Illusions (The Avengers)

17. A Father's Intuition

Ivy stood in the balcony outside of her chambers, her light eyes watching the Asgardian children play below in the gardens. It was nice, seeing them just frolic around; no worries, no concerns, just fun. It reminded her of her own childhood, before the real work as an Avenger began.

Prior to what the idiot liberal media of America thought, Ivy and every other of the Avenger's kids had happy childhoods, they weren't filled with war and emotional turmoil, they were fun and filled with love. Ivy's work as an Avenger didn't start until she wanted it to, and once she started, everyone else followed suit. As she got older and her job as an Avenger began to conflict with the rest of her life, people began to talk, making wrong assumptions that she had been forced into this life.

While she'd always loved being an Avenger, she'd began to question lately how far she would have to go before drawing a line that told the world that she was a kid, and once that line had been drawn, would anyone trust her to do anything again?

You're going to have to take down those borders eventually, said a nagging voice in her head, it had been taunting her for the past few days, when things had finally been peaceful and she'd had time to think.

They can't stay up forever, but you know what might happen if you try to take them down, the voice leered.  

Ivy closed her eyes, blocking out her sub-conscious thoughts and taking a deep breath. She wasn't going to die, when she had closed a border between realms last time she'd been thirteen years old; she was older and much stronger that she had been three years ago, she could handle it.

"Shouldn't you be doing homework?"

Loki strode onto the balcony, his jet-black hair spiked up around the nape of his neck; he'd cut it a few weeks ago, and Ivy was still getting used to it, she couldn't remember a time when it had been that short.

While he was much more slender than Thor, he was still incredibly muscled, his biceps pronounced beneath the green and black material he wore, his gold shoulder armor gleaming in the light of the sun. His eyes, clear as crystal and as blue as the sky watched the kids below them, they had a hardened battle look in them, as they always had.

"I gave up on homework before the teachers started giving it," Ivy replied, crossing her arms as she watched him.

There was something in the way he stood that she had always admired, even now she found herself watching his movements; charismatic was one word she'd use to describe her father, he stood as if he was against the world (which at one point he was), and there was never anything to whether that stance of confidence.

He chuckled, looking over at her with light eyes.

"You sound like Thor," he remarked," He'd always ignore his studies as well."

"I'm not ignoring," Ivy contradicted," I'm setting priorities, and I think the well-being of the dimension is a little more important than algebra."

Though, she was sure by now that her teachers were fuming; ready to have her suspended on the spot, she'd missed the majority of the first two months of school. Clearly her sudden worry showed, as Loki's eyes narrowed.

"What is it." It wasn't a question, it was a statement that told her that he knew something was wrong and that she couldn't lie. But what exactly was she supposed to say? There were a lot of things wrong at the moment.

She glanced away, looking down at the children, now playing in the fountain; their mother's weren't happy. She chuckled in amusement, but Loki wasn't someone you could distract.

"Ivy," he said, not harsh, but absolute.

She sighed," It's complicated."

"No, it's not," he told her," You can't lie to the God of Mischief, I'm practically the king of lying."