I do not own any of the characters that Marvel or Disney own.

EDIT: This series is getting slowly updated. I will be rewriting the chapters, making mostly minor changes, just to get a feel of the story again before I begin writing the sequel again.

For as long as I can remember, I've dreamt of them. The people, always different except for a rare few, stood over me as I slept. Sometimes they would be silent and not say a word, while other times I could hear them asking questions. When I was younger, when they spoke they would ask, "Is that really her?" or "Are you sure?" As I got older, the questions changed. They became, "Isn't she a bit small?" and "Where has she been?" I could almost always see them, or at least imagined I could. Nearly all of them would be dressed in what looked to be armor, and would stare with expressions ranging from distrust to admiration.

They didn't visit every night, nor did they ever notice that I could see them. But I always remembered them in the morning, though I never told anyone about them, not even when I got older and realized how unusual some of the dreams could be. Too realistic, too much like the books I read and loved.

One in particular I remember the most, probably because it terrified me to no end. I was 16 at the time, getting ready for the rest of my life. I remember waking up with that feeling that someone was watching me, a familiar sensation. I had become a master over the years at detecting it. I was surprised because it had been nearly a year since the last visitors, as I had come to call them.

I opened my eyes and I saw him standing over at the other side of my room. The first word that came into my head when I saw him was "power." He was dressed in green and black armor with long black hair. He had visited before, asking no questions, a long time ago. I never forgot each visitor. They were all so distinct from one another and so vivid, it was impossible to forget. I waited. The ones who came back never didn't speak.

For several long minutes he just stared at me. When he did speak, it was with one of the coldest voices I had ever heard. It gave me chills while I laid in bed and I swear to this day it could have cut me if he had wished it to do so.

"So you are the lost child," he began, "who Father believes is his long lost blood. Perhaps you are, perhaps you are not. Either way, you will be useful to me." He began to walk towards my bed, my body automatically tensing as he got closer and closer. There was something not friendly about him. "If you fight with passion, a warrior is easily manipulated. If you fight with your mind, we are the same." By now he was standing right next to me, kneeling at eye-level like he could tell I was awake. He had startlingly green eyes that I would've killed for. It took all my will power to keep breathing evenly as utter terror grasped my mind.

A huge smile crossed his face. "Oh I pray we are the same, for then I will understand you better than anyone and you shall be my greatest ally." His face fell, just for a moment, before he said, "And perhaps the loneliness shall abate, however slight."

Suddenly he stood up, the momentary weakness gone. "But you are not ready yet. I will be when you are." I just kept staring at him as he walked away from me. As he reached the wall of my room, he turned back to me. My breath caught as he smiled knowingly and winked at me before disappearing.

I sat up and pinched myself to make sure I was awake. I burst out into tears from the intensity of the experience. I think that was the day I truly realized that visitors were more than visitors, or perhaps exactly that. They were to be feared. But the visits were so infrequent then and my life so busy, I had forgotten about the incident within a month. I chalked it off to stress with an overactive imagination. Perhaps if I hadn't, I would have been more prepared. Or maybe there was no way to be prepared for what would happen.