Prologue

Loki Odinson had never understood the importance of patience. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, that word- patience. But after so many years of being taught the meaning by different individuals, he was finally coming to understand it because of this little Midgardian tradition. He had always enjoyed this part of the process- when he went to fetch his trainees. The parents were usually terrified of him, and refused to believe in his existence, which never failed to amuse him. The last four- five times, he had always introduced himself at the time of their birth, took them off exactly on their first birthday. They had always grown up in an environment concomitant of Midgard and Asgard and he had always started his work right after one year of their birth was over.

This particular time, however, he had followed Heimdal's advice, just this once, (lest the bastard be smug, as if he already wasn't) to see how it would differ. It was her 9th birthday today, and he hoped that the fools had not organised that pathetic excuse of a celebration that they usually did, (with balloons, cakes and kids, oh so many kids, the horror) and then he had to wipe the memories of that many more people. That, and he hated celebrations in general, mainly because they were mostly to celebrate some ineffectual battle his buffoon of a brother had won. Anyway, it had required patience this time around, to be 9 years late, yes, but was the fruit going to be as sweet? He found himself grinning apprehensively at the thought.

He looked at the Midgardian house that held the humans he needed to confer with. It was simple, but it held a twist of elegance in it. It was white, like most in the street, but not small. It was huge, but only as compared to those on the street; it was obviously nothing against the beauty of those in Asgard. He walked to the front lawn, and up the two steps that led to a small white door, then pressed the small white square apprehensively. He felt a thrill of nervous anticipation course through him, wondering what would become of this meeting.

He had made sure to transfigure his clothes according to the latest trends on Midgard, at least, as much as his dignity had allowed. So why was the foolish man staring at him like he was out of his wits end? It was slowly driving him towards irritation. Yes, he was presenting a theory that sounded insane but he had never had anyone look at him in that insulting a way.

Seeing the disbelieving expression of the thin man not fading away, he turned his attention to the wife. She was a woman of history, she must have read something about this somewhere. (Plus, he had noticed it as somewhat of a tradition in the Odinson family- all the previous ones, that the woman of the house was more in command of such situations)

"Miss Katerina, you are a scholar of the ancient history of your planet. I highly doubt that you did not come across the mention of this 'tradition' in at least one of the old texts preserved in the Odinson library?"

The fair haired woman had remained stoic through all his speech, her face betraying no hint of emotion ever since he had started explaining in detail how every seventh generation of the Odinson family was born with the power of magic. The unique magic which was a mix of both Asgardian and Midgardian magic. How he came for their training every time, and took them away, then trained them in the art of magic properly, and finally leaving them in the company of the Midgardian magic users, to befriend them, form alliances with them and help them to keep control of the balance and doings of the small community. It was more of a task to keep themselves informed of the ongoings among the magical society. But it was a task nonetheless, one he was intent on completing properly.

The woman breathed in deeply once, before letting out her breath slowly. "Yes, I have."

The flat tone she said the few words in, made it clear that she was not too happy about it. Her clear voice rang in the silence that followed, creating a palable tension in the room. Her husband was now giving her the look he had been giving him previously. She avoided her husband's eyes easily, looking straight ahead at him instead.

"So you must know that it is the truth?" he said, with the slightest hint of a smirk.

He knew he was pushing it just a little, but he couldn't help it. He liked making people uncomfortable. The woman's eyebrow twitched and she jutted out her chin by a very minute inch- "Prove it."

It was almost too easy after that. He carefully took note of her expression as he changed his appearance back to his normal robes, and resisted the urge to grin satisfactorily as her eyes widened in response.

The rest of the conversation was made directly with Miss Katerina, as she enquired about the meaning of the unnatural incidents that had surrounded her daughter from a very young age. And then, finally, he had met her.

She was playing silently in the backyard, by a small pond. She straightened immediately on seeing them, her eyes alert- Oh. Her eyes.

She was beautiful, just like the others had been, but in a very different, human, innocent and fragile way. It was a result of the years spent at Midgard, surely. He had been contemplating the effects of his late arrival, it's consequences, and this was surely one of them- among others like having the basic knowledge of the language prevalent in the area, a basic understanding of logic, of how things worked in the day to day life of humans. (Truthfully, the pros of this situation were more than he had cared to think but he was actively discovering that this was a much beneficial arrangement, though he wasn't going to tell that to Heimdal) She still possessed the naivety of a young girl, not having grown into puberty yet. And still, she was most beautiful. Tall for her age, he could already see that she would grow up into a very attractive young woman. Her eyes were green, deep forest green, and they held the same kind of intensity, the mystery, the power in them, that he usually saw in his own. Her hair was black, wavy, and ended near her knees. They were as dark as his own, he noticed with joy.

This was better than he had expected. His grin grew larger as he walked closer to her, noticing her rigid posture on seeing a possible threat. She was going to be very easy to train.

"This is my daughter, Evelyn Odinson."

She looked warily at her mother, as if expecting a reprimand of some sort from her, but when none came, she seemed to relax the tiniest bit and then turned towards the dark-haired God with eyes full of suspicion.

"Evelyn, I am you Uncle, Loki Odinson of Asgard."

He felt himself bowing slightly and then took her hand in his, kissing it lightly. He watched with surprise, as she bowed slightly too, without hesitation.

"Hello, Uncle Loki."

Her voice was sweet, laced with the politeness, and her eyes were alight with burning curiosity. He hadn't changed his clothes back after all. He felt himself smirking unwillingly at the smallest, ridiculous quality of the willingness to impress that she already had.

He watched her carefully for a few minutes as she was sent away by her mother to play by the swings. He noticed her each and every movement in silence, and how she seemed distracted by their presence, but did not dare defy her mother's orders.

Katerina Odinson broke the silence by asking how long this training would last and how he would go about doing this. He told her to "just watch" as he walked over to the little black-haired girl and stretched his hand for her to shake.

He smirked like a shark at the mother as she grasped his hand, and he deliberately began to slowly disappear like a mirage, watching with satisfaction as the mother's face turned from confused to shocked and then panicked.

Because let's face it- he wasn't blind. In fact, he considered himself to be rather clever, so he had obviously noticed the lack of celebration (as much as he hated it) on the girl's 9th birthday, the dejected way she had sat by the water before she had noticed them. He hadn't missed the apprehension in her eyes as she had gazed upon her mother and neither had he missed her slight winces of pain as she had climbed the swing.

It was too obvious- his precious niece had been abused in this household, most probably because of the incidents of accidental magic Katerina Odinson had seeked explanation for. The way the woman spoke of them, with distaste, as if it was something alien, and not at all acceptable, and the way the man, the husband had reacted to his information, was proof enough that these people were not adjusting when it came to the extraordinary.

And because of that, Katerina Odinson and her family deserved to suffer at least a few months before knowing that their daughter was safe, if they even worried, that is. The second reason he had used this underhand trick was that he needed to prove – that he was, after all, the God of Mischief. And no one, hurt those under his care. His family.

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