Amethystine

Macha (n.):

The Irish goddess associated with war, horses, prophesy and sovereignty.


"Calm your self PITA."

Volla pouted. Her latest nickname stood for "Pain In The Ass". It seemed to stick far better than the others, mostly because Frigga couldn't figure out what this new acronym meant. But when that blissful arctic chill rolled over her flesh she lost all sense of dejection. A bluish glow cast away some of the darkness, illuminating Loki's barely conscious face. The light cast deep purple shadows over moon pale skin under dull green, half-hooded eyes.

This was not the first time this week she had woken him at such an ungodly hour. Volla felt her body begin to cool and she thanked Loki miserably, apologizing profusely for waking him for the fifth time that week.

Gangly legs swung over the side of the bed and she started to run back to her room. Until, of course, slamming face first into a hard barrier, knocking her flat on her butt. A bright green silhouette shimmered away from where her face smooshed against the hard, invisible surface. Volla glared through the darkness at the prince over her shoulder.

Loki could barely contain his excitement; this was his very first force field. And, oh, how well timed it was. "Oh no. Not tonight. We are no longer playing this little game. Though I'm sure we will both miss it terribly." Loki said to Volla, voice dripping with distain for his little ward. The violet-eyed girl pouted defiantly and folded her arms, she wanted to go write in her journal! He ignored her huff of disapproval and bundled himself under blankets, still burning hot from Volla's little coup de chaleur.

When he didn't feel the little weight fall into the side of his bed Loki groaned deeply and reiterated his meaning, this time leaving no room for misinterpretation: "Go. To. Sleep."

Volla wasn't sure what to say, or do, so she curled herself up against the barrier. But soon the heat returned with a vengeance as pain seeped through her muscles, bubbling new blisters and burns to the surface of her skin.

Another frustrated growl vibrated through the air. Loki thrashed about, throwing the blanket off and slapped a hand to Volla's back, picking her up by her pajamas and tossed her onto the bed. She bounced a few times and stared at Loki's ominous shadow that appeared even in pure darkness as he loomed over her. The cooling effect of his presence was instantaneous when he pushed her over to the other side of the bed, bundling her in a blanket to mute the burning scent.

Quickly thereafter she fell into deep sleep, unlike her bedmate.

At 04:59 Loki continued to glare up at the ceiling, still contemplating homicide.

Loki was tired of taking orders from a child. The damn girl was, quite literally, half of his size. And she was horribly needy. So what if she was entirely dependent on him for survival? It wasn't his fault she was born defective. Nature by no means wanted her to live, and that was not his problem.

Volla's 'attacks' were becoming more frequent and rapidly peaked to dangerous levels, sometimes before Frigga could find him. Then the little thing had to live in the burn unit until her seared flesh healed. To avoid becoming the reason she died, he began checking in on her on the hour, every hour.

Instead of falling back asleep like he so desperately wanted, Loki ended up staying awake for much of the early morning, not taking his hand from Volla's little back for even a moment.

...

"Are Midgardians happy?" Volla asked absently as she filed her nails until they were perfectly rounded edges; one of her many time-consuming habits.

Deep honey waves fell in a tumbling mess to the side in a braid. Without hearing an immediate answer from her personal Friggapedia, the girl sighed audibly and heavily then turned back to Sense and Sensibility, dropping the metal file by the wayside as her neck crooked at a disturbing angle against the window frame. A look of frustration was set firmly on her face. She had so many thoughts constantly floating through her mind that she would sometimes write them down to keep track alongside her prophesies. Some of the words that showed up in her notes were somewhat… disturbing.

Frigga smiled wearily as she eyed the book in the girl's hands to measure the danger of answering the question. Sometimes answering Volla was like opening Pandora's Box. Actually, something about Pandora was oddly metaphorical for Volla's persona.

Luckily, Sense and Sensibility was not a particularly revolutionary tale so she felt safe enough answering the little blonde's question, if only to make her stop moping. "I'm not entirely sure, dear. Eons have come and gone since I last visited Midgard."

Volla then jumped off the ledge of her perch and slunk to the ground with a dangerous little grin. She had Frigga right where she wanted her. Holding Sense and Sensibility was a front.

Biting back a worn smile, Frigga watched Volla stumble to the side, windmilling her arms to catch her teetering balance before trotting to the pile of books next to her closet to toss through the pile for something specific. Volla was bright and kind as any young lady, but she was about as graceful as a potato as she grew into pre-pubescence.

"Did you know, some women are not allowed to choose their husbands in Midgard?" Volla began, tricking the queen into a conversation that she really did not want to have. Frigga tried not to look defeated. She had already raised a child with manipulative tendencies, and she was not about to let another get away with it.

Volla pushed on persistently, "They choose their children's fate throughout their entire lives, even before they are born in some Midgardian cultures." Volla watched the queen from the corner of her eye as she dug through the pile of books for a particular item, hoping to spot some kind of reaction.

The queen of Asgard was incredibly talented; she could express so much with just her face. The height of her eyebrow was directly proportional to how far you crossed the line. This time it left Volla disappointed.

With a somewhat bored expression and a teetering stance Volla could tell there was nothing Frigga would rather do than leave her company that very instant. Perhaps she was bothering the queen with her endless query? Or perhaps there were better things to do beyond these four walls than sit and talk philosophy with a little girl. That was certainly it. Sad loneliness pitted a cold knot in her chest.

Centuries of loneliness left her desperate for affection. She found herself craving interactions aside from the conversations she had with herself in her head or the absent (sometimes outright mean) words spoken by Loki. They grew dull as she got older, realizing how utterly insane she seemed having full on point-and-counterpoint arguments with herself on social issues. It was better to hear actual retorts and arguments from people who saw things from another perspective. Volla knew the names and opinions of each and every maid that had ever tended to her.

She was segregated from the general population on Odin's orders. Though she had met many others, she was allowed to go to Loki, Frigga, or Gefjune's rooms regularly without an escort. Odin feared someone stealing her away. Volla never needed to wonder why. It was obvious what an asset she would become once her visions became more controlled. He worried that his people might mistrust him for taking a Muspel into his home, and he also feared someone might take her away. It was easy to see why Volla didn't particularly like Odin. He was not a very warm person, to put it lightly. He was incredibly clinical in their interactions, as if she was just an experimental rat to be used and disposed of once she did her duty.

There was only one person she felt close to, and she was sitting right there; bracing herself for Volla's interrogation.

Blue bruised and torn leather shuffled into view under a few heavy books. Volla smirked with satisfaction and her discordant thoughts melted away. Ahh, there it is.

Frankenstein felt light compared to the silly love story she just chucked over her left shoulder. It made a heavy thunk against the wall by her bed next to the window banquette. After centuries of reading love stories about knights and princes who save the girl from the tower, she knew better than to dream of something so absurd. There was no prince charming. There was no white knight. There was no escape from this tower, or in Volla's case: a lavish room positioned just above the courtyard before the Great Hall's entrance. The only way she left her cage was to try her hand at divination, or to keep from dying by annoying Loki or Frigga. Noble as her attempts were, Odin was left perpetually disappointed after their meetings.

Odin thought Volla a failure compared to her grandmother. She hid her depression from the inquiring ears of Frigga and Gefjune deftly, never speaking her feelings aloud. Instead her journal became the crypt of her deepest thoughts and desires. It was a known fact that Odin used the all-knowing, all-seeing Gatekeeper as Asgard's warden to observe her every move. Frigga told her so as a little girl. Luckily Heimdal either didn't see, or didn't mind the defiant words written in the deep of night when there was nothing but the compositions of crickets to guide her thoughts and writings.

Frigga was concerned at the sneaky way she tried to hide her rebellious thoughts. It was one thing to express one's fears outwardly, it was something else entirely to hide them, allow them to simmer at a low boil until dense and hard and ready to become dangerous in the hands of someone who might actually rebel. Which was why Frigga did her best to listen to the exhausting youth no matter how extensive her questioning became.

Volla held up the turquoise book, running her perfectly trimmed nails along the frayed edges and narrated her thoughts, "This author writes that humans are born barbaric, but others say that they are born good and the way they're raised ruined them." She paused to check Frigga's expression, the auburn queen was affected by her explanation. She continued undeterred, "I don't think anyone is born bad. I think some just want to control others and use their 'nature' as an excuse to do what they like without being forced to reflect on their cruelties." She looked over her shoulder again to the queen who sat at the vanity sewing something, not at all paying attention. Volla's face, and heart, dropped.

It took her days to come up with that theory but only a second's hesitation from the queen to crumble it. In that instant she found her thoughts becoming clipped and confused, was she wrong? Was there some study or research hat had debunked one of her philosophies?

Frigga's hand jumped away from the point of her needle with a self-depreciating sigh. Without looking from her work she commented thoughtfully, "Their intention may not be to control one another, but rather to keep them safe. Humans live notoriously brief lives. Survival is made difficult for their race by illness and war."

It was a relief to know the Queen listened to and considered her theory, if no one could hear her thoughts and opinions then the notebook beside her bed would soon overflow with observations. Frigga always warned her that her theories 'did not matter, not in Asgard.' The careful way she worded her answer sparked Volla's intense obsession with Midgard. She wanted to go there to study the humans and live the way they did. Something about their autonomy was appealing.

Frigga's squared chin was set uneasily, not quivering or moving too overtly at the familiar feeling of exposure under Volla's unbroken gaze. Volla's eyes had this way of penetrating their victim in a way that made them feel raw. It was as though the very fiber of your being was on display for her to pick apart and dissect until there were no secrets left to be had. It was incredibly unnerving.

"Is safety more important than sovereignty?" Volla asked after a long pause in a low voice, not looking up at Frigga. The words seemed to echo endlessly inside of her head, but it was more likely the tall hollow ceilings in her bedroom. These words had been simmering under her skin for nearly a century. It was never a secret how badly Volla wanted to escape, just to run or jump or do anything aside from watch other children her own age play in the courtyard from her window.

It was a secret that Volla believed Asgard to be nothing more than a giant cage to which only Odin has the key. The key was Heimdal. Fear was the ever-present bars of their eternal prison.

Frigga's eyes grew large at the question. It was plain to see what she intended with the question. The little thing was chained and locked away like some enemy, of course she would crave freedom. She wasn't sure what to tell the young girl staring at her with violet eyes. She wanted to explain why Odin needed her to stay safe, but she could also see Volla's point. She was a living thing, not an object. She had needs, emotional needs, ones that couldn't be fulfilled by living each day in a tower. She was an energetic little girl and she needed to run and play with children her own age or she would grow even more resentful of her king. An idea came to mind, but she would have to pass it by Odin before she could act on it.

Tossing the book back on the pile, the Volla stood, pirouetting on thin, sticklike legs to face Frigga's disapproving eyes, set lips and hard immobile jaw. She was ready for whatever reprimand she was about to receive. Volla's mousy blonde braid smacked her in the face. Frigga's reluctant smile fell to hide her humor.

Sweat beaded over Volla's hairline, glistening in the orange light of sundown before falling in short trickling streams down her face causing her already wild hair to raise from the sudden humidity. She gulped hard as the queen's expression changed, her own fear blossomed as she began feeling warm.

No, not just warm. Volla's blood felt hot, far too hot. She needed help. Now.

Volla wobbled as a wave of lethargy fell over her shoulders, settling in her thighs. Her knees nearly gave out but caught herself on the corner of her armoire as it overlooked the scene. Violet eyes dropped half-mast, she was losing the fight against the dark caress of unconsciousness. Her face rushed red from chin to forehead spottily. Breaths came hard as she realized she needed Frigga's help. She reached out as if to grip a wall, plodding gracelessly to the side but remained standing.

Her skull struck the ground with a small bounce before settling against the cool grey tile, which felt crisp and cool on her burning hot skin. Frigga was by her side instantly chanting calming words that sounded as if they were spoken through water. The queen called for the guards.

Volla began tearing at the high collar of her dress with a suffering whine as the fever pitched, drenching her in sweat which made her feel hot and cold at the same time. It felt as if the skin was going to boil loose of her muscle and leave her poached remains there on the ground.

Thousands of images followed, each more painful and disturbing than the last. She tried to keep up, to keep from saying every word aloud like Frigga told her, but to keep the images inside was too hard. They burst forth from her as if she'd been holding them in her whole life and only now could they burn her skin and set themselves free. When the images stopped, Volla dropped to her knees and pitched to the floor. Volla's breath puffed little clouds of steam against the tiles from her small, thin lips, leaving a deeper trail where the granite tarnished brown then black, scorched, before her mind fell into blissful oblivion.

...

"Midgardians must have such exciting lives." Volla mused as if thinking aloud. She kicked her legs over the edge of Loki's veranda, throwing rocks at passers by. They would blame Loki, but it was their own fault for walking past the Trickster's balcony. Her thin lips tightened at the resounding silence she received in response. So she sighed heavily and tried again, "I mean, their lives are so limited; barely a blink in time if you stop to think about it; almost exciting in their brevity. I think I'd like to visit Midgard one day." Volla looked over her shoulder to see Loki not even pretending to listen, mulling over a massive textbook written in a language she couldn't begin to understand. After her last 'attack' Frigga required for Volla to spend virtually every waking moment with Loki. He was not nearly as forgiving of Volla's questions as his mother. In fact, Volla was sure he hated her for her inquisitive nature. She frowned, crestfallen once more, and asked, "Have you ever been there? To Midgard?"

Loki answered monotonously, concentrating on something between his hands on the bronze tiled floor. "Yes many times. Humans are a pathetic sort. Disillusion yourself of the exciting lives you envision."

The purple eyed girl fixated on Loki with a small frown. When Volla had reached the end of early adolescence, leaving behind her days of clear skin and immaturity for sad attempts at being adult with uncoordinated legs and a soft, under exerted body.

Volla was unimpressed with Loki's dull comment. She read everything there was to know about Midgardians and their lives. They were really something else. They had intricate family organizations called villages, or sometimes, if they were large and complex enough, they were called countries. Each so-called country lived under entirely different organizational sects. Then, if plebeian humans did not like their government they were all equal enough in physical strength to overthrow their rulers and begin anew. They had stories of wars that lasted centuries and tales of love that lasted mere moments and imagined exaggerated tales of creatures they had no business knowing about. If Loki was telling the truth, surely there was more to say about these 'pathetic' creatures than he let on.

"What did you do there?" She prodded, looking back to the fading sunlight across the seemingly endless ocean. Brilliant crystalline gold buildings stood a bold colonnade facing the tide. A blonde man was walking below, trailing behind his squadron. Volla tossed a rock at his head but it bounced off without seeming to hit him. Volla leaned her head against the balustrade with another deep frown, letting the marble dig into her forehead. How was she supposed to take her misery out on other people if they didn't even notice when she threw rocks at their heads? The blonde man turned slightly and looked up at her. She curled her legs behind the column and hid, peeking her eyes out to see if he noticed. Her heart thumped once, hard. He was stunning! Even the look of confusion was attractive as his cobalt blue eyes searched the columns for her. If she wasn't sure she was making it up, she might have seen a hint of disappointment in his eye as he continued his march to catch up with the platoon he'd been walking with.

Volla watched the broad warrior go and Loki was silent for a while, still fixated on whatever he was doing.

He really wished she would quit bothering him. This was a matter of life and death! He had to show up Amora. Men of distinction, ones with power beyond comprehension, they were the only kind to impress her. Whenever that high-pitched voice pierced his concentration it set him back another few minutes. Minutes he did not have to spare before class. Maddening as it was, if he didn't yield every once in a while she would continue pestering him about every trivial matter that came to mind until he cracked and lost all of his progress.

Distractedly, he finally answered a vague: "It depends."

Reticence fell over the Volla like a heavy wool blanket, too warm and a little irritating. Volla was beginning to wonder if she was better off just staying in her room rather than waste her time trying to converse with such an unwilling participant. There were a few books she wanted to get through before the week ended…

"You read too many fantasy novels." He accused after a few more minutes doused in silence, smirking at whatever was happening in the green glow of his hands.

Volla ignored his disinterested tone, knowing he intended to make her upset. It was his favorite way of handling their arrangement. He knew exactly what buttons to push and when.

But, Volla knew the same strategy, "I read whatever your mother brings. She must find Midgard worth her attention."

Loki narrowed his eyes and tried not to look at the girl. Volla smiled victoriously, but muted it by biting her lip when her green-eyed captor said condescendingly, "Any connection between your reality and my mother's is purely coincidental."

Volla stared at him a moment as something solid appeared in his hands. It vanished almost instantly.

Violet eyes widened, entirely amazed by what took place under her watch. "What was that?"

Loki looked up with arrogant triumph and gave her jazz hands with a snarky smile, reveling in the young girl's amazed expression. "Magic."

...

Frigga was proud to have convinced Odin to set Volla free. She had never once harmed Asgard in her 500 year stay and finally he was beginning to trust that she would not overthrow him or leave his realm in a fog of ash and fire.

Trickling of water in the garden and the echolalia of shoes against tile seemed to irritate her raw senses after having her mind assaulted the way it was this morning. Every sense was startlingly intense. Volla tightened her hold on her pale violet shawl and bunched it over her ears to muffle the noise as they walked.

"Now, Loki is in class so you need not worry about that. If you sense a burning state coming on, call for either of us. One of us will answer, I promise." The auburn woman winked with a half smile. Volla caught the sense that Frigga knew she wanted to be alone. Before disappearing into green pixilated air Volla managed a broad, thanking grin.

For the first time in her life Volla was alone outside of the palace tower.

A whinny pealed out through the hollow building.

Like everywhere else in Asgard their stable had high ceilings and ostentatious brass frames to each stall that displayed a name. Taking one gloved hand, she slid it against the openings of each stall until she came to the other end of the breezeway where there was a partially enclosed pasture to the left. A herd of foals danced in the sweltering afternoon heat. Some of them noticed their new observer and were skittishly curious to explore.

A chestnut colt watched her wearily with his head lowered while a white one shoved his head through the bronze beams of the paddock into Volla's awaiting hands.

Tenderly stroking the velveteen muzzle of that colt had a perfect calming effect. Volla felt like a prisoner most days. No matter where she was, or what she was doing, there was always someone listening, hearing, seeing everything she did. It made her afraid to use the bathroom.

But this small horse, right here, right now: he was not spying on her. He and the pretty chestnut were enough to calm her wild senses.

This was an area just beyond the main courtyards. Frigga must have felt keeping her out of sight would be for the best and the company of other living creatures might dispel the loneliness. She was right. It was amazing how well she knew Volla.

Somehow this open area made her feel something she had never experienced before. A freedom she never knew. It smelled like freshly cut grass and the last warm days of summer.

The bronze colt was taking tentative, unsure steps toward her while the others squirmed and kicked up with high pitched squeaks and squeals as they searched Volla's long wine colored sleeved for snacks.

A giggle bubbled up from her lips. It was cut short when she looked beyond the far fence and came to an almost unbearable realization.

Oh, the irony of an Asgardian pasture.

Buildings and fountains surrounded the pasture on every side. They seemed to crowd the place, leaving it without the freedom she thought she had tasted. Perhaps she was never meant to know that particular flavor.

Volla's whole body deflated and sadly placed a gloved hand over the chestnut colt's muzzle, which seemed to dispel some of the gloom.

Volla disagreed with Asgard. Its entire existence seemed to be an oxymoron. Asgard was 'The Realm Eternal' with the most just and mild mannered creatures of the nine realms. Or so they liked to tell themselves. Yet somehow they were all roped and chained into an authoritarian dictatorship.

Odin held all of the power. No one could stand against him. Even to think of standing against him was treason. Volla read in one of her Midgardian books about 'thought police'. To her this was a very real fear. Her mind had always felt a little safer than verbal articulations. She carefully chose the words she said aloud. Heimdal, The Gatekeeper of the Bifrost, was said to hear every word of every living creature. She was grateful that if he could hear her thoughts that he did not make them known to Frigga or the Allfather.

For a large number of years Volla tried hating Frigga, but it was quite literally impossible. Even Loki, Loki for mercy's sake, adored the Queen. The woman was just too damn wonderful.

Odin was easy to hate.

The chestnut leaned into Volla's warm caress with his brassy nose and breathed into her gloved hands. The gray and bay both had their heads extended around the fencing to nibble at the shawl over her shoulders.

Unless the horses learned to speak, there was no one around to tattle, so Volla lifted one leg over the first rung of the fence, then straddled the metal bar before ducking low under the second, bashing the back of her skull against it on the way up. With her hands rubbing the lump with a grimace, she popped up on the other side.

The small herd of young horses eyeballed Volla to decide whether or not she was a threat. The chestnut colt must have seen something he liked because he came first, bounding over with gangly, broken strides as if high stepping through mud. Another gust billowed over the loose violet shawl and twisted Volla's wavy hair. The chestnut's mohawk blew stiffly. The colt's shoulder stood as high as Volla's, and he was the smallest of the group with some growing to do.

"Tomorrow I will bring you treats, would you like that?" She muttered through a pleased smile as she scrubbed her chestnut's neck and withers. She didn't care that she looked insane speaking to animals. For the first time in her life she didn't have to worry about what she said to them. She didn't have to worry about being tricked into cutting off all of her hair, or washing her face with dye, or being misguided into Sif's room. Volla pouted at the painful memory. It was a wonder how a person could walk so unwittingly into Loki's illusions.

But for now she just enjoyed a gentle breeze and the smell of something aside from books. For the first time in a long while, she was alone with her thoughts. And there was something just so relaxing about that. Here she was free of judgement.

And free to plan her revolution.

...

"You're doing that wrong."

Loki froze. Green eyes darted about the grooming stall without moving a muscle. Had he been caught? There was so little time; he would never be able to finish this before being towed away to face his father. The young man gulped and slipped into his most innocuous smile and turned around with just enough innocent bashfulness to fool anyone.

But there was no one.

Loki's brows knit together and came to the unsettling conclusion that his paranoia was now personified by Volla's irritating voice.

He returned to the horse's saddle and continued cutting the leather strap with a dagger until it was threadbare. A grin of satisfaction appeared. Thor was simply no match.

Normally he let his brother get away with his endless avalanche of affronts, but not this one. Loki made it abundantly clear to anyone who would listen that he raised and trained this horse himself. And yet, as always, Thor managed to steal away Loki's pride by choosing Hiti as his mount. Loki was sure his brother would be easily deterred. In the case of decisions such as this, if something did not work the first time Thor tended to give up to find something more suitable. After throwing a merciless fit, of course. Falling to the dirt before his comrades would make quite a statement.

"I'm telling you, you are going about this all wrong."

Loki's nerves jolted. That annoying voice came again, this time from the other side of the horse. Loki could see a pair of tall black boots from beneath Hiti's slack rounded belly. He couldn't run without making a scene, so he quickly hid his work with an illusionary incantation just as a willowy girl popped her head around the horses rump, hand safely petting above the animal's brassy tail.

Lips pulled into a cautionary frown, Volla warned, "Thor will hurt him if you do it this way."

Loki glanced quickly to the colt then back to Volla, who for some reason seemed to think the God of Mischief needed advice on his namesake.

His left brow rose condescendingly, but before he could retort something snide, Volla clarified, "When the leathers snap, Thor will fall. Congratulations, Thor will be horribly embarrassed. But since he will not be able to see the broken strap, and because he is a total boob, he will assume his horse dropped him out of aggression. He will blame Hiti rather than his own poor horsemanship, which will have rather unfortunate consequences for Hiti considering how immature Thor can be with his injured pride."

Loki narrowed his eyes at Volla, who narrowed hers right back. Volla had always been a pain, but she had never shared one of her visions with him before. A fake grin lifted the corners of his lips. Something about her was different ever since Frigga granted her the freedom to roam Asgard. She was a little taller definitely thinner, uncomfortably so. Perhaps she is ill, he wondered absently. Her face had lost the soft roundness it once possessed leaving her jaw sharp and eye sockets round, leading to a thin nose and small, thin lips. She looked avian, in a sense; reptilian in another. He was somewhat perturbed that he hadn't noticed these changes sooner.

Laying a hand over the animal's tall whither, Loki corrected one thing: "Mine." Volla cocked a thin eyebrow at Loki. "Hiti is mine. You referred to him Thor's." Loki repeated more firmly. He was never one to share ownership. Volla hid her laughing smile poorly.

The young blonde took a step forward, maintaining the minutely raised eyebrow above one curiously bright violet eye. Loki slowly retreated away to the colt's front where Hiti gently whiffed at Loki's unruly black hair. The back had decided to frizz up in the early morning fog. Ahh, Loki's endless struggle with frizz was such a sight to behold in the morning.

Rolling her eyes, Volla used air quotes and a snide tone, "Alright, 'your' horse. Better?" Scrubbing her nails into the colts shiny golden auburn shoulder she explained her position more thoroughly, "Thor's riding style is too harsh for Hiti, he'll only hurt the poor thing. Yours is better suited for him." She trailed off with a slowly tightening expression. He recognized that expression of pain, but didn't stop her as she turned to disappear into the breezeway.

But then, realizing the danger of letting someone live after witnessing his plan, he grabbed the back of Volla's maroon lace collar and jerked her back, carefully not to touch her skin. "Death will be swift and painful if you ever speak of this." He threatened into her ear.

Volla twisted around and gave him the most dramatically unimpressed expression he had ever encountered. That said a lot considering he looked at himself in the mirror every morning.

"Shall I rue the day I crossed Loki Odinson?" She turned towards him and knocked a fist lightly to his armored chest, smirking. "Modify your mischievous schemes and I will consider your threat more thoroughly."

Loki's finger slid around the rim of her collar to the base of her throat. There his fist tightened around the fabric, twisting them into a close proximity. He expected her to try and escape. But she didn't. She didn't move, not even slightly. Then it was a battle of wills. Who would grow uncomfortable first? He watched the confidence in her eyes whither away.

Feeding off of this information his grip tightened more as a further threat. "No. You will obey. Otherwise I shall be forced to kill you." Loki grinned at the unrealistic warning then added with a sigh, "What a shame it would be to lose yet another seeress."

The girl scoffed, then quieted quickly and leaned away from Loki's tight grip. She was only successful in choking herself audibly before replying, "Odin would sorely miss me, perhaps even go to war if you placed my body properly. Have at it if such a prospect is so enticing." She shrugged, which caused her to choke again.

Loki glared at the messy, curly, blonde braid with bits of hay jutting randomly that fell beside the collar he was clutching. Her thin lips tightened into a line and glared back at him. Loki thought in silence for a while, unconsciously releasing his hold on her. Volla was different. Something about her was vibrant, violent almost.

Strangely crystalline violet eyes jumped away, leaping from the colt's withers to the hayloft above then the ground.

He loomed over her, making her feel small as his eyes openly trailed over her face. She gulped and he smiled in a way that made her stomach twist into knots. He noticed this and took advantage, "Our seeress is a timid little girl, not what I see before me now."

The alluded compliment warmed the apples of her cheeks, but she refused to give in to him. Those green eyes were set in a way that she would recognize anywhere. She had seen him use them (failingly) on Amora thousands of times. Though, now she could understand how so many had fallen for that hypnotizing gaze. She hoped he could not read her mind, because he would have a whole lot of new ammunition to ruin her life. His high cheekbones were pale in color but it only brought out the animation of the verdant eyes that now searched her face, even dropping to her lips once. She felt her face threaten to warm up again, so she bit her lip until it hurt to distract herself. He observed her quietly in an unsettling way.

Then Loki oh-so-thoughtfully pointed out, "I also recall that our last functioning seeress was stolen by a dragon. And you possess neither scales nor wings." He flipped a hand out before him to indicate her bodily form, "I am delighted to inform your blind self that you are, in fact, not a dragon." A big fake smile appeared on his thin lips, causing them to almost disappear. "Happy days."

Volla rolled her eyes, "Happy days indeed." She gently moved out of his reach toward the gorgeous animal to her left, the shrinking motion looked natural enough. "More importantly, I assure you that Thor will have Hiti harmed if you go through with this trick." Volla shifted her weight until she was leaning on soft chestnut hair and began stroking softly with feminine little hands. "Such a waste of time. Think of all the training you've done to mold him into the perfect steed only for Thor to ruin him at the very last moment." She sighed an exaggerated sigh and smirked up at the big horse who now turned to look at her with one amber eye.

The strange amethyst eyes that sat deep in Volla's skull grew absent and her body stiffened once more, this time it was not due to Loki's intimidating presence. A vision suddenly overtook her sight. Pale faced and mechanical, she turned and strode away quickly, just barely slow enough to be considered a walking pace.

Loki was not sure what to make of the entirely bizarre end to their interaction. But he did heed the warning. If Thor killed, hurt or maimed Hiti in any way there wouldn't be a rock or cave for Thor to hide from Loki's wrath. Loki used another spell to rebind the leather straps, even securing them a little better than before, and made himself scarce in the hayloft until his brother could arrive with the party.

Tiny dust particles danced and floated before Loki's eyes. He frowned. Black may have been a bad choice for today. Streaking a finger over one black leather clad arm his eyebrows sunk heavily. A thin veil of light brown dust had fallen all over him. Even his hair looked slightly off color. He hoped that the morning mist would dampen the dusty barn enough that he would not need to bathe again, but he had the feeling he already lost that particular war.

"Soap is a friend, you should try it."

Loki's body stopped all motion. Volla was suddenly sitting beside him with a mildly amused expression.

Just before he could tell her to get lost she smirked and added, "You always seem so tough from a distance. Up close you're startled by everything. I suppose that is why you keep everyone at arm's length."

Volla felt like walking on needles, she was in for a world of hurt if she did not tread lightly. She was poking the monster and she loved it.

"I am not scared of anything, Pita." Loki's eyes narrowed, searching the finely dressed young woman. Before she had worn a lacy maroon shirt and brown tights, now she wore a tight lace sleeved, pale violet dress that ran up her neck and pooled like water over the edge of the wooden loft. She shifted one leg under her hips, moving slightly closer in the action. He naturally shifted away, feeling horribly crowded by her presence.

"You are enormously jittery today!" She eyed his reaction with a grin. "Prince Loki, are you afraid of me?"

"Again, I'm not afraid of anything you little-" he was quick to halt the insult when he noticed Volla's expectant little smile. Loki hated doing the expected, so he took a different approach. He decided to be honest. "I just," he stumbled wordlessly the lifted a few fingers to his temple, "I have a headache today."

Volla's deadpan expression told him she wasn't buying what he was selling. "Ah, yes, headaches. The silent killers of all things courageous." Volla teased before slipping over the edge of the wooden loft, lowering until only the little dots of her fingertips were visible. Then she dropped with a hushed plop.

Loki leaned nonchalantly over the side to see where she had gone off to, but she was already gone.

The morning was slow, Loki read through two of his assigned books in three hours. Needless to say, he was impressed with himself.

Thor, Sif and the others would be there shortly if the busy state of the stable was any indicator. He watched the beehive of commotion from above, wondering what it would be like to see these people rushing to appease him for once. Thor was the one they all concerned themselves with. Mostly because Loki was actually appreciative of what others did for him. Thor was not so gracious, so they feared the repercussions. But it was not Loki's job to reprimand that oversized man-child.

"Volla! There you are!"

Loki heard the familiar alto of his mother and peeked over the edge of his perch to see.

"I've been searching all morning. If you are trying to cause me gray hairs you have certainly succeeded. Now where are your boots? Or have you changed your mind about riding for Thor's ceremony? You fought my son so hard over it I thought you'd already be mounted to ensure your victory."

The rage he felt was as powerful as it was instantaneous.

She spoke with a graceful little curtsy and a humored smile, "I believe Loki would be overjoyed to ride his colt in my place."

If Loki wasn't sure he was imagining things, he would have sworn that Volla had winked up at him.


A/N: I hope you're liking it so far. So, my general thoughts are that she went from around 5, to 9, to 14, to about 16 looking over the course of this chapter. I hope I conveyed that well, because I'm not sure if I did. Let me know what you think!

Thank you to my first reviewer and to my first follower!