Asgard is even grander than Phil imagined.

When Thor had brought his father's invitation to them, he had been so full of joy that Phil had been halfway certain the god might combust on the spot. Of course, Fury was very quick to graciously accept; while he himself could not leave Earth unguarded—which Odin was very understanding of—he was happy to send Phil and The Avengers in his stead.

The banquet had been marvelous. Odin and Frigga were splendid hosts. Phil recognized Lady Sif and The Warriors Three and greeted them with a degree more familiarity than the rest of the team, who went through a round of introductions. The discussion was lively and joyous, although Steve may have laughed a little too hard when Fandral tugged on his goatee while looking to Phil and commented on Midgard's strange way of "producing such mighty warriors in such tiny packages."

Things had taken a turn for the interesting when Odin chose to engage Steve in conversation about his role as Captain of the Americas and how he'd chosen a "fine mate" with which to rule them. Then it had been Tony's turn to laugh and Steve's turn to blush as he tried to explain that he didn't actually rule America.

Now, though, Phil wanders the seemingly endless halls of the palace with Steve beside him. Their discussion is quiet, their fingers intertwined as they hold hands.

"Hard to believe that this'll all be Thor's someday," Steve hums, his eyes wandering from the floor to the ceiling and everywhere in-between.

"It is, isn't it?" Phil agrees. "When he's with us, it's easy to forget that he's a prince."

"You said he changed a lot, though," Steve says.

"Not a lot, exactly, but he did change in the short space of time he was first on Earth," Phil responds. "People like Jane Foster and Doctor Selvig and even Darcy Lewis—perhaps especially Darcy Lewis—changed him."

Steve nods. "I think he'll make a great ruler someday. I can't quite picture The Avengers without him, though."

Phil chuckles. "I have a feeling we'll all be long gone before that happens."

It gets Phil wondering, though. This whole trip does. While Steve is busy taking in the scenery, Phil is busy thinking. Thor will outlive them all, there's no question of that, but how long will he be around to call himself an Avenger? Midgard would always be under the god's protection, even when he assumed the throne, of that Phil is certain. Thor loves Earth and all its inhabitants; he won't abandon them for anything.

What of the Avengers in general? Their ages aside, it's a dangerous profession. Long life isn't exactly in the job description. Assuming Steve doesn't kill himself doing something stupid and heroic, as he is wont to do, he'll live a lot longer than the rest of them. It isn't the first time Phil's contemplated the matter. He wonders if Steve has given it much thought.

Suddenly, Steve has halted in his tracks, his grip on Phil's hand growing vice-like. Phil is surprised when the blonde pulls him close, his whole body radiating tension. And then the agent sees why.

Standing thirty feet away, bound in shackles, is Loki. The god's mouth is muzzled much like it was when he was taken away by Thor following the Chitauri attack; Phil's read the reports. Raising his hands in a gesture that looks more like a shrug, Loki rolls his eyes at Steve's actions.

"Is this the punishment Asgard saw fit to deal to you?" Steve growls.

Loki tips his head in a nod.

"Not punishment enough, in my opinion," Steve says, his jaw set.

"For anyone else, perhaps not. But for a Liesmith, I imagine it's quite terrible," Phil says.

Loki makes a small, dismissive motion with his hand and turns to leave.

"Dr. Banner and Mr. Stark say you aided them in finding a way to reverse the spell placed on me," Phil calls out.

That stops Loki. He looks back curiously at them. Phil can feel Steve's eyes on him, asking him what he thinks he's doing. Phil knows very well what he's doing. He motions to the table at the nearby balcony.

"Would you sit with us?"

Steve hurriedly steers him away, shielding him from Loki's eyes with his large frame as he lays hands on the agent's shoulders. Phil can see Steve is confused—angry, confused and deeply concerned.

"Are you out of your mind?" Steve hisses. "I don't want him anywhere near you!"

"I'd like to speak with him," Phil counters.

"For heaven's sake, why?" Steve demands.

"We had a brief conversation that day on the Helicarrier. I was… a bit rude and cut him off. I'd like to be able to finish that conversation," Phil says.

Steve doesn't look convinced. Phil switches tactics. He reaches up and grasps the man's forearms, feels the muscles twitch beneath his fingers as their eyes lock. He knows it's difficult for Steve to do this, to trust him. He knows, as much as the Captain might protest it, that Steve is afraid. Phil is afraid, too. But not enough to back down.

"I need you to trust me," Phil says insistently.

"I can't. Not this time. Not with him," Steve answers, looking pained.

"Steve. Trust me," Phil says, squeezing the man's forearms. "I just need a few minutes and he won't be able to do anything with you watching, all right?"

"What he did to you—"

"He can't do it again. Look at him."

Steve looks guilty. "…I don't know if I can trust myself not to do anything to him."

"I trust you," Phil says outright.

Steve sighs, his shoulder slumping in defeat. "Okay. But if I even think he might pull anything, I'm taking you and leaving, no questions asked."

"Deal," Phil replies.

Loki is still lingering, watching them with a raised eyebrow. He slowly follows as Phil gestures to the table. Phil sits with Steve on one side and Loki sits on the other side. He places an ancient looking tome on the table and opens it. Steve tenses beside him until they see that the pages are blank. Loki brushes long, graceful fingers across the page. Words form in their wake, appearing in a curling, elegant script.

What do you wish to speak of, Son of Coul?

Phil regards the book thoughtfully before looking back to Loki.

"This is how you have to communicate?" he asks.

These shackles suppress my magic; including my shapeshifting abilities. As you said, I am a talented Liesmith. Allowing me to speak would be beyond foolish. Even affording me this simple means of communication is foolish, although I am not one to question them if they choose to be so.

"I see," Phil hums. "Well, I'd like to thank you for your part in reversing that spell. I can tell you it's very much appreciated."

Loki studies him carefully. Phil can see the god look between him and Steve carefully before he passes a hand over the page again.

You are a curious mortal, Son of Coul.

"He certainly is," Steve says with a sigh and a shake of his head.

You disapprove of this meeting, Captain?

"I don't think 'disapprove' really even begins to cover it," Steve says flatly.

Then you're a wiser man than your counterpart.

Phil sees Steve bristle at the comment from the corner of his eye and slides a hand across the marble bench until his fingers encounter the Captain's clenched fist. He covers it with his hand, squeezing gently, reassuringly, until the man calms himself to lay his hand flat. He feels Steve's hand turn palm up until it's holding his, squeezing right back. He looks to Loki.

"I can't exactly argue with that," Phil proclaims. He regards the god thoughtfully. "Sometimes I find myself wishing we could have talked a bit more. Although I did only have a limited window of time to begin with."

You said I lacked conviction.

"I stand by that," Phil answers.

What made you so certain? What made you believe that a group of bickering children could possess any more conviction than I did?

"Because they say the best way to fight fire is with fire. So I sent children to deal with a child," Phil says calmly. He presses on before Loki has the chance to counter. "When speaking with Thor, I thought that your attack on Earth was motivated by revenge. Then I thought it was motivated by jealousy. And then I didn't know what you were motivated by. And I realized, neither did you."

I was motivated by my right to rule. I wouldn't expect a mere ant to understand such a notion.

"Yet you hesitated. You felt the need to explain yourself to this ant," Phil argues.

He's unsurprised when Loki hesitates to answer. Again.

"You were lied to. There is no excuse for that. But I firmly believe that we are what we choose to be," Phil says. He watches Loki glare back at him, knowing he's about to say something that could end very badly. "When we're vulnerable, weak or indecisive, we're… malleable. We can be shaped. More-so, we can be shaped to suit others' needs. What I want to know is… who shaped you?"

Loki pulls a finger quickly across the page, his eyes alight with something more than anger.

What is your game?

Phil chooses his words carefully. "Thor speaks of you fondly. He speaks of the good man his brother once was. He speaks in a way that makes me sure that Thor fully believes that good man still exists somewhere. I've plotted to a certain point on the metaphorical timeline… what I need from you is a name."

I am who I choose to be!

"You choose to be a pawn?"

Phil instantly knows he's gone too far. He's certain that, were it not for his shackles, Loki would be treating him to a fate much worse than a simple spear through the back. When the god rises abruptly, he forgets that for a moment, even as Steve rises in his defense. With his green eyes ablaze with fury, Loki looks for a moment to be the monster he thinks of himself as. In that split second, Phil is lost in the memory of their last confrontation. He does his best to school his features, but he knows he's lost; Loki has seen the fear in his eyes.

And then the god departs, taking the small victory. Phil is reminded again of their confrontation and of how Loki needed to leave feeling as though he'd won. Perhaps, this time, he had.

"Come on, let's get back to the others," Steve says, holding his hand out to Phil.

Phil wets his suddenly very dry lips. "I'd prefer if we stayed. Just for a minute."

Steve frowns but doesn't argue and resumes his seat. Phil's grateful for that; he doesn't trust his shaking legs to stand at the moment. He stares at the surface of the table, lost in thought, and fails to notice the soldier's hand come to rest on his shoulder.

"Phil," Steve says quietly.

He knows Steve can feel him shaking.

"It's fine," Phil hears himself say.

"Tell me what you need," Steve all-but whispers.

Phil needs to talk.

"There's something not right. I knew on the Helicarrier. But I don't know who's behind it," he says. "Loki is a petulant child, prone to lies and mischief. But I believe Thor. There's too much evidence to suggest there's someone pulling his strings."

"We've all thought the same, that something big would be coming," Steve answers. "But so far we haven't gotten any hint at what that might be."

"I think Loki is the key," Phil says. He turns his head, looking out over the kingdom. "It's hardly any wonder, that he feels betrayed. I can't imagine it's easy, coming to find that he was never meant to be his brother's equal. That this kingdom was never meant for him. Fathers are strange things, Steve. I believe that Odin loves Loki as sure as any father loved their son… but it doesn't change the fact that something in that relationship was wrong from the start."

Steve's arm is wraps around him, his warmth and strength offering a familiarity that Phil clings to. He's not ready to talk about how he feels about death. He fears it, like any mortal being does, but in a way that's different from before. He's died—three times, while they struggled to keep him alive—and he doesn't want to go back. Not so soon, not after he struggled to remain. Not after everything he's gained. Not while he's still needed.

"You know, when you said we are what we choose to be," Steve says, interrupting his thoughts, "I think we also choose our kingdoms."

"I think," Phil answers, "that you may be right."

"It's a shame Loki can't see that."

"It is."

He feels Steve's chin rest on his shoulder. The soldier speaks quietly to him, just above a whisper.

"Do you want to know what my kingdom is?"

"What?"

Phil's struck dumb by how blue Steve's eyes are as the soldier lays a hand flat against the left side of his chest.

"This. I'm happy ruling this," Steve tells him.

The words are soft and honest in a way that dispels any lingering sense of fear. He can't possibly be fearful when this wonderful, miraculous man is looking at him with such unspoken love in his eyes.

"I'm starting to think that might be what it was made for."