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We walked along through the palace, our feet echoing on the cool tiled floor, which was polished and shone brightly in the afternoon sunlight allowed in by various windows along the length of the hallway. I used Thor's arm to keep my balance as we walked along, my legs still shaky from the revelation of where I was, and my body still weak from the explosion of my powers. Loki trailed lazily at my side, his hands behind his back as his gaze roved the hallway.

I marvelled at the sheer grandeur of the place, intricate murals adorning the walls, frescos flowering from the ceiling, sconces that crackled, crystal chandeliers that glittered in the light. I half expected to wake up at any moment in some New York City hospital bed, with Gale and Mae at my sides, and a hefty hospital bill waiting for me.

Eventually, we rounded a corner and dipped into an open doorway, which led us into a study. A smouldering hearth lit up the room, whose windows were cloaked with heavy curtains, and whose walls were lined with ceiling-high bookshelves. Flipping through some of the tomes, in the corner of the room, stood a weathered old man.

I didn't think he looked weathered in a weary or weak sense, it seemed more like he was wizened, and that his wisdom burdened him.

He turned when we entered, his lips lifting into a disheartened smile that didn't reach his one good eye. His other was obscured by a golden eye patch.

"Lady Alivia has awoken, father," Thor announced.

"Thank you, my son," Odin answered, before taking a few steps toward me, "Though she looks like she could use more rest."

He stopped before me, pressing the back of his hand to my forehead and frowning.

"Your temperature has certainly gone down. Astronomically," he remarked, "Come by the fire."

We moved toward the dying flames as a group, and I held my trembling hands close, attempting to warm them. Loki's jacket had helped me a little, but I still felt the cold shooting down my limbs.

"Are you going to explain all this to me?" I asked, "Your son didn't do the greatest job."

"I will answer what questions you have, if you answer some of mine, as well," he said.

"I'll do my best."

"Right, then," Odin began, "What do you wish to ask?"

"Well, first, what is this place? And how did I get here?" I said, my voice a little fast and urgent.

"You're in Asgard, one of the nine realms," he explained slowly, "You hail from another of the nine realms. Midgard. Or Earth, as you call it. You were brought here when you summoned Heimdall, who oversees the Bifrost, which is what carried you from Midgard to Asgard."

"And the Bifrost, what is that, exactly?" I pressed him.

"A burning, iridescent bridge that connects the nine realms," Odin answered.

"Makes sense," I nodded. It did not make sense.

"Though, this is where I become confused. Midgardians cannot access the Bifrost. But you did," he said, "And yet you've no knowledge of Asgard."

"I never knew it existed but—" I sighed deeply, hoping I didn't come off ass crazy. "I've dreamt of it. Of that man who took me from the... The Bifrost. And a woman, I haven't seen her yet."

I decided to leave out the part where Asgard was on fire.

Odin frowned. "Alivia, tell me, do you know your biological parents?"

"My dad, yes," I answered, "His name was Christopher. Christopher Byrd."

"Was?" Thor asked.

"Oh, he isn't dead. Dead to me, maybe, but he's very much alive. Last I checked. But I never knew my mom, Kára, and my dad was always reluctant to share anything about her with me. Honestly, he never really shared much of anything with me. Including how I got my..."

"Your powers?" Loki, who'd been standing silently behind me alongside Thor, finished.

"You know about them?" I turned to face him.

"Our healers were able to detect some foreign magic in you, yes," Odin responded before Loki could, and I swiveled back around to face him, "And that is something that further confuses me. This magic is not Asgardian. In fact, it isn't found in any of the nine realms."

"Magic?" I repeated blankly.

"You knew of its existence within you, did you not?" Odin asked.

"I... Well, yes, I knew there was something wrong with me, but I just figured it was something science could explain. Something I could cure. But, then again, my dad always told me to keep it secret. Figures. I knew he was keeping it from me. I knew that he knew where it came from."

"Your father never spoke to you of your Asgardian heritage?" Loki intervened again, "But why would an Asgardian willingly choose to live in Midgard, and actively deny his Asgardian heritage? And deny his daughter of it too?"

"That is one possibility of many, son," Odin answered him, "The more likely case is that her father is Midgardian. Were he, himself, of Asgardian heritage, he would have kept his daughter here when he discovered her abilities. It is more probable that her mother was born in Asgard."

"A Midgardian and an Asgardian? Together?" Thor repeated. Clearly the idea of it didn't resonate well with him.

"And your mother, you say you never met her?" Loki asked.

"Never," I responded gravely, "She passed away in childbirth. At least, that's what my dad told me."

"So, you can't say for certain whether your parents were both Midgardian?" said Odin.

"How can I? I didn't know there were nine other realms, and Asgard, and Gods, and magic," I shot back, "I don't know anything, anymore."

"And you can't account for where these powers came from?" Odin persisted.

"They first started showing up when I was young. Or so my dad says," I began, "I'd be hot enough to run a fever, but show no other symptoms. When I'd throw tantrums, my toys would melt in my hands. Then, the flames started. I always found that they were at their worst when I was angry or scared. I can't control them. And I have no clue where they came from. I always had the feeling my dad did, though. I always knew he was keeping things about my mother and my past from me."

Odin heaved a long sigh, clasping his hands together.

"I'm going to ask that you stay here, with us," he began after a few moments of quiet, "You can recover here with the help of our healers. And in the meantime, I, and a select few others will try to discern your heritage. And more importantly, the source of these powers. They have the potential to do great harm if not placed under control."

I swallowed the lump in my throat, nodding my head. That probably was for the best while everything was being sorted out. After all, I knew as well as anyone the risk my powers presented. And this might be my only shot at learning to control them, maybe even getting rid of them for good.

And maybe, even a chance to find out more about who my mom was.

I felt a strong hand clasp my shoulder, giving it a sympathetic squeeze. I looked up at Thor, who was looking down at me with something like pity.

"Take her to her room, would you, Thor?" Odin asked, "Sigrid should have it ready by now. Loki, you can help me leaf through these volumes."

Loki nodded, before turning to look down on me with a similar look of pity in his eyes. I flushed a little, hating the looks the three of them were giving me. It was a look I recognized. One my dad had given me time and time again. When I asked about my mom. My powers.

I shook the bitter thoughts out of mind, pushing myself up to stand next to Thor.

"Thank you, very much," I said in parting to Odin, and somewhat to Loki, "For everything you've done. And everything you're doing."

"It is for the sake of the nine realms, as well as yours. There is no telling what havoc your powers could reap," Odin said darkly, before turning back to the shelves.

Loki inclined his head toward me, and I took that as my cue to follow Thor from the darkened study, and back out into the brightened hallways, so bright that I had to squint as my eyes readjusted to the light.

He offered me his arm again, but I felt strong enough to walk on my own, so I waved it away. We started off down the hall, him taking long strides, and me taking quick and short ones in an attempt to match his pace.

We ascended a flight of stairs, at which point I ended up needing Thor's assistance. A short walk down another intricately adorned hallway later, and we came to another doorway, this one closed.

Thor knocked softly on the white wood of the door, and footsteps sounded on the other side, before it was pulled open.

A frazzled looking young woman stood behind it, her wild red curls tied back into a low ponytail with a few escaped pieces framing her pale face.

"Is the room ready, Sigrid?" Thor asked her, stepping inside.

"I've only to light the sconces, lord," she said timidly, stepping out of our way.

"This is Alivia Byrd, of Midgard," Thor introduced me, "And this is Sigrid Edgardottir, a servant to the throne of Asgard."

"Nice to meet you," I smiled, extending a hand and wincing a little at the exertion it caused me.

"And you, my lady," she smiled back softly, shaking my hand.

"That's not necessary, just call me Alivia."

"But you're our guest, my lady," Sigrid responded, a little taken aback.

"And my stay would be a lot more comfortable if you didn't treat me like royalty," I chuckled, causing Sigrid to crack a relieved smile.

"Sigrid shall see to all your needs," Thor interjected, "She will show you about the palace this afternoon, and more of Asgard in time. After you've recovered."

I nodded softly, and Thor turned back towards the door.

"You may speak with me whenever you like, and I will do my best to keep you up to date on everything my father discovers," he said, looming in the doorway, "Until then."

"Goodbye," I waved, before turning my attention to Sigrid, who was lighting the sconces about the room, "Do you mind if we just hold off on the tour of the palace until tomorrow, maybe? I feel like I need a bit of a rest."

"Of course, my lady-" she froze, "Alivia, I mean. I shall leave you, then."

I smiled as Sigrid showed herself out, before finally letting myself take in the room.

The walls were pale blue, and framed in white marble paneling. Columns of the same materials stretched up to meet the ceiling, and coiling ivy vines twisted around them, lining the room with leafy green, and bursts of flowering pinks. A plush bed rested against the wall in the centre of the room, and a glass door let out to a balcony opposite the room's entrance. The doors were currently propped open, letting in a draft of cool afternoon air. The clean, open air smelled like bliss.

I stepped out onto the balcony, wishing I had my sketching things on me. The view was just breathtaking.

I hurriedly turned back into my new accommodations, my eyes fixing on a desk in the far corner. After rifling through its drawers, I managed to extract a piece of thick white paper, and a feather quill and ink pot, before emerging back out onto the balcony.

After getting a grip on how to use my dated supplies, I began to sketch away, looking up every few seconds at the view before me. I tucked my wispy hair behind my ears, biting my lip as I focused on my drawing.

I might've been there for minutes, or even hours. I was so lost in the art. It took my mind off of everything else.

But I turned, pulled from my reverie, when a sharp rap sounded at the balcony door.

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