Haldor followed the Prince, mimicking his every footstep. She followed him closely through long halls, all embellished with striking pillars that went floor-to-ceiling. Every few yards there were short pillars, reserved for flower pots and other plant life, bringing a morsel of life into the barren halls of the golden realm. In front of her, Thor halted abruptly. Hal found her head in the clouds , and managed to rip herself back to reality moments before she would have slammed into the prince's back.

"We are here."  He gestured toward two wooden doors with intricate carvings embedded in them. 

"Where is exactly is 'here', Your Highness?" The large doors towered over Hal, and she wondered just how heavy two giant wood doors could be. 

"My quarters," He said, as though it was obvious, "and addressing me as Thor will suffice in place of your formalities." 

"Of course, Your Highness"." As Hal continued to try to imagine the weight of the doors, she noticed Prince Thor standing to the side, and her brain clicked. He's a prince.  He has maids and butlers for this thing. He doesn't open his own doors. Oh, that was her job. She gulped. The looming doors seemed to be laughing, mocking her weakness. They looked heavy. She put her palms out in front of her, facing the doors; preparing herself for their weight. She breathed deep and pushed.

Nothing.

Not even a budge. She continued to push, straining. Hal closed her eyes and breathed deep.

Inhale. Exhale.

Inhale. Exhale.

Innnn-

She heard a deep chuckle. Prying her left eye open she was gifted with the sight of Prince Thor. 

Laughing. 

At her. 

She opened both my eyes and turned her head slightly so she was fully looking at him.

Why that little... the insolent rat. He is such a- happy thoughts. Gleaming doors of the palace. Sunshine's rays cracking through the new baby leaves of springtime. Baby birds pecking open their shells and later learning to spread their newly feathered wings and learning to fly. Yay. Happy thoughts. Inhale. Exhale.

She put a smile back on her face. By the time her personal mental therapy session was over, the Prince had recomposed himself and he returned to his upright stature.

"Perhaps this," his voice boomed as he started to outstretch his palm, "would help." His hand reached towards Hal's and he placed something large and cold in her hands. She glanced down, and looked at the key in her hand. She took time to admire the delicate curves and designs of the key. When she finished her inspection, she came to the late realization that the reason the door wasn't opening, was due to the very simple dilemma: the door was locked. And to think, the prince had watched her make a fool of herself. Possibly with the intention of wanting a good laugh. 

She turned her attention to the door, and slowly inserted the bronze key into the keyhole. She twisted the key, and there was a sharp 'click' that echoed through the empty, moonlit halls. She took another deep breath, prepared, once again, for the weight of the thick wood doors.

She pushed again, putting all her force in the push.

Bad choice.

Turns out, royal Asgardian doors aren't all that heavy.

It just so happens that they're very light.

She realized all of this too late, and all the extra power threw her forward. Out of instinct, she put her hands out in front of her.

Another bad choice. Almost immediately her left wrist started to throb.

 With barely a whimper, she pushed herself up placing as much weight as she could on her right wrist.

It was at this time Prince Thor rushed to her side to see if she was okay.

"Lady Haldor, are you harmed?" he exclaimed. Oh sure, not so funny now is it? 

"I am not a 'Lady'. " She hissed. "Addressing me as 'Hal' will be more than adequate." 

"Well, you are surely not a man."  She glared at him, and if he were to bring up her rude actions later, she would simply blame it on the burning pain that was currently inching its way up her left arm.

"Or am I?" she quipped back. 

"Oh, don't be sour, Lady Haldor." She almost snorted. Easy for him to say. He wasn't the one sitting on the floor with a possible broken wrist. "Your battle wound surely cannot be that bad." He laughed at his own joke. When he realized she didn't find his comment amusing, he stopped laughing and cleared his throat. He reached out his hand, "Allow me to look at it, my lady." She inched away.

"It is fine, honestly, my prince." She lied. She was actually a fantastic liar-a trait she put much pride in- but even the stupidest rat could see that her oddly bent wrist was not "fine".

"Perhaps, my lady, I wasn't clear. As your Prince, I order you to allow me to see your wrist."

She sighed, and let him look at her wrist. He delicately took it and started to examine it.

"Hmmm... well, by the looks of it, you have a broken wrist, my lady." Well, no duh. Instead of pointing out that anyone could have figured that out, she assessed the other problem at hand.

"I am not a  'Lady', Hal is just fine." 

"As you have previously mentioned." The prince said with a chuckle. "Wait here, Lady Haldor and I will be back in a minute or two." He turned his back to leave and she refrained from rolling her eyes when he was turned away. What do you get when you mix two people who dislike formalities but are too respectful to drop them? 

With the prince gone she glared at her stupid wrist for getting stupidly broken in a stupid way. Moments later, Prince Thor returned and tailing him was another familiar face, Prince Loki.

Hal immediately  tried to stand in an attempt to properly acknowledge his presence, but when she attempted to do so, he walked over to her and gently, but forcefully pushed her shoulder down, quickly relaying the nonverbal message that he didn't wish to waste time on nonsensical formalities. 

"Sit."

Since she couldn't stand up to bow, Hal simply dipped her head and said, "Prince Loki."

"Lady Haldor. How about I look at that wrist?"