Dark tendrils of hair clung to the woman's face as heavy beads of sweat and blood dribbled down her face; her chest heaved as she stood, breathless and trying to catch her voice so she could signal to others her arrival. The tattoos curled tighter around her, it seemed, her magic depleted so far that even the natural shine and light of her eyes dimmed to a dull, yellowish grey, and her already pale, icy blue skin appeared to hold a pinkish hue, the blood dragged to the surface so far that even the blue was leaking from her.
Minutes passed, and the cold seeped further into the woman, her strength slowly returning, eyes brightening with a catlike gleam to them, eager and cunning. Feline teeth shone as she grinned, calling out to those she knew lay hidden in shelter; before long, heads peered around corners and over rocks, each woman and child almost white with fear.
"I return." Her voice like silk and gravel both at once, savage and refined together, the woman stood proud and exposed in the snowdrifts. After a headcount - making sure no child had wandered from their mother or sister in the great battle which consumed and almost destroyed their clan - she leapt clumsily forward, half stumbling as she ran to the crowd of family and friends.
Little boys sprinted to her, cheering and giggling happily, "You came back! What happened? Tell us stories, like the last time!" They were old enough to speak, but no so much to understand the taboo of what she'd done... It broke her heart, to see such hope, only for others to crush it swiftly with black looks from other women.
"Oleg, Nari; I'll tell you all of the stories tonight, if you do one little thing for me, okay boys? You have to keep this secret! It's a little game, the one who tells anyone about this first loses, and I'll not be your friend any more, okay? Now then, little ones, go back to your mother, she's getting worried. I'll see you later!"
Of course, the men were not here yet, they would have never permitted a mere girl to fight for them, to humiliate them! The Jötuns were a proud, masculine race, whose hearts were filled with naught but black, boiling hatred for those in Asgard who oppressed them so; they were not about to allow a weak young lady to fight alongside them. A woman was only fit for bearing more children, an heir was all they were needed for. Kept and bred like cattle, the women often lived in fear of their husbands...
Even she, who was so brave to fight by unknowing kin, held a deep seated fear for men, whether Jötun or otherwise. Beaten and broken into submission from such a young and impressionable age would do that; it would break a girl's spirit. It was why she went to war and played her own hands in battle, the only way for her to be free was to fight in fear of her father, her fiancé, her owners discovering such a disrespectful, disgusting thing. But they would not find her, she was sure...
Until this night.
That one she had fought for so long; the slender one with piercing, gemstone eyes and a wicked, tempting smile. He had bled her near dry. Shallow gashes and deeper slices were clear on her face alone... She could barely hide from them all... No running could help her against them...
"Eira, you runt!" Snarling and furious, her father stormed through the gathering, knocking any who got in his way, pregnant woman, small children, even the elderly fell as the furious Jötun forced his way through them all, only to grab Eira by the throat and hold her still; "you are banished. I take you from this land, as your father I can will this upon you. You are banished, lest you prove worthy. You useless, disgusting little runt! I should have killed you at birth, to disgrace our clan name! I saw you running, you stupid little girl!"
Freedom had been granted.
Suddenly the weight of the nine realms had been lifted from her weary shoulders. Banished? What did she care, so long as her bruising and scars would from this moment henceforth be battle wounds, instead of abuse from her own blood. Choked laughter erupted from her squeezed throat, shocking everyone; even herself. Eira was free from all of the burdens he had laid upon her...
"Actually, I thought of something better for you... There is a way for you to redeem yourself... Otherwise, we will have you killed. You must kill the family ruling Asgard. Odin's blood must perish for you to return, or so much as survive, do you understand me, you worthless little wretch?" The fear returned with a vengeance... Death would be her punishment if she didn't kill the family of Odin...
Clawing to be free, Eira felt a warm, tingling, painful sensation rise through her face and up her nose; hot tears joined the caked on blood from her fight as she sobbed loudly, begging for her freedom. "Banish me! Banish me! Curse me to Muspellheimr! I cannot defeat an entire family! I am-"
More liquid down her face, but this time she barely had time to register as darkness enveloped the tear stained, blood caked young woman...
Loki's vision was crimson in rage; he had little idea of what to do. How had a woman – one from that realm – been so close to defeating him? How had he allowed himself to... The picture of the savage, beautiful woman appeared behind the lids of his eyes whenever he closed them, her skin and amber eyes, full of something he'd never seen before...
The trickster paced back and forth in his chambers, wondering far more how he had come across the woman in battle; how she had been permitted to fight was even more perplexing. With each question he raised inside his own mind, he chafed to learn, he itched to know what the answers were. Emerald eyes repeatedly glanced to the mask and its frightening, unique, hideous structure as he thought of her, and before long the face was forgotten, replaced by that screaming demon which had shrouded her features until the end.
Blood had dried onto Loki's skin by the time he managed to fight back the thought of his mysterious she-wolf fighter. His ebony hair hung in thick clumps, held together by the same crimson liquid which had patterned his face in freckles and smears. He needed to clean himself before the stench of iron and sweat took hold of his flesh; and so he bathed in fresh, cool water. Upon sinking his tender, naked form into the water, a breath of air gasped out of him, his eyes closed and screwed together as fresh wounds were cleansed in the bathwater. The liquid ran with a bloody colour, the longer he stayed in; whatever blood had dried now floated in chunks in the water. It was disgusting, but necessary to clean himself however he could. Twice he drained the tub to refill it with fresher, cleaner, cooler water to bathe again, only to have the tub take a reddish hue once more.
Long, he lay in the water, rubbing his skin with soap; hissing with the stinging sensation it brought upon his injured body. Lower he sank into the bath, listening to mutterings and giggling outside the doors as servants scurried past, chattering incessantly about their days, and how Olaf and Johanna were caught in the stables doing things they shouldn't have, or how so-and-so's child had finally become a man, etcetera, etcetera...
"Did you hear about the girl they found? On the Bifrost!" A young woman gasped, standing outside the doors to where the god of mischief lay; she was speaking to another, her friend returned the gasp with renewed force.
"What do you mean, the girl?"
"Oh, wait until I tell you! She was found
nakedon the Bifrost! The woman was completely naked! Oh, but the men don't mind, no, not at all! Poor lady was brought back here, they think she's a noblewoman! How embarrassing! Oh she's gorgeous though, I saw her when they started carrying her back to the palace! She's resting here somewhere. I wonder what she... " The voices started to fade as they began to walk away, still nattering away about it, the first one only being interrupted occasionally for feedback like "what does she look like?", "really?" and "oh how awful!".