- Chapter 1 -

The large conference room was brightly lit. The sharp white light glinted off the dull grey steel of the surrounding walls. The lights set into the ceiling were the only illumination in the windowless room. Two armed men in dark blue fatigues stood guard in the hallway by the door to the room. Happy nodded to them then left for the break room. On his way down the hall, he smiled and nodded to the dark-skinned man approaching him. A tall, lean figure dressed in all black. Black leather boots, his black pants and turtleneck shirt that was covered by black kevlar body armor and the black leather duster covering that. The Smith and Wesson M&Ps he carried were black, as were each of the boot knives he had, and his daggers. Even the eyepatch covering his gruesomely scarred eye was solid black. It was more prominent on his bald head. It wasn't the dark clothing or weapons that gave him the air of authority perpetually surrounding him. It was the hard-chiseled look on his face and the even harder look in his remaining eye. Nicholas Fury was a hard man, but to be a successful Director of the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division he had to be. The men outside the conference room nodded politely to Director Fury as he walked through the door. A small smile played on his lips. More people called him 'Director' now than 'Colonel Fury', but it was his military rank, not his civilian one, that he was most proud of. Although he'd moved on from the Army Rangers, he was still most proud of his service with them. Those were simpler days, a simpler mission for a simpler world. Back then he knew who his friends were, who his enemies were, and what his mission entailed. That black and white existence was lost to the endless sea of grey he came to exist in.

The people gathered before him drew Director Fury's attention. Agent Romanov sat on the side of the head of the table closest to the door, wearing a black tank top and jeans. Her normal knee-high boots were under her jeans, but her guns were holstered at her hips. Agent Barton sat on the other side at the head of the long table. He had a black tee shirt and zip-up black and purple leather vest on with black jeans. A small quiver with two arrows in it was hanging from his belt. His bow was on his lap. Dr. Banner sat beside Agent Romanov. He was wearing his standard button-up office shirt with khaki slacks and brown slip-ons. The sleeves of the light blue office shirt were rolled up and the top two buttons were undone as usual. His glasses were in his hand while he cleaned them with a handkerchief then put them back on. Steve Rogers sat next to Agent Barton, in a tight-fitting light tan tee shirt, jeans and tennis shoes.

A few seats down from the famous Captain America sat Thor. He was in his Earth clothes that day, and was wearing a brown tee shirt and jeans, though he had his Asgardian boots on under his jeans. The top half of his golden blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail that flowed down just below his shoulders. Some of it was braided, most of it was loose. It looked a little messy when set next to his neatly trimmed beard. The hammer hanging front his belt had a large, polished silver metal head that was rectangular with beveled corners and a leather-wrapped, heavy wood handle. Ancient Nordic designs sat in dark relief against the pale surface. Though the handsome hammer was able to be admired by all, it was only the Crown Prince of Asgard who heard her song. Mjolnir's voice was for him alone.

Next to Dr. Banner sat Ms. Pepper Potts and who was happily chatting with him. "Happy can take us somewhere nice for lunch," she was saying. She was wearing a nicely cut pants suit done in cream. The jacket had short sleeves and was covering a sky-blue silk shirt. Ms. Potts hadn't even removed her cream colored, leather purse yet. Its long, thin strap was still slung diagonally across her chest, with the actual purse sitting by her hip.

At the far end of the long table sat a very young-looking man in blue SHIELD fatigues with golden brown hair and delicate features. He had a laptop sitting on the table in front of him and was engrossed in whatever he was doing on it. As soon as Director Fury entered the room, the young man stood and came to the position of attention.

"At ease," Director Fury told him. He didn't know why this meeting was scheduled in one of the bigger conference rooms. It seemed like a waste of the space since there were so few people attending the meeting. Only half of the Avengers were able to show up. Fortunately, it was the most relevant half. "Thank you all for coming in today, especially on such short notice. We have an evolving situation to discuss, and a new enemy," he paused for a moment and looked back to the young man at the back of the table and sighed, "an old enemy," he said. The hardened spymaster paused for a moment before deciding that some truth was the best way to go about this. "Tony Stark has gone rogue."

At the back of the room waiting for his turn to speak was Corporal McCorrmick. A little unease filtered through his thoughts again as he looked around, still wishing the briefing had been held somewhere else. He wasn't comfortable being on any of the hellicarriers anymore. Very soon he wouldn't be the only person uncomfortable with them. Director Fury was going to be livid over what he found. It was going to change so many things for SHIELD and the Avengers. Those changes had to wait until it was his turn to speak. As soon as he could speak, he could tell them. They'll know soon enough, he thought.

The atmosphere in the conference room went from light and slightly bored to strict seriousness in seconds. Director Fury pressed forward, confident that he had everyone's attention. "I'm sure you've all noticed how Stark-tech has advanced dramatically in the last few years. Advanced a worrying amount, and in worrying directions. The World Security Council has some very serious concerns."

"A worrying amount? He shares everything, even the commercial stuff, with SHIELD, doesn't he? And what do you mean by 'worrying directions'?" asked Bruce. He knew how much Tony was sharing with SHIELD through Stark Industries. Tony told him about it. From time to time, he would come into Bruce's lab in Avengers Tower to complain about the snags and delays in different projects he was working on for them. If anything, Tony was always impatient to get new things to SHIELD. He chuckled when Tony told him that every SHIELD agent was getting a free Stark-phone. They were going to be standard issue equipment for each new agent. Tony even groused about having to turn over a department in his new telecommunications company to SHIELD to provide service for the phones. Tony didn't like other people touching his things and complained bitterly to Bruce about it for almost an hour. He smiled as he remembered eventually kicking Tony out of his lab to go complain to someone else.

"Tony's given a tremendous amount to SHIELD! He's overhauled this entire organization. What you have now makes what you had ten years ago obsolete. He gave you a fleet of hellicarriers! How can you possibly think that Tony's betrayed us?" Pepper said. She knew just how much Tony did for SHIELD since she personally oversaw many of the contracts, projects and interactions between SHIELD and Stark Industries. It was why she attended regular meetings at SHIELD. She'd become the unofficial liaison between the two.

"Lady Pepper is correct. Stark is an honorable man, he wouldn't betray us," Thor agreed. Lightweight anxiety filtered around his thoughts with the subject. Stark was blunt and acerbic, but honorable none the less. When he learned that Stark meant nothing by his comments, Thor began to let them go. The only thing he had an occasional problem with was Stark's aim, but even that couldn't truly be held against his shield-brother. Stark was getting older for a mortal. Even though he hadn't come to know Stark as well as his other mortal shield-brothers and shield-sisters, he still didn't think the Director could be correct in this. A mistake was made somewhere.

"Corporal McCorrmick, if you could put the schematics up on the screen please," Director Fury looked to the young man at the back of the room.

The large screen that covered the entire front wall of the conference room switched on smoothly. Detailed schematics and designs came up on the screen with notes in Tony Stark's own handwriting. They were signed and dated years ago. While the schematics themselves were cold and clean as any schematic ever was, the things detailed in them were shockingly familiar. Time hadn't faded their memories of the enemies these things fit. Everyone stared silently. The shock brewing in the room was almost palpable. "About ten years ago SHIELD, as well as dozens of other organizations, governmental and civilian, suffered a massive data breach. Inside of two days almost every piece of information regarding the Tesseract, Loki coming through the portal at Project PEGASUS, Germany, and the invasion of New York, was deleted. We assumed it was deleted." Director Fury deliberately didn't look at Thor as he spoke. Whenever Loki was mentioned Thor became very quiet, a grim look crossing his face. "We were never able to determine who was behind the attack. Given the nature of the information we assumed it was one last attack by the Chitauri, to cover their tracks. It now appears that Stark stole the data instead of destroying it."

The young man frowned as he pulled up the schematics and Director Fury wondered what else his decryption specialist and data analyst found. It all happened so fast that even he hadn't been briefed on everything that was found in the decrypted files. Corporal McCorrmick's encrypted email only said that he was finished decrypting the intercepted files and that they were an Epsilon Level threat and involved the Avengers. It was sent to the young man's immediate supervisor, but quickly made its way to him. The attachment to that email was a set of screen-captures with schematics and a few designs with notes. If it had been anyone else the old spymaster would have taken his time to have other specialists pick through the information to see if it truly was that high of a threat level. This young man was special though. If he said it was that much of a threat then it was concerning enough for him to order an immediate debriefing on the flagship of the hellicarrier fleet, bringing in what Avengers he could get on such short time.

. "As you remember," the Director motioned towards the screen, "the Chitauri were a cybernetically enhanced enemy. Before the data breach SHIELD was gathering and organizing for study all of the data collected worldwide on the invasion. We even had several intact enemy corpses that we were preparing for study. While the corpses went missing after the cyber-attack, I believe that Stark is responsible for their theft as well. These schematics are dated after the theft of the bodies and make reference to things that went missing in the attack." Director Fury pointed to the screen, "This is Chitauri tech that's been thoroughly dismantled and studied. The notes concern me. He was trying to fit this stuff to humans. If Stark was working on reverse engineering Chitauri tech, what else has he been up to? Why, and for who's benefit?"

"This isn't possible. Tony was immune to being taken over. We all saw the security footage. Loki tried to enslave him. It didn't work," Pepper said quietly. "Where did you even find this?" It was Tony's handwriting that she was looking at. She'd know its deliberate messiness anywhere. How it got there was an unpleasant mystery.

Considering for a moment, Director Fury looked at Ms. Potts then. It was more than they needed to know, but honestly up front would help smother any resistance to what needed to happen next. "These schematics were collected first, a few days ago, in a chance electronic encounter. When we saw an opportunity to collect more soon after the initial collection, we took it. It was all encrypted data. Our decryption specialist and data analyst," he motioned to Corporal McCorrmick, "has been working quickly to get this in order. He'll brief us on what was found. I'm sorry, Ms. Potts. The evidence is clear, Stark has been turned. In fact, it looks like he was turned years ago. I know you and he are close but ..."

The Director didn't have a chance to finish speaking before a brilliant magenta fire flared up at the very back of the room. In one smooth motion Corporal McCorrmick stood, turned, drew his Glock 19, and fired three times at about eye level. A second before his gun barrel was crushed he saw the blow incoming, so he hardened his sarammr to protect himself. Since it wasn't visible and always returned to within him after use no one around him would know what he was using. It left him with no qualms about using it. Thor was at his side, his hand on McCorrmick's sidearm. The fire in front of them faded leaving five individuals standing in its wake. The tall Avenger removed his hand and looked to the ruined weapon in the corporal's hand. "You have my apologies," he said quietly.

A blonde man wearing a cream shirt and pants with tan leather boots and a matching vest accented in gold was at the front of them. He looked like a classical dandy out of a medieval story with a neatly trimmed goatee and short wavy hair that was well coiffed. Fandral smiled at his dear friend. It'd been too long since he'd seen Thor.

Beside Fandral stood a tanned man with black hair and almond eyes. He had an indistinct east Asian look and was wearing similar clothing to the dandy, but in darker browns. His long black hair was pulled back into a half knot at the back of his head. Hogun also smiled at Thor, though it was a far more subdued smile, as calm and sedate as he was.

Behind them was a hefty man with flaming red hair and a matching beard. His features were a little soft under the excess weight he was carrying. His pants, knee high boots and vest were all deep brown leather. The linen shirt was he wore was a cream colored. Volstagg smiled at his dear friend then looked around the room and waved to the others. He quite liked visiting Thor's Midgardian shield-brothers and shield-sisters. The woman who worked for Stark made especially good food and was pleasant to chat with. It was always worth visiting.

The woman with them had dark brown hair that was braided back. She wore a fitted black leather vest over a deep blue shirt with short sleeves. Her grey leather pants tucked into black knee-high leather boots. Sif smiled comfortably at Thor and then at the other people in the room.

Behind them all stood a tall, dark-skinned man with piercing golden eyes. His beard was short and neatly trimmed. Deep brown, armored leather boots had pants made of the same deep brown leather tucked into them. They were fit to him and emphasized how muscled he was. Overtop of the pants was a long coat made of the same leather. Golden vambraces were buckled into place over the forearms of the coat. Overtop of the body of the coat was a golden chest plate. The shoulders came out from him by a few inches and curved gently down to cover the tops of his arms. Heimdall didn't smile. All he did was move around so that he could respectfully greet his Prince.

You just had to look at it, didn't you? Now an emmiki knows, I can't use the sarammr to pull the dent out. Dammit, emmiki. You're annoying, he thought with no small amount of displeasure. The slide of McCorrmick's sidearm was crushed into barrel, and both were slightly bent. The cartridge was bent awkwardly half out of the chamber. After a quick sweep of the room with his sarammr showed him that no one was paying attention to him, he extended it again to pry the round loose safely and quietly. There was no way the gun could be fired again. He ejected the magazine and placed it in pouch on his belt for ammo clips. He was grateful that Thor prevented the misfire from harming anyone or anything, even if he was the one who caused it. He hoped that the supervisor of the armory wouldn't have him doing laps around the deck for this. He could already hear, "Run faster!" yelling after him. Master Gunnery Sergeant Drake liked to chase people around the deck as they ran because most people found it intimidating. Things like that ceased to be any sort of hindrance to him once he was old enough to begin lessons in the martial stances. Sparring with Eidesh only lessened the nervousness he had about things like what the Master Gunnery Sergeant liked to do. Such paltry intimidation tactics weren't even an annoyance to him. McCorrmick set his ruined pistol down next to his laptop with a little resignation. The metal looked indented enough to get a useable set of fingerprints off it. Master Guns is gonna have me doing laps for this.

After apologizing Thor stepped forward without an ounce of hesitation, "It's good to see you my friends, but what brings you here, and how? Heimdall, what brings you from your post?" They all began moving towards him, away from where the fire left them. It looked like teleportation fire, but it was a type of seidr he'd never seen before. There was only one type of being in the Nine Realms who used pink seidr. He didn't want to think that was truly what he'd seen. It was an ill omen if it was.

Stepping forward, Heimdall bowed respectfully. "The Norns have sent all of us. You are to bear witness to a terrible truth. As are we, Your Grace." He didn't want to mention the Norn's words on guilt, not yet. He would wait until he knew more, then he would speak. Until then, he would wait and watch.

Another brilliant burst of teleportation fire flared to life before Thor had a chance to respond, followed shortly after by another. He didn't know what say when he looked towards where the flames had been. Two men stood at the back of the room, with a woman standing in between them. Thor couldn't stop himself from smiling brightly for he'd known these three his whole life. To the right stood his uncle, Lord Frey, who was the King of Vanaheim and Lord of the Realm. He wore his standard white silk tunic with silver embroidery at the cuffs and neck and a white brocade vest over it. His white leather britches were also embroidered in silver stitching along the sides. Even his knee-high leather boots were solid white. Frey's light blonde hair was plaited back into a ponytail at the top of the back of his head. With his hair pulled back the points of his ears, slight though still noticeable, were revealed. His uncle was an elvan King. Thor always marveled at how his uncle managed a very manly dignity while being clean shaven.

Next to his uncle stood his mother, Lady Frigga, Queen of Asgard and All Mother. It'd been nearly a century since Thor had seen the Lord of Vanaheim and the Lady of Asgard together. Seeing them side by side struck him as it always did for his mother and uncle were so very similar in appearance. Each with gently flowing, light golden blonde hair, slightly pointed ears, high cheek bones and bright blue eyes. Thor always wondered how they weren't reflected siblings, for each looked like an opposite gendered version of the other. The only real difference was that while Frey stood a few inches taller than Thor's own 6'6", his mother stood at just under six feet tall. She wore a plush cream-colored silk dress with the knotted designs of icovellavna embroidered in gold around the neckline, cuffs, and hem of the skirt. The long skirt hid her slippers as it brushed against the floor. Her waist length hair was pulled back into a simple ponytail at the nape of her neck.

None of them stood eye to eye with Thor's father, who towered over everyone in the room. Queen Frigga was nearly a full foot shorter than her husband. Besides his signature golden eye patch, he wore his standard kingly raiment; a heavy, brown leather vest with golden ties covered a quilted, long-sleeved, blue tunic and brown leather pants embroidered down the sides in gold with darker brown knee-high leather boots. There was an oddly noticeable scar on his left hand. The pale red, straight line traveled down from between his middle and ring fingers almost down to his wrist. It was a well-worn scar. His neatly trimmed grey beard and comfortable wrinkles exuded an air of aged dignity. His Lady wife stood with her left arm wrapped gently around his. Lord Odin, King of the Nine Realms and All Father of Asgard, had come to Midgard. He did not look pleased by this.

That he was only wearing Midgardian clothes caused Thor to flush a little with nervousness. He liked to dress casually when he stayed on Midgard. It was a pleasant reprieve from palace life. He felt distinctly underdressed next to them. Since they were on Midgard he hoped that his mother wouldn't try to take him to task for it in front of his shield-brothers and shield-sisters. It wasn't his fault in his opinion. He wasn't expecting them. This wasn't supposed to be that formal a gathering.

"Well, boy, is this how you greet us?" Frey spoke with a smirk on his face. He was mildly amused by the dumbstruck look on his nephew's face. He was less amused by being brought to Midgard by a Norn. He was shown where he was being taken to, and he wasn't amused to have his beloved sister standing next to him in someplace dangerous. Had it not been for the danger to her and his nephew he wasn't certain he would've come willingly.

"I'm sorry, Uncle Frey," Thor moved forward quickly to greet his uncle, "Please forgive my surprise." He extended his hand to his uncle, always mindful of proprieties.

"Come here, boy," Frey grumbled quietly. He took his nephew's hand and pulled him into an embrace. Once he'd embraced his nephew warmly, he patted Thor on the back. No one was the wiser as he discreetly flared out his seidr to verify again that the boy was as still warded. When he felt that the wards were just as strong as ever he moved back to look at Thor. "You look well, Thor. Midgard has been treating you kindly. This pleases me. Now greet your mother, she worries about you." He worried about them both.

"Yes, sir," Thor smiled broadly. He moved to embrace his mother, then bowed respectfully to his father. "Father, mother, I'm pleased to see you, but on Midgard of all places. What brings you here?" Odin didn't answer, only looked over the assembled people, a calm look of assessment on his face.

They're giants, he thought. Director Fury looked to the back of the room and was a little surprised to find that Thor was short next to the other men in his family. Not only that, but he was surprised by how strikingly beautiful Thor's mother was. Even though she was approaching middle age there was no twenty-something supermodel she couldn't put to shame. Not a single one of her features was even a millimeter out of place. There was an overwhelming technical perfection about the women's features, as though every line and curve, every tone and shade had been relentlessly redone until absolute perfection was achieved. It was the calm and settled self-confidence radiating from her that truly tied everything together. Director Fury looked down for a moment when he caught himself staring. That was a surprise. The last time he'd stared at a woman he hadn't been old enough to go to a bar. It was almost as surprising as the resemblance of all of them. Thor strongly resembled his mother in many ways. It was his father that he got his powerful build from. Thor's father looked like an older man but was taller than many professional basketball players. He was also more heavily muscled. While his hair was grey and wrinkles creased his face, he still didn't give the impression of being an old man. He was more than that and it was obvious. In a weird way, Thor also resembled his uncle. The Director wondered if Thor's mother and uncle were twins, since they strongly looked like they were. He thought the uncle should be prettier, since he so strongly resembled his sister, but he wasn't. He was attractive in a way that reminded the Director of a wolf. It might be a spectacularly handsome beast, but it was still going to smile while it ate you. The uncle was also significantly taller than his sister and leaner than her husband while still being obviously physically fit. All of them looked out of place on his hellicarrier. Why are they here? An unwelcome sense of foreboding swept over him the longer he looked them over. They shouldn't be here.

"One of the Norns has contacted us. She says that you're about to bear witness to a terrible truth, and that we must bear witness as well. This is why we've come," Frigga spoke calmly as though there was nothing out of order. She didn't want to worry Thor by telling him of the vicious anger in Skuld's tone. Among all the Norns, it was Skuld who was known to be the most vindictive and capricious. That she might be angry with them was a fearful thought.

Thor knew the tight look to his mother's face. She was worried, very worried. The thought that his mother might be honestly worried brought a frown to Thor's face. More anxiety entered his thoughts. He knew his mother only worried over the truly grave issues. If they were on Midgard, and worried by a Norn, then the situation was dire indeed. It occurred to him then that this was probably his mother's first trip to Midgard. He glanced over to see his uncle calm with a sedate smile, as always. Very little ever seemed to bother him.

"Are these the avenging mortals you've told us of?" Odin asked quietly. They looked like ordinary mortals, but Thor made them sound better than his Asgardian companions. He certainly hoped they were. His son needed better companions than he had. It was always something that was on his list of things to see to, but there were only so many hours in the day and the duties of the Lord of the Realm were never finished.

Though anxious Thor smiled again, glad to be able to finally introduce his mortal shield-brothers and shield-sister to his father. It wasn't something he thought would ever happen. He was always proud to fight by their side. Even though they were mortal, they were as brave and noble as any Aesir. "Yes, father. They are. Let me introduce them to you." His smile faded a little as he remembered why Director Fury called them there. He was moving back towards his shield-brothers and shield-sister when the PA speakers in the room crackled. A faint laugh rolled out of them.

"Corporal McCorrmick?" Director Fury asked as he looked back to his specialist to see what he was doing. This sort of prank was wholly unlike what he expected from the young man.

A quick check of his laptop showed McCorrmick that the first file hadn't accidentally started. Out of everything happening that would be the least surprising. This was the finickiest piece of equipment he'd ever been issued. The fact that it hadn't spontaneously uninstalled its own OS while attempting to simultaneously reformat its hard drive yet was nice. He frowned at the screen, "I don't know, sir. It's not from the laptop." Everything strobed deep violet for a second. There was a deep itching pressure in his eyes that dissipated swiftly as the colors around him righted themselves. The young corporal blinked a few times to clear his eyes. The same thing happened to him on the bridge of the hellicarrier when he waiting to be handed this assignment. Half of him hoped that he didn't need glasses. The other half wanted glasses to be all that he needed. Glasses were much better than the alternative. McCorrmick made a small mental note to schedule an eye exam when he was off duty next. SHIELD medical care top-notch. Despite that he still wished he could go home for an appointment at Doc Fischer's clinic. He'd come into the world there. Like the rest of his family, in a few years that would be the place where he'd find out that he was leaving the world.

The laughter was soon replaced by music, loud and blaring. A single guitar started with forceful strumming and was soon joined by heavy drumbeats. More guitars joined then as the song began to build. In the front of the room, in front of the wall-sized screen, a strange magenta glimmering began. The shimmering reintegration began as the music built. Two pinpoints of light formed in the glimmering. They turned a sharp blue in the magenta surrounding them. A face formed around them out of the shimmering, drawing everyone's attention. A tall woman stepped forward. The magenta shimmered over her like gossamer strands. The strands merged into currents that flowed back towards the wall as she walked out of them.

Once Skuld fully stepped out of the currents she commanded her sjel-seidr back to her core. Long, wavy, chestnut hair flowed freely down to her waist. The misty white dress she wore had short, loose sleeves. The front of the skirt stopped just above her knees while the back of the skirt flowed down to her ankles. The form fitting golden breastplate encasing her expansive bosom seemed appropriate somehow. It was made of woven metal strips that were polished to a glassy shine, as were the woven metal vambraces, and sections of woven metal on the knee-high, black leather boots she wore. There were black leather pants tucked into the boots from beneath the dress. She looked at them with wicked eyes. The sharp blue of her eyes surrounded a shining magenta. The grin on her face was even more wicked. Her grin widened; red lips parted to reveal iridescent white teeth. There was a dense blackness behind them. The air bent around her, crooked and corrupt. Light came from her softly glowing ivory skin but was absorbed into a layer of dense nothingness just millimeters away. They could feel that she was out of place there, as she knew it herself. The weight of Skuld's timelessness pressed down on them. Her smile was unkind as she began mouthing along when the singing began. Her gaze never left the liar Lord, Odin. She stared, unblinking at him.

This Midgardian song greatly pleased Skuld. It said everything that she needed. Little-sweet's trap was sprung on Midgard, and this song was of Midgard. It all flowed smoothly into the cycle as it turned. She looked hard at him as the music played. Its lyrics were harsh, accusatory; demanding the arrogant listener to tell the singer what to do, as if the listener knew, as if the singer were in the wrong.

Skuld stepped into the shadows to move swiftly. She stepped out of them just before the blind liar. He was taller than her, so bloated with lies and corruption. The markings of the mantle of Conqueror were still obvious on him. He was a Conqueror no longer. Now he would be crushed under the weight of her justice. She enjoyed singing to her darling baby once upon a time. Her darling baby would coo and try to sing along. Skuld opened her mouth to sing to him. She smiled a little more when she saw the mortals and idiots flinched back from the sound of her voice then leaned in towards her. The liar Lord, his wench, and little-sweets true father all grit their teeth, trying so hard to be unaffected by her voice. Skuld spoke quietly so they would hear her words as well as her voice. Her gaze never left him though. This fool of a Conqueror would hear her. In the end, he too would see that his misbegotten Lord served her.

The lyrics became harsher, directly accusing the listener of unspecified crimes, of being unashamed and wanting to pass the guilt on to others. Skuld paused to look around the room, swiftly making eye contact with each fool there. The music suddenly died as she spoke, "You are guilty. All the same." Little-sweet's trap was sprung, and she couldn't be happier.