A/N: "And now for something completely different."

Try as might, I could not shake the knowledge that it was me of whom the woman had spoken. As I came to acceptance, I set to work. It had taken a great deal of subtle tactics, eavesdropping, and research but I had finally discovered that the last known location of the Scythes of Memoriae was in England around 180 A.D.

I failed to see why I had been chosen. Of what use could a human psychologist be in the grand scheme of things? I wasn't strong, or lovely, or courageous. I was just...me. Reflecting upon my life to that point was incredibly disconcerting. I should have never lived. I was supposed to have died as an infant in a fire in a drug den, the child of addicts forgotten and alone. I had been adopted into a good family, even if I failed to be my sister's equal.

I had been gifted with intelligence, yet even that wasn't anything particularly special. I had endured loneliness and loss, like many others. Though, the past three years had been as far from normal as possible. The day my life changed had been like any other. I had awoken and gone to the job I hated, to be terrified of my boss, hit on by the office jerk, only to be astounded when the world, literally, turned upside down. From that moment on, everything had changed. I was thrown in to the land of myth and magic, monsters and aliens, strange things I never would have thought possible.

Upon the end of my time with Thor and Loki, I had gone from the invisible shrink in cubicle six, to a force to be reckoned with. I went from living a lonely, uneventful life to loving a man that was far from perfect. Loki was my first, and only, love. The year prior, we had left our home on Earth to help save Asgard. I had come to the realization of who and what I had become; I had saved him from a power hungry manipulator and had discovered that I was pregnant. Now, once more, things had changed.

I wasn't just Doctor Olivia Grant, criminal psychologist; nor was I the girl who survived time. I had a very important role to play and the task before me was daunting. It was I who held the power to stop Hel. The idea in and of itself was nauseating. But the one thing I had always been good at, was discerning peoples' motives. And their plans. And their games.

As much as I would have loved to remain and fight alongside my friends and Loki, I knew that this was between Hel and I. And if I had to do it, I would have to do it alone. So it was, that as soon as I had all the information necessary, I made my way to an abandoned chamber in the palace. I rifled through the clothes in the wardrobe until I found something I deemed appropriate for my journey.

While they fought with their strength and their power, I would fight with what I had been given. I had everything to lose and I was unwilling to part with any of it. I could not tolerate the idea of losing the family I had so recently gained. It was not an easy decision to come to, but I decided that it was for the best.

Loki's blood brother, Býleistr, hated him with a passion. I was well aware that Loki could handle himself just fine. My stomach flipped as I imagined his reaction to my leaving, but it could not be helped. He was the perfect distraction for me to do what was necessary unhindered. I loved him more than I ever thought possible. We had made a life together, we had a daughter together, and it was for their sake, and the life we had made, that I left.

Quickly, I scribbled a note informing him of what I was doing; for him to not worry about me or try to find me. That, in time, I would return and all would be as it should be. I changed my clothes and snuck down the hall to our repaired bedroom, leaving the note on his pillow. With one final glance around, my fingers tracing the place where he would lay, I steeled my strength. My emotions were tucked safely away, so as to not distract me.

I closed my eyes, concentrating on my destination as I did so. Unthinkingly, I clutched the chain around my neck that held my unusual wedding ring. Me being well, me, I had misplaced it frequently and had finally resolved to wear it as a necklace. It certainly didn't look like the typical wedding ring, Loki had ensured that. Despite everything, he had still wanted some semblance of a traditional Asgardian wedding and I had been more than willing to oblige. The golden ring spiraled down, the two ends being serpents' heads with emerald eyes. It was by no means ugly, merely different.

The familiar force from the vortex blew my hair behind me and I prepared myself for a sudden change of scenery. There was a loud crack and it was gone. Cold, drizzly mist fell upon my skin. A chill hung in the air and I opened my eyes to see a heavily clouded gray sky. The lack of sunlight, of course, made the green hills upon which I stood glow brighter. The wind whipped my hair in front of me, blocking my line of sight. A faint twinge of fear gnawed at the back of my mind, but I quickly shoved it down.

In the distance, a fully intact stone wall stretched across the horizon: Hadrian's Wall. From history, I knew the native Celts lay on the opposite side. Which meant, naturally, that I was in Roman territory. That was exciting, I had never met a Roman before. But my excitement was cut short when I saw a small band of Roman officers begin to move towards me. Crap. Crap, crap, crap! I thought anxiously, keeping my face as calm as possible.

Upon their arrival, I found that I towered over them, a feeling that was strangely comforting. "You there, Celt." The one in front commanded. He had a rather hookish nose, with a long, jagged scar distorting his visage. His hair was dark and seemed to cover every inch of him. Internally, I cringed at the sight of him.

"Me?" I asked innocently, having long ago given up on my ability to understand and communicate with these people. It never mattered where I went in time, I was always able to communicate with the people of the age. "I'm not a Celt." Well, to my knowledge I wasn't. Of course, given that I was adopted and had red hair, I was bound to have some kind of British ancestry.

"Celt or no, by order of the Emperor, all trespassers shall be executed." It would be tough to BS this guy. He was a Roman. They weren't exactly famous for their kind and forgiving nature. Somehow, I imagined my not dying would not bode well for me.

"Look, I had no intention of trespassing. I just got lost." Once more, I ensured my most innocent of expressions was in place. "You see, my parents are terribly sick and I thought I would try to find someone to help them. But I'm a disgrace to them because I'm unmarried, so I don't really ever leave my village. Please, I promise I meant no harm."

I noted how he eyed me with uncertainty. Oh, right. Queen Boudica. Tall, redheaded, intimidating. My own hair fell in tangled red curls down my shoulders. I could use that to my advantage, if need be. The man looked at his men behind him, then returned his gaze to me. "Your life is spared, just this once, Celt."

"Oh! Thank you so much-" I began excitedly, knowing full well there was likely a catch.

"Not so fast. I cannot allow you to return." His men flanked me on either side and I tried my best to look confused.

"W-what are you going to do with me?" I asked fearfully as they led me down the hill.

"Slave auction. A Roman can always use another slave."