The crow flaps in, landing on her desk and cawing.

"I'm not in the mood for games. You aren't a natural crow."

She shuts the window and turns to the crow, crossing her arms.

"Who. Are. You?"

The crow laughs.

It's an almost human sound.

"Might as well ask who are you, little girl?"

"I asked first, and this is my domicile. I am the owner of this room." For the next few nights, at least. "You're an intruder, and a rude one besides."

"Rudeness is such a droll concept."

"Still, who am I to break the rules of hospitality?" It sounds mocking.

"I suppose you may call me Ikol."

"Ikol, then." She crosses to the overstuffed armchair by the window, conveniently already facing the desk, and sits. "Why have you been following me?"

"You're an interesting girl."

"Tell me, Loki. How old are you?"

She goes to answer, opening her mouth -

She can't.

How -

How old is she?

"You don't know, do you?"

"What did you do?!"

"What did I do? Why must I always be to blame for everything, hm? I'll have you know, I haven't done a single thing a crow cannot do for two whole years."

"Then why don't I know how old I am?"

"Do you actually remember anything of your childhood, Loki?"

She pauses.

Tries to remember -

(It hurts - )

She puts a hand to her head.

"I don't. I know things - I know my brother - my friends - "

Everyone except Thor is -

Is a sketch. A vague person-shaped blob she'd never noticed wasn't real -

Nausicaa and Sue are real. Thor is real. Steve is real. The Earth royal family are all real. She has a few other faces she can resolve - all human - mostly young -

"What's going on?"

"Do you really think a world can be so perfect? That you'd play along to whatever cheerful tune? Making friends, going to zoos, being a normal girl - that's not you at all, is it?"

" - No. It's not."

"This world is fake, as are the chains wrapped around your mind. Everything you love is a lie, crafted by someone who wanted a well behaved little utopia, where no one would cause problems. Where every little toy is in its place. Where good little girls don't plot revolution."

"I - "

"I need to think."

Something's warning her, at the back of her head. She doesn't know if it's her instincts or - the chain that's apparently around her mind - she can't breathe -

"Do you want to know the architect of your prison?"

She nods, biting her lip.

"Cecilia Maximoff. Your perfect friends' mother - the Scarlet Witch, in a world that no one but an old crow remembers."

"The princess?"

It kind of makes sense, though. If you're making a perfect world, why not make yourself one of the most important people there? (Except for that doesn't feel like something Cecilia Maximoff would do...)

"The one and the only."