In the dying light of the evening, a motorcade of identical, obsidian-black SUVs—clearly out of place in the dusty town—pulled into the small neighborhood with military precision.
The men who stepped out were dressed in tailored suits, adjusting their ties and checking their surroundings before one man, balding and wearing a mild, practiced smile, approached a particular courtyard and rang the doorbell.
Moments later, a large, imposing man with scorched, dark skin opened the door. He stared at the visitors with an expression of cold, weary indifference.
"Merlin is expecting you," Heimdall said, his voice a low rumble. "He said the lead official may enter. The rest of your retinue stays on the street."
Phil Coulson nodded, signaling his agents to stand down with a brief look, and followed the scarred giant into the house.
"Merlin, the guest has arrived," Heimdall announced as they entered the living room. He spoke with a strained, submissive tone that clearly grated on his pride.
"Thank you. You're dismissed," Emrys said, waving a hand without looking up from the sofa. "Go prepare two cups of tea. Seven parts hot, and don't burn the leaves this time."
Heimdall's jaw tightened, but he bowed slightly and retreated toward the kitchen. Coulson watched him go, his eyebrows rising. He had seen a lot of things in his time at S.H.I.E.L.D., but a man of that stature acting as a domestic servant—especially one who looked like he had survived a thermal blast—was a first.
"Agent Coulson, I presume?" Emrys said, finally looking at the middle-aged man. "I take it Director Fury sent you to interrupt my evening?"
Coulson regained his composure, his professional mask slipping back into place. "Yes, Mr. Emrys. We're here to investigate the recent... astronomical events, and more importantly, to find you."
"Get to the point," Emrys yawned, leaning back. "It's late, and I have zero interest in S.H.I.E.L.D.'s penchant for dramatic buildup. Why is the Director knocking on my door?"
"May I speak freely?" Coulson glanced at the burly, blonde man standing like a silent sentinel beside the sofa.
"Him? Don't mind Thor," Emrys said dismissively. "He's my apprentice. Or my bodyguard. Depending on how much he irritates me. Say what you need to say."
Coulson hesitated for a second, then placed a small, sleek device on the coffee table. He activated a holographic projection, and a blue-tinted video began to play. "This is surveillance from a S.H.I.E.L.D. research facility. Inside, we were conducting experiments on an object of extreme importance."
"The Tesseract," Emrys said flatly.
Coulson blinked, genuinely taken aback. The Tesseract was a Level 10 secret. "You're... well-informed. Yes. Project Pegasus."
Emrys watched the footage. He was confused. Based on his knowledge of the timeline, the Tesseract incident shouldn't be happening yet. This should be the era of Thor's exile and Loki's schemes for the throne. Why were the Avengers-level threats surfacing now? Had his presence—or Odin's intervention—accelerated the clock?
The video showed a massive laboratory erupting in brilliant blue energy. Scientists were screaming, equipment was melting, and then, a rift tore open in the center of the room.
"Watch closely," Coulson whispered.
Emrys leaned in, expecting to see Loki step through the portal with his scepter. Instead, several massive shadows emerged. They were giants—at least three meters tall, with corded muscles and skin the color of a frozen corpse. Their eyes glowed a predatory red as they stepped into the facility, roaring in a guttural, ancient tongue.
"Frost Giants!" Thor roared, his voice shaking the walls of the small house. He lunged toward the projection, his face pale. "That is Laufey! The King of Jotunheim! How is this possible?"
"Laufey?" Coulson turned his gaze to Thor. "You recognize these entities?"
"They are the sworn enemies of Asgard," Thor said, his fists clenching so hard his knuckles turned white. "My father defeated them ages ago and took the Casket of Ancient Winters. They should be rotting in the wastes of Jotunheim. If they are here, on Midgard..."
Thor looked at Emrys, a desperate fear in his eyes. "Something has happened to the All-Father. Something is very, very wrong."
Coulson turned back to Emrys, his expression solemn. "Director Fury believes this is an invasion we aren't equipped to handle. He told me to tell you: 'If the world starts to freeze, Merlin is the only one who knows where to find the fire.'"
Emrys rubbed his temples, feeling a headache brewing. The Frost Giants being on Earth meant Loki wasn't just playing for the throne; he was playing for a genocide. If Jotunheim was involved, the Chitauri and Thanos couldn't be far behind.
"Fine," Emrys sighed, standing up. "Tell Fury to prep a transport. I'm bringing Thor and Heimdall with me to the Helicarrier. If Laufey is on Midgard, the Nine Realms are already at war."
"I'll notify the Director immediately," Coulson said, looking relieved. "We have a jet standing by. You might even meet some old acquaintances on board."
"Stark?" Emrys muttered, grabbing his jacket. "I hope he's brought better scotch than the last time."
As they walked toward the door, Emrys looked at the sky. The air felt colder than it had an hour ago. The "Marvel 1.0" plot had just been rewritten, and it looked like it was going to be a lot bloodier than the movies.