Her hair was braided and twisted around her head, it framed her face in an odd way. Making it seem smaller and wider. Her stance was defiant and tense. Her body was small, slender, and lithe. Her arms and shoulders revealed hidden strength. Her hands were small, but well formed and strong. They were slender and pale. She was dressed in a strange fabric that seemed to change color depending on where she was. It was a pale gold when she walked in front of the golden halls of the palace. It shimmered blue under the sky and it turned black when she walked in the shadows. It was a slit dress, formed to look as a flower bud. It had elbow length sleeves. The collar was V shaped and the sides extended up her neck a ways. It clung to her waist, but otherwise it was loose and flowing. She wore skintight white leggings underneath. Over this she wore a translucent black cloak, it made her disappear in the shadows. On her feet were knee high, black boots, they had a heel that was at least an inch. Hidden under the folds of her dress and cloak, were daggers of all different sizes. Her face was chiseled and well formed, but it had seen years of wear and abuse. She had dark brown hair flecked with silver, her eyes were bluish-gold, they sparkled whenever anything bright reflected in them. Her ears curled back into a sharp point, although it was softer than most Dark Elves. Her skin was slightly gray, it was definitely not tan. Her lips were pulled into a tight frown, her forehead was bunched in a perpetual scowl. Her face was dead, her eyes only sparkled with life.
Death, that's what she looked like when she first arrived in Asgard. How different she looks now! But I am getting ahead of my story. Let me formally introduce myself, I am Princess Isa, daughter of Loki Laufeyson. And this is the story of my family. It begins with the arrival of Tuarwen of the Dark Elves. She was sent as an atonement gift for the trouble the Dark Elves caused the Asgardians. She was known as a guard and perhaps less known as an assassin. She was skilled in the art of warfare. She was the personal guard of the royalty of Svartalfheim, she had saved their lives single-handed many times. She was sent from her home to seal the surrender of the Dark Elves to the Asgardians. She would be assigned to the royal family of Asgard as their guard. She had no say in the matter. Although she did not betray any emotion before Asgard, it is said when she turned to look back at her home, she wept tears. With her home behind her, she left for a new life.
So there she was, in a strange new world. Alone and friendless and shunned. After the disaster with Malekith, the Asgardians almost started a war with the Dark Elves. Had they not restored the life of the Queen of Asgard and sent them Tuarwen, the Dark Elves would have found themselves bowing before Asgard, but none of this made them anymore loved there.
Her trip in the Bifrost did not faze her. She brushed the dirt off her clothes, silently bowed to Heimdall, and quietly vaulted onto the horse that was standing outside the enclosure. She rode off down the Rainbow Bridge. Her dress sparkled different colors like the bridge. Her silence caused the Asgardian guards much discomfort. She remained silent even after she entered the palace. She had been in Asgard before, so she knew her way to the throne room. Her feet made no sound against the marble floors. Her figure cast an eerie shadow on the golden walls. She stepped before the throne, the King's gaze looked down swiftly from were he stood. A tall woman stood next to him. She was beautiful, with flaxen blonde hair and blue eyes. Her face was bright and kind. Tuarwen assumed this was the Queen of Asgard. The King turned to look at her, she bowed in the Dark Elf fashion, the palm of her hand over her heart and one knee on the floor. She dared to look up at the King, her face formed into a glare, her eyes biting like daggers. Her gaze flickered over to the Queen briefly, who gave her a small smile. She rose from her knee and stared at the King with a numb expression.
"Do you know why you are here?" He addressed her. Tuarwen did not hesitate to answer with her biting voice.
"I am an atonement gift to Asgard to avoid a war with Svartalfheim." She replied, without hesitation, she admitted freely to be only a bargaining chip to her country. She held her eye contact with the King. Her eyes were trained for his every movement. Fear was pushed so far back into her that she did not remember what it felt like.
"Your King has informed me that you are an assassin," he paused, Tuarwen did not answer him. Her numb gaze was starting to disturb him just the slightest bit. "You will be assigned as a personal guard here. Do you agree to this?" She nodded once in response to him, her eyes never leaving his face.
"Very well. You will be assigned to guard my son. Attempts have been made on his life, being an assassin I will expect you to be ahead of every attempt. And if you even think of betraying Asgard, death will find you quickly," his eyes leveled on her. The intensity of it would have anyone quailing in fear. Tuarwen; Tuarwen merely stood still with her eyes upon him. The barrier stood, fear would never escape it.
"I understand," she finally said. The King looked at her once more before turning away. Her eyes locked on his figure, until she noted another presence. Standing next to her, with the sweetest smile stood the Queen. Tuarwen did not return the smile, she just stared at the woman.
"Come, my dear. I will show you your room," she said softly, while walking away from the throne. Tuarwen shifted her gaze back to the King and gave a stiff bow. She then followed the Queen out of the room. The Queen still smiled at her as she held the door open, Tuarwen did not look at her, she looked straight ahead, ignoring everything. So they walked in silence, the walls absorbing the silence and the soft footsteps of the Queen, Tuarwen's footsteps could not be heard. They passed guards and servants in the hallways. If Tuarwen noticed their incredulous looks, she ignored them. The Queen was beginning to wonder if she noticed anything or if she was frozen in ice, not seeing or feeling anything. But Tuarwen was mapping the palace in her head, which required her full attention. Otherwise, she would have leveled anyone who dared to look at her with an icy glare.
The Queen stopped before a small wooden door, she opened it immediately and walked inside. Never had she been happier to be inside the small bare room. If for nothing else than to escape the silence and the unease she felt around the young woman. She would have tried to start a conversation, but for the strange feeling that caught her throat. Besides, if the girl refused to answer the King completely, why would she answer her? Tuarwen walked in and looked around for a moment, she took in the room. This is what she saw, there was a small bed against the left corner, there was a chest against the foot of it and several more against the right side of the room. There was one closet on the same side, it was rather old and in need of a good sanding. There was one window directly opposite of the door. It was small and couldn't be reached without a stool. The walls were a bright white and the floor was a gray tile. It felt like a prison to Tuarwen, but it was better than most of the places she had stayed in while on a mission. She proceeded to unpack the bags that had been left on the bed. She took out her daggers and other weapons first, she placed them in the chest by the bed, she wanted them close in case she would need them. She then pulled out an extra cloak and deposited it in the closet with a blue linen dress. She put a pair of black leather pants and a few shirts in the chest. She placed her battle armor in another, it was a leather tunic with a pleated skirt, the only other armor she appeared to have were two leather vambraces, which she proceeded to strap to her arms. She put the bags in the corner. Frigga was surprised that she didn't see any personal items come out of the bags. Tuarwen surely knew she would be here for the rest of her life, so why did she bring nothing from her home? Unless there was nothing worth taking.
Frigga smiled reassuringly, but Tuarwen did not notice, she continued to stare into the Queen's eyes. Frigga hated to admit it, but she was intimidated by that stare. Few things could scare her as Queen, but this girl was quite capable with simply one look. Maybe it was the lack of expression that made it intimidating, the fact that you couldn't be sure if she was going to murder you within the next minute. Frigga decided that must be it. She shook it off, knowing she was more than capable of defending herself.
"Are you ready?" she asked in a sweet voice. Manipulation was not going to work she realized when Tuarwen simply gave a short nod. The girl probably dealt with it every day. She walked out of the room, the silent girl following her. Tuarwen closed and locked the door, then looked to Frigga to let her know she was ready for her direction. They proceeded down a hallway in the opposite direction, it was quieter here. There were less guards walking around, they were stationed at the doors of several rooms instead. Tuarwen knew this was where all the royalty's rooms were. The stopped before a large door, the Queen placed her hand on the doorknob, Tuarwen grabbed her wrist before she could twist the nob of gold.
"It's better if he doesn't know I exist," her voice was the gentlest Frigga had yet to hear. She complied and waited for Tuarwen to pull up her hood and blend in with the background. She pulled the door open and walked in, Tuarwen seemed to disappear immediately. Frigga noted with a smile that her son was seated on a chair reading. He did not leave his room much anymore, mostly because Asgard wanted his head for his past deeds, little did they know, he brought their Queen back and avoided war with Svartalfheim. He looked up when he heard the rustle of fabric, a smile graced his sharp face.
Tuarwen watched them from her perch on a ledge around the ceiling. She didn't note the way his face lit up with the sight of his Mother, instead, she noted his strengths and weaknesses. He was smaller and more slender than most Asgardians, but by the way he moved and positioned himself, she knew he had received and excelled at the training the nobility were given. It would be hard to kill him, but it was possible. There were flaws in the training, small ones, but enough to make it possible. Her attention was brought back when she heard the door slam, she smiled to herself, the Queen was a fool to trust her so easily.
Tuarwen remained in her perch for the rest of the day. Her thoughts wandered to the Prince and the new world she had found herself in. It was different from her home. It was lighter and greener, the palace was heavily decorated in only the finest materials. It was very different from the home Tuarwen knew. But then again, where was home? Tuarwen had spent most of the last centuries in other countries, completing the tasks her King had given her. She was almost never in her home country. And when she was, she preferred to be somewhere else, not making attachments to one place. But Svartalfheim was not the kind of place one would desire to stay in anyway. It was dark and dusty. The land even rebelled against the elves, choking out their lives and making their country a despairing nightmare for all. The people lived in constant fear of the assassins and the King's temper. On a mere whim, he could execute anyone who stood in his way. He was a tyrant in all the word could embody. Unfortunately, the elves were willing to live under the tyranny, Tuarwen could never understand that, she couldn't understand why they couldn't think for themselves and build their own world. The children lived suffocating lives, they were taught to tow-the-line as young children. One wrong word and you could be beaten. It seemed the opposite in Asgard, everything seemed different in Asgard. Children ran through the city unnoticed, making as much noise as possible. The colors were gay and bright. People were free to do what they wanted, they were not punished for their opinions. The Prince was the only one who reminded her of the Dark Elves. His colors were even dark and depressing. Green and black, with only the slightest bit of gold mixed in. The room was an odd collection of books, papers, and daggers. It was well kept and clean, but there was a melancholy to it. He reminded her of one of the princes in Svartalfheim, quiet and morose. Prideful, dignified, and arrogant, but scheming and intelligent. With a sarcastic and witty personalty, at least that was somewhere behind all the twisted ideas and mindsets.
The sun went down and the shadows lengthened, hiding her from sight. A servant came in and lit the candles. The Prince did not even give the girl any notice, he simply remained in his chair and finished his book. He stood up and walked over to the desk. He set down the book and rustled through his papers in search of something. He bent over, his hair falling in front of his face and hiding it from view. Tuarwen wonder just how much he could see from behind his curtain of dark hair. She shifted purposefully in her perch, his head whipped around. He noted the differences in the shadows, he could see more than Tuarwen gave him credit for. He looked around the room for a few minutes, his gaze lingering in Tuarwen's spot. The shadows and her cloak concealed her, she hoped. He returned his attention to his desk, but his movements were softer and more gentle. He was playing a game with an invisible shadow. He certainly had no intention of dying anytime soon. He sat down and started taking some notes, he took his time, much to Tuarwen's disappointment. Her body was starting to give slight resistance from sitting in the same spot so long. She waited patiently. He finally stood up and pushed the notes back into his desk. He walked towards the door, keeping his eyes forward, but stealing slight glances towards her corner. He walked out the door. Tuarwen waited until she heard his footsteps before sliding down from her perch. It took several minutes for her to hear them, he had the intelligence to test for intruders, but he'd probably had experience doing so for awhile now. Especially, if attempts were already made on his life.
Tuarwen pulled out a dagger and looked it over, it was a cruel looking weapon, balanced enough for throwing, but the blade was barbed, small points sticking out in all directions. It was not something you'd want to pull out of yourself. Unwillingly, Tuarwen's hand shot up to her shoulder, she rubbed it slightly before forcing it down. Her breathing had sped up and she started to shake. She closed her eyes and gripped the dagger. "Breathe, just breathe," she mentally told herself. The shaking stopped and she pulled the fearless mask back on. She started walking over to the bed. She paused before the curtains. Straining her eyes, she listened closely. Sheathing the dagger, she rushed back to her perch. She noiselessly climbed up the wall and sat back down. Mere seconds later, a servant girl stepped into the room. She was carrying a tray of food. "Well this makes it easier," she thought, if he didn't eat in the main dinning hall, it made it easier for her to make sure his food wasn't poisoned. The girl didn't remain long, she looked relieved to have missed the Prince as she walked out of the room. Tuarwen slipped from her perch again, dagger forgotten and any signs of the previous incidents. She walked over to the desk where the girl had left the Prince's dinner. She held a candle over it and looked for any discolor, she then sniffed it. Nothing. She proceeded to taste the wine. Nothing. One would think poisoning would be easier than trying to sneak into the room and try killing him. Unless, this was a personal grudge. Poisoning was the first thing assassins tried, unless their employer had a personal grudge against them. Which usually meant they wanted them to die painfully and with knowledge of their executioner. Whoever was after him was after blood. She heard footsteps in the hall, she hurried back to her perch. What was the type of creature after him anyway?