A/N: Hello people and welcome to Kristal Clear! I have been toying with another Loki/OC for a long while now, but was always mindful to have a fully manageable plot ready before I uploaded it. So far, I have thirty chapters ready for you. They will be corrected, edited and completed until I feel they are perfect enough for your eyes!

I did not expect to upload this story so "early", but the loss of the creator of it all, Stan Lee, Stan the Man, made me want to make him proud and give this to read a bit earlier than scheduled. So I dedicate this entire work to him, and to his heroes. He made us all feel that being different was alright, and that a superhero hid in all of us...

This story will span literally centuries. I starts Pre-Thor, and will continue through Dark World, Ragnarok, Infinity War and post-Infinity War. So get ready for a hell of an adventure!

I'm offering you the first five chapters today. I usually never give too much to read in one go, but I felt like you'd want to see our beloved Prince ASAP, so there you are. You will also see that I am giving you ideas about face-claims for characters, that will be added that the chapters go on. I will add the faces we already know, to keep track, but feel free to ignore them altogether. :)

I will answer any question you might have about characters and plot if you send them in reviews. The Guests and Anons will received their answers via A/N the next time I upload. :) And now, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters herein mentioned who belong to Marvel Studios and Marvel Comics. I only own Krista Eriksdottir, a few minor OCs, and the main plot.

Face-claims for this chapter:

Krista [kʀista]: Mia Wasikowska;

· Erik [eʀik]: Clive Standen;

· Ida [ida]: Emilia Fox;

· Mads [madz]: William Moseley;

· Bjorn [bjo:n]: Nathan O'Toole;

Anders [andƏ:s]: Art Parkinson.

1. Loss and gain

Krista smiled to herself while she watched the small flame rekindle from the embers she had been tending to for the past ten minutes. Her father would be proud of her. It was only the third time she managed to rekindle the fire on her own, and it was quite the event, for it meant that, one day, she'd be able to keep her own family safe and warm.

At twelve years of age, Krista was a petite girl with wheat-blonde hair and grey eyes that looked like a stormy day. She wanted to look more like a boy than a girl, for she neared the age where her parents will wish her to marry, but other than that, she was quite content with her life.

Her father, Erik, had built their small home with his own hands before Krista's birth. Right next to a calm stream, he had managed to plant crops and to keep some sheep for their wool. She was proud of her father. He was the most important man in her life, and she hoped he'd remain that for long years to come.

Her brothers were different. Mads, the eldest, was almost taller than Erik and already wished for independence. His sister's antics rarely interested him. Bjorn, the second eldest, who was one year older than Krista, liked to teach her how to hunt and to fight, and she owed him a couple of nasty bruises that lingered on her chest after their last brawl. Anders, the youngest, who was only nine, kept closer to their mother Ida, but liked to tend to the sheep.

Their family was away from all the trouble that was stirring in Denmark. Erik had let go of his bracelet before he married Ida, and was therefore considered a pariah, but was no longer called upon whenever there was unrest between the Jarls. Krista did not yet grasp the importance of politics, but she'd soon do.

Their hut was situated on the island of Fyun, somewhere on it although she was unsure where exactly. One day, her father had drawn a crude map of Denmark's coastline and tried to show her where he was born, but she had not understood and had stomped out when Mads had mocked her juvenile intellect.

What she did understand though, was that her people was meant to navigate, to discover new lands and to take from it new riches. Her mother had once told her that there were several bigger islands West of Denmark, and that the sea to get there was the most violent anyone had ever had to cross.

Krista did not long for the sea. Not that she couldn't have gone, some shieldmaidens did, but she did not wish for it. Her life with her parents and three brothers was more than enough for her, and she did not desire to change it.

But of course, it was going to.

Krista new that something was amiss the moment she stepped out of the hut to re-join her family. There was no joyful laughter coming from the stream where her brothers were supposed to fish, no clamour from the field where her father and mother were supposed to plough and plant herbs to cover the earth until the next spring came along. She had finished her daily chores by lighting the fire, and hoped she'd be lucky enough to receive a lesson in archery from Bjorn. It was not to be.

She stepped into the sunlight of what had begun as a lovely day and let out a cry when she saw the scene unfurling before her. Her mother, on her knees, staring at her husband's body a few feet away. Krista stared. His throat had been slit. Her three brothers lay some distance from her, and even if their backs were to her, Krista knew that they were dead as well.

She let out another cry, calling for her mother, but a blade came in contact with her thick linen dress from behind and she felt a tall man encompassing her slender frame with his threatening posture. She then noticed the other two men standing close to her mother, who was still weeping. They had their heads shaved and carefully tattooed, and bracelets shone at their wrists.

So they had been attacked by Vikings. She knew, of course, of their thirst for blood, but she had thought their home to be a safe haven that would protect the whole family from the violent ship-builders.

The man behind her leaned into her some more and she whimpered. He flicked his tongue at the shell of her ear and Krista tried not to shiver with disgust. Yes, this too she knew they did to women and girls. Her mother had prepared her for that eventuality. But no one could truly say that they were ready to get raped.

"Want to see your Mama suffer little bird?" the man said in crude Norse. His accent was appalling, but the message was clear as one of his accomplices slapped her mother across the face. Ida fell face first in the dirt and the man holding Krista laughed. "How fun it is when they don't even fight it!"

The girl watched helplessly as her mother was taken by the hair and roughly put on her back. She started thrashing against her assailant, but to no avail. She received another blow and she only could groan in pain. The man tore her clothes off and went for his belt, but by then, Krista had decided to act.

Something deep in her started rising as she watched her mother being violated. Something harsh, untamed, rough and powerful. She let out another scream, high pitched and painful, and as her own assailant let her go, the stream beside the house started rising in a wave of such height and width that it couldn't be natural. Krista screamed some more and the wave crashed into the first man she found, the one holding her Ma. He tried to counter the water coming at him, but water was unbending, and he was surrounded until he moved no more.

Next went the one behind Krista, and he slashed at her, probably trying to harm the cause of the phenomenon. But she was no longer tangible, it seemed, for she watched as the blade came out of where her belly was, and yet there was no pain, just a shimmer, as if she too had become part of the water.

She watched all three of the Vikings drown and die, and suddenly, there was silence. Ida was staring at her daughter with wide eyes that both translated her pain at what had just happened, and shock at what her daughter had just done.

Krista was equally stunned.