things. He mourned for Asgard, all those that had been lost, and for you. He told me many stories of when you were growing up together."

Loki's mind continued to process the story Verda had just told him. Just as his visions had done, it left him with more questions.

"Was this man's name Coulson?"

"He did not tell me his name. He said that it was better if I didn't know. He likely thought that if I were to be discovered I couldn't give away his identity."

"What of the you that already existed when you arrived?"

"I know not what became of my past self. I went to my home but she was not there and never returned. I wasn't certain how time travel works. I thought perhaps my arrival had caused her to cease to exist. When the man took me to the past and then to the portal to Asgard, he said to continue my life as it had been, that the future would now be different. I decided to ensure that would be so. I overcame my fear. I placed myself in those places I knew you frequented."

"A Midgardian knew of a portal to Asgard?" Loki asked curiously. Before Verda could answer he moved his hand from her shoulder to grip her arm. "Did you know what was to happen to Thor? Do you know who killed my brother?" Verda looked over at him, shaking her head.

"No... if the man I met is responsible, he told me nothing of his plans. I never wished any harm to come to your brother."

"Even if it meant I would be king?"

"It mattered to me not at all if you were king. I had thought it better if you would not be. What time does a king have for any one person, even for his queen?" Verda said. Loki thought back to his childhood, how his father had had little time to spend with either of his sons and more recently, the night of Thor's funeral, how he had questioned his father's absence as he had consoled his mother himself. He now knew the reason behind it, the news of Laufey's murder, but it also made Verda's point. "I had once feared in my time that your brother would go to his death from drink. Many, including myself, tried but there was nothing anyone could do or say to heal his broken spirit."

Loki recalled the vision of his death. Thor had been subdued, helpless to come to his aid, forced to watch his brother die in front of him. It was a similar scenario in reverse that Loki had recently experienced.

"Why did you come here? Surely not to tell me this."

"If this man you search for is the same that brought me here...he told me if I told anyone my secret, if anyone came to Midgard looking to find him, he would kill them. It was then that I knew I had been played for a fool. He was not seeking a cure for his son. The thought of you alive again, going home to Asgard...I was thinking with my heart and not my head. It may have cost your brother his life. When we return I will leave the palace, I will live out my life alone and in shame as I deserve." Verda said, tears flowing once again, her head bowed.

"You will leave. You will leave my father's service. Never again will you toil for another and you will leave your chambers for my own."

*****************************

Phil Coulson, dressed in a dark suit, a pair of dark sunglasses shielding his eyes from the desert sun, stepped out of the black car in the parking lot of the bar and took stock of his surroundings as he had been trained long ago to do and as he always did. He noticed that the car in which he had arrived was already coated with a layer of dirt and dust. He was glad for once that he wasn't driving Lola, his cherry red and highly modified 1962 Corvette. His eyes fell on the old beige Pinzgauer, the military style off road vehicle parked a few vehicles from his own. He didn't see many of those around thus it had grabbed his attention. In a desert environment, it would be quite handy.

Coulson approached the bar, Rita greeting him with her customary smile.

"You in the C.I.A. or something?" Rita asked jokingly.

"Or something." Coulson responded.

"What can I get ya?"

"Nothing at the moment. I'm meeting someone here."

"That fella over there? He said he was meeting someone here too." Rita said, pointing to the same booth where Loki and Selvig had sat the night before. Once again, there was no one seated nearby. Coulson looked over to see a face that was familiar, the face of the man to whom he had given the card numbered three hundred and twenty five.

"Yes. Thank you." Coulson said, leaving the bar and making his way to the booth. Reaching it, he slid into it. "Mr. Krieger. Hello again."

"Coulson." Krieger said. The man with the dirty blond hair sitting across from Coulson, a pack on the seat next to him, was familiar to him, yet Coulson sensed something was off. He concluded the man's nose was different, somewhat crooked. Perhaps he had broken it recently...but if that was the case, he would think it would still be swollen and bruised. It had only been a week since he had met with him for the first time. His voice had also altered. Coulson heightened his guard.

"You have something for me?" Coulson asked.

"Before we speak, I'm going to have a drink, as are you. What would you like?" Krieger asked.

"Nothing, thank you. I'm here on official business." Coulson answered.

"We're in a tavern. A tavern is where one goes to drink. You will have a drink with me." Krieger answered.

"Alright. A whiskey and soda." Coulson answered. Krieger slid from the booth and approached the bar. Coulson turned, keeping a careful eye on the man as he spoke to the bartender, the blond woman pouring the drinks, placing them on a tray. Krieger returned to the booth with a tall glass mug of beer and a shot of whiskey and a smaller glass of fizzing cola.

Coulson watched Krieger empty the shot glass into the mug of beer as he lifted his own drink from the tray and took a small sip from it before sitting it down. He had watched the drink being prepared by the bartender and immediately brought to him by Krieger and had seen no opportunity for it to be adulterated, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Is something wrong with your drink?" Krieger asked.

"No. It's very good actually. A simple drink but it always amazes me that not many are able to get it right. My compliments to the bartender."

"Rita."

"Rita....I've come a long way…" Coulson began.

"I dare say I've come much farther." Krieger responded, appearing to glance around the bar before lifting his mug and emptying half of it. Lowering his mug, he looked to the empty space across from him. Scanning the immediate vicinity once again, he slid from the booth, grabbing hold of his pack. Coulson's clothing lay in the booth where he had once sat, his pants having slid onto the floor where his socks and shoes rested. Inside the shirt he noticed movement. Holding his hand out over the table, a shoebox appeared in it. He sat the box on the table, removing the top and placing it next to it. Reaching into the buttoned shirt lying on the booth, he removed from within it a frog.

Krieger placed the frog into the box, putting the lid back onto it before rifling through the clothing. He came upon a small, round device and stored it away in a pocket on the front of the pack. Upon further searching, from under the jacket he produced a gun in a holster which he placed in his pack. Folding the clothing, Coulson's wallet in the pants pocket, Krieger removing it and looking at the contents including Coulson's ID before replacing it, he put them on top of it along with Coulson's socks and shoes. Lifting his mug, he finished the other half of his drink before sitting it down and looked at the glass that contained Coulson's. Lifting it as well, Krieger emptied it in one long swallow. Coulson was right, it was very good. Krieger, slinging his pack over his shoulder, picked up the shoebox from the table.

As Krieger crossed the bar towards the exit, two women emptied their drinks and rose from their table, following him to the door. Before exiting the bar, shielded from view by the women behind him, Krieger's form morphed into that of Loki, he once again having converted his clothing to his preferred color.

The man and woman, dressed as conservatively as Coulson had been, sitting in the car they had pulled into the parking lot a few minutes before Coulson's arrival, watched the three exit the bar and walk past their car before turning their attention back to the entrance.

Loki and the two women approached the Pinzgauer in the parking lot where Selvig sat behind the wheel. The two women climbed into the back, transforming to their original form of Sif and Verda, as Loki climbed into the passenger seat, setting his pack on the floorboard, holding the shoebox in his lap. Selvig looked at the shoebox, hearing a croaking sound emanate from within it.

"Coulson?" Selvig asked. Loki looked over at Selvig with a mischievous grin, all the answer Selvig needed. "He sounds like he has a frog in his throat."

Selvig started the vehicle, backing out of the parking spot and pulled out onto the road heading out of town.

******************************

Loki exited the vehicle first after Selvig had brought it to a stop in the desert, far from the city and the road, grabbing his pack and once again placing it over his shoulder, holding the shoebox. Selvig, Sif, and Verda followed. Loki put the shoebox down, lifting the frog from it and placing it on the arid, dry, dusty ground. Verda held out the shackles Sif had earlier returned to her possession, Loki taking them. A moment after doing so, Loki made a slight gesture with his hand. Coulson now stood nude under the desert sun, speechless, with an expression of shock and embarrassment. Looking back at the four that stood before him, especially noting the presence of the two women, he quickly covered his nether regions with both hands. Sif groaned, turning her back. It was the second time that day she had been treated to such an unwelcome sight.

"What the hell….?" Coulson managed to stammer, clearly shaken, and he was not a man easily riled. He had experienced many strange things over his years with S.H.I.E.L.D. but this took the proverbial cake.

"Get dressed." Loki said, removing the clothing and shoes from his pack and tossing them in front of Coulson. The four waited as Coulson nervously put his clothes back on, Sif continuing to stand with her back to the man. After Coulson had dressed and tied his tie and straightened it, his hands shaking, Loki shackled his hands behind his back, Coulson too flustered to ask any further questions. Sif had turned back to face Coulson, Loki gesturing for her to approach, she taking hold of Coulson's arm in a firm grip, Coulson giving a short cry of pain. Sif recalling that he was mortal, loosened it somewhat.

Loki approached Selvig, holding out his hand, Selvig taking it.

"Give my thanks to Jane and Darcy." Loki said.

"Should I tell them the truth?" Selvig asked.

"I leave it up to you. Before I go…" Loki said. Removing the umbrella from his pack, it morphed back into its true form, Mjolnir. Selvig looked at the hammer in Loki's hand in astonishment.

"Thor's hammer...Mjolnir..." Selvig said breathlessly in disbelief. Loki held out the hammer, Selvig wrapping his hand around it. As Loki let go, the hammer dropped heavily to the ground, Selvig struggling to lift it, only managing to do so a couple of inches, much to his chagrin. Loki, grinning, lifted it, supporting it as Selvig held it between his two hands, staring down at it in awe.

"After hearing all the stories...to actually hold it..."

"We must return. Goodbye, Erik Selvig." Loki said, lowering the hammer to his side. "Þakka þér enn og aftur fyrir hjálpina. (Thank you again for your help.)"

"Verði þér að góðu. Mun ég sjá þig aftur? (You're very welcome. Will I see you again?)" Selvig asked.

"Kannski. Þú veist aldrei. Enda er ég guð óheilla. (Perhaps. You never know. I am the god of mischief.)" Loki said with a grin befitting the moniker. Turning from Selvig, Loki joined Verda, Sif and Coulson, Sif continuing to hold Coulson's arm. "Heimdall, bring us home!" Loki called out.

Selvig found himself nearly blinded and knocked back on his feet by the bright white light of the Bifrost as it descended as swiftly as a bolt of lightning. Blinking, his eyes readjusting, he looked to where the four had once stood, cautiously approaching the spot, looking down at the pattern burned into the ground and then upwards at the clear blue sky.