lost loves, found loves

Seven years later - 1943

I left Asgard more than a year ago, wanting to explore the nine realms, but I got stuck on Midgard, whose weaponry and technology and people fascinated me. In the last year, I have learned a lot about the continents and countries on Earth and that there was a World War going on. I have heard about a Captain America, who was supposed to be some kind of hero. It was said that he had similar strengths to mine: superhuman speed and strength, but he aged way faster than Asgardians did. I took it upon myself to meet this captain, so I travelled to said America and tracked him down. Midgardian clothing was strange, and their manners were too, but I had great fun and mustn't be recognized as an outsider.

I'm sitting in a pub in London one evening, drinking and celebrating with strangers. They were quite friendly, if not a little drunk. I am not sure whether to be sad or happy about the fact that the weak Midgardian alcohol does not have the same effect on me, for I was Asgardian.

"There he is! Captain America!" One of the strangers says and raises his glass of beer into the air.

The others do the same, so I follow their example and turn my gaze to the door. And there he comes in all his glory - Captain America, Steve Rogers. He is even more handsome than in all of the posters I saw. His blonde hair is shining, and he is wearing a uniform. It is rather different from the uniforms in Asgard, but I have gotten used to it by now. The tall man throws me a quick look and a charming smile before walking past me and sitting down on a table with a few other men. I am sitting at the bar, watching him, and silently hoping he would come back.

I fold my hands in my lap, mirroring the position I have seen other women do. I am wearing a dark blue dress, showing off my shoulders and cleavage and legs - something I never would have worn back at Asgard. All I can think was, "If Loki would see me now..." I haven't talked to Loki in a year. We left things in a good place, but I still have that feeling of resentment coming from him. We weren't exactly in love. We were more. We weren't like these cute couples I see down here on Earth. We were gods doing their regular things only in each other's company. Loki would play tricks on me and I would fight him until we were out of breath and sweating and then he would push me to the floor or pin me against the wall and we would have rough and loud sex. Then he would bite me and conjure chains, and we would have even more fun.

Thor had gotten around to accepting this weird relationship-y thing that was going on between me and his brother, but he was never entirely fine with it. Even now, I still have the feeling that he was the one who didn't want me to leave most. But I had to. I had to see more than the world I already knew, I wanted to see everything. Sure, I didn't see everything, but I found a new home on Earth, and I don't want to leave. Not now when I have Captain America to meet and-

"So," a voice breaks off my thoughts. "You're here for Captain America as well, huh?"

I blink and realize that I was, in fact, staring at the blond man sitting in the midst of all the other soldiers. Several women sitting at the tables or the bar are doing exactly the same. I, however, pull my gaze away from Captain America and turn to the man who just talked to me. I have to make sure my jaw isn't hitting the countertop.

"H-h-hi," I stammer and completely embarrass myself.

He is incredibly handsome. I realized I don't have a type in men - the tall and blonde Thor, black-haired and slim Loki, the muscular Steve Rogers, and this man right here - ruffled dark hair, a few scratches, and a uniform. I narrow my eyes. I know him from somewhere, but I can not figure out where that was.

"I'm James Barnes," he says as if he heard my thoughts.

"Right, of course!" I answer.

He furrows his brow, his beautiful eyes darkening. "You don't have to pretend to know me."