Hello everyone! Let me start off with a huge OMG I AM SO SORRY FOR THE VERY LONG DELAY! PLEASE FORGIVE ME! Long story short my computer broke and I have no access to upload new chapters until I either fix it or buy a new one, both of which are really expensive. I can assure you-should it make you feel better-that I have been handwriting chapters and other than finishing it up it's actually done. And I've been working on a sequel. I'm not sure if that's supposed to make you feel better or not...but ya know. Anyways I will try to update chapters as I can and again I apologize for the awful delay. You guys are wonderful.

After dinner and the dishes-followed by another reprimanding talk from my mother-I sought out to be alone in my room. Sitting cross-legged on my bed I held a photo of my parents and I on the day of my High School graduation. The three of us stared up at me with ridiculously wide grins. My father had his arm wrapped tightly around my shoulder and my mother had both of her arms around the two of us suffocating me in between them. They were so proud of me that day. There were so many naive dreams and hopes for the future. None of which lead us to where we were now.

Like my parents I was supposed to be teaching. Maybe even find a respected, smart man to marry and give my parents the grandchildren that they deserved. My dad would grow old with my mom at his side as we sat around the dining table and discussed folklore and myths that were best left to books.

Never did we dream that I would be keeping secrets from the people that I was closest too. Studying in Asgard as an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. was the last thing I thought I would be soon with my life. Tangled in a mess with a self-righteous god wasn't even a thought in my mind. Even as Loki laid in the room two doors down from mine it all seemed a little far-fetched.

Overall my family-besides my mother for understandable reasons-seemed to like Loki. Well, they enjoyed Lars, however. But, even so their approval hit me in ways I didn't even understand I could barely tolerate the guy so it wouldn't have been unbearable if my family were to dislike him. Yet, knowing that they approved was of great relief and comfort. It definitely made his staying here a bit easier.

Tracing my fingers of the glass frame along the bright green color of my dad's eyes I found myself wondering if my dad would have liked him. And not just Lars, but Loki. Despite the wrongs Loki did in New York I knew that Dad would very much like him. Chuckling under my breath I stood up and replaced the photo atop the dresser and stared at it. Dad would definitely have hounded Loki with endless questions like a fanboy at a comic convention. He would want to know everything.

Even though Loki was indifferent to mostly everyone and his distaste toward Midgardians not hidden in the least, I think he would have liked my dad in return. Then again that was wistful thinking. After all, what girl didn't want her parents to approve of her-

I blinked.

My what? My boyfriend? Oh please you're delusional, Hayden. One drunken night of sloppy kisses and touches and you're acting like a love-struck schoolgirl. Stop being so naïve. Even you're not that dumb when it comes to the male race. Asgardian or not. Loki is a god. He would never be your boyfriend.

Sighing loudly I rubbed at my face and turned toward the bedroom door. Quietly I crept through the hallway and down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone. I could hear one of the kids snoring on the couch as I tip-toed my way through the living room.

Thomas stirred in the recliner and I noticed Sully curled up in between his legs. Sully lifted his head and stared at me through what little light that seeped from the closed curtains. I put my fingers to my lips and he yawned loudly, put his bulky head between his paws and sighed. I walked by patting him behind his ears and pulled the blankets that Thomas had tangled at his side up to his shoulders.

Satisfied, I turned to the kitchen, my toes curled at the sudden cold of the linoleum floor, and walked into my dad's study. The lock clicked open and I slid inside, shutting the door behind me with my back pressed against the wood. I inhaled deeply and closed my eyes engulfing myself in the smell of old books and the lingering scent of cigars.

Swallowing hard I flicked on the light, opened my eyes, not at all surprised to see that everything was perfectly placed as it was the last time I had seen it. It was as though my dad had just turned in for the night and would return in the morning to continue his work. The walls were stacked with built-in shelves filled with books; old and new. Magazine and article clippings cluttered the corners or were tacked onto the walls, highlighted with whatever colors Dad had at the time. Doctorates and awards hung on what little space was left. His desk was a perfectly chaotic mess of sprawled out notes and framed photos of my father with important scholars and professors.

I walked to the desk, my fingers skimming along the nicked wooden surface and plopped down in his chair with a heavy sigh. My eyes scanned the area around me, landing on an unfortunately familiar photo. Grimacing, I reached forward and pulled the photo into my lap.

My brown hair tangled around my pale, round face with cheeks an unusual shade of red and a wide smile full of braces. In the photo I sat not far from where I was now on the floor of dad's study with a thick book displayed proudly in my lap. I smiled fondly as I recalled my dad teasingly telling me that for being such a smart girl I was awfully dim when it came to other things outside of books. Boy, was he ever right.

I set the photo down, bumping my elbow into the same marble brown ashtray that sat on that desk for as long as I could remember. With trembling fingers I picked up the half smoked cigar and held it up to my face, grabbing for the lighter that sat next to it. The flame flickered momentarily before I brought it to the tip. It ate hungrily at the cigar, feeding off of it until smoke trailed around me. I set both lighter and cigar back onto the tray and closed my eyes as the smoke wrapped around me.

"I did not know that you partook in smoking."

My eyes snapped open at the sound of Loki's smooth voice coming from the entrance. He stood in the doorway, wearing nothing more than the slacks that I had given to him earlier that day. I swallowed hard as I diverted my attention away from his smooth, defined chest.

Clearing my throat I put out the cigar, smashing it a little too roughly. "I don't smoke," I replied unevenly hearing the crack in my voice betray me. "I just enjoy the smell."

Loki nodded but remained quiet. He looked around the room taking in the massive amounts of books and photograph. I stared at him as his green eyes moved around until he suddenly strutted toward the awards, reading each one before turning his attention toward titles of the many books.

"Your father is a scholar." It wasn't a question but I answered with a small mhm anyways. "As is your mother. And, you were to follow in their footsteps."

"I wanted too," I defended bracing myself for another lash of Loki's beatings at calling me weak-minded and easy to control.

However, he didn't and much to my surprise he responded with, "you would do well in such a field."

"Th-thank you," I muttered, pulling my hair behind my ear.

"Why did you not pursue it and flee to S.H.I.E.L.D. instead?"

"I did not flee to S.H.I.E.L.D. They insisted that they needed my help and I declined shortly after Thor arrived but then you attacked New York..." I trailed off noticing the way his back muscles tensed at the memory. "Anyways, it isn't as though I can't go teach after I am finished at S.H.I.E.L.D."

"You do not strike me as their candidate for an agent."

Under other circumstances his jibe would have irritated or might have even offended me but he was right. I laughed and leaned back into the chair, "Oh you have no idea how many times I thought that myself."

Loki tilted his head but remained fixated on the books before him. "You do not see yourself fit for the position?"

"Have you not met me? I am the complete opposite of an agent. I am no Phil Coulson or Black Widow," I mumbled noting that he once again tensed up at the mention of Coulson and Natasha Romanoff's name. I puffed out a large amount of air from my cheeks and continued, "I stick to my books. That's where I belong."

"Do you truly believe that?" he countered.

"Well...yeah," I shrugged. I'd never been the brave or adventurous type. Sure, I read about it but that was as far as my expertise went. "And I am very content with that."

"You chose a strange occupation for one who is content hiding among their books." I rolled my eyes. "I have noted that your mother knows of who I am." I started to open my mouth, afraid that her knowledge of it would anger him. "She is a shrewd woman. For a Midgardian that is rather admirable." He paused to look at me over his naked shoulder, a sly smile slipped onto his face. "I wonder where it is that you did not acquire such a redeeming quality."

I scowled, not at all surprised that another jab was going to come sooner it later. "What are you even doing down here? I thought you were asleep."

Loki returned his attention back to the books. He would pull one out, flip through its pages before sliding it back into place and started it over with a new book. He did this a few times before finally gracing me with an answer.

"Your loud footsteps awoke me from my sumber." I chewed on the inside of my cheek knowing full well that I wasn't loud at all. "I was merely curious as to what you were doing. I did not realize that you were trapped in sentimental notions," he said gesturing toward the cigar and unflattering photo, "had I known I would have remained in my chambers."

"Don't you ever miss your father?" I asked knowing that it wasn't just a human thing to mourn those you lost.

After all, Lady Frigga lost all emotion and feeling when Odin died. She mourned his death as though she had only just lost him. And Thor I knew was just as heartbroken. He handled it well but he often regaled in tales of Odin's glory and every so often there were tears in his soft, blue eyes.

Loki scowled. "Odin was not my father. He was but a man who took an infant as a living trophy for a victory against Jötunheimr."

"But he raised you as a prince to Asgard and loved you as a son," I rebutted recalling the many stories I had read of Odin and his three sons.

Loki turned from the books and advanced on me. I sunk into the chair, his long fingers wrapped around the back of it. His face was almost inhuman and the green of his eyes seethed with spite.

"He NEVER loved me as he did his own sons, Thor and Baldur. I was raised as a prince promised a throne never intended for me. I was a thorn in his side, a reminder that I was a monster despite the Asgardian that I believed I was. Do you not know the feeling of never being good enough throughout your entire life?" He cried out, tears clung at the corners of his eyes. "Do you not know the pain of being cast off and to be treated like a beast in your own home?

"Odin did not see me as his son. I was nothing to him. Not a son, nor an Asgardian. Not even a giant of the ice. I was a burden and nothing more."

I inhaled sharply. "I refuse to believe that anyone who would raise a baby and call them their son did not love them."

Loki smirked and shoved his weight off the chair. My entire body rocked back and forth with the movement. "One would think so. Alas, I was meant as a treaty to reunite warring worlds. Living proof that man and beast could live in harmony." He laughed almost maniacally then and I felt myself push deeper into the chair. "Only a beast-" he turned his attention back to the shelves and pulled out a thick book with no title.

Staring at its contents with a quizzical expression he held it up for me to see and pointed at its text. "Can you read this?"

I stared at him, slightly startled at the sudden change of topic. Clearing my throat I looked to see what was on the pages. "Sure," I shrugged taking the book from his grasp. "It's Nordic German. Basically the language Norse Mythology strives on." I frowned. "Can you not read it?"

"These words have lost meaning to us many, many years ago. Much longer than even I have been around."

I furrowed my brow. "How is that even possible?" I asked standing up and bringing the book toward him. "This section," I started pointing at the text, "even talks about you."

Loki shrugged, uninterested. "After the gods left Midgard they left the language of the people behind." He took the book from my hands, his fingers brushing against mine and placed it back in the empty slot. "The people of Midgard tend to put a lot of faith in what they cannot see. Gods do not like being forgotten and so our stories are still passed along to even the Midgardians."

He turned to me, his gaze softening as our eyes locked. The heat rushed to my face and I instantly cursed myself for having such a pallid complexion. There was no doubt in my mind that my cheeks flushed brighter than a fresh cut of the skin.

"Though I suppose our histories have become nothing more than myths and legend for wide-eyed girls to one day learn about." He reached out to grab for my hand, his fingers splaying out my own. "The same myth and legends," he continued in a quieter voice, "for these wide-eyed girls to write about." His fingers slid up my arm, trailing along the curves of my forearm until they landed gently at my neck, "nothing more than myth and legend for these wide-eyed girls to dream and fantasize about."

I gasped as he pulled me into him, my body colliding against his and those soft lips I had touched before claimed my own. I hadn't even had time to respond when a small clearing of someone's throat broke us apart. I turned around, following Loki's gaze to see my mother standing at the entrance.

It was like she had an alarm any time Loki and I even got close.

She raised her eyebrows and crossed get arms against the cheap cotton robe she donned. Her hair was in curlers and a sleeping mash hung around her neck. Even in her ridiculous startlingly like a child afraid of their parent; small and ashamed.

"It's late," she said, her eyes resting sharply on mine.

Our earlier conversation flashed through my mind. The same feeling of being an admonished child while doing the dishes rang clear. Only that time she waited until I was finished with the dishes before she spoke.

"I thought you said it was nothing Hayden-"

"It is nothing mom," I insisted on a sigh as I dried my hands on the dish towel wanting nothing more than to change out of my damp clothes.

"That," she said pointing out the window that overlooked the pool where Loki was still swimming, "does not look like nothing."

"We were just-"

"Hayden, what is going on? Why is he in your life to begin with?" She chewed on the bottom of her lip. "Are you sure you aren't in some sort of trouble?"

"Mom," I exasperated. I really did not want to go into this again. "Remember when you said I was an adult and you trusted that I can handle this? Well I can handle it."

I turned my attention back to Loki. He was out off the pool, wringing the water out of his shirt. The sun shined on his pale, naked chest. Small beads of water trickled down his body, rolling down from his dark, seductive tresses. I blinked and swallowed hard, returning to face my mom with what I hoped was a firm smile.

"I can handle this," I repeated.

However standing side by side with a god that had just kissed me didn't appear to be handling anything. And from the stern look on my mothers face she was thinking the same thing.

"I suggest you try to get some sleep before the sun rises and the kids wake ya," she said not at all interested in anything I had to say.

I nodded and briskly walked past her, muttering goodnight. I stepped onto the cold tiled floor of the kitchen and turned to wait for Loki. My mother smiled sweetly and with her eyes pointed upstairs. Groaning I left to go to my room hoping that she wasn't about to anger a god.

Loki stared in silence at Hayden's mother, both of them listening to Hayden's heavy footsteps plod up the stairs. The aging woman waited for her daughter's bedroom door to close before she exhaled slowly and began to circle around him like he was the prey of a Bilgesnipe. It would be rather easy to snap her neck without so much as blinking but her confidence mildly amused him. So, he allowed her to continue.

Before she spoke he decide that it be best they skip the threats she had planned to employ upon him. They would have no meaning to him and he would much rather not be angered. Hayden would not be pleased of whatever outcome that may bring.

"I know that you are aware of my true being and I am also aware that you know much more about me than the common Midgardian does. For that I commend you for not many can see past my charms. That being said my approval only goes so far. I implore you to choose your following words carefully."

The woman before him did not even flinch. Instead she made a chortle from deep within her throat and tilted her head to the side "All I want to know is what the God of Mischief is doing with my daughter. She is of no use to you."

Loki licked the bottom of his lips and considered his options. He could tell the woman the truth about Hayden working for S.H.I.E.L.D and her purpose on Asgard. But that seemed far less amusing and the truth often bored him. Besides it was of no concern to the Midgardian before him of what his true intentions with Hayden were.

Hayden's mother raised an untrimmed brow, waiting for an answer. He was vaguely reminded of his childhood with Thor and Baldur, the look upon the Midgardian's face similar to one that Frigga would wear upon hers.

"My intentions with Hayden are intended for my knowledge alone. She is but of great use to me in my own enjoyment and self-purpose."

"You mean you're fucking her?"

He was not taken aback by the abrasive choice of words. Rather he found himself liking the hag even more. It really was a wonder where Hayden got her meek, quiet demeanor from. She'd have been much more entertaining were she more like her mother.

"She is an adult," he chided. "I presume whoever she is fucking is her business alone."

Hayden's mother waved away his comment. "She is naive and doesn't know what trouble you really stir. What kind of spell do you hold over her?"

"I am certain that you have heard I am quiet powerless as of now."

"So you think Hayden is some sort of key in helping you get your powers back?"

Loki couldn't help but smile. "Ooooh, you are a shrewd one."

"Look," she snapped, "I know there isn't much I can do. You could kill me without hesitation. Just don't hurt her please."

He knew the request was coming yet he still was taken by surprise. Hayden was so simple-minded at times that he thought of her as nothing more than a butterfly. Pretty to look at, enjoyable to watch and engage at times but no qualms in hurting. Like a butterfly she was fragile, went where the wind blew, those delicate wings so easy to rip off.

Yes, he planned to have Hayden help him in regaining his powers. Thor was once punished by Odin, left completely powerless unlike he was, thrown onto Midgard with only the help of a weak woman and her companions. Though Thor was a fool and allowed his desire and emotions for the Midgardian to best him.

Loki, however, was no fools. He would not succumb to human feelings like Thor and Baldur had. But, the void of romantic notions aside the idea of hurting Hayden seemed almost barbaric. And, not in a fun way either.

What kind of monster would pluck the wings off of a useless butterfly?

Yet...people were hurt all the time.

"That is no promise that I can assure you I intend to keep." The older woman's mouth tightened into a thin line. "However, it is not in my intentions to bring harm unto your daughter."

Hayden's mother put her hands to her hips and sighed. "I guess that will do."