Author's Note: Hello everyone! Thank you for reading so far! I'm trying to write and post as much as possible before the summer finishes so keep posted for many chapters to come! We're about to skip a few months in the timeline. They may be short because I'm having a serious writers block, but hope it conveys the story.

Kiara x

March 1942

Anya closed her eyes that night, taking a deep breath with only the intent to sleep. It only took a few seconds before she heard his voice, pulling her to Asgard.

"Anya," his voice came from behind her as he stood, an arm going around her waist.

Anya turned, facing him closely, "Loki, why have you brought me here?"

"I have a proposition since our last dispute," a smile forming on his lips.

She reached up to his face, holding it gently, "What is it?"

He looked at her in all seriousness, a glimmer in his eyes and a sense of glory to him, "Be my queen, and I will be king."

Anya suddenly pulled away, trying to study him. "Why, Loki?" her voice cautious.

"There's no point in my presence here unless I am king one day. I am only the Prince of Asgard. Father has deemed Thor the righteous king but I can still prove him wrong."

"Loki," Anya whispered, trying to find words, "I don't want to be a queen, it's not my place to take up such a responsibility."

Loki took a step forwards, eager to her, "You know we were meant to be together, Anya."

She shook her head slowly, eyes studying the fiery glory in his face, "No, not like this Loki."
Anya walked down to the center of the courtyard she appeared in, the moonlight casting a silvery blue as he followed behind her. "Loki," her voice was quiet but stern, her eyes looking to him in love, "Come to Midgard with me, we can be together. Have a life together."

Loki's face twisted, his eyes looking to her in betrayal, "You're a god, Anya. Why would I like anyone of them?"

Anya took a step closer to him, "I'm human too, Loki. I'm not a god, maybe a small fraction but I'm more human. I don't want to be a queen to rule over people. I'm not prepared for that."

Loki took a step back, "You can't even do that for me?"

Anya took another step following him, "I'm sorry, Loki. I want to be with you, but I can't like this."

He turned away, before looking to her, eyes raging, his mouth pursed, "This is the only way. Leave," he started walking away from her, "This will be the last time you'll see me Anya."

Anya looked at him as he disappeared into a glimmer. She closed her eyes, whispering to herself as the tears started coming, "You couldn't even come here to do it yourself."

"Name?" the officer looked at Steve sternly, his eyes moving up and down checking his physical.

Steve stood as tall as he could, chin up and shoulders back. He gulped, trying to lessen his shaking and the sweat coming from his hairline.

"Thomas Harrett, sir" he cleared his throat.

"Where're you from Harrett?" the officer squinted his eyes.

"I…Ithaca, sir" he stuttered, trying to maintain eye contact with the officer.

"Hmm…", the officer looked again, picking up a stamp and pounding it on his papers and handing it back.

"Next!", the officer shouted.

Steve looked down at his papers, a big red stamp with 'Rejected' on it.

He walked round the corner, his eyes still on his papers as he accidentally bumped into someone.

"Pardon me," he said, eyes still on the papers as he walked on.

"Hey!" a voice came behind me. "Hey!" louder and more aggressive.

I felt his collar being pulled from behind as he was yanked into an alleyway before being shoved into the dumpsters.

The man laughed before stalking to him in the corner, hand ready to punch.

Steve had told Christiane to wait in the coffee shop, telling her he had to get something.

Christiane sat by the window, gazing out into the street as she sipped a cup of coffee. Bucky was at the apartment preparing his things before leaving for training in the afternoon, Anya at the SSR base, while Steve and her had the day off.

She saw Steve walk past, his eyes focused on a piece of paper. Eyes wide, she quickly put down her coffee and ran outside. She tiptoed to look down the street, Steve nowhere to be found.

She started looking down each alley way, only to see a man walk out one in front of her as she started running to it, taking a turn.

"Steve!" she shouted, seeing him on the ground, pulling him up by his arms and shoulders.

"I'm okay," he coughed.

"No you're not, I'm taking you home," they walked out onto the street.

"I'm fine, Chrissy," he coughed again, arm clutching his side.

"Even talking is hurting you." she stopped, taking him to face her, "Steve, since Bucky got drafted, you've gone every week trying to enlist. And almost every time, you end up in a fight!" She clenched the bridge of her nose, her eyes closed trying to breath.

"I've got to go there, I've got to go with him," he spoke softly, arm still at his side.

Christiane looked at him, eyes scanning his face before she sighed, "I know," she wiped the stray dirt on his forehead with her handkerchief.

"You're not going to stop me?" his eyebrows furrowed together.

"Oh I will, but I know you'd follow Bucky till the very end,," tucking the handkerchief back in her skirt's pocket as they walked back to their apartments.

Steve smiled to himself, remembering the line Bucky said to him a few years ago, "Till the end of the line."

"You'd find one way or another," she sighed, looking up to the sky to take in the rare ray of sun.

He looked to her, smiling at how carefree for a moment she looked, "Would you ever consider going back?"

"To France?" she raised an eyebrow, eyes still closed.

"I suppose so," he shrugged, as they turned onto their street.

"I know one day I'll go back, it's a matter of when," digging her hands into her pockets as she kicked along a pebble on the pavement.

Bucky held onto Christiane tightly as they walked towards the bus station. Other men surrounded them, waving goodbye to their loved ones.

"You packed everything already?" Christiane looked to him, a hand on his duffel bag swung on his shoulder.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes, "You've asked me this five times already, doll."

She smiled softly, brushing out a stray hair on his face, "Just making sure."

Her eyes wandering down to her feet, taking a deep breath.

He looked at her, eyelashes casting shadows against her cheeks.

"Christiane," he lifted her chin up gently, his thumb moving to her cheek. "I'll be back before you know it."

"I know," she sighed.

Bucky continued, "And I'll write to you, I'll call when I get the chance."

She looked back down again, Bucky taking up her chin again, "I promise."

Christiane laced her arms around his body, resting her head on his chest.
"Make sure you eat enough and don't burn yourself out," she whispered into his shirt, really masking the feeling of her eyes glazing over.

He kissed her on the forehead gently, resting his chin on the top of her head as he hugged her back tightly.
"Don't worry about me, doll. It's not goodbye."

Her breath came out uneven, words a whisper, "I know,"

"I love you," he kissed her again on the forehead, before pulling away, walking backwards.

Christiane mustered a small wave, tugging her cardigan attempting to keep the warmth that Bucky engulfed her in only to be parted away.

She watched him board the bus, watching him wave to her from the window as she mouthed back the words he left her with, "I love you."

She turned around, walking home to the steady sounds of her heels clicking to the ground. She had to do something. She couldn't let Bucky go out alone to Europe. Christiane decided - it was finally time to face reality. She had to join the SSR.

April 1942:

"You want to relax into your stance, make sure your shoulder isn't tensed," an agent talked behind the group of training agents splayed on the floor with a rifle in their arms, taking aim.

Christiane took a breath in, holding it till she fired, getting it to the bulls-eye.

"Bougourd, again! I want to see all your shots in the same hole, do you understand?" he peered down at her.

"Yes sir," she breathed, pulling back to take aim.

February 1939:

"What you want to do is to make sure you get your breathing right," the voice of a man tutored the youngsters in the countryside. "We have an invasion coming, You need to make sure you can fight back."

Anya and Christiane stood side by side, taking aim at metal cups and pots set up yards away from them.

May 1939:

Christiane deflected a punch from her opponent, quickly punching back as she advanced on him. She used her elbow to hit him in the face, kicking him in the stomach before using her leverage, a leg between his stance before she took him down.

"Good, again!" a man in the Resistance looked on at her, arms crossed. "You need to be quicker than this. They will not hesitate to hurt you first if they know who we are."

"Just give her a break, she's only a girl." Anya confronted him.

"She's our courier, she needs to be prepared for anything."

Steve came home from work to a letter at his door. He wasn't scheduled for another hour for dinner with the Bougourd sisters.

He sat at the kitchen table, opening the letter with a butter knife as he read its contents.

Dear Steve,

I really hope you didn't get into any other fights without me.

I need to ask you a favor, a rather big one in fact.

I need you to find my mother's ring. It should be in a blue velvet box under the floorboard under the carpet in my room that's in a wooden box.

Keep it safe, I'll be needing it later.

Your pal, Buck

Steve looked back up from the letter, a look of confusion over his face trying to think why Bucky would need his mother's ring.

His eyes turned wide, suddenly leaping out of his chair as he ran into Bucky's room trying to dig out the ring box. He opened it, revealing a diamond, cushioned by small sapphires on a silver band.