The Light Elves were those of young deities of nature; and the most beautiful voices and story telling.
More beautiful than the Sun, the Light Elves were held in such a high stance.
And the young Princess Dahlia was no exception. Daughter of Freyj...
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A small teardrop fell onto the tiled floor. The unsteady sobs filled the room, masking the steady beeping. Natasha Romanoff sat on the chair, her head between her legs, and her arms wrapped around. She had not stopped crying in hours, in days, and she did not know when the pain would stop.
Clint Barton sat beside her; his hand resting in her back and the other holding his head up. He too, had swollen eyes and an aching throat from the crying he had down in the privacy of his home.
In the days following the attack, the Avengers were kept hidden in the tower as New York picked up the pieces. The God of Mischief was held in a high ranked prison, several floors above where Clint and Natasha sat now.
Tony Stark has stepped into a role of aid; making sure that New York was receiving ever dollar they needed to pick up the mess they made.
Clint and Natasha mourned.
"It's going to be okay." Clint tried to reassure his best friend.
Natasha nodded slowly. "I know. I just keep picturing it in my head. If I had done something different, anything different..."
The archer began to rub Natasha's back. "You did the best you could. We all did. It is out of our hands."
Natasha sat up, her eyes settling on the hospital bed in front of her. The beeping seemed louder. The Black Widow stood up and walked closer to the bed.
Clint watched his friend as she sat next to the resting body. Natasha grabbed the small pale hand in hers and held it carefully.
"When will she wake?" Natasha asked Clint.
"I don't know." She had asked him that question every day since the attack. "Her body is healing. It was a significant wound. And then she..."
Natasha closed her eyes. "Do you remember when we first found her?"
A smile broke out on the archers face. "Yes. I've thought about it every day."
"How did Laura take the news?"
"She wanted to know if she should stop decorating the bedroom." Clint laughed and shook his head. "I told her not to."
Natasha smiled. "Did she tell the kids?"
"No."
"Good." Natasha looked at the body on the bed with an aching heart. She missed her more than anything. "Do you remember when we first watched a movie together? She was so excited and she kept asking questions."
"Especially when we watched Star Wars." Clint smiled.
Natasha sat her hand in the soft curve of her sister's cheek. "When she wakes up, we'll have to watch some more of them."
"You need to talk to Loki." Clint said.
"Why can't you do it?"
"Because you haven't left the room in a day. And he needs to know that she's not dead."
