Author's Note: Yeah so... I liked the ideas of this story but I honestly couldn't see it going anywhere with what I had before. Hopefully, I can successfully make this a much better second time around. So let me know what you guys think about it now.

The white, crystalline puffs of snow glided graceful from the mourning grey skies. Each tiny fleck glimmered as it dusted each surface with a frozen sorrow, chilling the dead graves beneath it. The worn headstones stood in perfectly asymmetrical lines, weaving in and out like tiny mountain tops. Hundreds of years of abandonment eroded away the engravings until the stones bore only faint memories of the names that once lived there. In the very back, tucked neatly away from the shivering souls stood the old, but less worn mausoleum.

This particular building had been constructed some time after the mass of graves were placed, around a couple hundred years. It was made of swirling grey and black marble stone, standing harshly out against the white world around it. Stone flowers budded from the intricate celtic carvings that wove themselves around the entrance. A few words arched themselves over the wrought iron doors. Getur verið að þú ferðast í móður friði. The deeply carved lettering seemed almost fresh and new compared to the rest of the stones, where a curious black cat had carefully darted through.

It's green eyes flicked over each stone as it weaved in and out of the frigid yard, leaving the small foot prints that would soon be covered by the falling snow. It found its position within the mausoleum where a small altar laid dormant, kicked over on its side towards the back of the enclosure. It carefully dodged the broken beer bottles and old lighters that littered the floor and slowly curled up beneath the fallen rock. It peered out, attentively watching as the only other living being to venture into the overgrown maze made her way through the dead.

Ravyn Blackwood was by far the youngest looking thing in this graveyard with the flawless, porcelain complexion of a 20-year-old. She towered over the cold stones, sneering at them from her elevated status. She let out an icy breath as she passed a group of several unmarked headstones. Scowling, she stopped in front of them to kick a mixture of snow and dirt in their direction. The tainted snow scattered from her boot to her intended targets, creating angry brown imperfections in the snow. Ravyn hated this place. She hated the idea of all these unoccupied graves just being placemarks for the mass of bodies buried towards the entrance of the infernal place.

She flicked a silky dark brown ringlet of hair over her shoulder as she continued her walk to the marble structure, her boots crunching harshly in the snow. Reaching her destination she let out a breath of disgust at the sight before her. The lock to the gate seemed to have been busted, completely twisted into itself, otherwise completely useless. Broken glass covered the ground in shattered fragments of brown and blue. Papers and lighters were strewn about, abandoned without a second thought. The place absolutely reeked of smoke and fornication.

"Disgusting," Ravyn hissed, crunching the glass under her heavy boots. She positively vibrated with anger at the actions of some, no doubt, teenage feins destroying her mother's lovely resting place. However, thinking about her mother's grave only enraged her more since where Ravyn stood wasn't the true resting place of her mother. No, her body laid entangled within the hundreds of slaves that were dumped away. She wasn't even given a proper headstone, let alone the customary viking funeral that should have been her deathrite. Instead, after meticulous planning and designing, Ravyn had this rather expensive mausoleum erected in her mother's honor.

Gracefully, Ravyn waved her hand over the bits of glass, watching them shimmer then fade from existence. She did not stop until the entire expanse of the room was scourged of the disrespectful material and the only imperfection to be seen was the alter in the corner of the room. Her steps echoed off the walls as she walked over and bent down to assess the damage. Ravyn was startled when two wide green eyes not unsimilar to her own peered up at her from the fallen stone. For the first time since she entered the graveyard, a smile ghosted Ravyn's lips.

"Well, look what we have here? You'll freeze if you stay out here." She carefully picked up the stone and placed it back in its place. Staring down at the black ball of fur she could could see its neck was bare of a collar, or any other type of marking indicating that it had a home.

"Hmm, no owner. You must be a clever little thing to make it through the Icelandic winters for so long…"

The black cat suddenly bound from under her gaze until it lept out the door. Ravyn sighed and slowly stood. Even a cat knows I'm bad news. She walked gingerly over to the frigid stone body jutting the slab in the center of the room. This is where her mother should be- that is if she must be in the ground. Staring down at the carving Ravyn all at once couldn't remember if she had even come on the right day. It was becoming increasingly difficult for her to remember as the years droned on. The 23rd, or the 22nd? January, or December? Hell, the anniversary of that horrid battle could have been in March for all she knew. It didn't really matter in the long run though. The skies would still be grey, the stones would still be cold, her mother's grave would still lie empty, and her mind would still be tainted by the memories of that day.

"Mother," her voice came out in barely a whisper, "Mother, you once told me I was special, but what's the point? I've lived hundreds of lifetimes only to watch everyone around me die at the fatal hands of time. There's no one on this blasted planet who has a fraction of the power I do, even the so called witches." She paused briefly as a small shudder wracked her body. In that moment Ravyn felt absolutely ancient.

"I don't understand why I'm like this, but I'm just so tired, mother... " Her fingers reached out to caress the stone face of her mother. But it wasn't her mother. It would never be her mother. A single tear dropped from Ravyn's cheek onto the marble and she quickly wiped it away before turning to go. She dragged herself to the entrance and set her stare to the sky, shaking her head slightly. Without hesitation she bent down and placed her hand on the snowy ground. Warmth radiated from her hand as her magic seeped from her body, covering the cemetery in lush green grass. Purple irises bloomed all around the mausoleum and the grey expanse was quickly transformed with dotting bits of brilliant color.

Ravyn stood to go but barely made it a few steps before she felt something weaving between her legs. Looking down, she saw the black cat from earlier was nuzzling her ankles. She let out a soft chuckle and rubbed it behind the ears.

"And here I thought you left me." It meowed lazily back at her.

Outside the cemetery, the snow blurred through the trees. A storm was surely on the verge of whipping through the small forested area. She looked down at the small furry creature and sighed, scooping it from where it was. It meowed in protest at being held but Ravyn payed it no mind.

"This would all be so much easier if you would stay still." Almost immediately the cat stopped squirming. It turned its head in order to narrow its eyes at Ravyn. Quite the smart creature indeed. That only fueled Ravyn's decision to take it with her.

"Now, I've never done this with a cat before. Hopefully you won't explode," Ravyn quipped with a smirk. Before the cat was able to jump from her strong grip they were gone with a pop, once again leaving the graveyard empty.

They appeared once more in a moderately sized living room. The black cat immediately jumped from her arms onto the cherrywood floors below. The house had a nice thin layer of dust coating it's fine furniture and floors which allowed several perfect pawprints to be left as the cat walked over to a statue on the coffee table. The dust was gone with a snap of her fingers. It had been a few years since she had been to this particular house, but it was by far one of her favorites, second to only that of her castle in the Netherlands. However, this house bore its own importance to her. She had it specially built atop of the site of her once beloved village that was so wrongfully ripped from her. The painful memories swirled like poison in her mind until she was completely consumed with the images.

Ravyn remembered the ice that rained from the skies on that night so many years ago. Mothers fled with their screaming children as the men rushed to their almost certain deaths. The smell of death hung as thick in the air as the flaming arrows did. She was barely older than a babe when her village had been attacked the monsters. At first it seemed just like any other day. She had lived in a tiny cottage that overlooked the icy seas. Choppy waters engulfed the gentile flakes of snow that drifted daintily down from the grey sky. Winters had always been harsh for her peoples but their thick skins and hearty nature had made this one seem relatively calm in comparison to ones they had to survive in previous years.

Her mother had left Ravyn bundled in furs by the fire as she set out for the square, but the heat seemed almost unbearable to Ravyn. It had always been like that though. She always seemed to enjoy the biting cold more than the comfort of the fire. As soon as her mother closed the door to their cottage Ravyn had shimmied out of the thick, suffocating blankets and began rummaging around the room. There was an old box hidden half-heartedly under the bed that she had seen her mother drag out in the hours in which she believed Ravyn to be asleep. Curiosity tunneled through her everytime she thought of that brown little box, and this was finally her chance to see why her mother was so engrossed with it.

It was easy enough to stamper over and wiggle herself under the bed, but when she pulled on the chest it seemed to be glued to the floor. No matter how much she pulled it would not budge. She stared venomously at the box while laying on her stomach, resting her head in her hands. Of course her mom would do something to prevent her from snooping. "Please unstick," she whispered and prepared to pull one last time. With all her might, she tugged on the box. To her surprise it came with her as she went flying back landing in a heap on the discarded furs. She grinned and looked around at the scattered contents of the box, which had popped open as she fell backwards. Her eyes immediately found a glimmer of silver among the papers and journals and crawled over to it.

It was ring with a braided silver band adorned with a beautiful purple stone. Wickedly, Ravyn grinned and stuck the large thing on her finger. She gasped as it immediately shrunk down to fit her tiny fingers. Hopefully she could keep it without her mother noticing its absence.

A loud crack echoed outside, jolting Ravyn from her trance. Her short little legs hobbled over to the window to see frost slowly consuming the water. There were suddenly orders being shouted through the air, telling the men to gather their weapons. Torches began to flicker to life along with the harsh sounds of metal clanging together like funeral bells. An uproar of citizens gathered along the edge of the dock to watch the frost lick along the water, an event that surely none of them had ever had the displeasure of witnessing before. When the frost had clawed its icy hands over to the shore where the group stood, that is when it began.

A symphony of blood curtling screams drifted to her window as shards of glinting ice plummeted to the ground. Red droplets stained the snow as the shards found their way to any exposed skin, scraping across faces and hands, making tears in the furs of the defenseless children that ran to find their mothers. The warriors threw their shields above their heads in a fruitless attempt to protect themselves against the elements.

Ravyn suddenly felt a pull to go see the ice closer. She quickly left the window ledge and slipped on her small leather shoes. As she opened the door a gush of cold air blew through her hair, blowing off the furs she had grabbed moments before. She watched as people of all ages ran passed her, shivering in the heaviest winter garments and wondered why the cold did not chill her in the same way. The sky still rained down icy daggers but it Ravyn felt almost at ease. They were so beautiful in their own way. When the light passed through them they exploded in brilliant color. She slowly extended her hand to out the door to feel them. The first one pierced her hand and she immediately drew back to examine it. She turned over her hand several times but could not find a single mark, instead she felt a burst of energy fill her. Cautiously, Ravyn stepped out from the safety of her home, drowning out the sounds of screaming from the rest of the villagers. The ice beat down, hitting anything it could, but each shard that touched her skin invigorated her further. Ravyn began to giggle and run through the crowd of screaming people, unaware of the suffering they felt.

Her little body went easily unnoticed as she weaved in and out of the warriors legs, unaware of how far she traveled. She was at the front lines of the battle. Waves of cold air rushed through her people, freezing them solid. They did nothing to Ravyn, only giving her more power to run through the frozen statues. Her body collided with a large form and she fell on her behind. The great, powerful mass turned to her, its red eyes peering into her with pure hatred. She slowly stood up and tilted her head to look at the intricate designs scattered all along its blue skin. A Smile crept across Ravyn's face as she reached her hands up to touch the giant before her. Her finger tips only slightly brushed its skin before she found herself quickly being scooped up, the giant quickly fading in the distance as her mother ran with her.

"You mustn't let them touch you!" She cried, but the words had barely escaped her lips before her face contorted and she cried out in agony. They both went tumbling towards the ground, landing a few feet away from each other. When Ravyn looked up, she saw a pool of bright red had gushed from where a frozen arrow stuck out from her mother's limp form. She crawled towards her, panicked at the pained sounds her mother was producing.

"Ravynia… I need you to go to our special place." Dark blue veins began to sprout from where the arrow entered her and were slowly crawling up her body. "Please, Ravynia. I love you so much my child. You are so special, but you must go before they find you, before it is too late."

Ravyn could say with confidence, that day had been the worst day of her life. She had lost everything she cared about. From then on she was forced to jump from home to home until she was old enough to take care of herself. Of course, it always helped that she found her affinity for magic not too long after her mother had died, making the idea of taking care of herself much more feasible.

After jolting herself from her thoughts, Ravyn cleared her throat and walked over to her the sofa closest to her. The black cat had since perched itself on the statuette on the coffee table and was staring blankly at her. The rock under it was carved in the shape of a lengthy snake coiled tightly into a knot. She removed the cat from attop the snake and sat down on the dark leather couch. However, the moment her hands left its sides, the cat was back atop of the snake.

"You know that could technically be considered sacrilegious. That is an alter after all." She tried to remove the cat once more but received a meow of protest before it climbed on the snake once more. This wasn't the only statue in the house. Ravyn had never totally abandoned the views of her old village which resulted in her home being filled with a plethora of different statues and books pertaining to norse mythology. She was practically obsessed with it, reading everything and anything she could get her hands on. The particular alter that her new house guest seemed to be drawn to was that of the Norse God of Mischief and Lies, Loki.

"Loki, huh? Not a terrible choice. Actually, I think that would make quite a suiting name for you. What do you think, Loki?" He merely looked at her blankly.

"I see you're no help." She got up off the couch and made her way to the kitchen area that was connected to the living room. It was quite an open space with a granite island connecting the two rooms. The cabinets were the same dark cherrywood that the floors in the rest of the house were. The stainless steel appliances gleamed harshly as she flicked on the lights and proceeded over to the sink. A small window was positioned between it and a cabinet that hung over head. Ravyn gazed longingly out of it at the choppy waters a few meters away.

"I expect you're quite hungry, I know I am." She opened the cabinet directly above the sink and frowned. All that was there were old cobwebs and what seemed to be a jar with some sort of suspicious looking liquid. Oh yeah, she had completely forgot that she had to restock her food. With a flick of her wrist the entire kitchen was stocked to the brim with everything she would need. A small bag of cat food materialized on the island and Ravyn grabbed a bowl and filled it about half way with the dry looking pellets.

"Alright here you go, I hope it tastes better than it looks. I for one am going to be making something else." She went to the fridge and removed several chicken breasts and took them to the counter to begin prepping them. As she was carefully slicing the pieces she heard a meow sound behind her. When she turned, she saw that Loki was staring intensely at her.

"What is it?" Loki looked at her, then looked at the food, then back at her again. Without breaking eye contact, Loki slowly reached out a paw and knocked the dish off the island.

"Hey!" Ravyn set down the knife and ran over to where the pellets had scattered across the floor. She sighed and waved her hand, watching them disappear before her. When she stood up she found Loki sprawled languidly on the island counter, gnawing on a piece of raw chicken she had been cutting just before the incident.

"You little shit! You tricked me." Loki purred in response. "Of course, the 'Prince of Asgard' can only have the best, right? You must really be hell bent on living up to your name." A wave tiredness swept over in that moment and she felt her eyelids droop slightly at the thought of cooking the rest of her meal. Ravyn walked over to the rest of her chicken and promptly dropped it in front of the spoiled cat.

"Here, have the rest of it. I'm not that hungry anymore." Ravyn dragged her hand through her hair and settled herself on the couch. She grabbed the remote and flipped on the TV before longing herself across the dark leather. On the screen, the famous Tony Stark was having a press conference about his most recent, no doubt, heroic feat. Apparently, he had saved New York yet again, destroying half of it in the process, which he was sure to leave out of his speech. If she were void of her magic, she might have been frightened by the alarming amount of attacks that had been happening as of late, but she couldn't really bring herself to care. Especially with all the whisperings of the American Government putting together some kind of special super secret task force that Ravyn was sure she wasn't supposed to know about. As the television continued to drone on about the likelihood of an upcoming war, Ravyn found herself deeply asleep on her sofa.

Loki took this moment to promptly shift into his Asgardian form, stretching his limbs slightly to readjust to their former length. He looked around the house with mild disdain, though there was a slight glimmer of curiosity in his eyes as he regarded her taste in deorum. Norse statuettes were peppered throughout her abode, made out an assortment of different stones and crystals. Lazily, he picked up a discarded book lying half open off a mahogany side table and flipped to a random page. A smirk graced his angled features as he saw his own name marked with a hideous shade of yellow, in fact as he flipped through the pages, he found it was marked that way sporadically throughout the book. Oh the fun he could have with this midgardian's little obsession. However, after her dramatics in the cemetery, as well as her increasing displays of magic, Loki's suspicions were telling him that she was not as human as she believed.

Ravyn was certainly a very interesting specimen, he'd give her that. Initially when Heimdall had given him this mission, he had brushed it off as a half-witted attempt to keep him from trouble. However, it seemed like the all seeing thorn in his side wasn't just being a celestial mediator with his suspicions that something was amiss with this midgardian girl. No, she must have been otherworldly, or at the very least she was a bastard halfling between an asgardian and a midgardian. That was not too uncommon, even if Loki saw it as degrading to stoop so low as to lay with a mortal. Perhaps this creature was one of Bragi's bastards, Allfather knows that the man had enough of those to last several lifetimes.

He turned finally to examine her more thoroughly as she slept on the sofa. She was quite tall, a little over 6 feet, he'd wager just from the fact her legs had to dangle over the armrest for her to be able to lie down comfortably. Her hair was long, sprawled around her head in dark brown ringlets like a umber halo. If it wasn't for her rather plain midgardian clothing Loki could have mistaken her as a highborn lady with her fair complexion and regal facial structure. From what he'd seen before her eyes were a vivid green, much like his own, except hers were rimmed with brown and gold. In that moment, he wondered how she could be so ignorant to believe that she was apart of this lowly race. At best she was an imposter, at worst she was an idiot. Loki almost wished for the former, at least that would be interesting. He didn't know if he could stand another ditsy half-breed wench strutting about his family's castle like she owns the place.

Family. What a misplaced word. He wasn't surprised that it had been Frigga who had finally told him on his true heritage, expecting him to be soothed by her warm smiles and gentle, calming words. In the moment, it was enough, but the second he was away from away from her, a vicious rage had simmered within him. Loki expected that is why Heimdall quickly whisked him away on this errand, to contain the beast, no, the monster inside of him. But what would they all do if they found out that the monster wasn't just inside of him?

Ravyn let out a small sigh, jarring Loki from his spiraling thoughts back to the task at hand. She had shifted slightly, resting comfortably on her back now instead of her side. Loki supposed there was only one way to truly know her intentions, but he seriously doubted they were anything but mundane at this point. He strolled over to where she laid her head, only pausing when he saw the slight twitch in her cheek. She was awake, playfully pretending to be asleep either out of fear, or something else entirely. Perhaps she was not quite as daft as he had previously thought. It mattered not if she was conscious or not, the moment he slipped into her mind she would be incapacitated. Swiftly, Loki placed his hands on her face, his thumbs resting on her temples while his fingered brushed the underside of her chin.

Before he could continue, Ravyn's eyes flew open and Loki found himself being blown back. She was up before he even landed on the floor, conjuring a shimmering dagger that seemed to ghost around her hand like it was made of purple smoke. He chuckled slightly and stood from his position. Ravyn was taken aback by how tall he was, towering over her with ease, which was a hard feat to achieve, but she didn't let her face show it. No man, nor intruder of any kind was any match for her magic.

"Break into my house and think you can cop a feel while you're at it, huh?" She held the dagger menacingly out in his direction.

"Impressive, it appears I misjudged your abilities." His voice came out like mercury, liquid smooth and extremely enticing, but toxic if you let it touch you.

"Misjudged? Who are you, those nuts from the government? The ones making their 'secret task force'." She used her free hand to make air quotes which seemed to confuse Loki slightly.

"Why would such a group be interesting in you?"

"Don't answer my question with another question!" She snapped, suddenly feeling frustrated. Something shifted in her, letting the unease flow through her veins, becoming a part of her. Why didn't he fear her? He should fear her. She needed him to fear her. Without that, she felt small.

"Tell me who you are!" He took a step forward.

"Now where's the fun in that?"

"I'm warning you! Tell me now, I'm not afraid to hurt you!" Loki chuckled darkly.

"Oh, I really doubt that." Before he could take another step in her direction, Ravyn flung the dagger at him. Loki easily evaded it, catching it in the air before it could get lodged into the woodwork behind him. He turned it over thrice in hand to inspect it. He was fairly impressed to say the least. It certainly was an interesting way to project magic, very unique, yet it was extremely unstable. So unstable, in fact, that he wondered how it even maintained shape for this long at all without imploding on itself. Loki was so engrossed that by the time he had looked up Ravyn had conjured, not one dagger, but a whirlwind of that levitated around.

"Still doubt my power?" She knew it was stupid to show him what she could do. This... stranger. This intruder. Yet, it was so thrilling to use her magic for something than mundane chores. It was addicting. She felt something drip down her face and lifted her fingers so see red covering them.

"What did you do to me?" He shook his head.

"How peculiar. You cannot control the magic that flows through your own veins."

"Wha-" Ravyn began, but before her lips could finish her statement she fell, totally and completely consumed in darkness. Once again, completely and utterly alone.