Ring of Életfa

Summary: I pride myself on being a happy person. Happiness is a choice; that's my mantra. But this is really pushing my limits. Seriously. I don't know what my grandmother was thinking, leaving me this crazy piece of jewelry that does things that no piece of jewelry should ever be able to do. And now I have a top secret agency that thinks this thing makes me a threat to the world or some such nonsense. I mean, really. I'm a college freshmen who's never so much as held a gun. One would think SHEILD would have more important things to worry about. And wait a minute; who the hell called in the Avengers? Takes place after the Avengers movie. Rated M for language, violence, and because I'm paranoid. Coulson lives!

Coulson says that writing down my feelings on what's happened to me over the last few months will be good for me. Doing so apparently helped him out a lot when he was stabbed in the back by a psychotic demigod. Honestly, he can be such a woman sometimes. Anyway, I only agreed to do it because he promised to let me touch his Captain America trading cards. The vintage set. He must really care about my mental health.

So, where to begin? Typically, when one tells a story, they start from the beginning. But in this case, that would be a couple thousand years ago. We don't want to get too far ahead of ourselves, do we? I suppose a good place to start would be the day after my grandmother's funeral.

I was brooding in my room, alone. I wasn't crying; I had cried myself out hours ago. Contrary to my mood, it was a gorgeous day outside, allowing plenty of sunlight to shine through the windows, illuminating my room with bright, natural light. It infuriated me. How could the sun go on shining when the world had just ended? How could people go on living like nothing had ever happened, as if Kamilla Hart had never even existed? How would anything ever be okay again? I had no answers for these questions, yet I continued to ask them over and over. I felt like ripping my hair out. This was the first death of someone close to me, someone I really cared about, and I had no idea how to handle it. Various emotions washed over me like waves; sadness, anger, confusion, despair, helplessness, each one stronger than the last. How would I ever get over-

Oh damn, I was about to cry again. I took a deep, shuddering breath, grabbing a tissue to dab my burning eyes with as I did so. I stood up and made my way to the kitchen for some aspirin; my head was freaking killing me. I guess crying for three hours straight will do that to you. After dry swallowing the pills, I walked out of the kitchen, intending to go back to my room to brood and bask in the glory of my depression all over again, only to be stopped by my dad, who called out for me from the living room. I debated on whether or not I wanted to ignore him; I really wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone. But I knew that if he really wanted to talk to me, he would seek me out eventually. He's annoying like that sometimes. So I did what he wanted and found him in the living room, sitting on the couch. Papers of all sorts were strewn all about the coffee table in front of him. He picked up an envelope from the pile and handed it to me, wordlessly.

"What's this?"

He glanced up at me briefly, shooting me a small, sad smile, replying, "She left it for you".

I took the envelope without another word and went back to my room, gently closing the door behind me.

Looking down at the envelope, I noticed three things. First was a single word written in my grandmother's elegant handwriting; my name, Phoebe. Second, I noticed that the envelope itself was crisp and white, without so much as a crease to mar it. Obviously, this indicated that Grandmamma had written this letter (I assumed it was a letter) not long before she died. Or at least she didn't put it in an envelope until soon before she died. Either way. Third, a small lump. There was something inside the envelope other than a letter. Being the almost exceedingly curious little creature that I am, I began to open it, but a thought crossed my mind and I stopped. Three days prior she had been alive. Just three days. And now she was gone, just like that, and I would never, ever, see her again. I couldn't do it. I wasn't ready to handle whatever it was she had to say. I wasn't sure I would ever be. I sucked in a sharp breath and shoved the envelope into my desk's drawer. And there it stayed for a whole month.

A/N: So, there you go. I'm not really planning on any romance in this one, but who knows? Ask and ye shall (possibly) receive. This is my first multi-chapter fic, so reviews are greatly appreciated.