Banished| Book One In The Series | Avengers Fan-fic| ****ON HOLD****

18. Routine and Faulty Hope

Hey ya'll!

This chapter gave me the EXTREME feels. But, you know, that could just be me....XD

Enjoy!

Meira's POV:

Running. Fighting. Archery. Learning. Magic. That is all I did for days. 

Thor explained to me that their would be a battle to come and that I and the others needed to be ready for it. Although I agreed with him, I didn't think I needed much training. I was to be a warrior of Thorix. My people are fierce and strong. We do not go down quickly.

But this was a different kind of training. This was SHIELD training and I was well unprepared. I could not run for long distances like Lee, I could not take down an opponent in a few simple combat moves like Natasha or Steve, I could not shoot an arrow as well as I had thought like Clint, and I my knowledge of Midgard is severely outdated. Tony and Bruce are patient, however. 

Each morning before sunrise, I go running with Lee through the forest for miles. Trails, hills, rocky ground, you name it, we ran on it. Then once we came back to camp, I would head straight for the cleared off area where Natasha and Steve would already be waiting. At first, I was so exhausted that I could barely get a punch or two in, but as the days turned to weeks, I found myself adjusting to the many new styles of fighting. 

Steve taught me to use my size against my enemies: because of how tall I am, it would be easier or my opponent to knock me down, but he taught me to use that as my advantage. Don't let them get close, double jabs, etc. Natasha is another story. She taught me through beating me every time. I was beyond angry when she kept doing this, and I see how this blinded me, caused me to react rashly. I begun to mirror her, and soon Natasha would comment on my form and lightly praise me when I managed to block one of her blows.

Clint was much of the same. He wouldn't say much when I would miss the bull's eye or the target all together, though he would step over to me without a word, and fix how I'm hold the bow and arrow. We would spend hours in the forest climbing trees or boulders and shooting at targets that he had scattered around every where. Though he didn't say much, I was actually quite thankful for his company. Even if I acted like he or anyone else didn't exist after training. 

By the time I was finished with those activities, it was early afternoon and I could wash up and rest for an hour before going to Tony's tent. (Or small cabin I should say; the tent was completely redone to fit his technological needs.) For the rest of the day I would spend time in there taking notes - Thor's request - and listening about history and science. Sometimes Tony even got out his Iron Man suit and would quiz me on what did what. I didn't favor the disembodied voice called J.A.R.V.I.S. though. 

Bruce did help with my magic one day. Tony had given me another one of the written tests that apparently mortal children my age took in school and I was becoming frustrated with a question. One of Tony's almost empty shot glasses boiled and exploded a moment later, making Bruce jump. Fortunately it was only me and him in the tent - Tony had gone to speak with Steve and Thor. 

"Curse it all!" I yelled, tossing the pen in my hand on the table. I didn't even bother trying to fix the glass. I wasn't sure I could anymore. Bruce frowned and twirled his own pen in his hands, looking at the broken glass. "Can't you control that?" I halfheartedly shrugged. Bruce hummed to himself and didn't say anything for a minute, staring off in the corner of the tent. "Here," he said, taking off his glasses and walking over to a stack of papers on a small table.