Hey guys! If you've read HeartBound and you're reading this to hear the rest of the story, I can't thank you enough. I've finally finished editing HeartBound so I've decided to post this. For you new readers, I do suggest reading HeartBound just to get the basic idea of the story and the characters. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy.

PS: Like HeartBound, I like to listen to movie scores when I write the plot. I'd like to think John Murphy's "Surface of the Sun" is the theme for this book. Check it out if it interests you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Thor or Marvel.

Prologue

Selenda

"How is she?"

Eira looked up from the loom by the fire to see her mother, Ysmay, at the door. The young elf felt a sense of comfort and relief at the sight of her, something about the familiar frost-white hair, fair skin and dye-stained hands from her work at the tailor's making the small home seem a little warmer. Although Eira longed for the day she would come of age and help to bring a little more money to their family of three, she knew she must stay at home for the time being and watch over her cousin.

"She's as well as ever," the eight-year-old sighed.

Worry filled her mother's brown eyes, "Have the tinctures not healed her?"

"No. The healer said nothing is working. He doesn't know what to do."

She followed her mother into the separate room where the baby slept in her little wooden crib. The child looked nothing like Eira or her mother or even her aunt, but there were still a few small signs that the half-child was part of their family.

The baby was slightly larger than most elven babes, but she was also a good deal thinner, too. What marked the child as something other than elf was her strange blue-black skin and angular features. She did, however, have pointed ears, silvery-white hair and brown eyes that were distinctly elven traits. But it was her eyes that truly marked her for who she was. Brown eyes were common, but a golden ring around each pupil was unheard of. Even though Eira had never seen it before, she knew what it meant. It was the mark of a single family: the royal family of Vanaheim.

Eira remembered the baby's father very well, as he had given her unusual gifts and told her stories she had never heard of. He was a handsome man, but he had looked just like any other dweller of Alfheim. It was only when the child was born, long after the father had left, that Eira and her mother found out he had been a Vanir. Eira's aunt had never found out the truth, dying during the birth before she could even see her daughter.

They looked at the sleeping child, marveling at her alarming yet enchanting appearance. The baby had never once cried, never so much as opened her mouth, but was always staring out with far too intelligent eyes.

"How long did the healer say she had?" her mother asked, brushing a hand over the baby's sharp cheek.

"A little over a fortnight," she answered quietly. "Mama, why is she dying?"

"I don't know, Eira. If I-"

They both turned as the sound of faint knocking echoed through the otherwise silent cottage. It was uncommon for visitors to arrive after sunset, though not completely unheard of.

"Perhaps it is the healer," Ysmay muttered. "Let him in, will you, sweetheart."

Eira nodded, walking quickly to the thick wooden door. When she had opened it, she stared at the vaguely familiar man who stood before her. She just barely recognized him despite the startling difference he bore from the last time she had seen him.

The man was tall and lean like the sailor's she saw her father speaking with during the trade season and his face was, indeed, weather-beaten. But he was strangely unsightly to the eye, with a lined face that looked as if it had once been handsome. Shining silver eyes ringed with gold around the pupils stared out at her in apathy.

"Eira, child," he said in the strange accent that was all too familiar. "Where is your mother?"

"Alrek?" she asked, not completely certain whether this man was the same handsome gentleman her aunt had loved.

"Yes. Now where is your mother?"

"Let me get her," Eira whispered, wondering why Alrek had changed his shape to such an unattractive face.

As she walked back to the room where her mother and cousin were, Alrek sat down in a chair by the fire. Her mother turned to face her with a smile as she entered the little room once more.

"Who was it?"

"It's not the healer," she answered quickly.

"Then who-"

"It's Alrek."

Her mother stiffened, her oval face paling. She could see the shock in her mother's face and couldn't help but wonder if she knew the reason.

"Stay here, Eira, and watch Selenda. Whatever happens, stay here."

She nodded, frightened by her mother's sudden change in mood. Her mother walked out of the room to speak with Alrek, locking the door behind her. Eira knew her mother was not fond of Alrek, although she had been once. She was furious at him for leaving. But Aunt Astrid had explained to Eira that she had known he would leave but she was happy she would have a part of him. Eira hadn't fully understood what her aunt meant exactly, but she guessed it meant that she was happy to have a baby.

Too curious to sit idly while her mother and Alrek spoke with each other, Eira pressed her ear to the door and listened intently. The voices of her mother and Alrek were just barely audible.

"-why you've returned," she heard her mother say. "And I'm afraid I'll have to send you away empty-handed."

"Ysmay, she's my daughter, not yours. I have every right-"

"You forfeited your right to her when you left Astrid for your home! Have you no shame? I know who you are, 'Alrek'. I know about your other family in Vanaheim. Leave Selenda here and no one will know of your mistake."

"I understand your loss, but my daughter is not Astrid and will never be Astrid. She is a halfling, and must be destroyed."

"She is an innocent child, not a beast! You cannot kill her. I won't allow it!"

"The Norns have told me of her, and I will not allow such a tragedy to strike the Realms. You will give her to me or I will be forced to take her."

"You think because you are king that you can have anything that pleases you. But you are not my king, and you cannot have Selenda."

"Then you leave me no choice," he said quietly.

Eira couldn't make sense of what Alrek said next, but she could feel the tell-tale crackle of magic in the air. Something hit the ground hard, sending the girl scrambling for the knife her father had given her before he had left to trade with the Æsir at the beginning of the spring.

The door clicked as the lock was retracted, swinging open to reveal Alrek. White smoke trailed from his fingertips, causing Eira to back away in fear.

"Eira, put down the knife," he said gently.

"No."

Something flickered in the depths of his silver eyes and he continued forward. He flicked his wrist, causing coils of the white smoke to rush towards her. She shrieked as they curled around her limbs, filling her with weariness as they engulfed her. Within seconds, everything went dark.

When Eira awoke once more, her mind was foggy as if still clinging to cobwebs of a forgotten dream. She rubbed her eyes wearily and gazed around the room. The shadow of her mother crying over an upturned wooden crib was the first sight to greet her.

"Mama," she said shakily, stumbling closer. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"He took her," she sobbed. "He's taken Selenda."

Njord stood on the cliffside above the raging waves of the ocean, holding a baby carefully in his arms. The Norns had told him many things about this child, all of them worrisome. If her impending future was not enough, her nature was unlawful. She should not exist, and she was his mistake to right. And he would not leave such a mistake unresolved.

He had not even known the child existed until his face had changed a week before, just as the Norns had promised. He had watched the young, handsome face melt away to reveal a revolting mask that barely resembled his own. His own wife had been shocked by the transformation. It was then that he realized the Norns had been speaking of an illegitimate daughter and he had gone in search of Astrid.

But the people of her village had told him she had passed, leaving her sister with a sickly child to tend to. It had taken a week to track down Ysmay, a week spent away from his wife who was to bear him a child by morning. Being away from her, especially when he knew she needed him now, was a heavy weight on his shoulders. But the little girl in his arms was the crushing pressure of the deep sea in comparison.

He could not allow anyone to know of this child. Very few Elves had known but he refused to take the chance. Anyone with any knowledge of the child had their mind wiped clear of the strange girl. He had left only Ysmay and Eira with memories of the baby. But he didn't know if that was a mercy or a punishment. After all, no one would believe them if they spoke of a halfling child.

And so he would toss her into the ocean, his home and strength, with a prayer to the Wise One that she died swiftly in the cold embrace of the waves. He had no qualms with killing the child, as she would grow into a monster of great power. She would become the strongest and most powerful creature in the Nine Realms, with the ability to destroy the worlds or save them. The Norns had proclaimed as much and he was not willing to take the risk.

Just as he was about to drop the baby into the sea, she awoke and stared at him with large, doe-brown eyes. The awareness and knowledge in the innocent brown gaze startled him, causing him to pause in his actions. A small hand reached out from beneath the worn blanket wrapped around her and brushed across the back of his hand.

That was when he saw them. He saw the images of a beautiful young girl the child would become. He saw how loving she was, and how accepting. She was poised and charming and everything he could have ever hoped for from a daughter. Unable to shake the images away, he cradled the child closer to his chest. She gazed up at him evenly, as if seeing his own life and finding it fascinating.

"They called you Selenda," he mused, brushing a stray white lock behind her ear. "And I suppose it was a suiting name for an Elven maid. But not a name for where we are going."

He looked out to the sea where a storm was brewing in the distance and back to the perceptive eyes of the girl. She looked so much like Astrid, it nearly broke his heart and healed it simultaneously.

"Freyja," he said softly, a ghost of a smile playing across his lips. "You will be Freyja, for you were born to be a maid but will become a proper lady."