[Here she is. Small and slight and sharper than any dagger in all the armories of Asgard, more clever than any of their scholars and crackling brighter than any nova or star he has ever seen. How was it that he could ever have mistaken Padme for her save out of acute longing? They both had grace, and the resemblance was strong, true, but Jane was ever more brilliant to him. And he'd left her. Been forced to leave her, made a choice that had been for the best of the Nine Realms but it is so very difficult to recall why that was important when she is here and real and looking at him like he'd found her book of notes on her research and returned it to her rather than bearing clothing.
He looks to her and sees all he cares for above all else in all the realms. More than family, more than duty, more than any shade of princely obligation.
She speaks, and he should likely say something in turn.]
You are welcome.
[A beat, and he extends a hand, tentative, uncertain if it is welcome to brush a lock of hair out of her face.]
[Action]
He looks to her and sees all he cares for above all else in all the realms. More than family, more than duty, more than any shade of princely obligation.
She speaks, and he should likely say something in turn.]
You are welcome.
[A beat, and he extends a hand, tentative, uncertain if it is welcome to brush a lock of hair out of her face.]
I have missed you greatly.