Bruce woke up in stages. His hearing returned first, the sounds of muffled footsteps in the distance gaining his attention. The soft drip drip drip of water hitting the ground came after. His sense of smell came next, the dank smell of the room he was in clueing him into the fact that he was underground. He shook his head lightly, blinking several times to clear his vision, which returned last.

At first, he thought that he was blindfolded, but, realizing the absence of a cloth-like material over his eyes and that the room that was dim a second ago was becoming steadily lighter as his eyes adjusted, he looked up, finding himself sitting in a chair, his hands and feet bound by – were those shadows? Bruce squinted at them, not really believing that shadows – incorporeal and untouchable – were binding him. He tugged lightly, expecting his hands to slip right through. Instead, he met with resistance and the tugging became more frantic.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you, they're not going to come off no matter how much you struggle."

Bruce's head snapped up, finally realizing that there was another person in the room apart from him. "What do you want?" he demanded, still tugging at his bonds.

The boy opposite him – for it was surely just a boy, he didn't look like an adult – gave no signs of having heard him, instead, he languidly crossed his legs, observing the scientist coolly. If Bruce wasn't sitting in a chair being tied down like a prisoner, he would have called the boy opposite him a goth. He had black hair and equally midnight eyes that were far too serious for his age. He wore an aviator jacket over a black shirt, complete with black jeans and sneakers, metallic chains dangling from belt loops on his jeans. His hand bore a silver skull ring, the pits where the eyes would be were studded with onyx gems that glittered in the faint light that lit the room.

Nico di Angelo uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, as he stared at Bruce, "I want to know what you were doing."

"What ?" Bruce stared at the kid, he had been so sure at first that he had glimpsed this boy before he blacked out, but now, he was beginning to doubt himself. "I was – I was fighting!"

Nico snorted, his dark eyes not giving anything away, "Running away with a hoard of those aliens after you isn't what I would call fighting." He said dryly.

Bruce narrowed his eyes, "What do you want with me? Why am I here?"

Nico cocked his head, "You're here because I saved you, as for what we want with you..." the demigod leaned back, "That depends on you."

"If you're looking to control the Hulk then I'm telling you now not to bother." Bruce said stiffly, glaring at Nico, allowing hints of green to seep into his irises.

To his credit, the boy didn't even bat an eyelid, clearly unafraid of Bruce, or rather, what he could do. Nico eyed the genius, saying, "My group, we fight the chitauri, and we came across you being chased. Where were you headed?"

"Who said I was headed anywhere?"

Nico snorted, "You could lie better than that, you ran in a straight line – figuratively speaking – and you didn't turn back or change your general direction. That means you were heading for something. What was it?"

Bruce stared at the younger boy, contemplating his answer. On one hand, he had absolutely no reason to trust this kid at all, he could be another General Ross for all he knew. On the other hand, his gut feeling – the same one as before – told him to trust the boy opposite him. he licked his lips lightly, "I was heading for the Empire State Building."

Finally, a reaction, as Nico's eyes widened in shock, "Why? That is the most outstanding building in New York, you wouldn't have a good chance of hiding there."

Bruce shrugged, sagging slightly into his chair, "I don't know," he murmured, "I had this feeling, like some kind of voice in the back of my head telling me to go there." He shook his head, "It's nonsensical."

Nico studied the mortal sitting in front of him closely, was this the reason why the gods had instructed him to retrieve this particular mortal? Or was it because they couldn't afford to let the Hulk land in the alien's hands? "And that was the only reason you wanted to go there? Because of that voice," he made sure to make his voice as skeptical as possible, "that told you? Or because of something else?"

Bruce glared at him, "What are you implying? That I wanted to go to the Empire to what, blow it up?"

"I don't know," Nico shrugged nonchalantly, "What could you do as the Hulk to such a monument?"

Bruce snarled, "I am not one of your enemy! I fight the chitauri as well!"

Nico stared at him dispassionately, "Do you? Or are you fighting for them?"

Bruce stared aghast, "No," he said, "NO! I would never – I would never work for them –"

"Why not?" Nico cut in, "It's the perfect chance isn't it? To get back to the friends who abandoned you and ran for their lives."

Bruce shook his head, not even questioning how the boy knew that his team had left him behind, or that there was a battle in the first place, "They didn't abandon me, they had to leave, there was no way –"

"They left you alone in the midst of the enemy hoard." Nico pointed out.

Bruce lunged forward, the shadows trapping him against the chair as he did so, "There was no way that they could have gotten the Hulk to calm down to rationally speak to him, there was no way they could do that and still survive. I had the best chance because the Hulk is indestructible! They didn't abandon me, they had no choice but to leave! We'll regroup soon enough." He breathed heavily, glaring at the demigod in front of him.

To his surprise, Nico di Angelo smirked, snapping his fingers as he stood up, the shadows around Bruce disappearing. "Well, seems like your heart is in the right place, as clichéd as that sounds."

Bruce looked around in confusion, his limbs tingling with the phantom feeling of bonds still binding him to the chair, "What?"

"Sorry about that, we had to make sure that you weren't under the chitauri's control, or that you were easily swayed."

Bruce furrowed his brow, standing up tentatively, "What are you talking about?"

Nico extended a hand to him, "I'm Nico di Angelo," he grimaced for a moment then continued, "I'm Percy's cousin."

Bruce slowly grasped his hand, shaking it lightly, confused but slightly suspicious now that he was free, "Percy's cousin? I wasn't aware that Percy had a cousin."

Nico smiled thinly, "You wouldn't, he – he's kept a lot from you guys, but it's only cause he doesn't want to think of the unhappy stuff."

"Right..." Bruce said, "So if you're Percy's cousin how come you're down here? And what's with the 'we' anyway? And the chitauri? How come they're suddenly back?"

Nico gave him a sad look, "You don't know do you? Percy's dead."

Bruce stopped short, his eyes widening, "That's not – that's not true. He's not –"

Nico looked away, his hands clenching into fists, "He's dead, I know, I felt him die."

Bruce looked down, horror still running through him, "How – you felt him die? What's that supposed to mean?"

Nico ran a hand through his hair, a habit he picked up due to prolonged exposure to Percy, "I'm not human. In case you thought I was, well, not fully anyway. I'm half human."

"And half what?" Bruce whispered, his mind still reeling.

"Half god."

He stumbled back, collapsing into the object that he had been captured in not just a minute ago, "No, that's – that's not possible. We can't – there's no – we would have known."

Nico shook his head, "We keep ourselves hidden well, but Percy – he's the only one who would have had the luck to be drawn into such situations. Besides, you live with two Norse gods, how can you not believe that they exist on Earth as well?"

Bruce placed his head in his hands, "That's – that's different, I mean, they're from a different planet and universe perhaps but –"

"They can be justified as aliens?"

Bruce nodded mutely.

Nico sighed, "Look, the gods exist on earth too. They exist in the modern world."

"You said you were half god, who – who's –"

"Who's child am I?" Nico asked, Bruce nodding his head, scarcely even daring to breathe, "I'm the son of Hades, god of the underworld."

Bruce laughed, he covered his face with his hands and laughed, his shoulders shaking from the force of his laughter. Nico looked away, closing his eyes, he sincerely hoped that he hadn't broken the scientist.

Bruce choked out, "Greek gods? They're alive?"

Nico nodded, then realized Bruce couldn't see him, and said, "Yes."

Bruce rubbed his eyes, "Okay, okay. Let's just say that I believe you for now, because I really need some time to wrap my head around this whole," he waved his hand around, "thing. What happens now?"

Nico looked at him, "Well, you get to meet a god."

If it wasn't for the fact that he was already in a chair, Bruce would have just collapsed all over again. "What?" he breathed.

"Be glad, you're probably one of the first mortals ever to even meet one."

Bruce nodded, "Right, I'm glad, honored, whatever, I can't think straight now."

Nico gripped his arm and pulled him up, "Come on, best not to keep a god waiting."

Just before they stepped out the door, Nico turned to Bruce and said, "Whatever you do, don't mention anything about Percy being dead to anyone. Do you hear me? That stays between me and you."

"Is he really..."

"Dead?" Nico supplied, giving him a painful smile, "He is. As a son of Hades, I can tell when someone dies, and Percy, being as close as he is, I can sense him. He's definitely gone." He bit his lip and turned away.

Bruce felt his heart clench, he hadn't even had a chance to talk to the demigod before he left and now? Now everything was in shambles. He followed silently after Nico, ignoring the muted whispers that drifted to his ears as he passed by other teenagers – demigods he thought. Soon enough, they came to a stop outside a door at the far end of the base. Nico knocked twice on it, then stepped back and gestured for Bruce to go in.

He did. And his heart nearly stopped at the sight.

The figure with Percy's hair and eyes stared amusedly at him, gesturing for him to sit opposite him. Nico closed the door silently, leaving the god and mortal to themselves. Bruce sat in the chair the god had waved him to, his mind completely blank.

The god leaned back and smirked, introducing himself, "Good evening mortal, I am Triton."

Loki was falling.

He fell once, a lifetime ago, and it was never ending. Not until someone pulled him out of the Void did he stop falling.

Now he was falling again, and he was burning. He felt magic that was not his rip through his mind, tearing away defenses and walls and pushing his memories forward. But these weren't his memories were they?

It couldn't be – He was hanging off the side of the Bifrost, his right arm gripping the end of the golden spear, Thor, his brother, was clinging onto the other end. He was crying, why was he crying? He was screaming his name - "Loki NO!" – he let go – and he fell – it couldn't be his memories, Thor pushed him into the abyss, Thor was the one who threw him down the Void, he didn't let go – he didn't let go of the spear, no Thor let him go, so why, why was it different this time around?

Another one – he fell backwards, his brother screaming his name as he fell into the Void. He knew-he heard that the Void would rip anyone apart, parents telling their children 'be careful now, don't play along the bridge lest you fall into the Void. There are monsters and creatures there that will rip your body to shreds and consume your soul'. He didn't care if those monsters took his soul – all he wanted was peace and quiet. He didn't care what monsters took him, he just wanted to rest – how he regretted that thought.

Regretted it? Why? He was saved from eternal falling and solitude by him, but that cannot be because he hated that creature, he hated that atrocious, cruel, thing – he fell for centuries, millennia, eons, he didn't know. He kept falling and falling and falling and there was just. No. end. He wanted it to stop, he wanted to stop falling, he thought that there were monsters that would claim him, claim his soul, his body, his mind, but there were none, the Void was just that – a void. Nothing lived there, nothing hid there. And he wanted to stop falling. Several centuries later when the screaming had subsided and all that was left was sobbing and incoherent babbling, a hand clamped around his arm and yanked – he was pulled hard, his insides feeling as though they were grinded and shredded – and he was thrown on the ground, landing harshly enough to break bone. But that didn't matter, because he had stopped falling – finally, there was ground somewhere – he saw boots looming in the corner of his vision, and a harsh whispering in his ear was the only indication he had before someone gripped his hair and pulled him up. He came face to face with a purple faced monster with golden orbs burning into his eyes. It's mouth moved but he couldn't hear anything, the sound deafening to his ears after the centuries of silence. He felt when it laughed, and threw him down to the ground, other creatures gripping him all over and dragging him away.

He had found the monsters in the Void. And he wished he hadn't.

He snarled and twisted, these memories were wrong, they weren't his. The purple man helped him, he treated his wounds, made him strong, and he showed him the way out. But why did he feel afraid of that creature? It made no sense to him – they did exactly what the mothers said they would do to their children who misbehaved, they ripped him to shreds but he didn't die, he didn't waste away like he wanted to. No, they tore him apart and they put him back together to destroy him all over again. They chattered and talked and lashed out at him, but he never answered, never replied them, never opened his mouth. Until that purple man came, and ripped into him, and he found his voice – and he screamed and screamed and screamed.

He flinched away, gripping his head, his nails digging into the scalp. "Stop it." He muttered, "Stop it, stop it, stop it, STOP IT!" he screamed. "No more, please, no more!" he screamed and screamed, but the images kept rushing forward, and he was dragged down – he was lying on his side, the sharp rocks digging into his ribs and his legs but he didn't care. He lay there, utterly exhausted and defeated. A pair of boots came into his vision and he flinched, the movement sending pain rocketing through his entire body. A large hand gripped his hair and dragged him upwards, bringing him eye to eye with The Monster. He stared dispassionately into two burning orbs, the monster's voice grating his ears. The whispers trickled into his ears and his mind registered what the monster said. He smiled, a plan forming in his head. They dragged him up and patched him up, enough for him to be functional. The monster gripped his head and a blue flash – painhurtwhatisgoingon – then calm. He opened bright blue eyes, bowing before the creature who had saved him from the void. He accepted the scepter bestowed upon him, instinctively knowing its power. In the back of his mind, the seed grew, he entered the portal and grabbed the first spy he could. He dragged out every bit of information he could, and smiled when he found the huge tower in New York. Perfect, he thought. He brought his men to the huge tower, the name on its side proclaiming its owner's flamboyant nature. He let the man set up the device and opened the portal straight into the heart of New York. He grinned, watching the creatures pour into the city. Perhaps now he would be given his reprieve. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that this city was guarded fiercely by a group of powerful beings. This attack was an outright provocation. Loki smiled through the pain coursing through his body. Perhaps now, he could be finally at rest.

He surfaced with a gasp, his body arching up as phantom pains and touches dragged along his torso. He choked, turning over and heaving, trying to get air into his lungs. Loki felt a gentle touch rubbing soothing circles in his back, and for a moment, he thought that he was on that patch of ice, with Percy as his anchor in his darkness. But reality slammed into him and he choked again when he realized that no, the demigod was gone, he was dead, because of Loki and he was never coming back. He panted heavily, his hands gripping the sheets tightly.

"Don't worry, that's quite normal actually."

He swallowed heavily, flipping himself back up to the bed, feeling exhausted. He looked at the blond haired god opposite him and asked, "What is?"

Apollo smiled, "That whole nausea thing. Its normal."

Loki frowned in confusion, rubbing his head tiredly, "Normal for what?"

Apollo blinked, then comprehension dawned on him, "Ah, right. You didn't know."

Loki gave him a tired glare that told him to quit with the mysterious act and start talking. Apollo grinned, "Haven't changed one bit have you?" he said lightly, but the smile soon dropped off his face, the god becoming serious, "You were still under the influence of the chitauri – no, let me finish. You were under their influence when you attacked New York, which is why my father didn't just blast you into bits with his master bolt. The Hulk managed to loosen their hold on you, but it didn't remove it completely, not like the mortals."

Apollo sighed, "Thanos, the Mad Titan, really dug deep into your mind and held on, old D exhausted himself trying to remove the control."

Loki stared at him, "You mean – all this time I wasn't in control?"

Apollo shook his head, "No, that's not what I meant. He didn't have direct control of you, meaning he couldn't outright tell you what to do like he did in New York. It's more like, residual magic, but it was enough to still mildly influence you in more subtle ways. Like your emotions for example."

Loki hissed, remembering that time when he had woken up and finding himself strangling Percy for no other reason than he had been trapped in a nightmare.

Apollo continued, "It was also intricately woven into your mind, and we needed to be extremely careful or else we would have damaged your mind permanently. Mnemosyne restored your memories to its original state, removing the magic that they used to warp and alter them."

Loki gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, "And my magic?"

Apollo shrugged, "Unbound. Although I think all twelve of us could take you if you went off the deep end." He grinned unabashedly.

Loki leveled him with a deadpan look and shifted, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed, "What now?" he asked, "I remember you, and Hermes, and all my interactions with you Greeks, but I've committed far too much wrongs for anything to be the same anymore."

"You're still our friend you know." A new voice cut in.

Both gods looked up to see Hermes standing in the doorway, the messenger god gave a tired smile and walked towards his brother and his friend. "No matter what you did, you're still our friend."

Apollo grinned, his eyes lighting up – literally – and he pounced on the opportunity, "Oh yes, this calls for a poem! Wait let me think, ah got it!"

Hermes groaned, while Loki raised an eyebrow, haven't been privy to the sun god's poetry in centuries, Apollo grinned and cleared his throat,

"Loki has woken,

The evil titan is gone,

We are friends again."

Loki stared at the sun god, a horrified expression on his face, he turned to Hermes, "When did he learn that?" he asked incredulously.

Hermes shook his head, "He went to Japan."

Apollo pouted, "Hey come on, it was a good one yeah? I can do another one if you like –"

"NO!" The other two gods shouted simultaneously.

Loki rolled his eyes, placing his head in his hands, "I cannot believe you just came up with that. That was horrible, and you are supposed to be the god of poetry!"

Apollo pouted again, "Hey, in my defense, I thought that was a good haiku."

Hermes rolled his eyes, crossing his arms, "You think every haiku is a good haiku."

Loki laughed, a genuine smile stretching across his lips, he hadn't felt this light in ages. It seemed as though his vision had been cleared and a veil lifted from his eyes. It was that feeling that you didn't know that something was wrong until said something as removed. Loki felt his mind clear up, the fogginess he hadn't known was there dispersed. His memories were no longer muddled or warped, and he could finally remember what it was like to have friends, to feel as free as he used to – before the Void.

Hermes and Apollo shared a smile, glad that their friend was on his way back to becoming more like himself. They weren't stupid, they knew that he would have changed, no one went through the Void like he did and came out completely unscathed. But at least they knew that their friend was free from all external influences now.

Hermes grinned, "It's good to have you back, you have no idea how much pranks you've been missing out on."

Loki grinned and to his surprise, he moved forward and drew the messenger god into a hug, remembering the times he used to hang out with his two friends. Hermes was shocked at first but he returned the gesture, and grumbled when Apollo shoved him aside and grabbed Loki with a mere, "Hey you don't get to hog him all to yourself, I haven't seen him in centuries either!"

Loki smiled, but sobered up, "What happens now? What will the council decide to do with me?"

Both brothers looked at each other, but Hermes replied, "Not sure, we'll be discussing the prophecy most likely, it includes you as well after all."

Loki narrowed his eyes, "As well?"

Apollo nodded solemnly, "Yeah, Perce was supposed to be in it too. But then..."

Loki turned away, guilt welling up within him. He hadn't forgotten his failure, but he was snatched out of his thoughts when Hermes placed a hand on his shoulder, "Come on, our dearest father is calling. We should go before he decides to fry our asses."

Loki smiled thinly, and followed them down the golden hallway, anxiety building up within him.

In a way reminiscence of old times, the three of them walked down the hallway side by side, the corridor more than wide enough for the three gods to walk in a horizontal line with space to spare. Loki walked in the middle, caught up in his own thoughts, with Hermes on his left and Apollo on his right. He realized that he had been in Apollo's temple-slash-house-slash-place he slept in, which was quite far away from the throne room. the reasoning being that it was also an infirmary of sorts, and Apollo didn't want his patients to be disturbed by the hustle and bustle in the heart of Olympus.

They walked past the garden, and Loki stopped short, turning from the path and walking towards a marble statue that had caught his eye. Looking to both sides, he realized that there were rows and rows of statues with plaques stating their name, but he continued until he reached the very last statue. Tilting his head up, he took in the sight of a life-sized marble statue of Percy Jackson. The look on the boy's face was fierce, his infamous glare captured perfectly on the marble, his body angle in such a way that his sword was placed in an offensive motion, ready to cut down any enemies.

"He didn't want a statue, but we gave him one anyway." Hermes said, looking up at the demigod that was his friend and who had done so much for him.

"Why?"

"Because he's Percy Jackson. And he didn't want any of the glory that we gave to him after the Giant War." Apollo said simply, as though that was reason enough. "He said that he'd rather dedicate statues of the fallen demigods who were the true heroes than claim the glory for himself." The sun god gestured to the rows of statues behind them, "That's why those are there, it's to remember the demigods who fought and sacrificed their lives for us."

Hermes smiled, tugging on Loki's arm, "Come on, my father is gonna blow a gasket if we keep him waiting too long."

They exited the garden with one last glance at the fallen hero, and quickly crossed the courtyard, heading for the throne room.

When they reached the gigantic double doors, Loki felt his anxiety return three-fold, the thought of meeting the council – again – bringing his fears back. Apollo grinned and patted his arm, then the double doors opened, and the two gods went to their respective thrones, leaving Loki alone in the middle of the room.

The god of mischief retraced his steps and bowed before the king of the gods, who gestured for him to rise. "Loki Odinson," the god boomed, his voice echoing around the room, "We have brought you here for a reason, one that we could not allow the enemy to get the slightest wind of, not even through you."

Loki kept his head bowed, whispering, "What am I here for?"

Zeus looked to Apollo, who sighed and leaned back, his eyes glowing with power as he recited the prophecy again.

"The world on his shoulders,

the hero shall falter and fall.

Existence in smoulder,

until he rises once more.

The trickster and ocean

shall overcome all odds.

The reign of the titan

fall by flames in due course."

When he finished, the glow receded and he slumped in his throne, rubbing his head tiredly. Loki's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything, waiting for Zeus to continue. The king of the gods looked at the trickster sternly, "The prophecy as you have heard, includes you as well."

Athena took over, "We weren't sure if the trickster was referring to you at first, because as we all know, Hermes and Apollo fit the bill almost too perfectly." She promptly ignored her brothers' outraged cries and continued, making Loki hide a smile, "But the prophecy was issued after you came to Earth, and out of all possible candidates, you are the only one who has the title of the Trickster."

Loki frowned, "Then this prophecy, it is about – about the Mad Titan?"

Poseidon nodded solemnly, "Evidently. We have checked, and there are no signs of our own enemies that would fit this prophecy. Even if almost all our enemies would fit the title of a titan."

"Of course," Zeus cut in, "It could be that this prophecy would not come to pass for a long time yet but –"

"The second line has already come to pass." Loki finished, looking at each of the fourteen Olympians, who all had solemn looks.

Zeus, slightly annoyed that he was interrupted but otherwise unaffected, nodded sagely, he sighed, "Perseus Jackson is indeed dead, and in a way, he has fallen."

Loki cocked his head to one side, folding his arms, "But what about the fourth line? It says 'until he rises once more' does it not?" he looked at Poseidon, "It can only be referring to Percy, which means that there is a way to bring him back."

Hades shook his head, "Even if I could, it is one thing to raise the dead, and not in the way my son commands his army. Perseus died, his soul was severed from his body, it would have taken many spells and a huge amount of energy to even restore his soul to his body, not even taking into account restoring his memories and his personality."

The rest of the gods nodded, but Loki narrowed his eyes at the god of the underworld, "Wait," he said, interrupting Zeus, "What do you mean, even if you could? Why can you not retrieve his soul? I could perform the ritual, Asgard is open now, a two way road and I have access to numerous forbidden spells within my scrolls."

Hades shook his head, "Simple, we need his soul, and I do not have it."

If he was mortal, Loki would have felt his jaw drop open at the revelation. As it was, he settled for a look of surprised on his face. "What?" he demanded, "That is not possible. He died, I saw it – I was there! There is no way his soul could be missing –"

"But the fact remains that it is and we don't know how the prophecy is going to be fulfilled." Athena cut in, her cold voice betrayed only by the slight tendril of worry in her steely gray eyes.

Loki whirled around, "This is Midgard, this is your domain!" he said harshly, but Hades wasn't affected, "He died on this realm, he should have gone to your realm!"

"Maybe the prophecy will be fulfilled in another way?" Apollo suggested. When all eyes turned to him, he shrugged, though his posture was tense, "I mean, who said that we had to be the ones to get him back? Maybe someone else will?"

"No." Zeus said, "That is leaving too much to chance, there are others who would seize this opportunity to turn the hero against us – Poseidon, don't glare at me like that – and we cannot take that chance. We need to be the ones to revive him, we can assure his loyalty – I said stop glaring at me brother! We would give him back his proper memories!"

Loki glared at the floor, letting the Greeks' conversation wash over him as he frantically thought. He had thought that Percy was gone for good, but now that he knew better, he was furiously thinking of ways he could help. But what? He thought, the spells I know are kept in Asgard, and while I could easily make the trip there now that it is open... No, I still need to locate his soul – a locating spell perhaps? I could try keying it to Percy's signature – but that would mean that I need to figure out his own magical signature...

Loki perked up when he felt someone staring at him, and he raised his eyes, meeting the warm, fiery ones of Hestia, who smiled gently at him. You are thinking too much ahead young one, sometimes the answers to our problems lie right in front of us.

Loki frowned in confusion, right in front of us...? As much as he didn't want to, he forced himself to run through his memories of the event, reliving the pain he felt at seeing the light in Percy's eyes dim. He forced himself to go through everything that happened that fateful day, no matter how painful it was for him. He owed that much to Percy. What was wrong? The Other had trapped him, the chitauri binding him so he couldn't move, the Other chanting along with Amora, Percy's frightened eyes locked with his own terrified ones, Amora's shout as her dagger came down – Loki wrenched himself out of the memories, the council still debating heatedly amongst themselves. He placed a hand against his head, thinking furiously. There was nothing that clued him in to how to get Percy back, nothing in his memory except the pain of seeing Amora kill Percy on that stupid stone slab –

He paused, his eyes widening, Amora killing Percy.

Amora, using her dagger to end Percy's life.

Amora, an Asgardian, using her dagger to take his life.

Loki dragged his hand down his face, no, it cannot be – but it made perfect sense. He was murdered, by Amora, an Asgardian. He did not die in battle against her. Unbidden, a memory floated to the forefront of his mind, a conversation he had with Percy on the Pacific Ocean so many months ago when he opened up to the boy.

Loki swallowed, "Hel, or Hela, the Queen of the dead. She rules over their souls, and she does not allow any to escape her realm."

Percy cocked his head to one side, "Not at all?"

Loki looked away, "Unless you have her in your debt, then there may be a chance that you could ask for a soul in return."

Percy grinned cheekily, "So I suppose it would be too much of a coincidence if a certain god just happened to have the queen of the dead owe him a debt yes?"

Loki nodded sagely, "That would be what do you mortals say, one hell of a coincidence?"

Loki exhaled sharply, he knew what to do. He looked at Hestia, thanking her silently. She smiled and dipped her head in response. He looked up, whistling loudly to get the attention of the council.

"What is it?" Zeus demanded.

Loki stared back confidently at him, "I know how to get Perseus back."