Nexus

by Lalaith Quetzalli

-Sequel to Nightingale.- When one lives in a world where magic and science exist side by side, where individuals with extraordinary abilities walk the streets every day, the lines between myth and reality can become blurry. When the points align, the Veil will be lifted, and the Universe will never be the same again... T:tDW rewrite. Minor cameos from the Secret Circle book trilogy

5. Fifth Element

Yes, I am beyond insane, we all know that (and I'm quite sure most people had become aware of that long before today). I still hope you're enjoying where this is going, and what's to come...

Here we go a bit into AoS, specifically Episode 1.07 "The Well", I don't think you need to have truly watched it to understand it, though it would help (I'm still changing a lot around).

The first poem quoted in this chapter is Shakespeare Sonnet 18, and you can actually heard Tom Hiddlestone reading it in the app Book of Love (and in vids in youtube and tumblr).

The second poem quoted is the first part of Unending Love, by Rabindranath Tagore (which I found online).

Finally, this chapter's song is "A Thousand Years", originally sung by Sting, if you look up in youtube the cover from Harmonize Projekt 2 you will get an idea of how I imagine the song would sound when Nightingale sings it. The song is a sort of theme-song for my Loki and Nightingale (and the whole reason I came up with the 'reincarnation' theme, that song kind of caused it. Hope you enjoy it!

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Fifth Element:

The Last Element is the mystery, the Unknown, what gives life and takes it...

The following morning my match and I decided we would rather stay in Midgard for a while. Take some time to truly take in everything that Lord Erynion, Lady Thenidiel and even the Allfather and the Queen had said at the feast, and the implications of it all. I still wasn't sure I was ready to accept it all. In my life I'd studied many cultures, history, folklore... I knew there were some who believed in reincarnation, they believed that a person was reborn, either because they had some sort of unfinished business, because they still had things to learn, or whatever other reason they might come up with. The Allfather himself had implied that such a thing was normal, only it was not supposed to happen when one half of the match was still alive, like Loki had been when his wife (supposedly I) perished.

It was too much for me, things I didn't want to think about. So instead I focused on other things. Like re-decorating one of the guest-rooms in the second floor to turn it into Hákon's bedroom. The walls painted a soothing sea-green (darker at ground level and lighter as it went up), sheets and bedspread to match. We also bought him some board-games, his favorite, as he loved to play with us, loved to have time when we were completely dedicated to him (which, regretfully had been rare in the last year, but Loki and I were ready to correct that mistake).

At my insistence we also fixed my old bedroom a bit, arranging it so it could be Hel's whenever she got the chance to visit. I knew my Maverick didn't fully understand why, as my step-daughter hardly ever left her realm, and had never had a chance to spend time in Midgard. Still, I thought it was only right for her to have a bedroom in any home of ours.

Ours was the master-bedroom, which took the entirety of the third-floor, with a luxurious double bathroom, sitting area, adjoining nursery/office and a terrace with a double-swing where we could cuddle-up together to watch the stars, the sunset or the sunrise as we wished.

Thor and Jane had gotten in touch with us, thanks to Lady Frigg's aid. They'd reassured us that everything was just fine in the Realm Eternal. The two were planning on staying longer, as Thor was 'negotiating' with his father Jane's acceptance. I could only hope he would succeed and Odin would accept Jane Foster as his son's future wife and Asgard's future Queen... it would make things so much easier. And I really hoped Jane wouldn't be subjected to the 'Trials', from what I'd read in Asgard's archives they were awful things, and most of the time impossible to pass. I could only imagine what would happen if someone tried to use such a thing to separate those two, Thor wouldn't take it well (neither would Jane, but Thor was in position, and had the power, to cause a lot more destruction).

A week after our arrival to the manor both my husband and I were much more at ease than we'd been that last night in the Realm Eternal. As it was a nice afternoon, we were spending it out in the garden, where Hákon enjoyed driving me crazy as he climbed the huge tree, jumping from branch to branch and doing all kinds of crazy stunts. Only knowing that my love's magic was on full alert and was fast enough to grasp him safely if he ever happened to fall, kept me from going completely crazy.

My match was in that moment half laying against the roots of the tree, with me laying across his body, head on his his lap, one of his hands carding through my hair softly while with the other he held one of my favorite books of poems, an anthology. I just loved to hear him all the time, and when his deep, husky voice was whispering love poems? It was the perfect moment:

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day?

Thou art more lovely and more temperate.

Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,

And summer's lease hath all too short a date.

Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,

And often is his gold complexion dimmed;

And every fair from fair sometime declines,

By chance or nature's changing course untrimmed;

But thy eternal summer shall not fade,

Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow'st;

Nor shall Death brag thou wander'st in his shade,

When in eternal lines to time thou grow'st.

So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,

So long lives this, and this gives life to thee."

I let out a quiet sigh, I so loved hearing his voice, and since most of the time he wouldn't sing to me (and when he had, the night of our arrival, it'd also confused me more), hearing him read love poems was the best I could hope for in that moment.

I stayed where I was, smiling, waiting for him to turn the page and read the next poem... except that did not happen. It took me a moment to realize why, but eventually my senses grew sharp enough to perceive the fourth person standing on the edge of the garden, the one who was not family, and whom we most certainly hadn't invited...

"Welcome Director Fury..." Loki called sarcastically.

He put the book down on the grass, but did not try to sit up, or allow me to move from my spot. We might speak to the man, but we most certainly had not invited him into our home, the place that was supposed to be our sanctuary.

"Good afternoon, no need to get up..." The man replied in the same tone.

"Good thing I wasn't planning to." My love deadpanned. "What are you doing here Fury?"

"The Professor said some things to Agent Shadow..." The Director left the rest in the air.

"Things..." My match repeated, before abruptly remembering and nodding. "Right, I suppose you are talking about how she pointed out it's a really bad idea to try and lie to the God of Lies, or his match, for that matter."

"I believe another thing that was mentioned was how you better have a very good reason for this farce..." I added in a snippy tone.

"There are reasons why, for the time being, it is necessary for Agent Phil Coulson to remain dead, officially." Fury stated, authoritatively. "Reasons that are of no concern to you."

Yeah... that's wasn't going to fly with us.

"No!" I snapped, sitting up abruptly. "You see, you don't get to do that. You don't get to play with the lives of people like that, like they're your puppets. I've about had it with people doing that!" I really had. "I have no idea what made you think it was a good idea to make such a lie, and worse than that, what made Phil go along with it. The only redeeming detail at this point is that at least you did not keep Darcy from her match!"

"And I have a feeling you would have done exactly that, if you could have." Loki added calmly, straightening up as well.

Fury didn't say a word, though his silence was answer enough.

"Now, what are you doing here Nicholas?" I asked, using all my authority.

"You know things you shouldn't, and while I don't like it, and will never understand how you even know anything... I have to make sure you will not be sharing this information with people who must remain in the dark." The Director insisted. "There is a reason why this is privileged information and..."

"And you have no authority over me, or my match, Director." My Maverick interrupted him, voice cold. "Do not presume to be able to command us the way you do your army of spies and toy-soldiers. We are so far above you, you cannot even comprehend."

"Unlike you, I do have a modicum of respect for the people I consider my friends." I stated in my hardest tone. "I shall not say a word until I've spoken with Phil. But make no mistake, Director, I am not doing this for you, we are not doing this for you. We're doing it for Phil, because he's our friend. But if I find out that you do not have a good reason for this lie, you will come to regret it. I will not stand by and watch as people I care for mourn the loss of someone who's still alive!"

It was obvious Fury really didn't like what I was saying, but there was nothing he could do, no way he could change my mind. And even if he probably didn't consider me much, he certainly had a healthy respect/fear for my husband and did not try to pressure me (though I was sure that if I were to decide to reveal his farce he would certainly do anything he could to block me... not that it would do any good, but still).

xXx 3rd Person POV xXx

Phil Coulson was tired. He'd had a hard few weeks... hard few months actually, but who was counting? Still, it was in moments like that, when he felt at his lowest, that he missed his family more than anything. None of them may have been related to him by blood, no, he'd lost that family a long time before... but they were his family still. Brothers, sisters, nosy-friends... his wife... at least she knew he was alive, when no one else did. Phil honestly did not know what he would do if he didn't have Darcy.

He could still remember her call a month earlier. He knew Nick Fury had sent her to London after Dr. Foster, there were strange things happening (which was apparently, why Dr. Selvig had called Jane Foster there) and the Director had decided it was a good idea to have an experienced Agent in the area. And who better than Darcy, whom so few knew the true scope of her abilities as well as how high her rank was? There was a reason she was called Agent Shadow... She'd been his protege and assistant, later on his partner; and ever since his 'death' she'd also become his only contact with all the people he'd had to leave behind.

She'd called him shortly before the mess on Greenwich began, telling him how there had been some kind of invisible black-hole in some warehouse, Dr. Foster had said something about gravitational anomalies, then she'd gone missing for five hours, and returned not knowing so much time had passed, and then Thor was there, and he took Jane away, and the black holes began appearing all over the UK... She'd been calling for help, any help. She knew he couldn't be there, not only because Jane, and Thor and others weren't supposed to know he was alive, but also because he and his team were on the other side of the world, and even with how fast the Bus was there just was no way they would get there in time.

Thankfully, things had gone alright in the end. He'd heard from Agent Hand about the dozen of young adults that had apparently aided in the battle, in limiting the damage, using something they called magic, even though the Agent did not believe it. She was quite alright with aliens being able to wield forces she couldn't understand, they were aliens, but humans? That was too much for her to accept. And the fact that some girl had stood up to her and in a very pointed tone told Hand that she wouldn't be going anywhere near that group, or getting any of their names, phones, addresses, nothing... it grated on the woman who'd lived for SHIELD and its protocol for so long. Phil himself had once been like that, until he'd met people like Tony Stark, Jane Foster, Darcy Lewis... people who'd shown him there was more to life (both as an Agent, and as a person) than the rules written in some handbook.

"Darcy..." He murmured, mostly to himself, reaching beneath his shirt, to the object he kept hidden there, hanging from a chain.

"We're ready to report." A female voice interrupted his thoughts.

It was the Bus's pilot, field agent and one of his oldest, most trusted friends: Melinda May.

"Be right there." He nodded, forcing himself to focus back on the present as he followed her.

The rest of the team were already in the main room of the Bus, standing around the holo table and discussing their findings thus far. He'd already read Skye's (their consultant, computers expert and former hacktivist from the Rising Tide) findings about the Norse Paganist group, as well as its leaders: Jakob Nystrom and Petra Larsen. The report was aided by their especialist: field agent Grant Ward. Next were the two scientists: engineer Leo Fitz and biochemist Jemma Simmons (commonly referred as FitzSimmons, due to the fact they were always together), who explained what they'd been able to discover from the scan of the imprint the stolen artifact had left on that tree in Norway. As he approached he could hear them reach the same conclusions he already had: about there being at least two more pieces to the weapon and the paganists most likely going after those as well.

"And markings?" He didn't actually hear who asked the question, just focused on answering it:

"The Asgardian symbolism." He announced as he joined his team. "Hard to translate with our limited knowledge."

"You should give your buddy, the god of thunder, a shout." Skye suggested. "He gets his power from his hammer, right? What if this is his nail to the hammer?"

By the disbelieving looks the rest of the team turned to the honey-haired, chocolate-eyed young woman, Phil knew they thought her to be a tad crazy. Truth was most of the time Skye's theories bordered on the insane (past the fantastic), however, considering the world, the universe they lived in, and everything Phil had seen in his life (especially the last few years) he wasn't the kind to dismiss anything just because it sounded 'impossible'.

"I already did." He told her with a nod. "Director Fury told me he's off the grid, most probably on Asgard, Dr. Foster's with him." He shook his head, remembering what Darcy told him in their last call was their intention when Jane left with them. "Though he did say he was sending an expert to help us with this."

"An expert?" Ward asked, disbelieving and a tad sarcastic. "On what? Myths and magic?"

"Considering what we're dealing with here, that might be exactly what we need." Skye insisted. "Besides, who says those myths weren't real? I mean, Thor is, and Loki, and who knows how many others there might be!"

"They're certainly not gods!" Ward insisted.

"Maybe not." Skye gave him that. "But they're something, something beyond human..."

It looked like the argument might have gone on for a while, and as entertaining as it all was (and as much as it made him wonder how Skye knew anything about Loki, since SHIELD had never released his name); they had work to do.

"S.H.I.E.L.D.'s investigations are on the trail of Nystrom and his followers." Melinda cut them off quite effectively, returning everyone's attention to the matter at hand.

"We're charged with identifying the object and finding any other pieces before they do." Coulson added for good measure.

"They seem to have some advantage." Ward commented, eyeing the 3-D model in his boss's hands. "They found this thing in 150 square kilometers of Norwegian forest."

"An advantage we hopefully will get back once this expert gets here..." Melinda commented, looking at Phil intently, as if hoping for him to elaborate on that more.

"Do you have any idea who they're sending?" Skye asked promptly.

"No." Phil answered honestly. "There are few people, in this day and time, who specializes in things like mythology and such. I met both of them shortly after the happenings in New Mexico, though only one of them stayed to work for SHIELD, if only for a year." He let out a sigh, at the memory of the people who could not know he was alive. "Right now the easiest person to get in contact with would probably be Prof. Elliot Randolph, at the University of Seville, in Spain..."

"Wrong." A soft but strong voice called from behind them. "The easiest person to get in contact with would be me, since I'm already here."

Everyone spun around in unison, not expecting someone to have entered the Bus without them noticing. Phil didn't need to, he'd known who it was from the moment he first heard her voice, it wasn't the kind one would forget, ever.

"Agent Coulson...?" She called, a hint of danger in her usually melodic voice.

The team turned to him them, noticing is obvious uneasiness.

"Yes?" He asked, finally turning to look at her, wincing at the coldness in her eyes.

"Is everything alright?" Melinda asked, noticing there was something off between the two.

"Everything's just fine Agent May." The woman stated, turning her eyes away from Phil, finally, as she turned to see the others. "Fury sent me to help you..."

"Aren't you well... a bit young to be an 'expert' on Norse mythology?" Ward asked, doubtful.

"Hey!" Skye smacked him in the arm. "You shouldn't underestimate people like that. They might surprise you when you least expect it."

"Thank you, miss... Skye, right?" The new-arrival shook the hacker's hands.

"Just Skye is fine." The brunette assured her.

"Alright." The hazel-eyed nodded, before facing the team as a whole and introducing herself. "I am Professor Silbhé Salani-Hvedrungr, and you will discover, Agent Ward, that I am an expert in a lot more than just Norse mythology." With a wave of her hand she brought her own profile up on the main screen. "I'm also one of few people on this planet that can separate old myth, from reality, seeing how I've lived through a lot of it."

"You know Thor..." Skye realized, shocked.

Meanwhile, the rest of the team was just as shocked, except their focus was on the information that had been revealed on the screen. The list of Masters (History, literature, mythology and folklore), languages (10) and such... and the fact that she had been involved with the aftermath of both New Mexico and the first chitauri invasion, as well as closely involved with the preparations for the second. Professor Salani-Hvedrungr truly seemed to be a surprise.

Everyone thought that, except Phil, who could only wonder what she was doing there, and just how bad their 'conversation' was going to go, because he just knew there was going to be one, and judging by the way she kept glaring every time she looked at him, it was not going to be pretty... not at all.

xXx

Not-pretty was a huge understatement, in the end; though Phil knew it was nothing he did not deserve, after the things he had done. It did not matter how much he knew they needed to be done, Silbhé was still right in many things...

Inside his office, shielded by a silence-ward to make sure the rest of the team wouldn't overhear their private conversation (they both knew at least one of them would be as close as possible to the door to try and find out something about the odd 'professor'; though it was hard to know who was likelier at that point: Melinda or Skye). Phil fidgeted silently behind his desk, waiting for the moment when Silbhé would snap at him, yet she didn't say a word, just stared at the older man until he broke instead:

"So... how are you here?" He asked, wincing at the hesitance in his own voice.

"How do you think?" She retorted with a roll of her eyes. "And really, all we need to talk about and you decide to ask that question?"

Phil let out a breath, though he knew she was right so, finally giving up on idle chit-chat, he dove straight into the heart of the matter.

"When Fury told me he was sending someone to help, he didn't say it was you." He admitted. "How did you even find out..."

"Like we told Darcy, and Nicholas, you do not lie to the god of lies, or his match." The hazel-eyed woman stated pointedly.

"Silbhé..."

"Do not 'Silbhé' me Philip Coulson..." She hissed lowly at him. "You lied. To all your friends, to your family. You lied to Jane... to the Avengers... to Clint and Natasha! I haven't seen them yet, but considering how grieved Jane and Thor were, I can only imagine how those two are feeling!"

"Silbhé..." he tried to interrupt her.

"Thor nearly cried!" She yelled at him. "You nearly made my brother cry! Loki was all for turning you into a maggot for doing that, you know?"

"And why didn't he?" The Agent wasn't sure what prompted him to ask that question, but he did.

"You didn't lie to Darcy." The hazel-eyed woman revealed calmly. "And we could feel the bond between you. He knew Darcy wouldn't like it if he hurt you, and since he sees her as a little sister..." She shrugged. "We... I want to believe there is a reason why you're doing all this, this... charade." Her voice turned anxious again, and louder. "There better be a good reason Philip Coulson, otherwise I am going to show you why the Aesir call me goddess of devotion!"

"It's for their own safety..." He admitted after what seemed like forever.

"What...?" That, she hadn't been expecting.

"Remember when Tony told us about what had happened to him and Pepper that December?" Phil asked her quietly. "About Aldrich Killian, Maya Hansen, AIM, the Extremis..."

"I remember." How could she not? "He, Pepper, Happy, Rhodey, the President and a bunch of other people almost died, some actually did." She shook her head, wishing there had been some way they could have helped. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, as it turned out, the Extremis wasn't as lost after that event as we would have hoped." He admitted. "And I'm not talking about Tony. Nick still suspects that he did perfect the formula in the end, that it's how he managed to get the arc-reactor and all the shrapnel out; he just has no proof." And they both knew Fury never would. "However, someone else got the formula of the incomplete version of that, along with remains of chitauri technology, a bastardized version of Erskine's super-soldier formula and some gamma radiation; with it they created what is known as the Centipede Serum."

"They're trying to create super-soldiers?!"

"They already did. A few people died as a consequence of the instability of the Extremis. We only managed to save one of the test subjects. His name is Mike Peterson. He caused some trouble in California back in January but we managed to make things right. In the end he was only trying to make a better life for himself and his son... FitzSimmons, whom you've already met downstairs, managed to create a drug that neutralized the explosive part of the Extremis before he actually blew up. He's currently undergoing training in a SHIELD facility and might become a field agent one of these days."

"That's good. But what does that have to do with you making everyone believe you're dead?"

"I actually began investigating the Centipede Project since last year. It was a risky assignment, so I was doing the work mostly on my own, though Darcy kept track of me, just in case. We didn't realize it but, they knew I was there. Not sure how long, but eventually they went after me. I'm not even sure how I survived that assassination attempt, it was a miracle, if I'm completely honest with you, and a close call... close enough that I was actually reported dead before I got the chance to get in touch with either Nick or Darcy in a safe manner. By the time I managed to get back, word had spread about my death. Nick decided to leave it that way, said it was for my own safety, as well as everyone else's..."

"And a way to have you continue the investigation, off-the-record."

"Something like that too, yes." He sighed. "Darcy of course, never believed the story that I was dead. Though I'm not quite sure..."

"She can sense you... through that." Silbhé signaled to the object beneath his shirt. "You can do the same, if you focus."

Phil did not reply just reaching for the object, hand above his shirt.

"I'm curious." The auburn-haired woman admitted. "They are obviously magical but, who gave them to you? They don't feel like something created by the Secret Circle."

"They were a gift." The Agent told her. "Though, as you've deduced, not from them. They asked me, asked us, not to reveal their identity, said it was important they remained in the shadows for a while longer. Though it was implied that they would come to you eventually."

The Professor just shrugged. A part of her wondered who might be strong enough in magic to create a set of objects so powerful, yet at the same time be able to disguise the magic-signature so well even she and Loki weren't able to make it out. However, by Phil's words it was quite obvious that whoever had done it knew about them (Loki and her) and had implied they would be meeting in the future... maybe there was a good reason to wait. In any case, that wasn't what she really needed to be focusing on in that moment.

"We will help you." She stated.

"What?" This time Agent Coulson was the surprised one.

"Loki and I." The woman clarified. "We will help you. Not only with this case right now. We will help you investigate this Centipede Project, and the people behind it."

"Why?" He blurted out before he could stop himself.

"Because the sooner we solve this, the sooner people can stop mourning you." She got on her feet and made to leave the office, only looking over her shoulder at the last moment. "Still, I shall not be the one to tell Clint and Nat that you lied to them..."

Phil did not answer, even as Silbhé opened his door and left, he did not have to. He knew that she was right, there was going to be hell to pay when those two found out the truth... And yet, if it got him his family back, he was willing to do almost anything...

xXx

It was a mess. After identifying the object from the 3-D print, the next step had been to look up the myth connected to it, the verses were helpful, especially after comparing them with sites of viking ravaging in the last millennium. It's how they all ended in Seville, Spain. What made it messy was that there was a third party ahead of them, going after the same piece of the artifact. He managed to obtain it before either Ward or Skye did, only to lose it afterwards. No one knew for sure what had happened (though Silbhé was working on it), too many people had been involved, and all had left before anyone from SHIELD reached the place.

At least they found the other person who'd been looking for the object, it turned out to be none other than Professor Randolph. Phil took him to the secure-room (which acted like cell most of the time), before going to interrogate him, asking Silbhé to keep watch over thing and call him if she noticed anything important.

So, in the end, the whole team ended up standing by a screen showing the inside of the cell, watching Agent Coulson interrogate the professor; even as FitzSimmons worked on finding out what touching the artifact had done to Ward exactly.

"One of my men is hurt." The Agent was saying. "The staff is gone."

"I didn't want any of that to happen." Randolph said, he sounded honestly regretful about that.

"What did you want?" Phil asked next. "The staff's power for yourself?"

"Nothing like that." The professor assured him. "You know, I just wanted to be the first to study it, to prove that the Berserkers were actually here, a part of history. You think about that?"

"Oh, I'm thinking about it."

"He's lying." Silbhé stated nonchalantly after hanging up her cell-phone.

Everyone turned to look at her. The team had been mostly ignoring her, since she'd been talking to someone in a language neither of them could understand. But the moment she said that, they reacted instantly.

"How do you know that?" Skye asked, curious.

"No one can lie to me." Silbhé deadpanned. "You can call it my 'little talent'. It's been proven, you can ask Director Fury if you don't believe me..."

The younger members of the team had no idea what she meant, but Melinda, cunning as she was, couldn't help but wonder if Phil's survival was somehow involved. From the very moment Salani had arrived it had become obvious in the expressions of the two that they knew each other; and yet, from all who'd known Phil Coulson in the past, only a handful of high-ranked and very important individuals in SHIELD knew he was alive. For Silbhé Salani to have known him before and be aware of him still being alive... May just knew there was something going on, even if she didn't have the slightest idea what.

"Is that part of being a genius?" Skye asked. "I mean, you knew what the thing was just by looking at the impression of a part of it, found the right myth instantly, even remembered most of it even before finding it, you broke up the verses and signaled us to the right place..."

"I've been studying mythology for many years, Skye." Silbhé told her with a small smile. "And working with SHIELD allowed me to separate myths from truth..."

"Did you know about the Berserker staff before today?" May asked, eyes narrowed.

"I knew they existed." The young professor nodded un-hesitantly. "I had no idea any had been left here after the Ice War."

"The Ice Wars?" FitzSimmons inquired, intrigued.

"A little over a thousand years ago, King Laufey, ruler of Jotunheim, the realm of the Frost Giants, attempted to conquer the realms of Yggdrasil." The hazel eyed lectured. "They were well on the way to taking over this world when the Aesir intervened. Odin Allfather guided his army and after a battle that lasted days and nights on end, the Frost Giants were defeated. While the war ended here, it did not start here, it lasted for years, across all the realms. Many soldiers died." She shook her head, as if remembering something. "There came a moment where the Asgardian Royal army was no longer enough, there were too few of them left... and that's where the staff comes in. Asgard needed a bigger army, so they began drafting. But the people who enlisted had no training to be warriors, so they were given the staffs, which had magic that would help them fight better. It did not make them soldiers, nothing like that, but it called on their rage, their hate, and gave it direction, made it a fuel for them to fight with." She sighed. "They were called the Berserker army, wild men who fought in a frenzy, no formal training, no finesse, just instinct and all their rage powering them. It is said the staff made them faster, stronger, harder to kill... it's my personal belief that it made them care so little about themselves they had no care for their own lives, or their own limits."

"How do you know all that?" May said, very serious. "Most of what you just said is written in no text at all. Where do you get your information?"

"I can assure you it comes from very trustworthy sources." The auburn-haired waved off the her suspicions. "And even if you do not trust me, Phil does, that should tell you something."

"Why do you call him Phil?" Skye pipped in. "I thought no one did that."

"I get the honor because I've known him for a while now." The professor said honestly. "He was my boss at one point, and has since become a good friend..."

She would have mentioned his wife, but somehow she did not think anyone in that place knew about Darcy... and maybe it was better that way.

Their attention was called back to the screen, and Phil's interrogation of Randolph, which seemed to be approaching an end, if only because the man wasn't giving them anything useful.

"How'd they find it?" The Agent insisted.

"I have no idea how they found it." Randolph declared strongly. "They may have the original texts. I wasn't involved. You know, it was just a chance to uncover something that the gods brought down from the heavens..."

"Aliens brought it. From space." Phil deadpanned. "I've spent some one-on-one time with aliens before. Didn't work out too well. So cases like this are personal to me."

"That's all I know." Randolph obviously wasn't saying anything else.

"Get comfortable." Phil left after that.

They needed only to wait for a few seconds before Agent Coulson joined them.

"So?" He asked as he stepped in.

The question was general, but everyone could see the way his eyes fixed on Silbhé.

"He was lying regarding his intentions when recovering the piece of the staff, which I'm sure you have realized already." She told him calmly. "And by the way, no need to worry on that front. The Paganists don't have it. Luka got there in time. It's in his possession."

"Luka?" Several voices asked at once.

"Dr. Luka Hvedrungr, my husband." Silbhé clarified.

"That is a highly dangerous object and should be placed n the care of SHIELD, for safety." Agent May stated almost coldly.

"Right now it's safer exactly where it is." Silbhé retorted calmly.

"She's right." Phil agreed, to everyone's surprise, before May could argue the point further. "We wouldn't know what to do with it anyway."

"And her husband would?" May snorted in disbelief.

"You don't know my match, Agent." Silbhé told him stiffly. "But maybe one day you will."

"Anything else?" Coulson asked, to evoid another argument right then.

"He's Asgardian." Silbhé's words left everyone flabbergasted... except Phil.

"That's impossible!" Ward and May called out at the same time.

"Only improbable." Silbhé dismissed the comment easily. "I have a feeling he's the reason the berserker staff is in this world at all."

"I think so too." The lead Agent agreed. "The way he reacted when I spoke about spending one-on-one time with aliens, or more like, not react at all... it was a dead give-away."

The hazel-eyed girl nodded, though the Agent knew it was not how she'd been able to tell he was not human, she had her own ways.

"What now?" Ward asked.

"I'm not sure." Phil admitted. "I don't think Randolph will willingly give us anything useful. Even knowing he's Aesir won't really help us here."

"Our priority should be locating the missing piece of the staff." Silbhé pointed out. "Above all, we cannot allow that thing to fall into the wrong hands. It'd be too dangerous."

"Think Luka will be able to locate it with the help of the one he already has?" Phil asked, having deduced why her husband had gone after the other piece himself.

"That's the idea." She nodded.

As if on cue, her cellphone rang. There was a hurried conversation in Gaelic, which the Agents did not even attempt to follow, knowing there was no point. They only waited for whatever the professor might say once the call ended, and she did not disappoint.

"We're gong to Ireland." She announced. "An old monastery to be precise."

xXx

In the end Phil did work on interrogating Randolph for the second time while the Bus flew to Ireland. Mainly because Ward wanted to know more about the effects of the staff and what he was in for, and Silbhé had already told them everything she knew. The man seemed a bit put out when he realized the team had already found out the truth, without needing for him to tell them anything at all. Though Silbhé stood out of sight... and far enough that he couldn't sense her aura and realize she wasn't human (not fully/anymore).

Yet again, things got messy, though the team seemed better prepared that time, or at least more willing to dive in and deal with it.

Silbhé had kept to the back of the group at first. She'd sensed that something was off from the moment they stepped into the monastery. The old man's excuse that the monks had taken a vow of silence simply not cutting it. The fact that her husband wasn't around was also making her anxious. Apparently something had happened near Greenwich, some kind of beast had been found in the nearby park, huge, and most certainly not from Midgard. Fury had called him, asked him to get rid of the creature before trouble began anew; apparently one inter-dimensional mess was more than enough for the time being. The young woman, of course, had assured the husband she would be alright, she could take care of herself. She also did not expect to have to fight.

At first her focus had been on the injured professor. A stab right into the heart was no minor thing after all. Though she had dealt with such wounds before. She considered using her own magic to deal with it, before remembering the vials in her bag, that gave her an idea.

"How is he?" The lead Agent asked the two who were trying to help the professor.

"I don't know what to do." Simmons admitted, even as she kept her hands pressed on the man's chest, trying to stop the bleeding. "He's not human."

"He's dying." Coulson pointed out the obvious.

"Yeah, we know." Fitz nodded, barely keeping calm. "But she doesn't understand his anatomy."

"It's not that different from humans." Silbhé, standing beside them, stated. "But right now you don't need to understand it."

Before FitzSimmons could ask what she meant exactly they saw her passing a small crystal vial over to Phil, who seemed to know what it was, for he took it with a smile.

"Move your hands away Simmons." He ordered.

"But if I do so, he'll bleed off." She complained, even as her hands began moving.

"No, he won't." Phil assured her.

The moment the biochemist's hands were away, Coulson poured the entire contents of the vial straight into the hole in Professor Randolph's chest, causing a squeak from the two scientists.

"Dirtying the wound won't help him!" Simmons cried out, horrified.

"It's not dirt, Simmons." The lead Agent actually chuckled at the assumption. "It's healing powder. It'll help him."

"Isn't that thing Asgardian?" Fitz asked, confused, as he turned to look at his boss and the petite consultant in turns. "I think I remember reading a mention of it somewhere..."

"How do you even know that thing works?" Simmons asked, more intrigued than affronted.

"Because it saved my life once." Their boss told them calmly.

As if on cue, the professor drew in a sharp breath, his eyes opening slowly. He looked down at himself, his finger running across his chest, through the remains of blood and dust.

"Asgardian healing stone..." He murmured in understanding. "How did you have access to this?" His attention was called to the redhead standing beside him, whom he'd only seen at a distance until that moment. "You..."

Silbhé didn't give him the chance to say anything, as something else called her attention to the edge of the second level of the monastery right then. From there she could watch what was going on bellow. Grant had managed to defeat Nystrom, quite a feat considering that the paganist had a piece of the staff, while all the Agent had to go on were the remnants of the one time he'd touched it (and even then, only briefly).

However, that wasn't really what called her attention, no. Skye was trying to reason with her S.O., trying to get him to calm down; May keeping an eye on him, making sure he stayed away from the piece of the staff Nystrom had dropped. And then the door was broken down, allowing what looked like about a dozen paganists, all enraged, all looking for Nystrom and the piece of the berserker staff they knew was in that monastery.

"Get back!" Ward yelled at the two women, even as he began reaching for the staff.

Silbhé decided in that moment that she'd stayed back long enough. She was there to help, to protect; and right then, they clearly needed her help. She'd tried to surreptitiously use a sleep enchantment on the paganists, but the rage caused by their interaction with the artifact was too strong and couldn't be broken that easily. No, they would need to be taken down the old-way, the hard-way... she knew people who would have enjoyed the chance for such a fight. She didn't, yet she was going to do it anyway...

Phil, FitzSimmons, and Professor Randolph could only watch quietly as the petite, auburn-haired, hazel-eyed woman slipped off the long dark-leather trench-coat she'd been wearing (which reached to her mid-calf) since her arrival to the Bus, never taking it off; beneath was revealed what looked like an elaborate, layered attire in various shades of violet. A flick of her wrists and finger-less gloves were added, at the same time her mid-back length hair pulled on its own into a twist at the nape of her neck.

"She's Asgardian too..."

It was all she heard Randolph whisper before she jumped off the terrace and to the middle of lower level.

"Go with them." She told Ward without looking at him.

"Wha...?" No one understood any longer.

She didn't pay them much attention. Simply bending down to pick up the piece of the berserker staff. It truly was an awful sensation in the pit of her stomach, and in her chest. As if someone had injected an extra-high dose of adrenaline and... something else into her bloodstream, her every nerve on fire, muscles burning for a fight. Until she called on her magic, deep inside, the pieces of her beloved that were so deeply entrenched in her own soul they'd long since become a part of her too, to keep the effects of the staff at bay. She'd need the strength, there was no doubt about that. Even though she was technically Aesir, her body was still mostly like it had been when she was human, more fragile than most would expect. Didn't keep her from fighting though; nothing ever could.

"You shouldn't touch that..." Agent May called, tone hard.

"Believe me when I tell you that right now I'm the best person to deal with this." Silbhé told her, the slightest hint of ice in her voice showing the fight to stay in control.

"Why should we believe you when we still haven't the slightest idea of who you are?" May demanded. "The profile from SHIELD's database that you brought up was a nice touch, but you missed one thing. Professor Salani-Hvedrungr is dead, she's been dead for more than two years now, there's no way you can possibly be her!"

"Oh I am her alright, or I was." The hazel-eyed's answer just confused them further. "If you want a more honest name you can call me Lady Nightingale, princess of Asgard..."

"Another Asgardian..." Skye whispered in awe.

"She's the one Agent Hand spoke to in Greenwich." Ward added, he'd read the report.

Nightingale didn't give them any chance to question her further, not that there was any time really, not with the dozen rage-crazed paganists approaching. She twisted the broken staff in her hand a few times, testing for the best hold possible, before using her free hand to draw out her favorite among her blades: a crystal dagger with a guard in the form of a Celtic triple-knot, the triquetra; it was a gift from Sif. Then, thus armed, the fight began.

It was a fight, inside and out. As the power in the piece of the staff kept trying to take her over, showing her things, trying to make her into another Berserker... but Nightingale's will was simply too strong, as it had been proven time and again, and the magic inside her, her match's energy, helped her too. So, really, the fight inside was a two against one, there was no way she could lose. In the 'fight out' she had a disadvantage numerically, but berserkers were predictable, always fighting the same way: head on, all yells and brutish force, no intelligence, no tactics whatsoever. So, after a little while, she won that one too.

Her strategy was a pretty simple one. Using the staff, or the butt end of her dagger to knock unconscious as many of the paganists as she could; hitting them in specific parts (articulations and pressure points) to take them down when a hit to the back of the head was not enough. Only using the blade to cut through the back of their knees, ankles or shoulders (in very specific, well-studied moves, meant to disable and not kill) when absolutely necessary.

The moment the last paganist fell and did not get back up, Nightingale dropped the piece of the berserker staff; convulsively opening and closing her hand, as if trying to rid herself of the touch of that thing (even if only her fingers had touched it, as her palm was protected).

"Awful, awful thing..." She murmured, before adding a few more choice words in a variety of other languages.

Skye was the first who dared approach her, a courage inside her Nightingale couldn't help but find admirable, even as Ward and May watched her warily.

"Are you alright?" The young hacker inquired, honestly concerned.

"Fine..." Even as the sorceress said she shivered. "Awful thing, had never felt such magic in my life... like an infection spreading inside my body."

The two young women were interrupted before either could do or say anything else, by two more individuals breaking into the place. One of them the blonde they all recognized as Petra Larsen, the piece of the staff that had been recovered from Norway, in hand.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me." Skye groaned.

Three people moved at once, Nightingale, as well as Agents Ward and May, all reaching for the piece of the berserker staff at the princess's feet, ready to fight. However, before either could reach it, another figure appeared in the middle of the monastery. Dressed in his usual green, black and gold, and towering over everyone else in the room. They all recognized him instantly, even Phil, FitzSimmons and Professor Randolph watching from the second level, though only Skye dared say a word.

"Loki, the god of mischief and lies..." She mumbled, shocked.

The aforementioned mischief-maker smirked at her before turning his eyes to the broken staff on the ground, and then at the petite princess beside him, who had sagged the moment she laid eyes on him, feeling so much safer with him there.

"I leave you alone for a few hours and this is what happens?" He teased her. "You're worse than Thor, Sif and the Warriors Three put together!"

"Am not!" Nightingale actually pouted. "It's not like I go looking for trouble."

"Indeed, it just seems to have no problem finding you." Loki replied.

May made a move to speak, probably to remind them of the approaching rage-crazed paganists. When Loki waved his hand wide once, creating a concussive wave that sent the two humans flying, before they crashed hard, one against a wall and the other a column. It was enough to knock the man out, though the woman was persistent. Loki stopped her from reaching the piece of the staff she'd been carrying, kicking it out of reach, before using the flat of his hand to deliver a blow to the back of her head, leaving her unconscious too.

For a few tense seconds not a word was spoken, until...

"Loki..." It was Phil, he and the others had descended.

"Son of Coul..." Loki acknowledged him with a half smirk.

"Wait a second." Fitz called abruptly, ignoring Simmons's attempt at shutting him up. "Isn't Loki supposed to be a villain?"

"Indeed." Loki smirked at him mischievously. "Just like your boss is supposed to be dead."

Once again it looked like May wanted to intervene, but a touch from Phil stopped her, even as he opened his mouth to do the same, only to be stopped by an imperious look from the second prince of Asgard, he really did not care about whatever excuses the man might give (and he'd already heard the reasons given to his match). What was done was done.

With a wave of the sorcerer's hand, the missing piece of the staff appeared. The effect was immediate, as the three, seemingly guided by some kind of magic inherent in the artifact pulled them together, until the staff was reformed.

"We should call SHIELD to take that thing away..." May murmured, reaching for her phone.

"You will do no such thing." Loki told her authoritatively. "That thing is Asgardian and belongs nowhere else but in the Realm Eternal. The last thing we need is people in your organization getting ideas, we all remember what happened the last time..."

Truth was, at least some of the younger people present didn't seem to know, but at least Phil, Ward and May (grudgingly) knew he was right. So, with another flick of his wrist, Loki sent the staff into his sub-space pocket.

"Excuse me, miss..." Even as Ward gathered the courage to try and talk to Nightingale, he wasn't quite sure how to address her.

"She's Lady Nightingale, goddess of devotion, princess of Asgard, my match and consort." Loki presented her in a very theatrical manner.

"Just call me Nightingale." The hazel-eyed added gently, not wanting to make the Agent feel bad or anything. "Was there a question you wanted to ask me?"

"Yes..." He hesitated a moment more before finally speaking. "I'm sorry if this is personal but, when you held the staff, did you see something?"

"You h... you actually..." While Loki had sensed the turmoil in his beloved's mind and soul, he hadn't realized what the reason was. "Of course you did... I don't know why I'm even surprised."

She could feel as he began focusing his magic on cleansing her, chasing away whatever remnants of the staff's power there might be. Too bad they couldn't do the same for Ward, but a normal human wouldn't be able to handle the shock of a foreign power inside their body; it was enough of a wonder that he'd done as well as he did with just the staff...

"Yes, I saw something." She acquiesced serenely. "It's like Professor Randolph said, the Berserker staff works by shining a light in dark places..."

"But that doesn't mean anything..." Simmons contested.

"It's a metaphor." The princess clarified. "It means that it brings forth things you usually keep hiding, things that are hard, dark, that fuel your anger, your hate, turning them into rage..."

"And you..." More than one person seemed surprised at the revelation.

"Of course I have such memories." She said, still in the same even tone. "Everyone does. Even if some are worse than others..." She took a deep breath, before going into the hard part. "Mine were less specific memories and more a mix of images and feelings, all connected to the one creature in the universe I despise... Thanos..."

She truly, honestly hated that monster in a way she'd never hated anything or anyone else, in a way she would have never believed herself capable of.

"How..." Ward hesitated before asking his other question. "How do you... how do we get over this? Get past it?"

"There are different ways." Nightingale told him honestly. "It mostly depends on you... though, if you want my advice, do not ignore it. Ignoring your problems never works. You need to face them, to understand them. You need to move on, rather than just 'past it'. Having someone you trust there helps too..."

She did not have to think hard to know who would be quite willing to do so; what she couldn't be sure of, was if he would take the advice and accept the offer. And there was nothing the princess could do about it either. It was all up to Ward.

xXx Loki's POV xXx

I couldn't help but smile as I stepped into our bedroom that night after putting Hákon to bed. It was the kind of thing my Nightingale and I did together whenever possible, but she hadn't believed it to be a good idea when there might still be something of the berserker's aura on her. Our boy was such a sensitive child... she didn't want to risk hurting him in any way. I also knew she was sore and exhausted (hard as she tried to hide it), which was why I suggested she take a relaxing bath while I read a story to Hákon and put him to bed.

By the time I reached our rooms Nightingale had long since left the tub. I found her standing on a corner of the balcony, off-white robe loose enough on her frame that one creamy shoulder could be seen, as well as the top of the pale green chemise she was wearing (one of my favorite pieces of sleep-wear on her).

I couldn't help but admire the sensual creature that was my wife for a while; until I eventually noticed how pensive she looked and couldn't help but worry.

"Is everything alright, my love?" He asked softly.

"Yes..." She whispered.

She couldn't lie to me and yet... she wasn't exactly lying, but I could tell, from the way she kept looking into the distance, it was as if she were trying to find answers to her silent questions in the moonless sky, in the stars... and she wouldn't look at me. So, I knew she wasn't lying, but she wasn't being completely honest with me either. Still, I did not call her on it. There as no need, I knew if I was just a little patient she would tell me.

"I was just remembering a little conversation I had with Skye, earlier." She proved me right almost a minute later.

"Did she say something hurtful?" I couldn't help but like the girl, for some reason, yet she wasn't exactly tactful, from what I'd seen.

"Not at all." Nightingale said honestly. "It just... it left me thinking."

Again, I waited. However, instead of hearing an explanation, I eventually felt a nudge inside my head. My match was offering me a peek into her memories, so I could see the conversation myself. I allowed that part of her to pull me in.

The brunette hacker approached Nightingale as she stood beside the van, watching as Agent May and the Son of Coul supervised the arrest of the paganists (I was with them, as Phil had asked me to use my magic to make sure the effects of the Berserker staff had worn-off enough that the criminals wouldn't pose a risk to the human authorities taking them into custody). Meanwhile the younger members of the team were taking some things from the Bus as they would be staying in a hotel for the night. The other Asgardian, Elliot Randolph, had already left for his home in Seville, after announcing he'd decided it was time to move on and start over.

"Excuse me, Princess Nightingale." The hacker called.

"Just Nightingale is fine." My match told the girl.

"Alright..." The young girl seemed a bit awkward, but pushed on. "I was wondering, about what May said before, of you being dead..."

"You were wondering how the records say I'm dead, yet here I am." My love guessed.

"Well, not quite that." That was a surprise. "I suppose it's only normal for people as long lived as you. I mean, you're practically immortal! And you don't age! It's obvious that you would have to fake your death every so often to start over."

Nightingale didn't seem to know what to say to that.

"That's what I wanted to ask. One thing I don't understand. I mean, if you faked your death so you could move on, why come back to SHIELD? And if you already worked for SHIELD, and they obviously already knew about Asgard and everything, why fake your death? And on that side, Prof. Randolph's been here for a thousand years, how about you...?"

It seemed like as she got more confident, she began asking even more questions, something that actually made my beloved laugh a bit.

"Easy!" She told the girl. "One question at a time. Though I suppose it all comes down to this: I did not fake my death Skye. I did die, two years ago, and then I became this." She took a deep breath. "I was born mortal. When I said that my name was Silbhé Salani I did not lie, I was really given that name upon my birth. Things happened through my life, I met Loki, we became friends, eventually fell in love and got married; I got that job with SHIELD..."

"That sounds so amazing..." Skye said, awed. "I suppose you cannot tell me more, it's probably classified and all that."

"Fury probably would say that." Nightingale admitted with a shrug. "I don't care about such things. However, what my life-story is, is too complicated to tell it all right now. Especially since I have a son waiting at home, who will want his Papa and I to put him to sleep."

There was a shadow of something in Skye's eyes right then, it vanished so suddenly one might have missed it, but not us. It made both of us wonder at the girl's past, her family. There was something about her, something in her aura, she wasn't entirely human; yet it was also more, a hint of something, of a touch... but I couldn't discern it.

"Anyway." My match continued. "Things happened and I died. It was during the second chitauri invasion, in May, two years ago."

"The report said the cancer killed you." The brunette pointed out.

"In a way it did, though it was more complicated than that." My love shrugged a bit, not wanting to go into more detail.

"It's amazing..." The young hacker breathed.

Nightingale arched a brow, not really understand what was supposed to be amazing...

"I mean, you got another chance." Skye explained. "It's like... like one lifetime wasn't enough, for you and Loki, your love... so you got another one. It's so romantic!"

She did not say more, instead moving away, still giggling to herself at what she'd said. My match could only watch her leave in silence, profoundly shocked.

I wasn't sure how I hadn't noticed it the moment I approached her. She'd been right when saying it was late and Hákon would be waiting for us (and only the considerable difference in time-zones helped us make it back in time), but still. At least I could see it in that moment, how shocked she was, how contemplative Skye's words had left her. It wasn't her death, no... or at least not her most recent one. It was the way those same words applied to the other one, the one both of us had tried so hard not to think of.

"I never saw it like that, you know?" My love said right then. "Ever since I first heard than man... elf call me Lalaith, say I was a reincarnation and all that... all I could think of was that I wasn't who I thought I was. How could I know how much of my current life was influenced by the other one? How much of what I call mine now actually belongs to her...?" She shook her head. "Then I heard Skye say that: 'one lifetime wasn't enough'... And I couldn't help but wonder, if that was it. If maybe it was never supposed to be about Lalaith and Silbhé... but about Nightingale. Lady Thenidiel said that the body was different, but she could sense the same soul... so it's not about her and I... because both are me."

I did not say a word, just waiting as she worked it all out. Truth was that, from the very start I hadn't been able to help feeling that they were all right. I might not be able to remember any of it, but it just seemed right. The idea that we were together in the past, and after something (we still knew not what) separated us, we were given another chance, another life. It also explained why sometimes I felt like I'd been waiting for her for so long... long before I met her in that rose-garden, trying to imitate the birds' song.

"I think..." She hesitated just a moment before conviction covered her features. "I want to know. I want to know if I'm really her and... and if it's possible I would like to remember."

That one I wasn't expecting, and I knew it showed in my expression.

"It's just, the idea of having loved you before, it's enticing." She admitted. "But it's more than that too. It's... If they're right. If I am this Princess Lalaith Mirloth of Alfheim, your first wife... that means I'm Hel's mother."

"You already are Hel's mother." I deadpanned.

"I know that, of course, it's just..."

She couldn't put her thoughts into words, but there was no need, I could feel it as strongly as if it were a part of me. She loved Hel like a daughter, always had, but a part of her mind was always reminding her that Hel was only her step-daughter; making her doubt herself, fear that she might never be enough in comparison to Hel's birth-mother. Except, now it turned out that that might be her. Abruptly, I couldn't help but wonder if Hel remembered, if she'd known from the very start. Had she always known who my Nightingale was? That her Mama was truly hers... If so, since when? Since she had entered Helheim? Since the two of us wedded? Since I went to her looking for a way to save my dearest friend from dying?

I made a decision in a second and was saying the words even before I was fully conscious of it:

"I might be able to help then."

My match turned to look at me then, confusion and wonder in her eyes. I flicked a wrist, feeling the moment the tiny bottle filled with the pale-blue liquid dropped into my palm, coming from the subspace pocket.

"Mother made this potion." I explained as I showed it to her. "She says it'll bring down the blocks that were created around my memories of what happened almost a thousand years ago. My time with Lalaith, our marriage... with us being a match, it's quite possible that its effect would extend to you, bringing out the memories hidden in your soul. It might not give you back everything..."

But it would give her enough, enough to prove she was Lalaith. I myself did not need any proof, even without evidence I knew, deep inside, that she was my one and only love. Names, faces, races... all those were details mattered little, it was her essence, her soul I truly loved. It actually reminded me of something she had told me, many years before, when she was but a child, so innocent, yet already so strong:

"...do you look like, blue, or green, with horns…or something like that?" She'd asked me. "Not that I have anything against it if you do, really, I promise..."

I could still remember that day. It was almost funny, how much impact those words kept having on us, more than a decade afterwards.

Nightingale smiled, it took me a second but I realized I'd sent the memory down our connection without noticing. To think how we'd begun, and how far we'd gotten since then, except... except apparently we'd begun before, centuries before, and it'd only taken us this long to get back to where we'd once been, to where we belonged.

"So..." She began, eyes fixed on the potion still in my hand. "Are we doing this then?"

"If that's what you want..." I murmured.

"If it's what I..." She broke up, eyes wide at me. "What about you Maverick? Is it, is any of this what you want?"

"Whichever choice you make I'll be happy with." I assured her, evasively.

"That's not really an answer, is it?" She smiled, she could see through me so easily...

"I'm being honest." I told her (and how ironic that if she were anyone else, just those words would be enough to make her distrust me, but not her, never her). "If you want to know I'm with you, if you don't, I'm also with you. If you want to know what I think: I think that I love you, so much I have no doubt I will still love you a thousand years from now; and for the same reason I would have no problem believing that I've loved you for a thousand years already. I told you before, sometimes I feel that I've been searching, waiting for you, long before I met you out there in that garden..." I couldn't help but breathe in her scent: honey, lavender and a hint of the roses she'd spent most of her childhood and early teenage years surrounded by. "It doesn't matter what anyone else says, or believes. They don't rule our lives, only we do that. The past is of little relevance; what's done is done, we cannot change it, or go back. All that's truly important is us, our bond. It's like I told you before: We are real, what we have Is real... everything else is completely inconsequential."

"I..." I could see her take a deep, slow, almost shuddering breath, like someone about to dive into deep, unknown waters. "I cannot precise what I want right now but... I think I... no, we need to know. I think it is important, even if I'm not sure why just yet."

"Very well." I could feel the same thing, even if I hadn't said it. "Lets do this then."

We left the balcony, going to lay down on the bed. It was safer, as there was no way of knowing what exactly would happen once I drank that potion, though I was fairly certain at least I would drop unconscious. It would be far more comfortable if we did that on the bed, rather than dropping on the balcony.

She took off her robe, before pulling down the covers and carefully arranging herself on the bed. I took off my shirt; I'd always preferred sleeping in just sleep-pants... or in the nude, though with the little boy liable to walk in on us at any moment I'd taken to wearing at least pants. I laid down beside her, gazing at the lovely face of my wife; I knew she was waiting, but I wasn't willing to do things without first making sure there was not a doubt in her head about the things I'd been telling her all night, and since the night we'd left Asgard.

"Never forget that I love you, forever..." I whispered into her lips a moment before I kissed her.

"Forever..." She agreed when we broke the kiss.

I could feel her left hand reaching for mine, intertwining our fingers and then twisting until we had the other's hand before us, the claddagh tattoos in our fingers in stark contrast with our light skin tones (her soft-cream, mine pale alabaster).

"Mo Anam Cara..." She whispered, placing a kiss on my knuckles.

"Mo Anam Cara..." I could do nothing but return the gesture.

Then without letting go, I used my free hand to bring the small bottle to my lips, raising my head just enough so I could swallow without problem. The potion tasted of lemon, and had a potent smell of sage and rosemary. The last thing I was fully aware of was my beloved's hazel eyes gaining a strange sheen, almost as if there were suddenly stars shining in her eyes. Then I went under, falling into a storm of color and light, of memories, of joy, and pain, and sadness, and bravery, and honor, and battle, and despair and... love...

An elven princess in an elegant, elaborate red gown, her auburn-haired piled up on top of her head in a very intricate style, with a crown of fresh flowers to adorn it and a smile that never seemed to reach her hazel eyes standing on a dais... A girl in a simple pink dress, feet bare, with ringlets of auburn hair cascading down her back, stray petals and leaves seemingly woven between the tresses; her smile was so bright as she sat in between the roses it almost shone brighter that the stars above... both were the same.

A black-haired, emerald eyed Aesir prince who always seemed to be in the shadow of his blonde-haired, blue-eyed brother... a sorcerer with the ability to travel between the worlds, who would explore all the realms, adoring chaos and watching life pass by, until the day he first lay eyes on an elven princess surrounded by roses in bloom...

Songs of hope... songs of love... songs of grief...

The story of two lives, of one soul in two bodies, told in songs, a necklace of songs...

"I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
My spellbound heart has made and remade the necklace of songs,
That you take as a gift, wear round your neck in your many forms,
In life after life, in age after age, forever."

Tradition for Destiny, Duty for True Love, Envy for Compassion, Fury for Mercy; one by one walls fell, nothing could be stronger than their match, a union that gave birth to light...

Friends and Family: Two Aesir warrior-ladies, so different from each other, and at the same time so alike; three creatures other than Aesir (or anything humanoid), all caring so much for them; two brothers, neither by blood, though both tied to them by bonds stronger than any they could have been born with; a human couple with a destiny greater than either of them knew, a love binding them as tightly as the two Aesir, through time and space. And then there was the light: of the world, of their eyes, of their lives: their daughter...

Enemies: The Enchantress Sisters, the cause of most of their grievances, one of them with her obsession over Thor, and the other taking it as a personal affront that Loki wouldn't continue her training after they'd both used it for nefarious purposes. In the end, nothing they did was enough, the sisters still managed to cause grief... and death...

They'd lost so much much... We'd lost so much... I'd lost... My friends, my brother, my daughter, my match... I should have died, the moment she did. Everyone knew that for a matched pair it was a much kinder fate when they both died together, for when one half survived, they almost always ended going beyond insane, self-destructive in wild attempts to regain that which they'd lost. They had to be put down...

Except that's not what happened to me. Od... Al...Father refused to put me down, refused to let me go. He erased my mind, made me forget everything that might hurt me, though that had consequences, for me, and for everyone else. It made me wonder if things would have gotten as bad, for both Asgard and Midgard, if I'd been allowed to die when I wanted so badly to; made me wonder if Father regretted not killing me when I asked him to...

But I couldn't be truly angry with him. I knew that in the end, he did the things he did, out of love. It must be hard for him, loving his sons yet not knowing how to express it, from what I knew his father hadn't exactly been the best example where fraternal love was concerned. It probably wasn't easy for him to see me go through all that, all the suffering, the pain, the soul-shattering grief... I couldn't imagine ever having to see one of my children go through the same. I hoped such a thing would never happen.

In the end, at least, things turned out alright... or as much as anything could be after everything that had happened, both back then and in recent years. I had my match back, my Nightingale, my Tinúviel, what else could I ask for?

xXx Nightingale's POV xXx

It took several seconds for my head to clear when I regained consciousness. The first thing that came to mind was the same question I'd gone to sleep thinking of: Was I Lalaith or Silbhé? The answer was the next thing to come to me: I was none, not really. I might have been each of those girls at one time, but just like a thousand years prior I'd left behind Princess Lalaith Mirloth to become Tinúviel; I'd also shed the identity of Professor Silbhé Salani (for the most part) to become Nightingale. Tinúviel... Nightingale, they... I were the same. My body might look nothing like it had back then (though some basics remained, my hair was a bit redder, my eyes a bit darker, though some said my voice had hardly changed); my soul, though, was the same.

And really, body aside, the essence of me hadn't changed at all. The elven-princess who'd given up her claim on the throne of Alfheim was the same as the young professor who'd given up her job and any chance for a normal human life in Midgard to stand by her match. I'd always been willing to do anything for my beloved, and that was never going to change...

"A'maelamin..." Loki whispered huskily, reaching with a hand to my face.

"Fintalëharyon (trick-prince)..." I replied in a whisper.

If anything was new (or old, depending on one's point of view) it was that we'd added a whole score of nicknames to use with each other... and I'd 'learnt' a new language (more actually, as Lalaith had been well-versed not only in elvish but also in dwarvish, and a couple of long-lost-tongues from very long before)!

The moment my mind finished clearing, the first thought I had was enough to nearly send me into full-blown panic:

"Hákon!" I cried out, sitting up fast enough to give myself vertigo.

"Easy, love..." Loki sat up beside me, holding me until my dizziness subsided. "He's alright..." He shifted as he became aware of something else. "Our daughter is here..."

His statement made me react without me being fully conscious of it. I barely had enough thought to pull the dressing-gown over my sleeping clothes before leaving the bedroom, feet bare and with no thought for the quite cold floor beneath me. I didn't even pay any attention to my match, hurrying after me; my thoughts on one single person:

And there she was: lithe figure, porcelain skin unblemished but for the scars consequence of the same curse that had taken my life in my previous life, hair black like a raven's wing in perfect curls, cascading down her back; blue-green eyes, shadowed by long-standing pain, though she still smiled at the kid (black hair, blue eyes) sitting on her lap, playing a simple but seemingly very entertaining game with their hands...

"Helena..." I breathed out the moment my eyes laid on her.

Her head raised abruptly, eyes meeting mine. For a second, not a word was spoken. I could hear Hákon calling to me, to us, as if from a great distance before he jumped from his big sister's (his big sister, my daughter...) lap and rushed to us, Loki picking him up before he could reach me. My whole attention, though, was on her... she looked older than me, had for as long as I'd known her in my human life... yet that did not change who she was, and more importantly, who and what she was to me...

"Mama..." She murmured, before doing a double-take. "Did you just say...?"

"Helena..." I repeated, switching to elvish as I added: "Cala amin (My light)..."

"Nana!" She cried out before throwing herself at me.

I couldn't help it, we both ended sprawled on the carpeted floor of the music-room (where we'd found her and Hákon) but neither of us minded, not really. We were just so happy to be together again, after so long...

Something lit up inside me then, as I thought over Hel's favored address for me since we'd gotten to truly know each other. She'd taken to calling me Mama, over 'Mor' which should have been more familiar to her, or the usual Mother the Aesir used. For the longest time I'd thought nothing of it, but what if? Mama sounded incredibly like Nana, the elven word for Mom... What if?

"How long?" I asked her quietly, though without letting her go just yet.

"Nana...?" She repeated, making it sound like a question.

"Exactly." I nodded. "How long have you known?"

She lowered her head briefly, as if ashamed, to which I responded by tightening my hold on her and kissing her hair lovingly.

"It's alright, little one." I murmured. "You've done nothing wrong. I'm just curious."

"From the moment Ada visited me and told me he'd a friend called Nightingale..." My daughter admitted after what seemed like forever. "The elves and anyone else might have believed him capable of fully forgetting of moving on... I knew better."

My love froze, as did I. To think that she'd known all along, and we hadn't... how hard must that have been? To have her parents back together and them not know it?

"Oh my dear..." I murmured, pained for her sake.

"How is that possible?" My match asked, voice hoarse with feeling. "Everyone forgot, A... Father said that and..."

"I never forgot." Helena explained quietly. "I changed my name for your sake, never spoke of the past, but I always knew... there is a reason why I'm called the Goddess of Grief..."

My match was on his knees beside us, and pulling the two of us into his arms before either of us had the chance to say anything.

"I'm sorry..." He murmured to his daughter. "I'm so, so sorry..."

"Ada..." Hel really didn't seem to know what to say.

"I know I'm not the father you wanted, or deserved but... you gave me another chance, and I promise things will be better now." He assured her.

"They are already better." Our daughter assured him, assured us both. "They've been since the two of you found each other again..."

"Then they'll get even better." I promised her. "Because now we know the truth, and we're all whole again... we're a family, a real family again."

"We were already a family." She pointed out. "It was one thing I loved about you. Even when you openly called me your step-daughter, it was obvious you truly loved me, not just as Adar's child, but as your own..."

"Of course I did!" I said immediately. "Blood matters little to me. You're my daughter Helena, have always been."

"Does that mean I can go back to being called Helena?" She asked, almost timidly.

"You have always been Helena." We both told her at the same time.

She was. Helena, our child, the light of our lives...

xXx

The moment we set foot in Asgard again, it was as if we were entering a whole new Realm Eternal. At first I thought it was only having gained over a hundred years worth of memories, 98 of those having lived in Asgard as its princess and Loki's wife. Ad then Heimdall greeted me:

"Princess Tinúviel..." He murmured, bowing his head respectfully at me.

"Nightingale is still just fine, Heimdall." I assured him, reminding him of the odd friendship we'd struck since my arrival in my new life. "It means the same, and it's still me."

"Of course, princess Nightingale." He nodded, still stoic (though he relaxed minutely).

"Ah... is Er... Lord Erynion still here?" I hesitated just a second before asking.

"Yes, my lady." Heimdall nodded. "The Queen convinced him to stay one more day."

"She probably knew we would be coming." Loki shrugged behind me.

"Indeed, my lord." The Gatekeeper agreed.

Loki shook his head but didn't say anything, instead he just helped us get on our horses. He remained just as silent as we rode down the Rainbow Bridge and through Asgard until one too many Aesir bowed to him (to us) as we passed... he lost it shortly before we reached the palace.

"What in the abyss is wrong with these people?!" He snapped. "They've hated me for the better part of the last millennium... and suddenly everyone's looking at me like... like... like I'm Thor!"

"Nonsense." I snorted, unable to help myself. "They're not looking at you like you're anyone but yourself, my love. They're just finally seeing you..."

"When the huge spell was cast all those years ago, it wasn't just you that forgot, Ada." Helena explained him, us. "Everyone in Asgard did. It was necessary to keep you safe. Only, it seems that forgetting all about Nana also meant forgetting why you'd done certain things... including those you did while driven by pain and grief..."

"Everyone thought I was just crazy, or evil..." Loki mumbled, mostly to himself.

"They didn't understand anymore." Helena tried to make him understand.

"And now they suddenly do?" He still wasn't buying it.

"I think that the potion you said Grandma gave you woke more than just your memories and Nana's..." Our daughter began, thoughtful.

"You think everyone else remembers now too..." I realized.

The prospect left me honestly breathless. The idea of being able to recover not just my husband and daughter, but the bond I'd once had with everyone else, especially Sif... while we certainly were friends, in my previous life we'd been almost as close as sisters. And...

"Does that mean...?" My throat half-closed at the mere thought in my head. "Erynion...?"

"He's never forgotten Nana, none of the Ljósálfar ever did." My light said quietly. "They never agreed with Grandfather's decision to use that spell... Wanted nothing to do with it. It's why Asgard's relations with Alfheim have been so delicate in the last nine centuries."

And to think how great they'd been back when Loki and I (Tinúviel) were married and traveling across the Realms as ambassadors.

"They would see it as defying the will of the Stars." I nodded in understanding. "After all, it was by their will that we were a match and..."

"And with the elves, whenever one half of the match is lost, the other loses themselves to grief, letting themselves die shortly afterwards." Helena finished for me.

I nodded, I'd explained things to her back then, being a Ljósálfar myself, and with Loki always helping Thor on the battlefront whenever the need arose, there was the very real possibility of my dying one day, and the last thing I wanted was for my child to feel as lost as I had after both my sister and mother died back then... before I understood that it wasn't that they didn't love me, it simply hadn't been in their power to stay, especially not Merilwen's.

"They could understand Loki not losing himself to grief, they always understood he was no Ljósálfar..." I commented.

I could remember other instances when such differences had shown, although most times Loki would surprise me, surprise us all.

"Yet they knew not what I truly am..." Loki mumbled.

He was being quiet, but there was no real sting, no self-deprecation in his voice, not anymore. If anything good had come from remembering the past, it was maybe the knowledge he'd gained concerning the truth about his family, Odin's 'plans', and how much the man truly loved him... also, those memories had brought my own recent arguments with the man into perspective.

"Erynion knew..." I reminded him.

It was never planned, but of course he'd found at one point, as did Sif. Too bad my beloved ended up losing not only me but them as well... at least we'd gotten another chance. Skye's words rang inside my head:

"...you got another chance... like one lifetime wasn't enough... so you got another one..."

Another chance indeed, and not just for the two of us, but for all. Family, friends, love...

When our little family of four first stepped into the palace, at first not a word was spoken, we all just looked at each other in tense silence until... motion. Suddenly Sif moved, she was in Loki's arms, holding him tightly before anyone could say anything.

"You idiot!" She shrieked at him a second later, slapping the back of his head.

"Good to see you too Sif..." My Maverick quipped with a smirk.

"It feels like its been so long, yet I saw you just a fortnight ago..." The raven-haired goddess of war mumbled, finally turning to look at me.

"Imagine how we feel." I deadpanned.

Really, my head was still spinning! I had a feeling if I were still human I'd have never been able to handle it, two lives? One where I'd lived for more than a hundred years before dying, while pregnant with my second child, victim of a curse, victim of an insane woman... and the things Loki had done afterwards... I'd only gotten a slight glimpse of that, and I knew a part of him feared my reaction where I ever to find out everything. In the end, I knew I would love him, no matter what he might have done.

Nothing else was said for a few moments and, slowly, I began looking around, until my eyes laid on the figure standing in the far end of the room, half-behind a column, with black hair, deep blue eyes and dressed in elegant grey elven robes... Yet again I refused to think things over and simply followed my instincts. I let go of Helena's and Loki's hands (Hákon was in his arms) sprinting across the Throne Room, not caring about what the Elders might think or say, I just ran and eventually threw myself into the arms of the one man I'd seen as my brother, years before ever meeting Thor Odinson (or Loki, for that matter).

"Toron (Brother)!" I cried out in delight as I embraced him as tight as I could.

"Tinúviel..." He breathed out, holding me just as tight. "Seler amin (sister mine)..."

"Princess..." I heard another voice behind him.

Blonde, light-blue eyed, in her usual white, Thenidiel was there too. The moment my eyes laid on her I remembered so much of her: a spell-weaver, back then Lady Santiel's apprentice, she was always meant to be the successor... just as she was always meant to be Erynion's match. No words needed to be said there, she knew I was happy for them, they truly deserved each other. And she had waited long enough for him to see her.

"Tinúviel..." Another called me then.

I saw Odin then, staring at me like he'd never seen me before. Memories rushed through my mind: his face the first time Loki had introduced me to his parents, the revelation of my beloved's heritage, the plan... the day of our wedding. It helped me understand why he'd been so rattled by my singing that song, the same one Loki had sung for me the day we were wed. The problem had never really been that the man did not care, but that he did (too much, as far as he was concerned) and knew not how to express it.

"Atar..." I addressed him by the most archaic form of 'Father' in elvish, just like I had in my past life. "I am back..."

"The world brightens with your return, mine daughter." He nodded, joy in his eyes like no one had ever seen before, and then he turned to Loki and it only grew. "My son..."

The only one who had no idea what was going on was Jane, but she didn't seem to mind at all. She was just happy that Loki and I were back and we all were smiling.

That night, another feast, another song... There was no need for an introduction, everyone knew who I was, and when the song began, no one had any trouble guessing what and who I sung for:

"A thousand years, a thousand more,
A thousand times a million doors to eternity.
I may have lived a thousand lives, a thousand times
An endless turning stairway climbs to a tower of souls.
If it takes another thousand years, a thousand wars,
The towers rise to numberless floors in space.
I could shed another million tears, a million breaths,
A million names but only one truth to face..."

"A million roads, a million fears,
A million suns, ten million years of uncertainty.
I could speak a million lies, a million songs,
A million rights, a million wrongs in this balance of time.
But if there was a single truth, a single light,
A single thought, a singular touch of grace.
Then following this single point, this single flame,
The single haunted memory of your face."

"I still love you...
I still want you...
A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head."

"I may be numberless, I may be innocent,
I may know many things, I may be ignorant,
Or I could ride with kings and conquer many lands,
Or win this world at cards and let it slip my hands.
I could be cannon food, destroyed a thousand times,
Reborn as fortune's child to judge another's crimes,
Or wear this pilgrim's cloak, or be a common thief.
I've kept this single faith, I have but one belief."

"I still love you...
I still want you...
A thousand times the mysteries unfold themselves
Like galaxies in my head.
On and on the mysteries unwind themselves
Eternities still unsaid
'Til you love me..."

Yes, a thousand years we'd loved each other, through time and space, through life and death; and we would continue loving each other, to the end of time.

---

Well, that's it for this chapter, and for Nexus! Please don't forget to comment!

If you have any doubts, ask and if possible I'll answer. However, chances are that the things I did not go into here is because they're part of either the sequel or one of the companions I'm planning. On that front, I implied things regarding Nightingale's past life and did not really go into details, that was intentional. Mainly because it'd have been too long, and this story was alright as it was. That's where Nexus's sidestory/companion comes: "Necklace of Songs" will tell the story of Loki's and Tinúviel's life together, all the way to an extended version of Loki's and Nightingale's return to Asgard after recovering their memories (I'd to limit that scene as I couldn't go into details I hadn't explained first).

So, I'm taking next week off, because I'm exhausted, and besides this fics I'm currently working on translating my second novel into English so I might be able to publish that one in both languages (my mother language is Spanish) at the same time next year. Hope some of you might be interested on that too.

In two weeks, though, the first chapter of Necklace of Songs will be up, that one is three chapters long. By the time the last one is up I hope to have a plan on how to handle the next round of AUs.

So, that's all for now. Again, don't forget to comment, please. See ya around!