Loki felt his power swirling around him, then a harsh tugging sensation in his navel as the spell activated. He hadn't realized that the Norn's meadow was warm and comfortable until cold, biting wind whipped in his face. Putting a hand up to shield his face, he opened his eyes, a bleak landscape greeting him – dead trees dotting the ground randomly, no life around him at all. He saw movement out of the corner of his eyes and he turned, his staff in front of him protectively, but the thing was gone. He breathed in and out lightly, lowering his staff, but not his defenses. He spun around slowly, spying a huge structure looming in the distance.

The god bit his lip, he hadn't seen Hela in several centuries, and certainly not because he wanted to take a soul out of her realm. The natural magic that protected the realm prevented him from appearing in the palace directly, hence he had arrived at the outskirts of Helheim, somewhere in Niflheim. Soft whispering drifted to his ears, and he spun around, catching flashes of translucent bodies. Lowering his weapon, he realized that these were the souls of the dead. He couldn't see them outright when he was looking directly at them, but he could make out their forms if he glanced at them from the side of his eyes.

He grimaced, hoping that Percy's soul wouldn't be like that, it would be too much trouble and communication would be next to impossible. Loki sighed, everything was easier when he had gone down the dark path, things were more straightforward then and he didn't need to worry about silly things like morals and ethics. He shook his head resolutely, no, he thought, fixing his gaze on the looming structure in the distance, I am not that person any longer, I am Loki Silvertongue, I make my own path.

He ground his teeth together and set off for his daughter's castle, keeping an eye out for the horrors of the realm, the distant howls of wolves and the low moans of creatures that crawled around him. Were he any mortal, he would have freaked out or fallen into the traps of Niflheim. As it was, he was not only a god, he was Loki, and he knew better than to pay the creatures of the realm any more attention than was needed.

Though that was easier said than done.

Loki closed his eyes for the umpteenth time, gritting his teeth as he tried to block out the screams of his children echoing around him. He trudged forward, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the next, his hand clenching tightly onto his staff, the knuckles on his hand turning white with the force of his grip.

This isn't real. This isn't real. This isn't real. He chanted over and over again in his head, repeating the mantra in his head. This is not real. This is not – he flinched when he heard his son scream his name, his eyes snapping open. He jerked forward, only to pull back when he remembered that Jormungand had sent him to Atlantis to meet Poseidon. Jormungand, who was alive and whole and definitely not here amongst the dead. He breathed in deeply, ignoring the sharp bite of the cold air in his throat. Atlantis, Poseidon, Percy. He gritted his teeth and walked forward, the castle in the distance never seeming to get closer. The cries of Fenrir nearly sent him to his knees, his mind replaying memories of the way his son howled and cried for him, while he could only stare in horror as his father and his brother watched the soldiers lock him up dispassionately, his own lips sewn shut to prevent his protests.

He trudged on, tears springing to his eyes as Narfi and Vali screamed his name, Narfi's plea to save him breaking his heart as he was torn apart by his brother.

Sigyn's innocent question of 'Who are you?' shattered his heart, as he remembered the way they wiped her memory, the Vanir taking her back with them, away from him.

He saw little Hela staring at him sadly, her head tilted to one side, exposing her rotting flesh as she asked, "Why did you abandon me?"

It was too much for him, and Loki dropped to his knees, inches before the illusion of his daughter, "I am sorry." He whispered, a hand reaching out to her, "I failed you, I failed all of you."

He bowed his head in grief, his heart mourning the loss of his children. He felt the fog press against his mind, and he struggled to lift himself out of the spell that had enraptured him. He felt another's magic surround him, driving away the sick magic that had captured him. He felt the physical touch of another person and soon enough, the fog dispelled. Distantly, he could hear a screech, but a soft voice cut through the lifting fog, the tone gentle and consistent. Loki remained half sitting on the ground, waiting until the pressure on his mind lifted. He blinked several times, looking around, realizing that he was in his daughter's castle.

Or more precisely, in his daughter's arms.

Loki coughed delicately and rose, his eyes meeting his daughter's.

"Hela." He said simply.

The queen of the realm tilted her head, holding herself regally, "Father." She fixed her onyx eyes on him, saying, "I apologise for the hospitality, I wasn't aware that I would be receiving visitors today."

Loki sighed at the bitterness in his daughter's voice despite the fact that she had clearly saved him. Centuries of never having visited his daughter save the handful of times he had snuck to her realm without Odin or Heimdall realizing would do that to a person. "Hela –" he tried again, but she cut him off.

"What are you here for father? Really?"

Loki held his staff loosely, the tip of the staff angling downwards in a non-threatening manner. He held his head up proudly, knowing that dealing with Hela required a different touch as compared to dealing with Jormungand. Seeing two of his children in as many days, it had to be a record. "I have come to collect my favor."

Hela smirked, her father's mischievousness and trickery reflected on her face. she sauntered over to her throne, an obsidian material that seemed to suck out any light that shone on it. "Collecting a favor so quickly already father?" she smiled, "It's only been a few decades."

Loki stared expressionlessly at her, unfazed by her attitude, "This is of utmost importance. I am requesting the favor you so graciously allowed me to call."

Hela narrowed her eyes, "What do you want?"

Loki tilted his head, "A soul." He said evenly.

The queen snarled and sent out a pulse of darkness which Loki blocked easily, though he made no move to attack, knowing how sensitive this was to her. He would have to tread lightly on this topic, but he wasn't called a master manipulator for no reason.

In the dimness of the throne room, with half of her body dead and half alive, Hela looked terrifying. Her onyx eyes glowed with hellfire and her jet black hair curled around her like a coiling snake. Power rippled in the air around her, and she hissed, "A soul. You want a soul? That is forbidden!"

Loki, the lone color in a monochrome room stood his ground, was not afraid of the visage before him which sent the queen's subjects scampering for cover. "The deal was that you would owe me a favor, one that held no restrictions whatsoever, would you risk spurning a favor?" He retorted calmly, his green eyes level with her onyx one.

Hela bared her teeth, "A soul is within my domain, it is my right to withhold it. You know that I cannot release one."

Loki smiled, negotiations were proceeding smoothly it seemed, "If you wish to use technicalities, then I suppose you would have no claim over this particular soul. After all, he belongs to Midgard, and to Hades."

She whirled around and pinned him with a furious stare. "What?" she hissed, grinning slightly, "You, Loki Liesmith, would use a favor with the Queen of Hel to retrieve a mortal's soul?" she barked a laugh, "How the Norns work in mysterious ways!"

Loki pressed his lips together, but refused to rise to the bait, he was not doing this for himself, "Not just any mortal," he said, "I am looking for the soul of Perseus Jackson."

Hela stopped short, blinking rapidly. "The hero?" she said, her face betraying her confusion, "What business do you have with him?"

"Business that are none of your concern."

Hela laughed, her anger settling slightly as she strode back to her throne, lounging on it like a cat. "So we are playing this game now are we father?" she smiled sharply, "You know that I cannot simply release a soul to you. Not even for a favor."

Loki felt his lips curl up, success was just around the corner, "You wouldn't need to release one, merely...allow me to retrieve him."

Hela looked at her father, who met her stare shrewdly. She smirked, "I see why they call you the Wordsmith." She murmured. "I have several conditions."

Loki shrugged, a grin tugging at his lips, "I figured that you would."

"You cannot forcibly take him out of my realm, you must convince him to leave with you. He must agree of his own free will. Also," she smirked, "You cannot tell him who you are, or who he was. He must discover who he is on his own, and he must trust you enough to follow you, even if he doesn't know you."

Loki remained silent as his daughter laid down her conditions, but his jaw clenched when Hela said that he could not tell Percy who he was, it meant that Percy didn't remember him, and that made his heart sink. Staring into his daughter's triumphant onyx eyes, Loki knew that his decision had been made. She expected him to refuse, to back down with a random excuse like he had done so before. She wanted to be proven right, that her father would not give up a hard-earned favor with the goddess of the dead for the sake a one mortal. Loki smiled, he was not that person any longer, and Percy was worth giving up the world for, "Very well, I accept your conditions. When do we start?"

He watched as she started in surprise, her eyes growing wide in shock. "You –"

Loki took a page out of Phil Coulson's book and smiled genially, raising an eyebrow, "Yes?"

Hela bit her lip and composed herself, "You will rest here tonight, you will need your strength to be able to survive in Niflheim."

Loki nodded, and Hela waved for a servant – a half visible wraith – to show him to his quarters for the night. Loki gave his daughter one last smug grin before the door closed behind him.

Steve was greeted by the sight of Tony sitting at the table, hunched over and concentrated on his Starkpad. He looked around, slightly surprised that Tony was even present in the living room since the genius usually chose to hide himself in his lab, tinkering away his sleep. Not looking up, Tony held out a packet of berries, the same brand as the one he ate on the Helicarrier three years ago during Loki's invasion, "Berries?"

Steve walked over, picking the packet from him, chewing on some berries. "Where's Nat, Clint and Phil?"

Tony shrugged, still not looking up, "They left." Feeling Steve's sharp glance at him, he continued, "That's what J said anyway. Sometime last night I think. Not sure where they were going, they didn't say. Probably one of the safe houses Tasha was talking about. Not that I know where they're located... Just a hunch."

Steve sighed and plopped down on the couch beside Tony, filling his stomach with berries. Truthfully, he wasn't all that surprised that the three SHIELD agents had left. As much as they were a good team, old habits were hard to break, and they fell back on their own training, trusting only their partners to cover their back. Steve would have been more surprised if they hadn't left.

"What are you doing?"

Tony shifted slightly, allowing him to see what he had been looking through on his Starkpad. "What do you see?"

Steve frowned, not sure about what Tony was asking. Headlines and news report decorated the screen, along with random bits of celebrity news. "I don't get it, it's just news, what's so special about it?"

Tony snapped his fingers, "Exactly!" He crowed, "I thought it was odd at first but this is news from the rest of the world. Asia, china, Australia, even Russia!"

"What's your point?" Steve asked, not really understanding what Tony was talking about.

Tony rolled his eyes exasperatedly, "I didn't realize it at first. But J pointed out that it was weird for there to still be fresh news online. I mean, don't you see? If the rest of the countries are reporting their news like nothing has happened, then either this is one mega huge cover up or –"

Realization dawned, "Or the chitauri are only in America." Steve finished, his eyes growing wide.

Tony nodded excitedly, bouncing in his seat, "I don't know how, but they're not getting out of America. I thought I would wake up to a dead world but it seems that someone, or something is centralizing this."

Steve looked at his friend warily, the genius' excitement raising suspicion in him, "What do you want to do about this?"

Tony grinned, "Thought you'd never ask captain. We have to find it. Him. Her. I don't know, I'm not sexist."

Steve looked at him in alarm, "Find it? How do you even know it's an it? Or for that matter, how do you even know that whatever – whoever is doing this isn't doing it for their own purpose?"

Tony frowned heavily, "Why not? I mean, clearly, there's someone behind all of this! There's no way the chitauri would lock themselves in America, not if their goal was to cause worldwide destruction and death and there's no way that this is a natural occurrence!"

The genius made a move to leave, and Steve reached out and snagged Tony's arm, pulling him backwards, "Tony listen to yourself!" the captain pleaded, "You're talking about heading out there to find something or someone that may not even be on our side!"

Tony frowned, "How do you know that person isn't on our side?"

"How do you know it is?" Steve countered. He sighed and let go of Tony's wrist, running a hand through his hair, "You're not making sense Tony. You're acting impulsively, you want to find this – this thing or person without getting JARVIS to find out who it is that's doing all this?"

Tony blinked several times, then looked down, his eyes wide, "I – I – you're right. I don't know what – shit." He hissed, "Fuck, I'm sorry, I don't know what the hell that was, I just felt that we had to go to the Empire State and –"

"Wait." Steve interrupted, "What was that about the Empire State Building?"

Tony licked his lips, "I – there was some voice in my head, well, not really voice per se," he hastily amended, seeing Steve's alarmed face, "It's more like a nudge, like a feeling that I need to be at the Empire State Building. You know what I mean?"

Steve scrutinized his friend, but there were no hints of any blue in his friend's hazel eyes. He opened his mouth to reply, but JARVIS cut him off. "Sir, I am receiving an incoming call, should I answer it?"

The two remaining avengers looked at each other, before Steve nodded, and Tony instructed JARVIS to patch the call through. They stood there, waiting in silence when –

"Tony? Are you there?"

Tony jumped up at the sound that came over his house's intercom system, "Bruce?" he exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Brucie boy, is that you?"

Steve could almost see the grimace on Bruce's face, and it resonated in the scientists' voice, "I thought I told you to stop calling me that Tony." Bruce sighed.

Tony grinned and shrugged, even though he knew Bruce couldn't see it. "Well you disappeared on us," he said accusingly, "So I'm allowed to call you whatever I want."

Steve shook his head and cut in, aware that the two of them could spend hours bantering back and forth, which would get them nowhere. "Bruce, where are you? How did you manage to get into contact with us?"

"Well... you wouldn't believe me if I told you. As for contact, it was easy enough to calibrate a communication device according to the –"

"English Bruce." Steve sighed, "English."

"Right, sorry, anyway, I – uh, I have some people with me – don't worry! They're on our side! Just – they saved me from the chitauri and they helped me to get in contact with you."

Tony frowned, "But how? I mean, I know I gave you the code to get in touch with JARVIS, but to do that, you have to recalibrate communications devices, especially if you're using a laptop, which would be possible, but I don't see how you could do it without the resources from the lab or your own communicator – which I know is not with you because the green jolly didn't have one."

Bruce chuckled nervously, making Steve tense, "Well... I did have some help. Um, I don't really know how to explain this over the phone..."

"Where are you Bruce? We'll meet up with you as soon as possible." Steve said, injecting his authority into his voice.

"Well," Bruce paused here, muffled sounds in the background as he conversed with someone else. Steve and Tony shared looks of puzzlement but resolved to ask their friend later. "Right, uh, we'll meet you at the Empire State Building."

Tony jerked in shock, while Steve quickly regained his composure after throwing Tony a shocked look, "Why there? Isn't it too conspicuous for a meeting place? And who's 'we'?"

"Um, it's near where I am now, and it's easier to bring you guys there rather than lead you around New York on a wild goose chase. As for the company, well, he's trustworthy, and he says that he's met you guys before."

Steve grimaced, not liking the idea of not knowing who Bruce was with, but he knew the scientist had quite a good judge of character, and resolved to let the matter be for now. They needed all the allies they could get. He sighed, he wished that things weren't so complicated. "Fine, we'll meet you at the Empire State Building. If we leave by three in the afternoon, we should get there at about ten in the morning the day after*."

"Right..." Bruce said, slightly distracted, "Today is a Tuesday so you should reach by the morning of Thursday?"

Tony nodded, "Maybe earlier, I know I won't be driving at 70mph."

Steve sighed again, "We'll see you there Bruce, and you'll explain everything."

Bruce smiled, "See you on Thursday guys."

He ran across dead plains and trees, the cold wind whipping against his cheek – but he didn't feel the pain. He sprinted for hours, days, months, he didn't know, all he knew was the distance he crossed, the howls behind him, and the long stretch of dead ash spreading out in front of him.

He no longer feared the wolves, no, when he felt the warm blood of the beast coat his hands he lost his fear, knowing that they could be killed, that he could hurt them. But even as triumphant as he was, his instincts told him to run. A deep buried logic telling him that it was impossible to outfight a pack. He knew that the wolves were angry, he had killed so many of their own, but their numbers replenished as quickly as their anger.

His body bore the scars of their attacks, of his victories, long jagged claw marks stretching across his back where the wolf had dragged it's paw against him. A grotesque bite mark at the joint between his shoulder and neck, the first wolf to land a hit on him. More scars down his thigh, where one of those creatures had caught him in a lucky strike.

But the most gruesome of all was the thick white scar across his throat. It was that one attack which had nearly claimed him – he didn't know if he could say death because, wasn't he already dead? He didn't know, nor did he remember. The creature – not a wolf, some half visible half invisible creature – had come out of nowhere and attacked, its half covered face visible one moment and gone the next, like a wraith. It took advantage of his distraction, being given a reprieve from the wolves and attacked, catching him off guard. He held his own, but being unfamiliar with the creature's attack style and caught unaware, he was overpowered by the flickering being, and the creature had drawn a blade against his throat.

He had felt panic set in at the feeling of a sharp burn across his throat then, momentarily giving him the strength to banish the creature before he fell to the ground, his hands clutching desperately at his throat while he choked on his own blood. He fell upon his back, his back arching and body jerking as blood poured out of the gaping wound. The last thing he knew was the silence in his ears as the world went dark, yellow orbs burning themselves in his mind.

It surprised him when he opened his eyes and took a breath, the sense of déjà vu overcoming him. He blinked rapidly for several minutes (?), a hand hesitantly reaching up to his throat. He felt the raised flesh of a scar, the area slightly colder than the skin around it, and traced the wound from one end of his neck to another. He would have done more if he hadn't heard the distant howls again, and he picked himself up, traces of all wounds gone save for the scars.

This time, he knew that the wolves were gaining on him. Risking a look backwards, he ran for his life – ironic, since he couldn't die – knowing instinctively that he wouldn't be able to outrun them unless he found a way to lose them. His innate senses – the same ones that tingled every time he formed a blade made out of ice in his hands – screamed at him, and he reached out with his senses, sensing the presence of a huge body of water ahead of him. Eyes widening at the big break, he pushed his legs to the limit, sprinting across the ashy plain with a single goal in mind.

He felt more than saw the dark stretch of water before him, the depths an inky black, giving off a sinister sensation. He stopped before the water's edge, hesitant in crossing this water – it was wrong, water wasn't meant to look like that – yet he had no choice, the wolves behind him slowly closing in. he turned back and locked eyes with malicious yellow ones, his decision made for him. Taking a deep – unnecessary – breath, he plunged into the icy depths of the water.

He resurfaced in the middle of the river – pond? Lake? – just in time to see the wolves screech comically to a halt at the water's edge, yelping angrily but not daring to go anywhere near the sinister river. He grinned in triumph and swam towards the opposite shore, the alpha wolf growling loudly at him. He heaved himself out of the river, feeling the water drip down his body like oil sliding off his body. He shook himself in disgust, wishing that he could get rid of the water and be dry. Almost immediately after that thought formed in his head, the water on his body vanished, leaving him dry as a bone, even though he had just taken an icy plunge into a huge expanse of water.

He turned to look at the wolves again, blinking in surprise when he saw no trace of them. He frowned, turning back, feeling the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He fell into a crouch, a dagger forming in his hand instinctively, searching the area for any foes.

He got his answer when a rotting face appeared before his, the creature's eyes rolling about in its face as the meat of its cheek hung uselessly off its face. he drew in a sharp breath, realizing that he had traded one horror for another.