"She was like April sky
Sun rise in her eyes
Child of light
Shining star
Fire in her eyes
Bright as day
Melting snow
Breaking through the chill
October and April"
-The Rasmus

I was born on October 13, 1992. It was a Tuesday and easily one of the nicest days of the year. I don't remember it, of course, but that's the way it was described to me by my parents. Well, foster parents. Since the age of seven, I was moved between at least ten different foster homes; it would have been more, if not for the Fosters adopting me officially when I was thirteen. Let me explain it from the beginning.

My birth mother named me Seren Skye, Seren means "star" in Welsh. She said that my eyes were so dark blue, that any little glint of light glimmered off of them like the stars in the night sky. After I was born, for six years, everything seemed perfect. I was an only child, and both of my parents worked, so most of the time I was with a babysitter. My father took an interest in my babysitter one day, and eventually they had an affair. When my mother found out, she left. It was as simple as that. No note, no phone call, nothing. She just fled. My father started drinking after being sober for ten years. Everything started falling apart around me. The next year, my father became an alcoholic, a violent one. He and his friends would get drunk in the basement until one of them decided to wander upstairs and harass me. One of them tried to force me to touch him; I refused and tried to run away, but he caught my arm and pulled me back. I tried to scream but he covered my mouth and forced himself on top of me. By that time, my father came upstairs looking for his friend. He saw what was going on and yelled at me for bothering his friend. That was the day I ran away. When the two of them went back downstairs, I ran into my room, packed a backpack with my belongings, and left.

I walked up the street to the shelter where I'd spend the next few nights until finally child protection services came looking for me. They took me to a children's home until my first set of foster parents adopted me. I stayed in my first foster home for about two months until they grew tired of me and decided to give me back. This same thing happened again and again with each foster family I was moved to. It was always the same thing; a couple couldn't have children so they decided to foster me and then a few months later, they'd decide they didn't want me. I was smart, really smart actually, but I wasn't pretty. The couples that came into the children's home wanted attractive children, so that they could be proud to be seen with them, proud if people thought they were their birth children. Intelligence wasn't important to them, it was all based on appearance. Abandonment was all I'd known as a child, until that last move.

I was thirteen years old. A man came into the children's home with his sixteen-year-old daughter and asked if there were any older children there. Older, like me. Most couples wanted toddlers or babies so that they could raise them on their own; nobody wanted am emotionally scarred teenager with a broken childhood. The receptionist directed them to the backyard, where I spent most of my time alone on the swings.

"Seren, this is Mr. Foster and his daughter Jane. Why don't you come say hello?" the receptionist always had a way of belittling me; even if it was just talking to me as if I was in Kindergarten again.

I didn't want to go to another foster home; I was tired of being moved from place to place, but there was something about them that made me feel warm and welcomed, without even talking to them yet.

I slowed down my swing and was about to hop off when Jane walked over and sat on the swing beside me. "You don't have to get off the swings," she smiled. "We can talk right here if you'd like."

Mr. Foster walked over and put out his hand. "Hey there, my name's Bill Foster. Your name is Seren, right?"

I nodded. "It means 'star' in-"

"Welsh."

"How did you know?"

"I'm a professor at the University of Albuquerque. Physics professor actually, but I know a lot about onomatology too. It's the study of the origin of names." He smiled.

I couldn't stop the smile from spreading across my face until I was grinning from ear to ear. He actually knew about where my name came from. He actually cared. All of my other foster parents hated my name; one of them even compared it to saran wrap. We talked for a long time, the three of us. Mr. Foster told me that his wife died a few years after Jane was born and that Jane had always wanted a little sister.

He asked me about my favorite subjects in school. "I wasn't very good in school because of moving from home to home so much," I paused, "but I always really liked science. I wanted to take archery in school, but nobody would pay the fee for the class."

Jane and Mr. Foster glanced at each other before Jane asked, "What else do you like to do for fun? Or would you like to do if you could have?"

"I've always wanted to take karate! Kung Fu actually. My foster parents always told me karate was for boys; ballet was for girls." I sighed. "I've never been much of a princess sort of girl."

Jane high-fived me and said, "Me either."

After what felt like hours of talking, the receptionist sighed and said, "There are other children we'd like you to meet, Mr. Foster."

I felt tears swell in my eyes and looked down at the ground to try to push them back. Of course the Fosters wanted to meet other children; of course they were going to meet some kid that's more suitable for them, as the receptionist always said. I wasn't suitable. Nobody wanted a broken teenager with a name like mine that wasn't even interested in things most girls were. I had to get used to being abandoned; but in all honesty, after all I'd been through since I was six, I already was used to being abandoned.

"We don't need to meet any others," Mr. Foster said kindly to the receptionist, before crouching down in front of me and asking, "What do you think, Rennie? Would you like to come and live with us?"

Rennie? The only person who ever called me Rennie was my birth mother. "R-really? You mean that?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Of course!"

The receptionist quickly interrupted our conversation. "Even if you do decide on choosing Seren, it takes at least a week for everything to be processed and settled."

"Then we'll see you in a week, Rennie." Mr. Foster said, smiling, before shaking my hand.

Jane gave me a hug before telling me how excited she was that I wanted to come live with them. I was the one that was excited beyond words. She didn't understand, neither of them did. I was pretty sure they weren't informed on how screwed up my childhood was, and that if they did know, they probably wouldn't want me. But, I tried to just smile and hope for the best. I tried to comprehend the idea that a family actually wanted me to live with them. It was one of the best feelings in the world.

After the receptionist led them back into the building, I hopped off of the swing and ran inside up to my room. Even if there was still a week until the Fosters came back to get me, I could hardly wait. I wanted to pack then and there. So, that was what I did. The same backpack I used when I ran away from home was the one I used when I moved from foster home to foster home too. I stuffed it tightly with all of my clothes, and the only other belongings I had. Pictures. Pictures of me when I was a baby, pictures of my birth parents, pictures of the three of us when we were happy together. It was all I had. Remnants of what once was a happy family.

The receptionist made sure to remind me multiple times over that week of the fact that the Fosters might not come back for me. "I'm not sure you're suitable for their household. Julie has been here only a few months and she is much better suited for them. She came from a good home, it wasn't her fault that her parents died."

Oh. Okay. So it was my fault that my father had an affair? My fault that my mother ran off? My fault that my father became an alcoholic? Well, I'm sorry for being the cause of so much hell then. The receptionist always had a grudge against me; I never completely knew why. The very first day I was brought to the children's home, she said that there was something about me that didn't seem normal. I never said I wanted to be normal. I only wanted to be loved. Why do I keep calling her "the receptionist" instead of her real name? Her real name was Sasha, but since she refused to stop mocking my name, I refused to acknowledge hers. Even if I did call her Sasha, it wouldn't change the fact that she hated me; she loved to remind me how messed up I was, and how nobody would ever adopt me. She wasn't wrong. Every couple that adopted me always got tired of me and brought me back. They treated me as if I was a video game they'd beaten or got bored of; they would bring me back and trade me in for a better version.

As the week drew to a close, my anxiety levels were heightened. I couldn't help but worry about whether they would come back for me or not. My room was pretty much empty, except for the mirror hanging on my wall above my empty dresser. I took one last glance in the mirror at myself; my ugly self. I had hair the color of sand and it hung around my face to my shoulders. My skin was the only thing flawless about me, besides the fact that I couldn't tan even if I wanted to. I was pale, ghostly pale. The other kids at the children's home used to tell me I looked like a corpse because of how pale I was, but I didn't mind; I had the complexion of a china doll.

Friday, one week after the previous Friday, the day the Fosters came to meet me and then decided they wanted me to live with them. The day I had been waiting all week for, even though Sasha had told me not to get my hopes up. I waited outside on the swings with my backpack on my back. The sunlight reflected off of my bracelet into my eyes. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention my bracelet; it has "Seren Disglair" printed on it, which means "bright star." It was given to me by my birth mother when I was very young. It was the only thing I had from my mother, so I always kept it close to me.

It was around noon when a car pulled into the driveway of the children's home and I heard a man's voice from the front of the building. I couldn't see who it was through the fence around the backyard, but I truly hoped it was Mr. Foster and his daughter. About a half hour later, which felt like the longest half-hour of my life, he and Jane walked out of the building and came into my range of vision. There was lots of hugging and smiling and before I knew it, I was leaving the children's home for good. Mr. Foster officially adopted me that day. I had a father and a sister that actually wanted me around.

It was the best experience of my entire life. The moment I got into their car, Jane handed me a large present. I couldn't resist opening it immediately and I could barely believe my eyes when I realized I was holding a bow. A real bow and arrow.

"My friend Darcy's father is an expert marksman and he offered to give you lessons once a week if you're interested," she said.

I nodded and tried to form the words to reply with, "Yes, thank you so much! I would love that."

Back at the Foster's house, Jane showed me to my room, which was very big and very beautifully decorated. The walls were a light pale shade of green, my favorite color, and there was even a mesh canopy overtop of the bed. It was the bedroom of my dreams, literally, and I couldn't have been happier. I sat down on my bed and dumped all of my clothes out of my backpack. When I opened my dresser to put away my clothes, I saw that there were already some clothes there.

"We didn't buy you a whole lot of clothes yet because we weren't sure what you liked," Jane said while helping me re-fold all of my clothes from my backpack.

"They're perfect. All of it is. I can't thank you enough, Jane. You and your dad are just amazing," I said while trying to hold back tears of happiness.

She pulled me into a hug. "Hey, Ren, don't worry about it. We just want you to be happy. My dad knew you were special the moment he met you."

"You have no idea how much all of this means to me," I paused. "But, what am I supposed to call your dad?"

"You can call him whatever you want to, Ren," she smiled, "whatever you feel comfortable with."

I nodded and after we finished putting away my clothes, Mr. Foster came into the room and asked if there was anything else I needed to make me feel more at home. Everything was perfect. A week later, I had my first archery lesson with Mr. Lewis, Jane's friend Darcy's father. He told me that I was a natural.

A few months later, I started calling Mr. Foster "dad" and Jane and I were best friends as well as sisters. They signed me up for Kung Fu lessons, just like I wanted. They gave me everything I could've wanted. I started earning straight A's in school. It was the ideal family life, just like I had always dreamed of. That is, until the year I turned seventeen and my whole world fell apart almost as fast as it came together.

A/N: So, this is my first ever Loki fic, and I hope it was well-written and I hope that you all like Seren so far. Loki will show up in either the next chapter or the one after that. Any opinions or criticism is greatly appreciated and also, please review and favorite/follow because I promise you that this story gets better. I've been fangirling over Loki for so long now, that I figured I might as well write a Loki story :)