((Authors Note: Same as before, own nothing. I hope you enjoy!))

Ch. 6

Deciding to give his new charge a few more hours alone, Clint had ventured outside to explore his new surroundings, it was still hard to believe he was in another universe entirely. The notion still unnerved him. Within a few hours he'd managed to map out the main grounds of the estate, not including the outer perimeter of the grounds, wanting to know all it's in and outs. He didn't want any surprises sneaking up on them, he'd learned that lesson when Loki had come through the portal, it wasn't a mistake he would willingly make again.

Returning to the den, he set his bow down on the long dining table that stretched across the room with impossible luxury, easily capable of sitting twelve people. The smell of delicious simmering meat wafted through the air, herbs and butter, the sound of clattering dishes. Stomach protesting loudly with a rather embarrassing rumble, he realized he couldn't recall the last time he'd eaten. Grinning sheepishly he walked to his appointed room where he tore the velcro of his protective vest, and gloves, shedding the cumbersome tactical gear in favor of a more comfortable dark navy blue long sleeved Henley, and dark pants before he went to investigate the source of the intoxicating aroma. A small piece of Clint didn't trust the magical aspect of the Estate, all he could image was something out of 'beauty and the beast', enchanted tea pots and broom sticks making dinner. For an uncomfortable second he gritted his teeth, he sure as hell hoped that wasn't it.

Peeking around the corner he had to smile too himself. Whew, thank God, no possessed kitchen ware. Khaleesi stood at the stove with her back to him wearing the same green dress from earlier, bare footed, hips gently swaying from side to side, humming a song to herself. The stove she cooked on was a flat iron surface fueled by stoked fire beneath. Strangely primitive but ultimately very efficient, the meat if he had to guess was deer, but whatever it was it smelled fantastic.

He cleared his throat as to not scare her, making his way further into the room where he leaded back against the kitchens wooden island. Arms casually crossing over his chest as he made a show of inspecting her work. Reminding himself that this wasn't a Shield appointed mission he forced himself to go against protocol and attempt small talk. Something he'd never exactly been great at, in fact if memory served correctly he was terrible at it. The only woman he'd ever spoken in great length to was Natasha and she didn't exactly 'small talk' either.

Deciding it was now or never, he jumped in with both feet.

"Smells great...How'd you know venison's my favorite?" He asked a closed mouth smile, hoping she didn't see how uncomfortable he was.

Khaleesi turned to look at Clint giving him a bashful smile. Despite the events of the day, she'd realized that Fate must have greater plans for her, she need only trust in it's vision. Eager to impress her new guardian she'd decided what better way than to make a proper meal.

He seemed fond of teasing her and she found she did not mind his bold comments, in the end they were good natured and she could venture a guess he was normally a withdrawn individual. Thor had promised, she could trust him, he would not fail her.

Clint felt a swell of manly pride in his chest at her shy expression, the almost unseen flush to her skin at his comment. It was innocent, almost sweet, something he wasn't used to. Turning back to the stove she spoke over her shoulder.

"A lucky guess, Lord Barton. I thought perhaps a hot meal would help mend the days emotions…also I have not eaten since nearly two days ago."

Clint gave an amused chuckle, he'd been called many things, but 'Lord' had never been one of them.

"Um, yeah, no you don't have to call me Lord, actually if it's not too much to ask I'd like you to just call me Clint."

She merely nodded her head still keeping her focus on the food as she began to plate their dinners.

"As you wish...Clint" She said as she handed him his plate, taking her own she passed by him to make her way towards the dinning table.

As they began eating, the archer felt inwardly as the conversation took a back burner. As she took a bite of food, Khaleesi spared a curious glance in his direction. Everything about Clint Barton was confusing and strange, and yet she felt utterly enthralled by him. Bursting with inquisitiveness she had to restrain herself least she bombard him with questions. From across the table, Clint could feel her eyes on him, the pair of them sitting on one end only an arms length away it wasn't hard. He imagined this was just as weird for her as it was for him. He'd come to Asgard to eradicate his demons, cleanse the guilt he felt towards the events in New York, but looking towards Khaleesi he was forced to wonder if the price wasn't to high. If he wasn't making a larger more perilous mistake by being here.

()()()()()()()()

Two weeks had passed in the blink of an eye, time simply melted away, until Clint couldn't remember what day it was anymore. The concept of time here on the island was nonexistent, the rising and setting of the sun was all you needed. He found he surprisingly didn't miss what was quickly becoming his old life, the blood, bullets, death, the angry voices of superior officers. He'd thought perhaps he would at least miss his team mates but that to fell away like so many leaves in the autumn wind.

He insisted on keeping his skills sharp practicing every day in the garden with his bow and blades, he even offered to teach Khaleesi basic self defense. Secretly wanting to find some kind of common bond with her. He'd had her wear one of his black tank top tied at the hip, and pair of riding pants Emilia had sewn her, unaccustomed to the new wardrobe Khaleesi had frowned fidgeting in place. To his polite horror the pants had hugged her body in such a way it made his throat tight and concentration waver. It wouldn't be the first time he questioned his judgment. She was a good sport about the lesson though and remained patient in his reprimands of her mistakes, and by the third week she was picking up quite nicely, she even seemed to enjoy their sparring session, the physical activity easing her mind.

That night, the first snowflakes of winter began to fall, large white fluffy flakes coating the grounds and trees, laying a silent blanket across the darkness. Clint lay flat on his back as he slept fitfully, a gruesome nightmare tugging at his mind and after a few moments his arm flung across his face in an attempt to ward off the invisible force. A low moan escaping his lips, that didn't take long to grow into a scream. With a jolt he was startled awake as he suddenly felt a small cool hand touch his face, shooting up in bed he instinctively grabbed the hand jerking the would-be assailant closer to himself. A surprised yelp greeted him and when he opened his eyes he was alarmed to find Khaleesi leaning against him, a startled 'O' shaping her lips, the young woman's delicate hand being crushed in his larger one.

Breathing raggedly through his nose, Clint struggled to calm his frantic mind, Well this was awkward he thought. He could just barely make out her face in the moonlight shining through the window, the snow still falling heavily outside.

"You were screaming..." She explained, voice sweet like milk and honey. Innocent concern for his well being.

Feeling her crushed against his bare chest, innocence was hardly what came to mind and Clint was reminded that he'd gone to sleep wearing not much more than the bed sheet, the thin material bunched around his hips slipping lower as he attempted to sit upward.

Releasing his grasp he let go of her hand slowly, and used the other encourage her to move away from him. This was dangerous, he thought instantly as his body responded to her warmth, the scent of her lavender perfume.

'Jesus, send her away now; she doesn't know what she's doing.' His mind screamed.

He spoke low and firm, so she would not be confused by his words.

"Go back to you room Khaleesi…Now, please."

Letting go of her he scooted further away in the bed to cement the message, pressing his back firmly against the headboard until it creaked. Obviously confused and the tiniest bit hurt by the rejection Khaleesi said nothing, taking one, two, three steps away from him before disappearing out the door. When he heard the door to her chambers click shut Clint groaned angrily, rubbing both his palms across his face. He could still feel her cool hands on his face and he willed the sensation to leave, he could not complicate this.

In her room Khaleesi sat cross legged in bed hugging the feather pillow to her chest, trying to fathom what had drawn her to him in the first place, more importantly she desperately wanted to understand the bright flash of heat in her cheeks, the sudden spark of desire burning hot as she remembered the touch of his hard muscled chest beneath her hands. With an exasperated sigh she felt cheated, Emilia had explained many things to her but this wasn't one of them. With a conflicted heart Khaleesi knew she would receive no answers this night.

Winter

He knew good they didn't have Christmas in Asgard but he'd decided that he would show Khaleesi some of the more entertaining mortal traditions so when the snow let up he'd gone before dawn to find the perfect tree. It seemed like a ridiculous idea at the time but it wasn't like he had any television shows to DVR or appointment to make. Anything to avoid the elephant in the room. By the time Khaleesi awoke and came out to the den he had the everything almost completely set up, and while there were no electric lighting or fancy glass ornaments he'd managed to find little trinkets and random items to use in loo of the usual. He couldn't remember the last time he had celebrated the holiday, it wasn't as if Shield had ever entertained the notion of requesting time off, and besides all of his family had been deceased for years until now there had never been any point. He was shoddy at crafts and the tree was probably a sad sight to behold but he hoped since she had never celebrated Christmas she wouldn't notice. Days earlier after explaining to her the basics of its workings he felt confident she would be excited. However excitement didn't even begin to cover her reaction.

Having stopped dead in her tracks, his back to her as he was putting the finishing touches on the tree. She'd startled him with the loud gasp of amazement, hands clasped at her chest in awe. If she was quite honest, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. What a strange and humorous thing she mused, to put a grown tree inside your home. It gave her a quiet thrill to see him opening up to her, save for when they ate meals or practiced her defense lessons he'd been unusually withdrawn opting to use most of his time keeping a vigilant eye on the property.

Turning around Clint had stared at her, trying to gauge her reaction.

Clapping her hands together Khaleesi walked up to the tree, reaching out with her graceful fingers to touch one of the handmade ornaments. Wonderment gracing her features, a smile that spoke of pure joy. He had never seen anyone smile in such a way.

"Oh Clint, this is…this is simply beautiful. I love it." She seemed to suddenly realize the way she was gushing.

Trying to rein in her excitement she looked away from him continuing to study the ornaments. Clint could only nod, scratching the back of his neck as he tried to look as if this was an ordinary feat for him.

"Glad you like it." Truthfully, he wanted to grin like an idiot.

The presents unlike the concept of Santa was a much easier concept to explain to Khaleesi. She'd been planning his gift ever since he had told her days ago about the holiday. When their 'Christmas dinner' had finally arrived she'd worn a special dress she had sewn herself, being extremely skilled with a needle and thread, it was dyed a crimson red color, having used mulberries to make the dye. Delicate pearls sewn into the sleeves and hemline. Originally the dress had been something she'd planned to wear for a very different occasion, for a very different man.

When Clint had come to dinner, he'd practically fallen over a chair at the sight of her. Catching the chair in his hands as he bumped into it he struggled to right the rebellious piece of furniture. He could see that there was a carefully wrapped present on his place setting and he regarded the package with a equal measure of interest and discomfort, remembering helplessly that he hadn't gotten her anything. Damnit, he hadn't expected her to get him anything.

He was only able to ignore the gift until the end of dinner and when he could stall no longer finally he knew decided it was now or never. She was expectantly watching his reaction as he folded back the paper, and what greeted him was a small, detailed hand carved ornament made of driftwood. A hawk in flight, smaller than the size of his fist. When he set it on the table it balanced perfectly on its belly swaying, giving the appearance of a bird in flight. It was beautiful, unexpectedly personal.

Clint said nothing for a long time staring at the carving, the crackling of the fire the only noise in the room. Khaleesi bit her lower lip in nervous anticipation. He had said not one word since he opened his gift. In fact he had been rather quiet all evening. Perhaps she had misjudged him.

Just as she was about to speak, he suddenly stood from the table the hawk in his right hand as he closed the distance between them. She was startled as he leaned in his strong arms wrapping around her slender frame. Head resting perfectly against the curve of his shoulder, sandalwood and a faint hint of sweat reaching her senses, his goatee and mustache tickling as he spoke against her ear.

"Thank you, Khaleesi. I love it."

When he pulled back Clint could clearly see a mixture of relief and pride on her face and taking his seat again Clint forced himself to take a long drink from his glass, the wooden hawk swaying from side to side on the table top. Khaleesi resting her napkin beside her plate rose to clear their plates away, cursing himself all the while.

'Way to go,' Barton he thought to himself 'Way to not complicate things, you bastard.'