I sighed idly as I stared down at the Midgardian Realm through the faux-looking glass I'd created from a small pond I adored visiting in the woods. Yes, I was Asgardian, but not all of us were Sif's or Sigyn's level of otherworldly beauty, or of Queen Frigga's level of confidence and sheer skill and kindness. I envied the Midgardians in this aspect; they could find and fall in love with someone regardless of skin color or other physical characteristics. Asgardians, on the other hand, were very shallow, and judged first by looks and second by quality of characteristics.

Today, on Midgard, was one of both my favorite and most hated days of the Midgardian year, something they seem to call "Saint Valentine's Day", in which the infatuated young males of the Realm acquired, through the trade of money, sweet goods and small toys and other items to express their devotion and admiration. In some parts of the Realm, I noticed, it was reversed, and the female would be the one to initiate contact with these goods. I only wished I possess the same courage and absolute audacity as these girls that I might confess my feelings to the one I yearned for.

However, my reason tended to win in situations such as these, as I incessantly reminded myself that, even if we were even close to the same social class and standing, it could never be. Prince Thor Odinson was well-renowned for only bedding maidens of the purest beauty, with eyes dark and mysterious and hair silken and shining.

I sighed again as I viewed a young raven-haired boy who looked surprisingly like the object of my affection's younger brother, Loki Odinson, be pulled down and furiously kissed by a girl much shorter yet at the same time much feistier than the boy. I shook my head and brushed out my hair, imagination running wild with tales of fantasy involving the elder Prince and I eloping, or perhaps him growing fond of having me as his servant and requesting I remain by his side for the rest of his days, or maybe-

A sudden growl, roar of pain, and disturbance of nature led me to snap my head up and around to see a bilgesnipe bearing down on me, snout bared in pain and anger, clearly being hunted. The next thing I heard was a shout and a curse, as I saw a wave of green envelop the bilgesnipe and then me, as I passed out, thoughts clearly leading me to hallucinate as the last thing I remember is being lifted against a muscled, armored chest of red, gold, and silver by firm, sunkissed arms and blue eyes flooded with worry and guilt.

I awoke with a small moan of discomfort and discontent. I was lying a cold, hard surface, instead of my bed at my humble shack, and I panicked quickly. "Wh-Where am I?!" I tried to bolt upright, but two strong, warm hands held me down. My eyes opened wide in a panic, but I froze as I realized as I couldn't see anything. Not the faintest shadow of distinction or color. I blinked harshly, hoping it was some leftover effect of some bad mead or ale I didn't remember having, or just leftover drowsiness from my induced sleep.

No such luck.

I immediately started panicking; hyperventilating and crying and thrashing around. The two hands were replaced by four sets of soft, feminine hands laced with magic that forced me to remain immobile. The only sound in whatever room I was in was my own whimpering, along with soft shushes of a male, which was accompanied by the two firm hands brushing away the tears and my hair from my face.

"She's received extensive damage to her corneas due to the spell, Your Highness. It is repairable, but it will take time and patience, and frequent application of these drops, and taking this medicine."

"Of course, I'll handle it, Thor, so you may go back to partying with those ruffians you call friends." A smooth voice said, and I stiffened at the name he so casually threw out. Thor. Why was Thor here? And who was this velvet-voiced man who addressed him so casually? What happened to me? How long until I was healed?

"No." came a firm voice, firm as the hands that gently caressed my face and shoulders as though to reassure me. "I am the one who didn't make sure the woods around the cabin were clear, she is my responsibility." This voice-it must be Prince Thor's, I realized with a nervous flutter-had a clear edge of distrust regarding the former, more formal, silken voice. I turned my head up, searching for them with my eyes, whimpering softly when I was once again reminded of my condition.

I flushed hotly when the reality of my situation settled in. I was injured, and Prince Thor was insisting to be the one to care for me. I realized my head was still tilted up when his thick, calloused fingers brushed my bangs from my eyes, and I immediately lowered my head and eyes in respect. "Y-Your Highness…" I said uncertainly. "I-I'm sorry for troubling you…" I stilled as I realized that being so close to him may lead to him discovering my secret.

And, of course, him discovering that would be immediately followed by him becoming disgusted with me and rejecting me harshly. "I-I can handle myself, Sir." I sat up slowly, making sure to grip the table so I don't fall. I swung my legs over the edge of the metal table and heard a low grunt as I felt my foot connect with something, probably someone's knee, and I blushed lightly.

"Maiden, I cannot in good consciousness allow you to care for yourself while you are incapacitated." Thor said and touched my upper arm to gently guide me off the table without further harming his brother. I flinched away lightly in defense of my secret. "I insist." I squeaked as I felt him pick me up smoothly, one hand tucked under my knees, the other around my back and holding my shoulder, and one of hands flew and groped around for something to clutch in support.

"P-Please, Your Highness, I-I can't trouble you so-"

"Nonsense," he said jovially, and I could hear his infectious smile even in his denial. "I will care for you, and nothing you say can convince me otherwise, pretty maiden." I blushed deeply and lowered my face in embarrassment at his compliment and merely meekly nodded. When Prince Thor wanted something, he more often than not got it, no matter the cost, and I wasn't about to argue with him.

It took eight Midgardian weeks for my corneas to heal completely. Thor was lovely, of course. He tended to me day and night, and I was only falling for him more each day due to his kindness. After each eye drop, he asked if I was alright, prompted to do so by the involuntary tear response the drop produced. Whenever I was required to take medicine, or eat anything, really, he was always right by my side to help me. He respected my attempts at independence, though, and allowed me to feed myself simple things, like pieces of bread. This consideration was what ultimately sealed my fate as being in love with him. I always loved a man that supports, but also acknowledges that I am my own woman.

There was one instance he didn't adhere to this tradition, however.

The entire time I was healing, Thor insisted on forcing me to sleep in his bed, his arms wrapped securely around to waist, to "ensure that I didn't fall off the bed and hurt myself."

On the morn of the sixtieth day of my blindness, I awoke and jerked lightly in the realization that, in the dim light that came through the velvet red curtains, I could see a….well-muscled…chest. I flushed deeply at our close proximity and immediately attempted to squirm away in embarrassment. The large, muscled, chiseled, blond, crystal-eyed (snap out of it) man groaned slightly and tightened his arms around my waist and back, and I squeaked as his large palm came to rest on my behind. "Don't go…" he mumbled, cracking a gorgeous blue eye open to stare down at me. I stammered and turned the smallest amount of pink I could. "You want to be here, right?"

I froze and paled. "I-I….H-How did you…?" I stared at him in awe of his features, and slight fear at how he knew of my silly schoolgirl crush.

He smiled sheepishly, briefly flashing those white teeth I so loved, and opened both of his eyes all the way to look down at me with amusement. "….Loki informed me of your feelings." He admitted while subconsciously pulling me closer.

Our chests now touched, as did our knees, and as I glanced down, I realized that he had apparently not felt it necessary to don any garments on his lower half. My eyes darted back up to his face, his words processing. "H-H-How did P-Prince Loki know…?"

Thor grinned down at me and pressed me even closer to him, our bodies flush. "He merely observed what I failed to see. Your blushing, stammering, and timidness around me, and no one else. And quite frankly, I'm flattered, Miss (Y/N)."

I paused and looked up at him hopefully. "Y-You are…?" I distinctly trained my eyes away from his manhood.

Thor smiled and presses his thin lips to my forehead, his beard gently rubbing against me. "Naturally. You're kind, beautiful, and intrigued instead of repulsed by Midgardians. I definitely wouldn't mind getting to know you better." He smiled. "Maybe we'll even become something more than friends….~?"

All I could do was nod shyly, as I finally allowed my eyes to trail down and back up his very muscled, tan, sculpted body.