A/N: Just a few things before we begin. Given the fact that he hasn't been mentioned yet in the movieverse, this fic goes on the premise that Balder is not a son of Odin, or, at least, no one knows about it yet.
For those of you who are wondering, Loki pops up in the third part of this chapter.
Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the Marvel characters in this story, nor the greater Marvel universe in which this is set.
PART ONE
Halla awoke to the crisp chill of morning, embers crackling in the fire. Through the half-light, she could make out the form of her little sister, Asa, nestled close to the hearth in the middle of the room. Halla wished she could be so lucky. From her place on the far side of the hall, the cold worked its way into her very bones, until she felt like one of snow statues they would make outside when no other work needed doing. She wrapped the covers around her tighter, resisting the urge to flop around to the other side of the straw mattress and go back to sleep. She would need to wake Asa soon to start the day.
She felt a sudden longing to once again be the little girl snuggled close to the hearth, woken by her mother with a harsh shake and "Get up." Glancing at the other side of the house, she saw that their parents' bed lay empty. They must not have returned yet, or else were doing something, whatever that could be, outside. Knowing that if they came back and their girls were not yet arisen they would be angry, Halla began to consider getting up.
Alfhildr and their father, Svein, had raised their girls to be hardy and self-reliant, and had never understood Halla's dislike of the cold. In fact, her father thoroughly enjoyed it, relishing in his weekly bath in the icy stream to the west of their hut. The villagers all reckoned it was some sort of pagan ritual, which always made Halla laugh; while Svein took his beliefs seriously, he wasn't quite that fanatical. That sort of behaviour, he said, should be reserved for the Christians.
Halla heard rustling, and opened an eye. Asa's head poked out from under her blankets, turning to look at Halla briefly before collapsing back onto the bed.
Halla smiled. "Asa…" she called, voice breaking slightly.
"I don't want to, it's warm in here," the little girl whined, anticipating the rest of the sentence.
Halla decided to be a good example, and threw the covers off of her, stretching as if she enjoyed the biting cold nipping at her skin. "Come on, Asa, Mother and Father will need our help."
"Where are Mother and Father?" Asa said as she buried herself deeper in the sheets. "Why did they leave so late last night?"
"That I do not know, but they probably had a good reason, don't you think?" she said, sounding more certain of the validity of that statement than she felt. Halla clambered up awkwardly, body stiff from sleep. She walked over to her sister. "Come on," she said, giving the white mound of fabric a light kick. "Up!"
Asa groaned; Halla gave her another kick. "All right, all right, Halla, I'm up already!"
Halla went to the other side of the house, got the washing basin, and went outside to get some snow. Dawn was at the brink of rising, so the world lay awash in a grey, peaceful light. She halted for a moment, admiring the muted blue of the sky, the clouds blowing along, twisting this way, then that. She wondered if the gods were staring right back at her from Asgard, at her parents, the only ones honouring the Aesir and the Vanir for miles. She hoped that would count for something and that they would lead her parents home soon. Her worries were mounting by the moment. Sighing and shivering, Halla bent down and scooped up several handfuls of snow, wincing at the pain they brought.
Taking one last look at the beauty of the morning, she ducked back inside, where Asa had started on combing her hair out using the beautiful bone comb her mother had carved a few years back. Halla placed the basin onto the low hearth fire and undid her own dress. Letting the garments lay in a heap at her feet, she shivered violently, waiting for the water to melt sufficiently. By the time it had, Halla had wrapped a blanket around her and squatted down to the fire. She washed up quickly and ran over to her area. She kept her clothes on a shelf her father had built just above the bed, as well as everything else she had. In amongst the little wood figurines of the gods and carved yet-to-be-strung beads lay a stack of dresses, half of which she had made herself. She chose a worn purple one she had made two years ago, put her fraying white apron over it, belted it, then wrapped herself in one of her father's warm wolfskins. Being an accomplished hunter, her father had many such skins, so there was always one for every member of the family.
Relishing in the warmth, she went over to her parents' mattress and stuck her hand inside the hole at the bottom. She finally fished out the purse that held the family money and pulled out a coin. She needed to go to Tall Bera's house today to have her boots repaired; the lining was breaking apart, and she had already twisted her ankle twice on the ice. She plopped a quarter of a coin into her small leather purse, tying the drawstring tightly shut and fastening it on her belt.
Asa handed her the comb and took the basin off the embers, splashing the water on her face and neck. For all her moaning, Asa seemed to do quite well in the cold, not shivering in the slightest as she washed. As she combed out her hair, Halla thought she heard distant shouts. She grabbed the left side of her hair and began braiding. The shouts grew louder, and she decided it was necessary to go have a quick look, praying that it wasn't what she thought.
A strong gust of wind greeted her when she exited the house, tossing up her rough-spun dress. She could see smoke in the distance, and hear the clang of metal upon metal.
She hurried inside, heart pounding in her ears. "Asa," she said. "We must get father's weapons."
The younger girl looked up at her with wide green eyes. "Why?"
"The village is being attacked. Come, hurry."
Their father kept his weapons in a hollow underneath their parents' sleeping platform. Halla picked out the lightest sword she could find for Asa, and grabbed her father's broadsword. Her father's favourite weapon, decorated in runes no one in the village could read, had been a gift from her mother, from a rather wealthy friend they never saw, nor ever heard much talk about. The only thing Alfhildr had ever said regarding the benefactor was that he had enchanted the sword, so that whoever wields it would unlock his or her greatest potential. She had told Halla to use it if ever she had need of it, if she and her father were gone and if all seemed lost, that it would protect her. She had scoffed at her mother then. Now, she prayed with all her being that the bedtime tale was true.
The shouts had grown louder. Halla went to the door and opened it to a slit she could see clearly through. Dawn had broken; she saw a group of men running out of the small thicket of pine trees separating their land from Gunnarson's. There was Old Gunnar Gunnarson himself, coming to a stop just beyond the tree line. The rest of the group followed suit; blond Harald, twins Grimr and Grettir, Falki with his thick beard, and red-headed Ulfr all raised their swords or axes in near unison. There was silence. She could hear their heavy breathing, could see the beads of sweat on their necks.
A black figure sprang out of the tree line and rushed them, ripping through Grimr at an impossible speed. Before Grimr's body had hit the ground, the thing took off his brother's head before turning on Falki, tearing out his sword arm. Falki shrieked, but the sound soon stopped as the thing ripped out his throat, spraying blood everywhere.
Harald, covered in Falki's blood, raised his axe and struck at the beast. The thing grabbed the axe in mid-swing, flung it into Gunnar's chest, and pulled off Harald's head with two hands, and dumped the bloody stump off to one side. It was then that she got a good look at the monster. It looked human, but its form seemed to move constantly. As if it were made of smoke, constantly turning and twisting. It turned its head, glowing red eyes about to find her blue ones.
Ulfr stepped in, and with a mightly bellow came down on top of it, striking its shoulder. Its form melted away where the sword had struck, and reformed just as quickly. It picked up Ulfr by the shoulder without ever looking at him, flung him with impossible strength at the pines, and with a sickening crack Ulfr fell to the ground, motionless.
Halla gripped her sword tighter. She could hear Asa sob behind her, felt her own hot tears spill down her cheeks. Our parents are dead, and we will follow them to Valhalla this day.
It stared at her. It moved slowly across the snowy ground, made red with the blood of her friends, men she knew as well as her own family. She shouldered open the door, feeling the chill of the outside wheedle its way into her. It made her strong, and she told herself to be glad that on this beautiful morning, she would make her ancestors proud and join them in the land of the gods.
It rushed her; in a split second she was down on the ground, feeling her neck strain as it gripped tighter and seeing stars. She grasped for her sword; feeling the cool metal touch her hand, she reached out with her fingers, scraping the hilt, nearly getting a hold of it only to have it slide away from her. The world turned black around her.
As the light died, she felt a strange warmth well up from inside her. Suddenly, she was gripping the sword and driving it into the beast one-handed. It shrieked and let go of her; light flooded her vision and she awoke as if from a daydream into the real world. The snow, the trees, the sky, the bodies awoke in her vision. The warmth built up inside her, and she was vaguely aware of a white light encircling her, making the snow twist and swirl around her. The black thing retreated, crouching down low and shielding itself with its arms.
A dark shape fluttered into view, accompanied by a rising orange glow from the left.
A distant voice shouted "Halla! Stop! The house is burning down!" Her sister's face came through the white light up to her streaked with tears and soot, pleading with her to stop, that the beast had gone.
Halla could still see it standing at the tree line, watching her, and knew it would be back. She yelled at her sister, who had disappeared, to stay back, and focused on destroying the beast.
The light shot out of her as quickly as she had formed the thought. The beast emitted a high-pitched noise, something that came from only the darkest of places, and erupted in flames. The inferno grew higher and higher, licking the branches of the pines. In a matter of moments, the fire died down, leaving only a smouldering pile of ash in its wake.
We are safe, Halla thought, barely hearing her sister's screams as she fell into a pleasant darkness.
PART TWO
Halla awoke in soft silken sheets. Was it a dream? she thought, though as her eyes adjusted to the light she saw that it was not. This place was not her home.
Everything about it was grand and wonderful. Two huge windows that let in the soft light of morning flanked the huge bed she lay in, its dark wood panels decorated with rich, expertly painted depictions of vicious battles with both men and beasts alike. In addition to the many lush couches that inhabited the room, there were also several writing desks, a great many shelves with books on them.
Who has brought me here? Halla thought, tensing, peering into the darkness at the end of the room. For a split second, she thought she saw red, glowing eyes in shadows. Starting, Halla sat prone on the edge of bed. She stared at the shadows for several moments, until she could be somewhat certain nothing was there. When her body finally relaxed, she gathered up the resolve to get out of the bed and escape from wherever she was.
A chill went up her as she pushed back the plush covers and swung her legs over the side and onto the floor. She still wore her dress, but her wolfskin, apron, and boots had been removed. Dismayed, she began to root in, around, and under the bed for any sign of her clothes. She could not make her escape without shoes, lest her toes freeze off in the cold of winter outside!
"So, you're awake," a voice said from behind her crouched form. She jerked up so hard she whacked her head on the wooden panel underneath the mattress.
The woman grinned at her. "Do you know where you are?"
Halla hardened her face and rose herself to her full height. "I am Halla Sveinsdottir, and I demand to know why I have been abducted," she said in her lowest, most dangerous voice.
She chuckled. "I know who you are, my love." She inclined her head. "Bera. Pleased to be of service."
That made Halla frown. Service? she thought. What does she take me for, some rich lord's offspring? What the hell is going on here? Before she could correct Bera, the old woman spoke.
"Are you not used to such a place? I understand that you are from a small village, in the north of Midgard."
Midgard? Aren't we all from Midgard? "You are correct that I live in the north, old woman. Again, I ask you, what am I doing here?" Halla said. She noticed a glint coming from the curtains on the window behind her. Bera saw her look and gestured to the fabric.
"It's made of gold," she said. "Spun gold."
Halla raised an eyebrow. "Gold? To make curtains? Why would anyone waste such valuables on curtains?"
Bera laughed. "You are exceedingly forthright child, though I suppose I might wonder the same thing in your position." She walked towards the centre of the room. "You really don't know where you are, do you?" Halla did not deny it. The old woman smiled. "You are in for a treat, then. This is no place like any other. Certainly not Midgard, at least." The woman's nose pinched when she said Midgard, Halla noticed. "Come, child."
Halla came over to her and faced in the direction she faced. The window here looked out not onto an orchard as did the other one, but onto the most fantastic city Halla had ever seen. The buildings were tall, gilded, and touched the sky. People were going to and fro, bustling around each other. Some hawked their wares on the side of the street, while others greeted friends and lovers. They all looked healthy and happy. And there were so many of them!
And the sky. It was like nothing she had ever seen. It was as if the stars were right there! She reached out with a hand and imagined for a moment that she could touch the tiny specks of light, mingled in with the brilliant colours of the night sky swirling around, making rainbow bridges against the blackness.
"Is this…Valhalla?" she asked, still gazing up at the sky.
"No, darling." Bera walked to her side, staring up with her. "Halla, you're in Asgard."
Her breath caught in her throat. "As…Asgard?" Her smile faltered. "Why am I in Asgard? What have I done?"
The old woman shrugged. "Nothing, but be born the daughter of a…well, I suppose I'll let him explain that particular bit of news."
Halla stared at her for a moment longer before returning to the sky. The sky above Asgard. And it was beautiful. At the end of it, there wasn't even really a sky, but a mix of blue and pink, deep purple, red, yellow, all colours she never thought possible in the heavens, with bright white stars dotting the black expanse farther out. Further, she caught a glimpse a side of a massive gilded sphere with a giant point on the top. That, she could not seem figure out, no matter how hard she thought about what it could be. Maybe it's a way home….
For several minutes, neither of them said anything. She noticed the old woman walk away and heard the door close eventually, only for it to open once more moments later.
A deep voice rumbled from behind her. "Halla?"
She turned, seeing a man just beyond the doorway at the other end of the room. He was tall, dark-haired, with a kind, smiling face. He wore a thick cloak over golden armour that shimmered with an ethereal glow, even in the darkness of the doorway.
He swung off his cloak, dropping it on a nearby chair. He gestured to a cluster of couches near to the fireplace, parallel to where Halla stood. "Would you?"
She swallowed and nodded, too afraid to be courteous. She crossed the room and sat down on a red, tall-backed great chair made of oak and some soft material Halla had never encountered before. She relished in its softness before the tall man sat down across from her, blue eyes staring into hers.
"Halla, I am Balder. Perhaps you have heard my name spoken in your village?" he said rather meekly for such a strong man.
Her mouth gaped. "B-Balder? The god of…." She rose from the couch and knelt on the ground, bowing her head deeply. "My lord-"
He made a tsk, which prompted her to look up. He motioned for her to stand. "Please, Halla, none of that. Let's be equals, shall we?" He smiled kindly.
She obeyed him. "I…I am not, though, your equal-"
He held up a hand. "Halla, there is no easy way to tell this to you. I doubt your mother would have told you, or else this whole…event would not have effected you in this way." His eyes were downcast for a moment. "Halla, I am…your father." He looked up, face constricted.
"But…my father's name in Svein…-"
He bowed his head. "The man who raised you, who's name you carry…I know that he is your father for all intents and purposes, but you are not his daughter by blood."
"I…I-"
He held up a hand again. "Let me explain. That sword, the one you used to wound the shadow beast? It was from me to your mother. If you were ever in trouble and that sword was within your vicinity, its magical properties would activate and protect you, until I could come and rescue you."
She remembered the broad sword. She had got it out to protect herself and-
"Where is my sister?"
Balder didn't move a muscle. Nor did he speak for several moments.
"No….Oh no. No. No no no." She felt like an outsider in her own body. This is not happening. This is a dream I must wake up from. Please, dear gods, let me wake up.
But there was a god sitting before her, telling her that he sister was dead. She found herself standing, "What happened? Tell me what happened!"
"Your power…it needs to be controlled-"
The floor came rushing up to meet her; then the world went black.
PART THREE
Of all the things that Balder could have wanted to see him about, wiping the memory of his long-lost daughter was not something Loki had expected.
"Are you serious, Balder?" he asked, disdain dripping from each word. "You actually…want me…to go inside your daughter's head…and remove all memory of her mortal sister?" Balder inclined his head stiffly. Loki snorted. "You must be jesting."
Balder's pleasant features twisted into a frown, blue eyes darkening. "This is not a joke, Loki!" he growled. "If she is ever going to be able to control her powers-"
"How in the Nine Realms is violating her in such a way going to help put her in control of herself?" Loki put particular emphasis on "violating" in the hopes that his brother would see how terrible his little idea sounded. "She will figure it out someday, especially when she decides to go visit home and everyone is talking about the little brat!"
Balder remained impervious to logic. "Because, Loki…" He took a deep breath. "She killed Asa. She killed her sister."
Loki frowned slightly. Well, that does change things. "I see." He walked down the steps of the temple, stopping near the banister that overlooked the streets below. Perhaps he is correct. Maybe I should do it. Can't have an insane wunderkind about the place, destroying bedrooms and the like. He saw a group of young boys running and laughing, dodging the passersby in their path. A few paces behind ran a younger, frailer boy, struggling hard to keep up with them.
Oh look, it's me. "What do I get out of it?"
"Excuse me?" the God of Light said from behind him in an indignant voice.
Loki turned around, leaning slightly against the banister. "What's in it for me?"
Balder's face reddened. "Are you…I can't…Is there no modicum of pity in you, Loki?"
"Unfortunately for you, my dear Balder, there is not." He gave Balder his best smirk and watched him storm off down the rest of the steps to the lower levels. He heard him say "This is the reason no one will dare befriend you!" as he drifted from sight.
Loki's smile fell. This had not been a good day, and his brother's friend's new addition to Asgard had not made it any better.
Loki strode down the steps and across the walkway to the palace, intending to get something to eat. He had skipped his midday meal; Amora was a demanding teacher and had teased him that something intimate could happen if he kept at it for a while longer. Like the utter fool he was, he had practiced until his head hurt, and had left without even so much as a kiss.
Honestly, Loki, you must learn to stay away from women. First you saddle yourself with Sigyn, and now this one keeps you from eating with her feminine wiles, he told himself as he turned the corner, quite literally running into his brother.
Thor gave him a smile. "Brother! This is just so. Father would like a word."
Shit. "What about?" he said, in a perfectly even voice.
He shrugged. "He was talking to the guards when I overhead him. Something about a girl?" He jabbed him with an elbow. "Been visiting Amora, eh, brother?"
Loki gave a wry smile. "Hardly."
When he entered the throne room, Loki encountered a very dissatisfied Odin. His father sat in his throne, glaring down at him with a hard, unimpressed eye, holding Gungnir firmly in one hand. "Loki," he said. "You should do as Balder asks."
Oh, not this again! "But Father-"
"You will do as he asks! You do not understand the consequences of this girl's power!" he bellowed, voice echoing throughout the hall. He stood, causing his staff to hit the floor and ring out in its signature baritone thump. "She must be controlled."
"And getting rid of her family's memory is going to help us do that? It may come to pass that she remembers. Any spell can be undone. I told Balder as much."
"It is necessary."
Silence. His father did not move a muscle, but merely stared at him unblinking. Loki sighed. "I will do as you command." He bowed slightly. This is going to be a headache.
"I want this completed as soon as possible." Odin returned to his throne and Loki took that as his cue to leave. He spied a guard staring rather amusedly at him as he strode out, but a glare and an evil grin were enough to stop that. He would not be laughed at in his own palace. Well, father's….
If he were going to do this, he would need Amora. That's not so bad. The prospect of seeing her again, of being successful in his advances, perhaps even to shut her up for a time, made him stride out of the palace that much faster.
He walked through the gardens, across the walkway, up the steps, and back into the temple. She lingered there still, open book in hand. She shut it firmly when he arrived, and smirked. "Why, back so soon Loki?"
How I want to shut that condescending mouth! "I have need of your assistance."
She looked at him a moment longer with mischievous green eyes before turning to replace her book, reaching upwards toward the bookshelf in such a way that made her tight-fitting skirt cling to her, revealing much intimate knowledge of her figure. She saw his stare, chortled, and swished her long, blonde hair to one side with a shake of her head. "Of course I'll help you erase the bastard girl's memories. It's simple."
He raised an eyebrow. "Is it?" he said, voice filled with sarcasm, not in the least bit surprised that she knew about Balder's whelp.
He sauntered towards him, perky breasts bouncing in her shirt in the process. "It is." As she brushed past him, he caught the scent of flowers. "You just need to have the right skills. Which I do." She picked up a book and glanced back at him, eyes smouldering.
He smirked. "Good. Then let's get to work."
As Amora explained the procedure for the spell, Loki formed a plan in his mind. The girl must be watched. Despite the fact that she was but a half-mortal, she was much too powerful for him to allow her to escape his notice. There was something more to this than Balder had divulged to the rest of Asgard. Why did he not bind her powers long before this? For that matter, why did she only display her amazing abilities at such a late age? Why did her mother not tell her of her parentage, and why would her mother choose to live in a hut in the coldest reaches Midgard when she could have lived with a "god" in Asgard? Balder would never have pursued, nor had a child with, a woman he did not love; it was one of the reasons he was so adored.
The only way to find out the answers to his questions was to observe her and Balder, and perhaps go visit her village on Midgard. The trick would be to escape Heimdall's ever-watchful eye, and find a way to keep Amora far away from it all.
Two guards carried the young woman into the temple after everything was in place. She was truly a child of Balder, beautiful in every aspect, though she probably stood shorter than the vast majority of Asgardians when standing. Through the soft fabric of her dress, he could see an athletic figure toughened by the trials and tribulation of Midgardian living; her feet were hardened into calluses, as were her hands and knees. Her head fell back as the guards clumsily dumped her onto the stone slab in the middle of the room, revealing a nasty set of crooked brown teeth. Loki grimaced. If he were to have done any spell on Balder's daughter, it would be to fix that.
Teeth mattered not in this, however. Amora began the chant and he joined in, feeling the power rising between them with each passing moment. As the spell went on, the connection only increased, until he could see nothing but her eyes, her marvellous, horrible, mystical emerald eyes. A sea of pleasure and possibility flooded his senses; the only thing that mattered were those eyes….
Suddenly, the waters receeded, and the gray of the temple walls filled his vision once more. Amora turned away, gathering the items they had used.
"That's it?" he asked.
"Yes, it was about an hour, Loki," she replied without turning back.
"Really? It felt like-"
"That's the power of the spell. Only a master sorcerer is not taken in by it." She turned back around, a devious smile playing across her lips. "I suppose I we have a lot of work to do."
"I suppose we do, indeed."