Author's note: Not much to say here. Finals are coming up (woo...) and possibly I'll have more free time later. This chapter was a bitch to write and I hope you all like it :)

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel and never will. I only own Neena and other minor OCs. Ana belongs to MuchAdo96!


Knock, knock

Someone was at the door? But who could be calling at this hour in the...evening. She blinked her eyes groggily out the window, watching as morning birds perched on the edge of the balcony. Morning already. When had she fallen asleep?

Knock, knock

She lifted her head, trying to keep herself composed enough to look at the visitor. Sure, her hair was a little messy and her eyes still red from crying, but at the moment, she didn't care. She practically threw open the door, a little bit surprised to find a man, with silver armor and a yellow cape stood before her. He looked to be in his early twenties, but considering he was Asgardian, who knew how old he was. He could be in his forties for all she knew. "Uh, can I help you?" she asked awkwardly. "Please tell me I'm not going back to the dungeons."

"No," the man answered, still with a straight face. "I am not here to return you to the dungeons, my lady."

"Damn," she found herself thinking, studying him further. "This guy is...kind of hot."

She wasn't exaggerating, though a part of her wanted to blame hormones. He was definitely taller than her, her head only meeting his chest and her neck having to tilt up to see his face. She could have sworn he was Asian, but since they weren't on earth anymore, that wouldn't be possible. He kept his black hair in a top knot so it wouldn't get in his face. His eyes, a dark brown looked at her calmly, almost as if he was waiting for her to do something.

Now she really felt like smacking herself in the face. "So, what are you here for?" she asked, trying to sound professional and mature. Probably didn't work, but at this point, she didn't really care. "If you're not going to send me to the dungeon, that is."

"The All-Father would like to speak with you," he answered, all polite and formal. "My name is Einar. I'm here to replace the guard whom you killed yesterday."

"Well shit," she grumbled, now reminded of the fact she killed that asshole. At least, not intentionally. "So, what does the All-Father want?"

"It is not my place to question the All-Father," he responded. "He just wishes to speak to you."

"Right now?"

"I believe so."

He opened the door wider, motioning for her to leave. She followed him down the hall, hands behind her back. "So," she began, not meeting his eyes. "Where are you from? You afraid I'm gonna kill you too?"

He offered a small smile. "From what I heard it was an accident," he replied, though she couldn't tell if he was joking or not. "I'm from Vanaheim."

"What's that?"

"One of the Nine Realms, my lady."

"Oh," she looked out one of the windows of the palace. "Is it nice there?"

"Yes."

"Then why come here?"

He simply shook his head, the smile fading from his face. "Special circumstances," was all he had to say about the subject.

"Special circumstances? What does that mean?" She asked, almost having to jog to keep up with his fast pace. "Were your parents like, bad guys or something?"

"They were farmers," he didn't meet her eyes; his green orbs now far away. "They died when I was a child."

"Fucking dumbass!" She internally yelled at herself. "Great, he probably hates you too now. Way to go. He'll probably try and kill you too."

"My father died a few days ago," she offered slowly, and she would admit it, awkwardly. "My mom lives here, but I don't know who or where she is."

"That sounds pleasant," he quickly looked away from her.

"It fucking sucks," she grumbled, smacking her forehead. "Please tell me you know sarcasm."

"Of course I do, my lady."

"Then we should get along just fine."

He opened the doors to the throne room and the person she wanted to see the least was sitting up on his chair like the damn Queen of England. "What do you want, Pirate? Going to throw me in another dungeon?"

"I happened to notice the ring upon your finger," he said coldly.

"Yeah, what about it?"

He kept his posture completely perfect, not even slightly amused by her tone. "You will show respect to your king, child."

"Or what? You're not my king; I don't live here. Do your worst!"

Einar gave her a look. "I would suggest you stop now, my lady," he advised cautiously, eyes lowered to the ground in respect. "Or you might find yourself in the gallows."

"Oh, a noose. How scary," she rolled her eyes, hands on her hips. "I was taught that respect is earned, not given. So no, I don't respect you, old man."

Odin did not look the least bit pleased. "You're pushing my patience, little girl. Do remember that I am king and your life rests in my hands."

She sighed in irritation. "Look, I got this ring from my dad, okay? He said he got it from my mom before she disappeared and left me on his doorstep. That's all I know."

"Let me see it."

She stepped forward, knees buckling slightly as she advanced towards him. She let the ring fall into his palm, stepping back towards Einar. Odin observed it, face void of any emotion. "This material is taken from the Bifrost," he looked slightly concerned. "Do you know how your mother acquired such an item?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know? I was inside of her for nine months. It's not like I knew what she was doing."

He studied the bead carefully. "The Bifrost can only be activated by Heimdall or myself. The ring could possibly be enchanted. I will have Frigga or Loki observe its properties."

"No, it's mine!" She leaned forward to grab the ring. "Give it back!"

Einar grabbed her by the wrist, pulling her back from the throne. "My apologies, My King," he apologized, looking embarrassed with the way the tip of his ears turned pink and his jaw tightened. "Please excuse her; she's not well."

"I'm well enough to kick your ass, Pirate!"

"You are testing my patience, girl," Odin's voice was as cold as ice. "You are almost as bad as Lady Anastasia."

"Good!" she snapped, still fighting against Einar. "She wouldn't allow you to manhandle me this way, you jerk!"

"You are dismissed," he nodded towards Einar. "Get her out of my presence, soldier."

"Yes, sire," Einar bowed. "Come along, my lady."

"Let go of me! I'm not finished here!" she glared furiously at Odin, managing to kick Einar in the shin. "Let me go! That ring is rightfully mine!"

"Stop it," Einar grumbled, picking her up around the waist and avoiding her legs as she thrashed in his arms. "You're being a child; act your age."

"I'll do whatever the hell I want!"

"Clearly," he mumbled, now flipping her over his shoulder like a potato sack. "Forgive me, my lady, this is for your own good."

"Fuck you."

"Please save your antics for later," he sighed, face perfectly calm as a few servants and courtiers gazed on in amusement or shock. "You know, Lady Anastasia knows when to back down and when to not act like a child."

"Well I'm not Ana," she hissed. "I'm Neena."

"Obviously."

"Put me down!"

"Not till we get to your room."

He walked past a group of warriors looking at her as she grumbled curses into Einar's cape. The warrior with long red hair and beard immediately grinned and headed up towards them. "You must be Lady Neena!" he greeted in a jolly voice. "You interrupted our feast that one night!"

"Genius observation," she replied flatly.

"You must dine with us one night!" he grinned. "But please do bring your blue ship."

"It's a scooter, idiot," she said in a snarky voice. "Einar, put me down!"

He paused, setting her down after a few seconds of silence. Her head hurt as the blood rushed down from her head, the red haired warrior now grinning at her like a fool. "I am Volstagg," he gave hearty pat on the back followed by a jolly laugh as she stumbled. "It is wonderful to meet you."

"Wish I could say the same," she brushed down her wrinkled clothing, sighing irritably.

"That is not the attitude of a young lady! This is Asgard! Be merry!"

"I'll be merry when I can leave," she was half tempted to slap this man for being so happy.

"Patience, Lady Neena!" he gave her another pat. "I've got training to do and food does not eat itself," he patted his stomach and gave a joyus laugh. "Have a wonderful day!"

"I'll try," glancing at the other warriors, who smiled at her. Well, two of them smiled the dark haired one just looked grim. The one with the blonde hair sent her a cocky grin and she couldn't deny it; he was hot. She blushed, feeling like an idiot for letting her damn hormones get her. Being a teenager sucked.

"Come along, my lady," Einar pulled her gently by the arm in order to lead her away from the others, who bid their farewells before taking off.

She smacked his hand. "Don't touch me!" she grumbled, storming past him. "I'VE HAD IT WITH ALL THIS ASGARDIAN BULLSHIT!"

"Please don't yell, the sound echoes," he looked apologetically at the passerbyers. "My job depends on keeping you sane."

"Well send me to a crazy house because apparently I'm INSANE!" she waved her hands madly. "God fucking damnit!"

He picked her up again and threw her over his shoulder none too gently. "Shut up!" he snapped. "You're trying my patience."

She ignored him, continuing to beat against his back with her fist. It received quite a few looks, but that wasn't her biggest concern. He didn't look like he appeared to care too much and as he dropped her off in front of her room, he still remained composed. "You don't need to act like that, you know," he started patiently, staring directly at her. "I know you must be terrified; being here and discovering what you are, but your stay doesn't have to be difficult if you would just cooperate."

"I'm not scared," she snapped harshly. "There is nothing to be scared of. What do you think I am, a child?"

"With the way you're acting, yes," he replied simply. "But it doesn't have to be this way. Your stay here could be more bearable if you would relax and not attack everyone with your words. Not everyone here is out to get you."

He left, spinning on his heel to who the hell knows where. She stood dumbfounded in the entrance of her doorway, staring at his retreating back. With an annoyed huff, she closed the door quietly and trudged her way to her bed. She instantly felt immense distaste for it, missing her old wooden bed with worn blue and white sheets. She could picture the color of her room; the Captain America shrine that she looked to everyday when she needed encouragement. Then she remembered that all of it was gone. There was no place for her to return to. She flopped ungracefully on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was interesting; she would give it that. The many stars and constellations that moved across the sky were calming, putting her into a sense of relaxation.

"Again. It happened again," she continued to stare at the ceiling blankly, that awful hollow feeling returning. "I lost a someone again…"

She closed her eyes, allowing her thoughts to drift away from the image of her father. She thought of her psychiatrist. How did she not figure out that her psychiatrist was a freaking alien? Damn, she must be stupid or something. Now that she thought about it, he had always been weird. Her father would drop her off at the office, then sit in the waiting room or leave to go do something else. So she would be alone with the doctor. She could remember his face as clear as day and the office. He a had a pendulum swinging from side to side on his desk and several pieces of art on the walls. Mountains, a strange beautiful castle, fields, and so on. His desk was neat and tidy; not a single thing out of place.

That was the problem. She could always remember entering and leaving the office, but she could never remember all the sessions. Bits and pieces, yes, but never the whole thing. Her father, now that she thought about it, never asked her what they talked about or how they went. Almost as if...he knew that she didn't remember.

"Fuck," she grumbled, placing an arm over her face. "You've got to be kidding me. That bastard did something; I know he did. But why can't I remember?"

The only event she did remember was the woman who had been in his office once. A beautiful woman whose face she could not picture very well, but she could remember her long, flowing golden hair. She was speaking with the doctor in a language she couldn't understand. The woman never acknowledged her and she disappeared after a few minutes, with the doctor then turning his attention to her. She could never remember his name either.

She almost fell asleep with those disturbing thoughts, only waking up when she felt Ingrid shake her a little. "Good afternoon," the maid smiled cheerfully. "It's time to wake up. Are you hungry?"

Her stomach answered for her, causing the maid to give a little smirk. Ingrid moved swiftly, placing a tray of food in her lap. She had no idea what it was, but since she didn't eat yesterday and was too busy yelling at Odin earlier that morning, she was fucking starving. Ingrid kept busy, pulling out some light blue dress and a pair of flats before looking suspiciously at the hairbrush on the floor. "What do you think of that new guard?" she asked casually. "He's handsome, isn't he?"

"I guess," she shrugged. He was handsome, but there was no way she was admitting that. "He's an ass though."

"Really? He seems like a perfect gentleman to me," Ingrid shrugged. "Oh well, I'm getting married in a few months anyway."

She almost spit out the food she was eating. "You're what? You're getting married?"

Ingrid raised a slender eyebrow. "You didn't know?"

"No!"

"Oh, well," the woman shrugged. "I guess I forgot to mention it. I'm over 2,000 years old now, so it's about time."

She shook her head, now suddenly remembering how old these aliens were. "Damn," she grumbled, picking at some of the fruit on her tray. "I forget how old you guys are sometimes."

"Compared to Midgardians, I imagine we must seem immortal," Ingrid paused, now gazing at the birds perched on the balcony. "Midgardians only live up to be a hundred years or so."

The thought made her lose her appetite as she nibbled on the bread. "Who knows how long I'll live," she muttered. "I'm only half Asgardian, remember?"

"Don't talk like that," Ingrid chided, hands on her hips. "For all we know, your aging might slow down for a while. There's no real way of knowing. Until then, it's best not to think about it."

She had a point; there was no denying that. So she just continued to eat her breakfast, listening to Ingrid hum some Asgardian folk song. It was when she was fully clothed and hair brushed that the door to her room opened and Loki stepped in. "Have you eaten?" he asked, his face passive and his back as straight as a fence post.

"Yeah," she answered. "Why?"

"Because we have magic to study."

"Oh. Right, I almost forgot," she felt like a fool; wanting to facepalm right now. Then she remembered. "Hey, did Odin give you my ring?"

He pulled it from his coat pocket, holding it in the palm of his hand. "This ring?"

"Yeah, that's the one!" she reached for it, only to have him pull it away. "Hey, that's mine! Give it back!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that right now," he didn't sound sorry; rather amused actually. "I'm still observing its properties. It is a part of the Bifrost, but how it's activated is the real question."

"Yes, that sounds like a real problem," she rolled her eyes. "What are you going to do, break it?"

"If I have to, yes."

Smug bastard. He smirked

He turned around to exit the door, expecting her to follow. Ingrid had to hold her back as she moved forward to throttle him, hissing in her ear. "Don't cause trouble!" she said into her ear. "Please treat Prince Loki with respect!"

She pulled away from the servant, giving tall dark and creepy the meanest glare she could muster at that point. He didn't appear bothered by it; rather he sighed and rolled his eyes. "Do come along," he stepped back from the door, gesturing her to follow him. "If you still want to learn magic, that is."

She mumbled a nasty word, not caring if he didn't hear it. Ingrid sighed, shaking her head in disapproval but not saying a word as she closed the door behind her. Probably to clean the room; she didn't really know what handmaidens, or whatever they were, did in their free time.

Loki led her past many rooms, and she pretty much had to jog to keep up with his long legs. Stupid Asgardians. Why the hell were they so tall? Did they have some formula she could take? "Could you slow down?" She called after him, and he only glanced at her in reply.

"No," was his reply and he continued to walk ahead of her briskly. "Do keep up."

She had every intention of flipping him off, or at least giving him some sort of nasty retort, but she thought better of it. Instead, she glowered at his back and tried to keep her temper in check. At least, she tried. She didn't know if it worked exactly, but she took several deep breaths in order to not snap at him. If she did, did that mean he wouldn't teach her anything? There was no way in hell she would take that chance.

"Quiet now, aren't we?" Loki asked in that amused way of his, walking down the hall at his own pace. He observed some of the things around him with little interest and didn't look back at her as he spoke. "No clever midgardian retort?"

"Are you wanting one?" She replied sassily, almost tempted to place her hands on her hips. "I can give you one if you want."

"No, that will not be necessary," he shook his head, but she had the feeling he was smirking. She could just hear it in his voice. He suddenly stopped in front of a solid wooden door with gold handles, glancing back over his shoulder. "This is where I will teach you."

He pushed open the doors, revealing a rather large and spacious rooms with small windows placed high up on the wall near the ceiling. The ceiling had a dome shape to it, giving the room a more open feeling and made her feel even smaller than she already did. She placed her hands on her hips, a whistle exiting from her mouth. "Pretty cool," she found herself saying and it was genuine; this building was impressive. "So, what am I learning first?"

"Levitation."

"But I already learned that!"

"You haven't mastered it," Loki narrowed his eyes slightly at her, looking down at her in a way that reminded her of some of her teachers at school. "You barely scratched the surface."

"Darn," she sighed, raising her eyes to the ceiling. What a disappointment. Here she had thought she had done well, but it seemed that it would take more than causing a stone to twitch to please Loki. Why was that not surprising? "How long did it take you to master magic? Five hundred years?"

"Two hundred, actually," he began in a casual tone, as if it were some normal amount of time to announce.

"Oh geeze," she pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation, and he only looked on in amusement. When she released her nose, she squared her shoulders again in an attempt to seem bigger. "Now, how do we begin again?"

He only rolled his eyes as if annoyed by how quick she'd forgotten. "You must clear your mind; don't focus on anything but the matter at hand. Like lifting this orb, for example," he held a little golden ball in his hand, allowing it to rise above his palm and push it over to where she was standing. She held open her palms as he continued to let it float above her hands. "Levitation is the most basic of magic; not very complicated. You must focus all your attention onto the object at hand, like the orb here."

He let it go, the orb falling lightly into her hands. She stood there for a moment, not exactly sure where to even start. He made it sound so...easy, like there was no effort put into it at all. She stared at it, the orb rolling around in her palms. As she stood there, Loki let out a small sigh. "You're not focusing."

"I'm trying!"

"Try harder."

"You can do better than that, Neena. Don't hold back; force your will into it!"

She frowned, the back of her head tingling as if someone were trying to tickle it. Where had she heard that voice before? It sounded like someone she knew, though at the moment she couldn't place where, but it had to have been recently. She looked to the ball in her hand, peering at her reflection in it. What was she doing here? What was she trying to prove?"

"This isn't as difficult as you are making it," Loki sounded again, and she swore she could feel the impatience rising off him. "If you would actually concentrate, this might go a bit more smoothly."

A part of her wanted to give up; admit that this was hopeless. In a sense, she supposed she was lazy like that, but she figured Loki wouldn't allow her to give up so easily. At least, not without some snide comment. "It's easy for you to say," she grumbled, tempted to toss the ball at his stupid Asgardian face. "You learned when you were a kid; and isn't it easier then?"

"Be that as it may," he chose to ignore her disrespectful tone, though she could have sworn his eye twitched in irritation. "You're wasting my time and yours with this cynical attitude. If you would just focus a bit more, I'm quite positive you'll be able to move it. Possibly."

"Well now look who's being cynical."

"Concentrate or I will take away that mouth of yours."

She decided to keep her mouth shut, blue eyes looking back down at the golden orb in her palms. Cynical attitude? She did not have a cynical attitude! Okay, maybe she did, but how could she not? Setting her step-mother on fire, the resentment her grandparents had towards her, her father's death, and Luke...well, she didn't want to think about Luke too much. It wasn't her fault, was it? She was just a kid who was way too aware of the world.

She stuck her hand out farther, trying to picture the ball in her mind. He said to only focus on it, right? She attempted to imagine it, a tiny floating ball in the middle of nothingness, but the image kept changing. All she could see was herself, floating in a vast emptiness of nothing. She glared at the object at hand, silently wishing it to burst into flames and disappear so she wouldn't have to deal with it. Then she paused, internally cringing by how morbid that sounded. What was with her and fire? Why did she want everything to burn?

"Loki," her lips moved before she could even stop them, looking up at him hesitantly. "Can I ask you something?"

He glanced at her, eyes looking towards the orb that was still lying flat on her palm. "I suppose, seeing as how we're not getting anywhere right now," he said in a short, clipped tone and then crossed his arms over his green robe. "What is your question?"

"Have you?" She trailed off momentarily, trying to piece the words together in her mind. He watched observantly, as if trying to picture what she was going to say. She leaned back on the balls of her feet, not meeting his cold gaze. She opened her mouth again, hoping to whoever was up there that she didn't sound like an idiot. "Have you ever wondered if your whole life was a lie? That everything and everyone you thought you knew, you actually didn't?"

He stared at her for the longest time, but didn't say anything. She regretted opening her mouth. What was she thinking? Why on earth would she ask a question like that? "Never mind," she mumbled, flushing furiously to the point the tip of her ears were probably pink. "Just forget I said anything!"

"Then why ask the question?" He asked with a bit of mockery in his tone. He stepped away from her, looking passively out the window to where the mid-afternoon birds chirped away outside. "No, I cannot recall ever wondering about something like that."

She so desperately wanted to point at him, jump up and down and say "Liar!", but she didn't. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, almost as if he was thinking hard about something. Was he actually considering what she had just asked? Gold star for you!" She chorused in her mind, and it took all the little willpower she possessed to not start grinning like a fool. It surprised her; how mature that question sounded. Did she actually ask a question without swearing for once? Come to think of, when was the last time she said an unsavory word?

"I still don't believe you've fully cleared your conscious," Loki stared at her, clearly not impressed. She flinched slightly underneath his gaze, not liking the disappointment in those green orbs. "You're holding back, and I do not have time for people who won't use their full potential."

He turned his back to his, as if he were prepared to leave. She could feel her hands tremble, not sure how to take in the fact that someone was giving up on her. He squared his shoulders, heading towards the grand doors. "Wait!" She called out, momentarily forgetting the orb in her hands. It connected with the floor with a loud noise, rolling across the ground. "Loki, wait!"

He didn't stop walking; seemingly rather determined to leave the room. He didn't look back at her, keeping his face straight ahead in order to ignore her. For a moment, she thought back to those moments as a child, when her father would leave her with her step-mother to go to work, and later on with her psychiatrist. She could recall begging him not to go; not to leave her. She still felt the firm ice cold grip of her step-mother's hands; could still see the faux warm smile on the psychiatrist's face. It felt like she was being abandoned, though this didn't quite meet that criteria. Even so, being given up on reminded her of that bitter feeling of hopelessness and misery. "Wait!" She called out again, trying to catch up with his long strides. "I'm sorry, wait! Please, stop!"

It was a funny thing to describe what happened next. The first thing she could process was that he stopped, probably astounded by the fact she apologized and didn't swear for once. The rest was a little strange; something she couldn't recall ever have done, but felt so familiar she knew she had felt something like it before. All of a sudden, it was like she wasn't looking through her own eyes anymore. She knew something about out of body experiences, but this couldn't be one of those. She could sense she was in her own body, but still looking through his eyes.

She could feel...everything. See everything. Through that mysterious swirl of green that colored his eyes, beyond that mystery, it was almost as if she were seeing him for the first time. She wanted to say that she was seeing his memories, but had a feeling that wouldn't be correct. These didn't look like memories at all. She could see Thor, shaking his hand and talking to him with...respect. She could see Odin looking and speaking to him with respect as well, with Frigga looking so proud.

In a sense, she felt as if she was digging around in his mind. Maybe not his mind, but something similar to that. She kept on scratching, peeling; no, forcing her way through any resistance. She could feel him pulling away from him; fighting her to prevent her from looking any farther. Whether or not he was aware of this, she had no idea. All she could focus on was looking ahead, prying her way through his efforts.

It felt so easy, like tying a shoe. Past the resistance, though it was muddled and foggy, she could see someone. Or at least, the silhouette of someone she found familiar. A large pair of round blue eyes peered at her, full of wonder and brightness. Then the resistance came back and she was shoved away forcefully from the image. She knew she had no right looking. She had a feeling these images were very private, something that were held dearly by him and she had no business venturing into. But it was so, so very tempting. She liked the feeling that it gave her; the sense that she had some power over him. Whatever these images were, they had power over him and it was something he more than likely did not want to the rest of the world to see.

She pulled back suddenly, gasping for air as if she were holding her breath or something. Loki stared at her, hand resting on his head as if he had a headache. Then he glared at her, the very look sending ice cold fear shoot down her spine. "What did you do?" He asked, eyes searching suspiciously for any sign of malice. "What was that?" He asked again, though she felt like he was snapping at her. "What did you do?"

"I...I don't know!" She responded, now feeling like that scared little girl so many years ago. He had a valid point. What did she do to him? It felt...it felt like she had done it before. "I really don't know! I'm sorry! Fuck, what was that? I don't even-"

He stepped further away from her, face less angry and more bewildered. He still looked at her with suspicion, avoiding her gaze carefully. "That is enough for today," he spoke carefully, with his tone so quiet she could barely hear it. "We will resume practice some other time."

He retreated from the scene quickly, leaving no room for her to say anything. She felt so small; like the world was crumbling and collapsing all around her. Why oh why did she do that? "Idiot!" She paced back and forth around the room, grumbling angrily to herself. "Why did you do that? Now he hates you! Now you're not going to know how to get out or get the ring back! Now you'll...be alone."

She didn't want to be alone; not again. When Nascha died, and her father retreated into himself, there was nothing but silence in their house. She had to fend for herself; pretend that everything was okay. If Luke hadn't been there, if he hadn't come over everyday, then everything would have been hopeless. But those days he couldn't come over, or those lonely nights where she lay in bed with the scene of her step-mother's death replaying over and over again, well, she didn't want to relive those days. She didn't want to relive the days wondering. Just standing in front of her house and wondering if her father truly resented her for what she did.

It wasn't that she hated being by herself; friendships didn't come easy to her and a majority of people at school didn't like her or just didn't care to get to know her enough. She preferred it that way; keeping people at arm's length was the best way to protect herself. It was pathetic, she knew that, but being alone was the worst thing she could think of. Before she hadn't minded too much; she always had a place to go back to. Now, everything was different; her home was gone.

She pushed open the doors to the room, her feet knowing exactly where to go. She ran down the hall, ignoring the looks she got from guards and courtiers. How cares what they thought? She threw open the doors to her room, slamming them shut with a bit more force than she intended and slumped against them down to the floor.

She curled instinctively into herself, resting her forehead down on her knees. She'd promised herself she wouldn't cry, yet here she was, sobbing like a fucking baby. She couldn't remember the last time she had just sat down and cried like this. Yes, she cried when her dad died and when she was remembering him after thinking of Luke, but this was different. She didn't cry, normally. She hated this feeling; the feeling of being so vulnerable to everyone.

"You can't break the broken." Her father said once, and at the time, she had no idea what he was talking about. Now she knew he was talking about himself. She was the strong one for him; he had always depended on her.

The sickening thought crashed down on her, like a wave upon the sand. He knew...he knew she would end up in Asgard one day! He had always known, somehow, even though she hadn't realized it at the time. It explained everything, though. Why he'd always been distant to her while she was growing up, always looking as if he were lost in his thoughts. Could it be that he regretted that she existed?

That couldn't be though, there had been happy times. He drew pictures of her all the time; when she wasn't looking. Instead of taking pictures, he had a whole sketchbook of pictures of her in his desk drawer at his store. He always called her his muse; saying she was the prettiest girl in the whole world, though she denied it all the time. She remembered the first time he let her cook, and even though the stove caught on fire, they still laughed about it. They'd have movie nights, and go stargazing whenever they could.

"I already decided to remember him as the father I knew," she muttered to herself, wiping the tears away. "But...I'm sorry dad. I'm sorry that I didn't really know you."