I use magic on the container, intending for it to be a submarine, for in case my landing is the water. But what did it turn into instead? It turned into a tank. I am inside a metal machine with little room to go around. I do not know how mortals are able to make the tank work using the little available space offered for them. There is a set of binoculars attached to a long pipe item hooked into the ceiling.

I look through the binoculars.

Needless to say the tank is flying down fast and the mountain terrain is coming.

Maybe the whole submarine idea had not been a bright solution.

I back off from the binoculars then go to the ladder leading up. When I grabbed on the third bar leading up towards the rounded metal opening the tank came to a full on strong landing. The tank flips over, and over, and over numerous times until some natural land formation temporary stopped the hectic rolling. I felt like a scared cat clinging on to a tree branch during a devastating earthquake. I resume my climb towards the opening. I can hear the creaks of the wheels bending pushing forward on what little rock remains. I turn the wheel towards the left three times.

The lid pops open.

I push myself up out of the tank half out.

There is ugly mountains not covered in snow far as the eye can see. A hawk swoops right over me cawing as it flew. The birds caw echoes through the mountain range going from loud to fading. Usually mountains do not let caws echo throughout the area because if that were possible then mountain climbers would hear what they say; numerous times. I look over the front end to see a collection of weak and some strong big rocks creaking against the wheels of the tank. The speed my tank had been taken is remarkably still in work.

I have to get out; all the way.

I turn towards the right away from the front end and climb out.

Until my right boot did not budge.

The rocks begin giving away from the tank's moving wheels.

Okay, no point in trying to get the boot out when you have a leg in danger.

I unzip my boot in the nick of time because the rocks gave away and I fell over off the tank landing on hard not-very-welcoming ground. I watch the tank tumble down the rocky walls bouncing up and down as it went. The tank speeds faster once the surface had become flatter for the wheels. The tank crashes into the ravine then explodes sending many of its metal parts flying in numerous directions around the blazing flare resonating black heavy smoke around it in a circle.

Now had I known the helicarrier was flying over a mountain range perhaps there wouldn't be scrap metal laying around in the circular bottom of the mountain making a clearing—prior to the tank crashing within it—lacking pebbles of the sorts. I wiggle my right big toe. My toes are long, despite their only use to help me walk properly, that I can grab a grape with them without wearing socks.

I blink realizing my right boot took the sock with it.

I make a new sock in replacement for the one lost and a new boot too.

"...If you're replacing one then you should do the same for the other," I reason.

This time my new boots cannot latch on to the nearest fabric and take it. I destroy the old boot using a magic spell handy in getting rid of footwear when there is not another way to do so. I get up on my two legs feeling grateful for not losing them this time. Using crutches to walk around is not fun for the least. I still remember my shoulders aching a day later.

I walk away from the crash site.

Ten minutes afterwards when I came to a narrow passage way in the mountain I felt a familiar presence is near. My eyes squint to see what is ahead. I see the figure of a woman in the distance sitting on a large rock propped against the passage way's ugly wall.

 Knight, I thought.

My eyes stop squinting and return to their normal size.

Of course I run after Knight.

Wouldn't a mortal do the same if it were someone they loved dearly? Of course they would; it happens all the time in their cinematic masterpieces. Truth to be told I don't know why they are considered masterpieces in the first place. It feels like two centuries has passed since I last saw Knight when in fact it was not too long ago. But why is Knight here when appearing makes a little part of her die? There must be a good reason.

"Nice landing with the tank," Knight said, once I came to.

"Knight, why are you here?" I ask, coming over. "Is it about Joy?"

"Yes," Knight said, as I sat next to her. "But let me just say...That was all the Bifrost doing bringing Jo here."

"Joy is nothing like Jo," I said.

"The universe screws up a lot on those two," Knight agrees, with a nod.

I raise a brow.

"It does?" I ask.

"Really," Knight said. "They only share facial features between them and they share a dislike towards dresses." I raise both eyebrows. "That's one of the reasons Jo became a warrior," Knight adds a laugh. I lower my eyebrows. "Just to get out of them."

"I've been meaning to ask," I said. "Do you remember writing books in your previous timeline?"

"No," Knight said. "I do not remember writing books."

"And reading stories in Wattpadheim?" I ask.

"I don't remember," Knight said. "I remember the other girl's life and her activity online socializing with others."

I remember reading Knight's book involving Jake the elk and she has no memory about it.

"...What about me waving a book in Fan Fiction City under Stark Tower?" I ask.

"I don't remember the title," Knight said. "But I do remember you waving it."

Anything relating to reading and writing her own stories is gone. The cost of changing the timeline; this is the price. Now that I think of it I cannot remember the title of Knight's book I plagiarized so long ago in the realm between internet and reality. But I still remember reading the book featuring Jake the elk, oddly. It seems the price only affects certain memories between us.

"Knight," I said. "Hold your left hand out."

 Knight held her left hand out as I requested.So I make a small straight cut on the palm of my left hand using the sharp edge of my dagger. I put away the dagger then grab Knight's left hand—the one with a hole—by my left hand. My blood met Knight's blood then she became temporary solid.

"How did you do that?" Knight asks.

"Frost Giants can make invisible beings real temporary," I said. "By using their blood on a wound the invisible one has. Heimdall told me before I left."

Knight's eyes brighten.

"But it doesn't last long," I said. "Long as my hand is on your wound; you are solid."

"Long as we're holding hands, I am real?" Knight asks.

"Yes," I said, with a nod.

Knight kisses me on the lips.

We have kissed plenty of times before. Countless times prior to the coronation away from public view and certainly in private places no one really knows about except us. By Asgard I have missed the physical part of Knight being solid as a average Asgardian. I miss having Knight there.

Knight ends the kiss backing off.

"You have a realm to save," Knight said. "I can wait a tad bit longer to be real again." I did not want to let go, really. "I will see you soon, Loki."

Knight slips her hand out of mine.

"I love you," I said.

"I love you, too," Knight said. "I also came here to tell you; the door is opening for the Chitauri."

The door is opening for one of the most ugly creatures in the nine realms.

Knight disappears from my vision. The battle of New York will start and I will not be there. Because I do not know where in Midgard I am at. Suddenly something huge flew over the passageway making a dark shadow in it's arrival over my head. I turn towards the left looking up to see a huge flying turtle acting as if the sky is their ocean body.

A space turtle.

The space turtle comes to a landing beside a cliff tip.

"The bed time stories are true," I said, in shock.

Space turtles come around rarely and they originate from the mountains of Jotunheim. They only come out every few hundred years to explore the space out of their realm hence the name 'space turtle' although there are instances where they are awaken from their slumber by foolish Frost Giants trying to prove themselves. But sometimes Asgardians refer to 'space turtles' as 'realm turtles' since they show up on rare occasions to the likes of any immortal being.

They are mostly called space turtles, anyhow.

I climb my way up to the top of the mountain.

Climbing is remarkably easy to do so I see no reason why mortals complain that climbing takes too much energy and is a dangerous obstacle. Mortals never have taken what they have for appreciation until it is gone and all that is left is moments in history. After five minutes worth of climbing I finally arrived to the top then walk towards the space turtle.

The space turtle had one lowered leg extended out for me.

At least I assume it is for me.

I climb on to the space turtle's back.

"You know where New York City is, right?" I ask.

The space turtle's left eye glances up towards me and then face back forwards. The space turtle swoops into the air while I hang on to a large shell part that is serving the purpose of a handle. Space turtles are not usually meant to be ridden though there is some bed time stories where Asgardians ride them into a very victorious battle.

I suppose this one will be too.