Age 18

Northern Arizona

I breathe in the fresh air, letting myself relax. I focused on the wind on my face, the cool rock beneath me, and the sounds of nature. I didn't think about the disaster that was school, or the lingering longing for Asgard, or the grief that still ached after almost two years. It was just me and the world.

And the rock that hits me in the shoulder.

"Come on fart nugget," Ty yells at me. "We're almost to the lake." I sigh, scooping up a pebble from the ground and flicking it at my brother, just barely hard enough to make contact. I follow him back to the trail, and we fall in line behind Ben and my dad.

I'd been home from Asgard for a little over a year. It had been difficult adjusting, but after telling my dad most of what happened, we'd come up with a suitable cover story about having been kidnapped and escaped. For convenience's sake, I also had "amnesia" about the time I'd been away, so no one would ask.

School had been the biggest struggle. I'd been halfway through 7th grade when I was kidnapped, and I'd returned the summer before what should've been my senior year of high school. After a slew of aptitude tests, it became my freshman year, meaning that Ty was a year ahead of me and Ben and I had three classes together.

I reconnected with my friends, but it was hard for me to fall back into the life I'd once lived after all I'd been through. They had new inside jokes and could drive and were unencumbered by the horrors I'd both witnessed and committed. I'd made new friends too, but they were young freshmen in my classes, a wide-eyed, constant reminder of my stolen youth.

I'd made it to the end of April before having a total mental breakdown. Fortunately, I'd made it outside before igniting anything, and it was Arizona, so the grass was dead anyway. After I cried myself out, Dad packed up the car and the boys, called the school to excuse us, and we went camping. The fresh air was working it's magic, and I felt better, even though I knew the relief was temporary.

We reached the lake and set up the fishing stuff. I'd gone fishing as a child and we'd attempted to fish in the Niflheim rivers, but neither time had been successful.

"You're not afraid of the worm are you?" I ask Ben as he gingerly picks a worm out of the container.

"No," he says, before dropping it. I chuckle at him. We manage to get all the lines baited and set, and the wait in silence is renewing. Even though it's almost May, the weather is cool for Arizona, and the sun is kind. Despite both that and the fact that I can no longer sunburn, I still remind the boys to reapply sunscreen. We catch a couple of small fries that have to be let go, but end up with four good size ones to eat. The hike back to camp is pleasant, and the sun starts to set just as we arrive, painting the sky in rose gold and lavender. It's soothing, and I don't realize that I've zoned out until my dad starts to talk.

"Has anyone seen the lighter fluid? Anyone?"

"Why do you need lighter fluid?" I ask.

"To start a fire." I stare at him blankly. Without speaking, I grab an armful of firewood, not kindling, just straight logs and drop them into the fire pit. Then I summon a handful of fire and set the logs alight. They don't catch easily, but I force it, and soon there's a roaring fire.

"Ta-Da." I deadpan. "Fire."

"I'll never get used to that." My dad shakes his head. He gets the same look of concern he always gets when I use my powers, not that he's scared of me, but that he doesn't like being reminded that I spent the last five years in a variety of dangerous places.

He teaches us how to gut the fish. Despite having trouble with the worm earlier, Ben doesn't seem to have a problem with pulling out the guts. Ty does, but thought he's clearly nauseous, he pushes through. I handle the knife and the guts easily, and try not to think about why that is. Soon the fish are on a pan in the fire, and all that remains of the sun is faint streaks of orange in the sky.

"Tell us a story," Ty requests. "Tell us about an adventure." I think for a second, trying to find a story that doesn't involve too much violence or painful memories.

"Ok, so picture this. 15-year-old me, four weeks into trying to make peace in Alfheim, and we're still attempting diplomacy. Actually this mission was the reason we had to quit that approach, but I'd like to preface this by saying that it wasn't our fault."

"Sure," Ty mocks.

"Shut up. Anyway, we head to these two villages, and they've had a rivalry going for centuries. Something about some artifact that they both claim the other stole, but neither has. So we split up to see if we can't get them to at least agree to talk to each other. So Loki and I go to one, and Thor, Sif, and Fandral go to the other. Volstagg, Hogun, and Tyr have stayed behind with the army. Loki and I go meet with the leaders, and they sound like reasonable people. They really hate the other guys, but we convince them that it's worth it to at least meet with the rival leaders and talk."

"This story is boring," Ben interjects.

"It's about to get good," I promise. "So these two villages are set up on two sides of this big grassy plain. We take the leaders from our tribe out to the middle of it, in the spirit of compromise and neutral territory. Thor's group hasn't arrived yet and we're starting to get worried. Suddenly, we are surrounded by rival troops. We're unarmed, the village leaders are unarmed, but now they're pissed. They're screaming at us about a trap, and Loki and I have no idea what to do. We all get taken prisoner and taken back to the other village, and Thor and his group are nowhere to be seen. They start making demands, the leaders we talked to won't stop yelling at long enough to listen, and Loki and I are just confused. So I do the only thing I can think of, and I steal all the flame from the room so no one can see. I glow, so everyone has to look at me, and I demand to know where Thor is. They go, 'Oh you mean those Asgardians? We told them that we needed a favor before we listened to anything they had to say, and we sent them to capture a giant boar to distract them while we attacked.' So now we have no backup, and I've got to figure out how to get me, Loki, and our village leaders out without anybody dying. It's easier now that nobody is yelling, and Loki convinces them that it's not worth it to start a war, because then the Asgardians would have to get involved and nobody wants that. They agree, we make it to the clearing, and one of our village leaders turns to the enemy and says, 'I hate you, but I think I'm starting to hate the Asgardians more, how about we band together, kill these two, and go attack their army while we have the advantage?' The other guys agree on the basis that they can go back to hating each other after we've stopped meddling, and Loki and I are cornered, totally alone, and discussing how best to kill Thor if we ever get out of this. The villages are about to attack us, and lo and behold, Thor, Sif, and Fandral ride in on a giant boar. And I mean GIANT, like, as big as an elephant. Everyone goes dead silent, and the leader of the village that told Thor to go on the quest asked him where in Hel he'd actually found a giant boar because they don't actually live in these woods. Thor just shrugs. We think we might be able to salvage this, but next thing we know, it doesn't matter that we have a giant boar helping us fight, the people decide that they don't want our interference and are chasing us out of their five of us rode into camp on a giant boar, and according to Volstagg, it was the least graceful and majestic thing that he'd ever seen. Hounded us for weeks about how stupid we looked. The army ended up stepping in to stop the villages from attacking us, so we lost all diplomatic credit and had to start using force. It was the most disastrous mission I've ever been on." I finish my story as my dad pulls the fish off the fire. The boys give some laughs, which make me feel better, because I wasn't sure the story was that great.

We eat in silence, staring up at the stars starting to appear, and I wonder where Thor is now. Probably Asgard, since I doubt the Bifrost has been fixed. I wonder if I can see any of the places I've been in the sky, or if they are too far away. We spend the rest of the night roasting marshmallows and playing games. I show the boys shapes in the fire, and explain that flames have tides too, just smaller and more erratic. As I fall asleep, I realize that for once, I feel like nothing is wrong.

That feeling dissipates once we turn on the radio the next morning, about a half an hour into our drive home.

"...the attack is unknown, though scientists have confirmed that the attackers are not human. It appears that none of the alleged aliens are alive, having collapsed after the portal above Stark Tower in New York disappeared. The attack is a frightening tragedy, the casualty count is already in the hundreds and more bodies are being found as cleanup begins. The destruction is even worse than the incident in Harlem two years ago that also involved the creature known as the Hulk. Tony Stark's Iron Man was also seen battling the invaders, as well as Captain America, but the investigation into the attack continues…"

"What the…" Ben pipes up, but I shush him. It doesn't matter, the broadcaster wraps up, promising updates as they get more information, and the station goes back to playing music. We shuffle through other local radio stations, but not many of them are reporting or have much more information, and we drive the rest of the way home with an incomplete picture of the tragedy on the other side of the country.

I'm already denying that Thor or Asgard was involved before we reach the driveway. I reason that they would've tried to contact me, or the reporters would've definitely mentioned an attractive blonde summoning lightening with a hammer. Not to mention that I didn't think that the Bifrost was fixed yet.

Ben turns the TV on while we unpack, and the news channels help fill in the gaps. I have Ty pull up more news on his computer. It's worse than I feared, and my agitation is clearly shared by the rest of my family, but for different reasons.

A tear in the sky over New York, a portal, unleashing alien invaders, fought by a small team of misfit heroes. It had been a shock to come home and realize that the world I'd left behind was not as safe as I'd assumed, but it was a different thing altogether to see it on TV. I'd grown up learning about Captain America, and I'd learned about how Iron Man and the Hulk had emerged while I'd been gone. Now they were all working together, along with a few others. Reports showed a redheaded woman taking on aliens with some wicked martial arts moves, and a man with an actual bow and arrows, and some theories linked them to SHIELD, a secret intelligence agency that was coming out of the shadows.

All of this was both cool and concerning, but not as much as the last member of the "team." It was Thor, there was no doubt about it, even if the reporters weren't calling him by name. Who else wears a red cape and wields lightning? Thor had been here, on Midgard, and hadn't even tried to contact me. One of my best friends… I stopped my thoughts in their tracks. I couldn't take it personally. I had been the one to tell Odin that I was done with the Asgardian army after all. Thor was here for a purpose, and I definitely didn't rank above alien invaders. I wrapped all my hurt feelings up with a bow and set them aside, letting the soldier in me take charge and think about the situation logically.

Which was good because the next thing I learned just about broke my heart. One of the reporters was talking about Thor, and they showed footage, shot from someone's phone, of him fighting someone in green on the balcony of Stark Tower. It's grainy, but I can't help but think that it's Loki, my Loki. The reporter continues, linking him to an attack in Germany the day before the one in New York. They show more footage, clearer and closer, and I gasp. My family turns to look at me.

I don't respond to them, not when there's a ghost, plain as day, onscreen. I run my thumb over the gem on my necklace, trying to make sense of something, anything. It looks like him.

But he was dead, lost to the abyss I'd watched him fall myself, felt the promise stone crack, mourned him...

The promise stone! I hear his voice in my memory as I undo the clasp and peer into the dark, clear jade.

I promise that I will find you, elskan. And I will always protect you, I promise.

Besides the old crack running from the top and diagonally to the left, the promise stone is intact. Loki promised to find me, and if that green figure was him, the stone should've cracked. But it didn't. It wasn't him, not matter the resemblance.

"Ally," my dad breaks through my train of thought, "do you know them?" I realize they've all been staring at me, not just because probably look maniacal, but because there's steam curling off of me, and I'm glowing. I dim and cool as I answer.

"Thor's from Asgard, he's a prince, and a good friend." My voice is shaky; I'm almost surprised I was able to find it.

"What about the other one?"

"I don't know." They don't believe me. "A monster," I offer. "Wearing the face of a dead friend." It still sounds unconvincing, but make my face composed and stern. They don't press me. It's the story I'm going with.

It's the story I tell myself when I wake up for weeks in cold sweat after the nightmares start up again. It's the story that I convince myself to believe, even though it gives me no peace. It's the story I'm still telling myself when Sif and Mina show up at my door just months later.