Author's Notes - Who says Winter's opinions don't get her into some trouble every now and again? Ah, a Nightmare pretending to be an Asgardian, there's bound to be slip ups, particularly in the first year! Now, I like doing these glimpses into the past, I think they really touch on the relationships and pasts of the characters, but since its a little unnerving to just hop about, I have thus started to LABEL the jumps!

-Winter's first year on Asgard-

Winter toyed with a dagger, absently tossing it into the short space between her hand and the low hanging cloth rooftop of the merchant's stall. Absently catching it between two fingers before repeating the process all over again. Her eyes remained lingering on the shimmering metal rather than noting the not so softly speaking words just outside her stall, pounding the senses.

"Is that-" A woman's voice rang through the bustling crowd. "You mean?" Another voice, a masculine one sounded, painted with disdain and distrust. "Oh, that's the one who got caught-" A thin sounding woman sneered with hatred. "Don't look at her, dear. She'll-" Another woman started, glaring furiously at the supposed assassin that had deceived their king.

"Conniving bitch-"

"Useless assassin-"

"The audacity-!"

"Unworthy witch-!"

"Don't concern yourself, love, she won't be here for long." A man hissed sharply to his partner at his side.

Ah, yes, the people of Asgard.

In all their welcoming glory.

The sunlight from the two suns glittered upon the flawless metal, the hilt intricately yet expertly woven for an effective dagger, designed to be held within one's fist and protrude between fingers in a sharply cruel shape. Still, one of them may have been right. It was told that Frigga had asked after Winter's cold nature the last they spoke. She made a point of making it rather obvious that while Winter was not attempting in the slightest to open herself up to the people of Asgard, it only aroused further hostility and suspection on the subject of herself. Catching the glittering dagger between two fingers, Winter sighed beneath her breath, casting her eyes across her entire stall.

Her fine wares littered the small space, cramming themselves greedily in their shimmering glory in every space available, eager for a world they had yet to see. The bench before her was lined with both intricate jewlery, and intriguing weaponry of the Vikings.

Necklaces and gauntlents of leather hung from the low cloth rooftop, rattling this way and that in the movements that shook the ground from the many feet of the constantly perusing the many wares of other merchants. Rorik, her third, and most recently appointed guard escort stood to one side of Winter's stall, not allowed to speak with her, or interact with her in any manner, as it were.

His eyes rarely left her back, constantly on guard for any sort of tricks she may have the slightest inclination to pull. Today, however, as was most days when Winter attempted to sell her wares, he had his attention elsewhere, eying the individuals in the crowds that spread lies to her name and attempted (rather successfully) to drive her from Asgard.

Perhaps there was pity in his eyes, perhaps not.

In truth, such lies and hostility wouldn't have been present if those guards that had been present to the initial misunderstanding had simply kept their mouths closed, as they were ordered. Or, perhaps, if their king would simply make it apparent she was no assassin.

Winter's wares were as they usually were, untouched, unwanted. Indeed, the only method she had devised to sell ANY wares to prove herself essential to the Midgardian trade and thus pass her week test, was to sell directly to Odin in the matter of improving the materials used for armor and weaponry.

She hadn't been on Asgard long, and she supposed idly that she would not have lingered if it were not direly necessary. But, as it was, Asgard suited her needs just fine.

Even if the people regarded her a little hostily.

A few hostile crowds were nothing in comparison to Atdis.

Eager for a distraction from the damnable man, Winter absently observed a little boy of black hair, pursued by a furious nature of three tall, rugged men, darting his way through the crowd, his pursuers shoving the Asgardians aside forcefully. Winter absently tossed the knife into the air once more, speculating slowly to herself that she knew that face that ducked in and out of the crowd, using his smaller, thinner body to his advantage over his pursuers.

The crowd waned from Winter's stall, as ever, and the boys came to a stop in the open area, glancing about worriedly. "Rorik, who is that boy?" Winter inclined her head to the golden armored man to one side, who simply gave her a stern look and an expression that she SHOULD know it.

Ah, sometimes she quite forgot her only company refused to speak with her.

How dull.

"You know, I'm starting to think you don't talk to me because you're scared of women. Not so much that you're told not to interact with me." Winter teased shortly before turning, blinking a stunned manner as the boy leapt over the bench, crouching behind the back of it from the inside of the stall. Winter slowly raised an eyebrow, crouching down to his level with entertained eyes.

"Did no one tell you to avoid me, little boy?" Winter smirked, "Why, from the stories, I may as well have ten mouths, ninety seven teeth, and nine arms. All to assassinate would be kings, and yet," she continued with a thoughtful look, "I still failed."

"I'm not a little boy," The boy scowled at her, panting under his breath from the run. Indeed, his face was flushed, and his black hair was ruffled from the effort. "And I think all that is all entirely made up."

"You and me both." Winter inclined her head to the side, "But, the people need to believe some monster walks among them. So that there can be heroes."

"And you really are quite small." Winter finished, a grin on her features. "Now, who are you are running from, exactly, and why?"

The boy opened his mouth to state something shortly about the insistence on being called a little boy, and the description of being small, when loud footsteps sounded at his back. Instead, he clamped his mouth shut, and gave her a pleading look, "Don't tell them I am here."

"You! Wench!" A coarse voice sounded from across the bench, the man out of sight form Winter's position. Winter raised an eyebrow, standing up completely, his form only seeming to grow, and grow, and grow at such a movement. Indeed, he had to duck his head and loom over the bench to even peer into her eyes. Which he most certainly was not attempting to, not in the slightest.

No, he found his eyes contentedly settled on her breasts.

Quirking a slow eyebrow, Winter gave him a look of distaste and annoyance, "Yes, bastard?"

"How dare you-"

"Boy," Winter raised a hand, interrupting his predictable rant calmly, fingers spread and lips quirked in unspoken hilarity. "If you insult me, I shall insult you right back." Winter shot him a sharp look, flourishing her hand at her statement, "You brought that one on yourself, so before you whine about me and my serpent tongue," Winter crooned, tapping her chin a moment with a teasing fingertip, "I would suggest that you check yours."

Winter smiled charmingly, allowing a short, likable laughter to pass her lips, "Before, of course, I rip it out myself." She finished in a fond, affectionate manner.

The man glared deeply at the woman before him furiously, his beady eyes set on her own eyes for the moment in a death glare. Oh, if looks could kill, this man would be in luck.

Or really, if smells could kill.

He was bearded in a haphazard manner that inspired the idea that he had no idea he did indeed, have a beard. It was a tangled mess of both hair and a fair portion food knotted into the tangles. He was armored as one might imagine a sailor would be, with strong muscle bulging at every opportunity.

Clearly, he was a man that often got his way.

"It is foolish to pick a fight with those far larger than you, wench." He growled furiously, to which Winter turned the hidden dagger in her hand. If this man wanted that little boy, well, then the boy needed to be able to defend himself, in the case that Winter failed to deter the man. Leaning forwards, Winter effectively hid the boy far better, and with a silken movement, she placed the knife in the boy's hand with a skilled touch.

Her eyes remained on the man, giving him no indication she was up to something, her words coming just as easily as before, as she snapped right back, "You may be larger than me, I'll give you that. But I like to think of all that as silly little details, irrelevant in every case." Winter answered shortly, raising her hands from under the bench, crossing them across her chest naturally.

His face grew red with fury, and he held up one fist, shaking it mock intimidatingly in Winter's bored face. In truth, it was a fair portion larger than her entire head. "I could kill you with ONE-"

"And YET, here I stand!" Winter spread her arms, "Astonishing, isn't it?"

"You? Ha! You shouldn't try my patience. You're not even a citizen of Asgard! Why you, you're a nobody, a nothing! No one would notice if you disappeared! I'd be hailed a hero for vanquishing the failed assassin!"

"Just to be clear, are you threatening me?" Winter gave a rather thoughtful look his way, completely unfazed.

"I like to think of it more as a promise, woman." He snarled furiously, eyes dark and every muscle in him tense.

"Why, did you hear that, Rorik?" Winter inclined her head to the man beside the stall, swearing for the life of her that a smirk was beneath that golden helm, "This nice man here wants to kill me." Winter mocked surprise, "I believe that's one of those.. Crime, thingies, am I right?" The guard inclined his head slowly in agreement.

The boy by her feet shook with withheld laughter, hands clamped tightly over his mouth.

Winter gave a charming sort of smile, "Really, I get so confused by those things.."

The man sputtered about himself for a moment, glaring at her with a bright red face, shaking with hatred. The two others of the original pursuit finally gave up on intimidating the quickly dispersing crowd with violence in the search for the child, and strode after their leader to Winter's stall, clearly, giving their best impressions of dogs.

Strange, she hadn't seen any leashes in the hands of the man before her..

"What my friend here means to say," The more feminine of the two stood to the left of the large, center one, oh sod it. She'd just give them bloody names.. Lady, the one with long blonde hair twisted in an attempt to keep it out of a sailor's way, continued after a short pause for a charming sort of smile, "Is that we're searching for a little boy. One with dark hair."

Winter gave a judging look to Lady, raising both eyebrows pointedly, "I'm not surprised that YOU are looking for a boy, sparkles." Winter quipped shortly, crossing her arms with an unamused look after a pause of mock consideration, "But the fact remains, I don't deal in children. Or people, for that matter. I believe what YOU are looking for, is a brothel. Unless.." Winter mocked a shocked look, "You actually PREFER children to the company of adults?"

The man, Lady, stood, absolutely shocked.

It was a rather good look on him, actually.

"You twisted son of a bitch." Winter stated shortly, a mock look of horror across her features.

"I- oh! See here, woman!-" Lady growled, his temper appearing across his features at the very idea.

"And we're back to my gender." Winter rolled her eyes with a short flourish of her hands, "Really! You boys make it seem like being a woman is BAD! Sure, we can't piss standing up, but hell, at least we can ride a horse without getting our potatoes mashed."

"Now," Winter continued with a sharp glare, "My eyes, are up here." She tapped her cheekbones with two fingers, directing their eyes back up to where they belonged, all three of them. "I know it's a long trip, but I'm worth it. The next time I see you, and you won't look into my pretty white eyes, I'll put a corsete on you, lace it up nice and tight, and YOU can have breasts of your very own!"

The third, a grubby little man with greedy eyes grinned widely before throwing his head back laughing, a disgusting, slurping noise. "Ha! She's got a fire in her!"

"Damn right. Watch yourself, I'll singe you." Winter answered shortly, eyes unamused. This one, this one she would dub Tubsy. "I have no doubt, now laskura, we don't want to hurt you, you see.."

Winter pulled a face, mouthing the word 'laskura' with a shrewd, comedic expression on her features. The lead man, lurched forwards, his wide hand slamming into her throat, closing tightly around her neck as he lifted her from the ground slightly. Winter cringed as her toes dragged on the floor a moment before leaving it completely. The man, Glumps, she'd call him, drew her closer, pressing her against the bench in an attempt to intimidate her with his ability to lean down and speak harshly into her face.

"What was it you were saying about size, woman?" He growled, clenching his fist harder through bared teeth. Winter managed a breath through her teeth, a smile spilling onto her features, "Trust me, you don't want to talk to me about SIZE, boy." Winter nodded her head downwards, to which the man snarled with unbridled hatred, crushing her breath beneath his fist.

Lady strode forwards, blocking Rorik's drawn sword with a maniac sort of grin, "What's wrong? Too good for a bit of a joke?" Lady sneered, parrying the next slash, and blocking Rorik's advances sharply.

"But if you make our jobs harder than they have to be.. Well, then we'll have a bit of.. A disagreement." Tubsy finished, absently lifting a necklace from the bench and turning it over in his hand, observing the hidden dagger pendant calmly.

"Not so funny, now are you? See your life passing in front of your eyes?" Glumps sneered, Winter's eyes remained steeled, and disappointingly for him, she didn't fight his arm uselessly. Didn't flail about, and most certainly didn't gasp desperately for breath.

She wouldn't give him the pleasure.

She simply smiled, parted her lips, and said with a voice of the one in power, "Do I look afraid to you?" Reaching out a hand, she took hold of his beard, pulling down harshly and rather cruelly. Her slide over the bench in an instant, snatching a short blade and pressing it against his neck, drawing a fair line of blood with a cold glare, her grip on his beard holding his head to the blade.

"Down, boy." Winter snarled.

Glumps dropped her, growling and Lady backed away from Rorik, both Lady and Rorik out of breath from the ensuring battle they had embarked in. "Now, I will say this but once," Winter straightened her dress with a look of mild annoyance, dusting off her shoulders with a bored expression, "Get the hell out of my face, all of you. The child you seek is not here, unless you are too slow to understand the words I am speaking, your business here is done, bastards." Winter removed the hidden dagger pendant from the greedy hands of Tubsy, rehanging the necklace by the chain from a hook under the cloth roof.

"I see, well," Tubsy grinned maliciously, "If you notice a little black haired boy, you be sure to tell us, laskura."

"Won't I just."

The three men shot her a lingering glare before turning on their heels, striding towards the vastly arrayed Asgardians of the crowd. The few that didn't leave from the threats of violence, and forceful nature the men that had pushed their way through the crowd, watched with wide eyes, fascinated in the nature in which Winter held herself.

The men were rather notorious for getting their way, you see.

"Have they gone? Did they fall for it?" The black haired boy stood up, the hidden knife held tightly between his fingers.

"Well," Winter sighed as the men turned on their heels, eyes sharp with violence, "They WERE falling for it.."

Lady whirled around, a knife flashing from his belt and shimmering through the air, the metal glinting in the dual suns. Winter snatched the boy's wrist, yanking him behind her as she turned, wrapping her arms around him protectively. The knife pierced through the back of her shoulder, as far as she could tell from the searing hot pain.

No matter for a nightmare, really. Turning off the pain, Winter was more so annoyed at the idea of three grown men more than willing to take a shot of such a caliber at a child, than damage to herself.

Winter snarled under her breath, leaning back and releasing the boy as she plucked the knife from her shoulder, eyes narrowed and showing no sense of pain.

The crowd and the three men seemed rather surprised at her unnatural movement, so one could only imagine their reaction when Winter widened her stance slightly, narrowed her eyes, and roared like a furious dragon.