A/N: Well, this was a particularly difficult to write. I debated back and forth to decide whether I was going to include the events that unfold in the latter part of the chapter. Everything is happen very quickly for Halla and Loki, and there is still a lot of ground to cover before the story draws to a close. Or at least, this part of their story.

UPDATE: Just a few changes to this chapter, nothing big, added in a sentence or two about Loki instructing her in magic and Halla's suspicions of Amora (but is she right?).

BTW- BIG shout out and thank you to you guys, the readers! If you can find the time to send in a quick review, please do! I really would like to see some constructive feedback.

And now, our story continues….

PART ONE

Even he was surprised he had got her to jump. The girl, scared out of her wits, protested strongly when he told her the plan, crossing her arms and even raising her voice slightly to tell him of the supposed ridiculousness of his solution. She calmed down almost immediately, though he wished she hadn't. There was something almost quaint about her ignorance of the true order of the universe, and the forceful way in which she made it evident. Refreshing.

She was wrong, however, and he was right. As they took the leap, he could feel a strange whirling sensation, similar to that which he experienced when he travelled on the Bifrost, that told him they were passing through to another realm. It felt different from the other two times they had "switched worlds," and in a matter of moments, his hopes were realized.

Focusing his energy once again, he called upon the scarce elements he could grasp, and let it burst out of him in the void, air, water, fire, and earth all in one. He heard a sort of scream, though the sound was not of any living being he had come across.

Black swirling mists turned into blindingly sharp light, then light turned into scorched ceiling stones. He leapt up from where he had been knocked unconscious on the ground, head spinning and fighting for concentration. He tried to pull the same trick he had just performed in the vortex, but then, it didn't seem necessary.

The thing was convulsing in midair, screeching and reeling in pain. It glared at him with its red eyes, tried to grab at him with its clawed hand, before collapsing and then, like a wisp of smoke, dissipated, leaving nothing in its wake.

"Damn it!" he yelled, kicking a nearby stool. He seethed in anger for a moment before remembering that he had been travelling with a young half-mortal woman. She was there, right behind him, struggling to get up.

He offered her a hand, which she took. "What…what was that?" she said, eyes wide and focused on the place where the shadow beast had been.

"I have no idea," he admitted, as the footsteps of the guards became louder. Five of them rushed down the staircase, into the room, and seized Halla.

She cried out in pain as the guard wrenched her shoulder back; he could her a snap. "What doing you think you're doing, you fools? She's done nothing wrong!"

"We were told-"

"Whatever it was, it is clearly false, even you should be able to see that she is no beast! That beast is dead! Go! Now!" he yelled in his most ominous tone. The idiots looked at each other with blank eyes, shrugged, bowed, and stalked off. Halla was back down on the floor, crying, cradling her left shoulder.

He knelt down next to her, and, drawing up what energy he could, healed the torn ligament. Her head snapped up, and they watched as the green light emanating from his hand did its work.

The twisting, glowing green spirals wrapped themselves around her shoulder and formed a sort of blanket over it. The tension in her body gradually faded as his magic healed her. Confident that she was alright, he gently pulled back his hand and flicked away the last of the green tendrils with a twirl of the hand. "Is that better?"

She smiled broadly up at him. "Y-yes! I don't know how to-"

He held up a hand. "I think we've both been through enough-"

A deep, angry voice rang out just then. "Loki! What are you doing to my daughter?"

Sighing, Loki stood and turned to face his favourite person. He smiled. "Oh, hello, Balder. Since you asked, we just-"

The Lord of Light shoved Loki off to the side and bent down to inspect his progeny. As he grabbed her by the shoulders and took stock of her appearance, he saw the girl frown and wince slightly. "Are you alright, Halla?"

So they aren't best of friends. That would explain why she's always with Sif instead of him. All the better for me. "Yes, I'm fine now-"

"What did he do to you?" Balder growled.

She shot him an indignant look. "He? The Prince didn't do anything, father! He saved me! He saved both of us!"

Balder glared at him, bright blue eyes darkening. "I believe the trial he put you through was of his own making."

Fury welled up inside him, but instead Loki chuckled. "Oh, you believe so, do you? What purpose would I have-"

Balder waved a hand at him. "Enough! Leave my sight."

The anger nearly boiled over. "Pardon? This is not your-"

"Leave!"

"Father!" a strong, female voice rang out, silencing both of them. "Do not presume to speak in such a way to your future king, who has indeed just saved us both from a veritable demon! You should make amends."

Halla's bright eyes were alight with rage, from more than just her father's transgression, he guessed. Balder's mouth dropped open, eyes wide in disbelief.

Loki started to laugh. "Oh my dear, you have just made me laugh harder than I have in quite some time! For that, I should reward you!"

Balder stood and glared at Loki from his greater height, eyes alight with feebly controlled rage. "I warn you, trickster, stay away from my daughter." He stared at him for a moment more before striding out of the room.

Loki bent forward and sneered at his back, wishing he could grab a sword and stick it through Balder's superior little heart and twist till he ran red with blood.

"Please, let me apologize for him," came Halla's slightly frantic voice from behind.

Loki grimaced. "You should not apologize for that dense oaf. He would think it beneath you, and we wouldn't want to get you into trouble with Father, now would we?" He stalked off to the staircase, to go to his father, who he was sure waited for him. "I will tell the Allfather you are resting, but someone will come to get you soon to take you to him, so that you may tell your side of events. Take that time to gather your strength," he called to her.

"Wait!" She ran towards him, pretty blue eyes determined. "Thank you for saving me. I am in your debt." She smiled earnestly, something he did not often see directed towards him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't let your father hear you say that."

PART TWO

"Again!"

Sif tossed the sword at her, and Halla caught it gracefully with one hand. She was getting better at this. The dark-haired beauty across from her had noticed it too. "Your skill at arms grows every day, Lady Halla. You have made me proud."

She bowed her head slightly. "Thank you, Lady Sif, but I am no lady," said Halla as she prepared for Sif's attack. Bringing herself into a strong stance, she balanced the sword in her grip. The weight of the blade had always made her feel powerful, made her forget her status as a sinful woman amongst the villagers. It made her feel good.

Sif was grinning; Halla decided to wipe it off her face.

In a flurry of movement, the two women clashed, steel ringing out sharply with each blow. Every time Halla would gain a modicum of ground, Sif would retake it and advance on her threefold. Soon, Halla had to defend herself vigorously as blow after blow rained down on her, until suddenly she lay flat on the ground, her blade the only thing protecting her neck from the goddess of war.

Sif smirked and drew back her sword. "You still have much to-"

In a flash, Halla sprang up and brought the point of her sword to her enemy's neck. Sif's jaw dropped for a moment, before a broad smile broke out on her face and she laughed in earnest. "You have listened well, Halla. Always keep your eye on the enemy and never let your guard down."

It was Halla's turn to draw back her weapon. Sif gestured to the stone wall enclosing the field in which they practiced daily, and the two women sat down opposite each other, armour clanking as they did so. Halla pulled her hair out from its secure bun and began to un-braid it, feeling the tension from its tightness dissipate.

Sif was watching her. "For a Midgardian, you are quite adept. Where did you learn your swordsmanship?" she asked with a slight grin.

Halla's breath caught. Her father's soft blue eyes and deep voice came back to her, large hands gripping the pommel of his old yet deftly made broadsword. It had seen many battles, yet seemed all the stronger for it, as had her father.

"Now, raise it up, and slash," was his common command, which he demonstrated to her by lifting his blade high and then swiftly bringing back down to slice open the poor vegetable he had chosen to represent a person's head.

Halla had clumsily done the same many times, only just nicking the end of hers most of the time. Still, her father had always smiled before shouting "Again!" just as Sif had. Eventually, she had mastered the skill, and many others.

"I am sorry to speak of something that upsets you so-" Sif was saying.

"No! No, I was lost in thought. I learned from my father."

"He must have been a great warrior."

"He was." Halla could sense the tears were coming again, and turned her head to take care of them quickly, fidgeting with a piece of armour to disguise her action.

When she turned back, the warrior seemed not to have noticed. Her eyes squinted. "Though I thought women were not allowed to take up arms on Midgard."

"Well, normally, they are not. The town priest, Old Snorri, we called him, constantly badgered my parents about raising me correctly."

"What is correct?" Sif spat as she said the word.

Halla smiled. This is why she likes me. We are of a similar mind regarding these subjects. "He meant being feminine. Obeying. Obeying your parents, especially your father, and as you get older, obeying your husband in all matters, and taking care of his children."

Sif looked as if she would be sick. "Parents, I can understand perfectly, but I could never blindly obey a man. Never!"

Halla smiled. "You sound like my mother."

"Then your mother was a smart woman." The warrior goddess cocked her head slightly, her bright eyes suddenly alight with interest. "Tell me, my lady Halla, do you have someone of your own back on Midgard? Someone you are expected to obey?"

"You mean…a romantic someone?" Sif nodded. "Well…no. I have, in the past, but…."

She smirked. "It did not end well. I understand."

"He died."

Sif froze. "I am sorry, Lady Halla."

"He would never have expected me to obey," she continued, fearful that her love should be maligned in Sif's eyes. "He respected my ways, as his were not so different from mine." She smiled, remembering her Roman love's tanned skin and dark, curly hair, contrasting so beautifully with her own light features. We were so close, so close to freedom.

"We were outcasts, as were our families. We believed in the gods of old, as our ancestors did. We did not accept the bleak teachings of the White Christ. His own father had been burned as a heretic by the Church of Rome, where he was from."

Sif's face looked set in stone. Halla smiled. "I am sorry, Sif, I am blathering on about love when I should be focusing on the arts of war."

"Do not let love get the best of you, Halla," she said. "It is not in itself evil, but…I have seen the way you look at him."

Halla started. "Look at who?"

"The Prince." Her mouth was set in a firm line.

"You mean…Loki?" She laughed, only vaguely aware of the possibility that there was fluttering in her stomach at the mention of his name. He had taken it upon himself to continue her instruction in the magical arts. She progressed quickly, according to him, though she still thought her sword the best method of protection. "You misunderstand, he is merely-"

"Do not lie to my face, Halla. I can see the way you look at him." She sighed. "If this is lust, satisfy it soon, lest it become more than it is. If it is something more…promise me you will stay away from him."

Halla looked down at the little tufts of green grass springing up from beneath the wall. She brushed them over lightly with her foot, considering Sif's words. This was not the first time she had been so warned. "I cannot do that, Sif. Despite what you think, he is my friend, and…it would not be honourable to abandon him based on the wishes of others." She raised her head to wait for the goddess's response.

Sif shook her head. "I wish you had said otherwise, though it is not my decision to make. You have given me an honest answer. That I can respect." She inclined her head.

"Thank you, my lady Sif."

In the distance, Halla saw a tall, blonde figure moving towards them, and saw that it was Thor. She grimaced.

"Thor's coming," she said.

Sif's eyebrows shot up, and she stood immediately. Thor, who was now only a few paces away from them, gave a broad smile. "Sif, my friend! How are you on this fine day?"

She smiled. "I am very well, thank you. I was training with Halla." Halla smirked. Take your own advice, Sif.

Thor turned to her. "Good day, Lady Halla! How fare you?"

"Well, thank you," she said coldly.

Sif shot her a look before continuing. "We were practicing at swordplay. Halla has improved muchly. I am very impressed by her skills."

Thor smiled. "I am sure Lady Sif has been instructing you well, Halla. Have you been enjoying your time with us in Asgard?"

She looked at him suspiciously. "Yes."

"Has Loki been showing you the wonders we have to offer?" He smirked, blue eyes lighting up in jest.

"I suppose, though we haven't spent much time together."

"Oh, I think not! Nearly every time I see him, you are there as well."

Yes, and every time I see you, you make another ill-conceived jibe at Loki's expense and treat him as if he were of no importance. "I suppose that has been so."

Sif was glaring at her, green eyes wide. "I advised her to spend time with some others, in addition to your brother."

Thor glanced at Sif quickly. "Yes, I would be careful around my brother, Lady Halla. He is a trickster, and does things that hurt others, though he doesn't mean it." Sif rolled her eyes. "Also he is married," Thor finished quickly.

Both Sif and Halla started. "What?" Halla said, indignant. "Nothing of that sort is going on between-"

"I'm sorry, I have not meant to cause offense-"

Just then a voice rang out, deep and clear. "Have I stumbled upon a private gathering, or is my presence allowable in this instance?"

Through the trees surrounding the practice area came Loki with an arrogant smile upon his lips. He came to the wall and stopped.

"Brother," he said. His smile widened as he turned to Sif. "Lady Sif." The goddess frowned and gave him a cool glare.

He then turned to Halla, and his smile changed into one of genuine happiness. "Good day, Halla. I thought you would be with your father at this time of day."

"He is preoccupied," she lied.

"Well, all the better. Would you care to walk with me?" He proffered an arm, which she happily accepted, and helped her over the wall. Both of them shared a mischievous grin, knowing full well the thoughts of the two they left behind. Saying her goodbyes, Halla walked with Loki back to the treeline.

"Are you truly enjoying your time here, Halla?" he asked.

"So you were eavesdropping!"

"I like to think of it more as…the gathering of useful information. Particularly when what's being said pertains directly to me."

"You know I don't-"

"Of course. Thank you for saying what you did. Not many people would."

"I just…if they have a problem with your behaviour, they should address it to you directly, not your friend. It isn't honourable."

He chuckled. "They have, my dear. Have no fear of that." He took a sharp intake of breath. "Though…I wouldn't want you to sacrifice your newfound friends for my sake."

Well, that wasn't a very good lie. "Yes you would. And if they are indeed my friends, then they will accept whomever I choose to-"

Before she could finish her thought, shouts rang out from behind them.

There it was. The black thing. And it was attacking Sif and Thor.

She bolted into a swift run, drawing her blade even though she knew it would have no effect. She lept over the wall and joined her comrades.

Sif and Thor had been reduced to merely dodging the attacks, though were quickly losing ground. Halla could feel the magic rising up inside her, threatening to take control. She gripped her sword tighter, attempting to control it as Loki had instructed her to do.

Suddenly, Loki's form appeared beside her. He stepped in front of her, said something she couldn't hear, and green light blinded her temporarily. She heard the familiar inhuman screech of the thing and Loki's guttural shout as he forced his magic on it. Her vision had recovered by the time the thick tendrils of green light had constricted around the thing, forming a cage. Loki was doubled over from the effort, breath haggard.

"Finally, we have it!" Sif shouted. Thor smiled broadly and clapped her on the back.

"I'm fine, oh no need to thank me," Loki muttered, pulling himself up.

"You have done well, brother," Thor called. "We should inform father."

"You do that. I'm going to stay here and try to find out something useful from this…thing."

"How? It has no speech," Sif said.

"Oh, I have my ways," he smirked rather evilly, apparently doing his best to disgust Sif. By the look on her face, it had worked.

They hurried off. He circled around it, shocking it occasionally with an extra dose of magic. It screeched nearly the entire time, a sound that made Halla's ears feel as if they were bleeding.

"Why are you here?" he said, in a voice that reminded her of his father. When it didn't answer him, he let loose his magic upon it. Halla felt no pity; in fact, she found herself enjoying it. The delicious malice and hatred grew inside her by the second, and she imagined it was her who tortured the beast, shocking it with her power. It felt exhilarating!

"I asked, why are you here?" No answer. "I grow weary already of this, demon." With a flick of his hand, a large bolt of energy shot from him into the tendrils of the cage and from there, green light rocketed through the body of the thing. Its loose shape writhed in pain. Her hands clenched in sheer delight.

"Do you think I care about your pain, you filth?" He pointed at Halla. "You have killed this woman's family! Her entire village! And on top of that, you have threatened Asgard, bringing me down upon you." He shocked it again. "Who sent you?"

A red space opened up in what was probably its head. Through it came a soft hissing sound that sounded out three syllables.

"A…mor…a…"

With a slight puff of smoke, it was gone, though the cage still stood, sizzling with energy. Neither of them said anything. A light wind whistled through the open space of the practice ground, tossing up the stray leaves in its path.

Halla was staring at him intently, passion suddenly frozen, waiting for him to react.

He breathed in slowly. "Amora," he whispered, as if the name was foreign to him. "Amora," he said again, this time louder. "Amora. Amora. AMORA!"

A bestial roar erupted from him, and a green bolt of light shot through the air straight at the stone wall. It obliterated the area where it had hit, causing pieces of rock and smoke to travel through the air.

Halla waited until the dust had settled before asking, through painfully clenched teeth, "Who is Amora?"

His head turned slightly to her, his mouth opening simultaneously. After a few moments, he said nothing, and in a flash, he was gone.

PART THREE

Amora had vanished before anyone could get to her. It was assumed that she had watched the whole thing, and, upon the revelation of her name, and fled Asgard, to where, no one could be sure.

After leading a few expeditions to try and get her scent, Loki had temporarily given up the search for the Enchantress. Halla had witnessed his descent into maddened confusion, and had been unable to reach him for days. She had discovered that this hellbeast of a woman, Amora, was thought to have been romantically linked with the prince for a number of years; some even surmised that he was in on it and purposefully threw the search off to protect her. Halla thought that ridiculous. He paced for six days and six nights through the halls of the palace, trying to discover a means to capturing the elusive bitch, to no avail. Finally, his wife Sigyn had coaxed him to bed, where he lay dead to the world for a day.

When she finally saw him again, it was a two weeks from the day of the practice ground attack. He still looked miserable, though less haggard and drawn. He was not wearing his heavy armour but instead just a simple tunic with pretty green knotwork patterns on the neck and sleeves. His trousers were green as well.

The man likes green. He was leaning over the side of a balcony off of one of the many galleries of the palace, staring out into the city. The sounds of its hustle and bustle could be heard from a distance, and she heard the indistinct cries of a merchant selling his wares.

"I like seeing you more relaxed," she said, brushing back a thick lock of blonde hair that had escaped from one of her braids, though it quickly began to swirl around her head again in the breeze.

He turned up to face the sun. "Do not let appearances deceive you. I am anything but relaxed."

She leaned on the balcony's edge a few paces away from where he stood. "This is not your fault."

He snorted. "Isn't it? I was the closest to her, I should have been able to see through her charms to the real wickedness inside of her."

"Apparently no one did."

"But I am a Prince of Asgard! I should have seen it!" He slammed his fist down on the railing, voice reverberating off the walls of the enclosed balcony.

The whole structure seemed to shake with that gesture. Halla swallowed. "You cannot reverse time-"

"Don't be so sure."

"I don't blame you for this."

"And everyone else does!" he snarled, turning his hateful gaze to her.

She had come to stand much closer to him during their conversation, and was shocked by his demeanour. So much anger and pain came rushing out as she had never seen before. It scared her, then made her feel extremely sad. He was probably right, even his own family seemed to believe so. According to Balder, Odin had had such words with him as to make even the sturdiest tremble. Which was probably the reason for his obsession with finding the wench. And Thor of course would be no source of comfort for him, though he did normally come to his brother's defense when things got rough, Halla had to admit.

"Then they are fools," she said with purpose and strength, hoping somehow to imbue that onto him.

He examined her for a moment, face still locked in that horrible gaze, before he started to laugh. "Oh, my dear Halla. My dear Halla. I do so love-"

Just then, a horrible screech resounded throughout the gallery, and for a moment Halla's heart stopped. It's back!

But no, it wasn't back. It was a woman's dreadful sob, and then a few hushed voices to attend her. What were they saying? It was too far away.

Loki's nose was crinkled. "For a moment, I thought…"

"Me too."

"But that…." He started to stride forward, haltingly at first, then with greater purpose. As she followed him into the palace and down the gallery, the harsh sobs grew louder.

"What is going on?" she cried, heart pounding, beginning to recognize those sounds.

"Sigyn?" Loki called anxiously. His strides became quicker and quicker, and Halla rushed to keep up with him. She had heard these cries from women many times over in her village. Sometimes the cold would catch them, or disease, or sometimes they would simply fall asleep and never wake up.

They turned into the greater hallway, the one that led to Loki and Sigyn's rooms. She knelt on the floor, screaming in agony, attended by several servants who tried to speak soothing words to her. Her hair was down and flew about her in a tangled mess as she grasped at it with fevered hands. She was in her nightshift, a beautiful white garment embroidered with exquisite patterns, now tarnished by rips and tears.

And her face was too. It seemed she had scratched part of her face in her anguish, marring her lovely pale skin. Blood slowly trickled down onto her neck and chest, making a red line at the top of her nightshift. She screamed anew as she saw Loki approach.

"Sigyn-" he said as he ran to her, panic tightening his vocal cords.

She reached out to him with shaking arms. "LOKI! LOKI!" She was overcome by another bout of sobbing. "LOKI! THEY'RE DEAD! DEAD! THEY'RE DEAD!"

"What…." He tried to grasp her arms. "Sigyn who-"

"MY BABIES!"

He stood up immediately. From behind, Halla saw his entire body become rigid. "What are you talking about."

"MY BABIES…ARE DEAD!"

"WHAT ARE YOU SAYING WOMAN?" he bellowed as he bent down swiftly and shook her violently by the arms. "WHAT ARE YOU SAYING TO ME?"

All she could do was stare up at him in blind terror, face streaked in tears and blood. Suddenly, he pulled back his hand and hit her so hard across the cheek that she was knocked backwards onto the floor. Her servants quickly surrounded her, and he threw a few of them to the side and grasped at his wife until Halla got a hold of him.

"Get off of me!" he hissed, green eyes mad with rage as he turned to look at her as she held both of his shoulders firmly in her arms, before quickly encircling them around his upper body, pinning his arms down at his sides. He tried to shake her off several times, and nearly succeeded, before losing his energy all at once and collapsing on the marble floor of the palace hallway.

A pause. Suddenly stood back up, this time successfully shaking her off, and walked steadily towards his sons' rooms, all the time whispering "No, no, no" to himself in a reassured, pleasant tone, as if this were all just an elaborate prank.

Halla raced after him, and lost him for a split second when he turned a corner. Perhaps he was right, perhaps Sigyn had been mistaken. She had not heard one report of any citizen of Asgard dying in all the months she had been in the realm, and she knew that everyone was practically immortal. She prayed to whomever would listen for this not to be real. But still, the panic gripped her by the throat. She nearly ran into his still form on the threshold of a large, spacious, airy room.

There was one bed, near to the door, and a couch by the fireplace. In each lay a young boy, and they were both asleep. The one on the couch looked slightly older than the one in the bed, and had a book lying across his chest; she recognized it as one of Loki's. At first, they looked so peaceful, pale faces so lovely she could hardly believe they were dead. But then she saw that they were too pale, too still to be alive, their black hair limp, and somehow lifeless.

Loki slowly moved towards them, one foot at a time. He got to the boy in the bed, who Halla had met once or twice, called Vali. Loki whispered "Vali. You have slept too long. It's time to wake up." He turned back to her. "They must just be asleep. Children don't die in Asgard," he said casually, with an easy smile on his face.

It ripped her heart to shreds. He turned back to them. "Vali. Narvi. Wake up. Now, please. Come, this isn't funny, your mother is quite worried…Vali, Narvi. Wake up. Wake up." He paused. He went to each dead boy and shook the corpse as violently as he had shaken their mother, and shouted "Wake up," until he collapsed on the floor in front of the couch, gripping his head and screaming their names, over and over and over, asking why, why, why.

Halla went to him and held him in her arms, as she had her mother when she had lost her other children to the mysterious illness that sometimes swept infants away in the middle of the night like a demonic thief. Could this be that illness? Halla thought faintly as she tried to calm her friend.

She became aware that there were people around them now, and through tear-filled eyes saw that two of them were Balder and Odin, the king. Propriety escaped her in that moment, and she cared not: "You fools, get away from him! Get away from him!"

PART FOUR

In the days that followed, everyone made their condolences; Odin even declared a week of mourning for his grandsons. None of that seemed to reach Loki; he remained dead to the world, to a much greater degree than he had when he was attempting to track Amora. That witch probably had something to do with this tragedy, she was convinced of it, even though she did not know the woman in the least. She didn't see him but for once, when she had come in with Balder to make her formal condolence. It had meant nothing, it was hollow and empty coming from her father. He was saddened by the sudden, inexplicable deaths of the two children, but she did not see any real sympathy for their father.

He had been sitting by the fire of his own darkened room, leaning against the side of the great green and gold chair he sat in. He did not look up at him the entire time Balder spoke, though she could tell he heard him, somewhere. When it came time to for her to speak, she found she could not. The words caught in her throat. Even if she had said anything, no words could match the pain she felt for him.

She had thought back on those times that she had met his children, although they were brief. They were happy and bright, playful as young ones are, yet they were possessed of an early maturity, a good sign for the coming years. Their father had always spent as much time with them as was possible, though separate from their mother. He seemed truly at ease when he was with them, and was a good father. Much better than his own, if Halla's opinion counted for anything.

But now, they were gone. Suddenly, and for no reason. He had been right; children do not die in Asgard. No one had any explanation, though some suspected Amora. Halla wouldn't put it past her, and in any case, such suspicion was enough to put to rest the question of Loki's loyalties, at least for the time being. For that, she was grateful.

When Halla had finally spoken the words "I'm sorry" in the most pathetic, weak voice she had ever heard come out of her mouth, Loki had looked up at her. His eyes glistened, his mouth dropped open, and he smiled at her. He needs help was the only thing she could think of in that moment. Nothing else mattered; her heart broke again.

Just then, she had been ushered out of the room by some attendant or another. He slowly turned his gaze back to the fire as the door was closed in her face. I must reach him, she thought, and soon.

Sigyn had been worse. She had not gotten out of bed and had not spoken to anyone. She merely lay there and stared out of the window, between the slit in the curtains which had let in a small sliver of light. As she and her father had left, a servant had shut it.

Her heart had crumpled for Sigyn too. She had seen the pain of losing children so many times before in her village…she thought she wouldn't have to see it happen here, in this wonderful place, so close and personal, to someone she cared about so much….

Halla was making her way along the edge of the palace, on one of the higher walkways, wind tossing up her skirts and making her hair fly about her. Today she had chosen a red gown with a gold tassel, with fine embroidery along the hems and sleeves. There was a larger pattern on the bottom; it was in fact a scene of a Norseman fighting a giant. The figures were the most realistic she had ever seen, the expressions so lifelike, the swordfight seeming to continue right before her eyes, instead of being frozen in a stitching.

She was so enraptured by the wind and the clouds and the far away blackness of space that she did not hear footsteps approach.

She heard shuffling; she turned around quickly, heart skipping a beat, and instinctively her hand went to her side, though there was no weapon there for it to hold. Instead of an enemy, however, she found a profoundly sad, incredibly lost and broken man, in need of help.

His hair was a mess, his clothing the same as that horrible day, though someone had wrapped his cape around him. He stood there like the green death, waiting.

Her face nearly broke out into a smile. "Loki," she said.

A long moment passed between them. She tried to read his emotions as he stood there, merely staring. Finally, he turned his head to a nearby bench, and they sat.

They existed there in silence for a good long time. She reached out a hand, and he grasped it, holding it tight.

"When I awoke this morning, I knew I had to find you," he said with surprising cadence, though his voice was a bit scratchy. "I'm sorry if I am bothe-"

She squeezed his hand. "You are not bothering me, Loki. This would…this couldn't…."

"I still cannot accept it," he continued. "It doesn't feel as if it's happened, and yet I feel as if I haven't ceased weeping for days."

He paused. His eyes began glistening as he continued to stare at the ground, listless. "I still cannot see how it happened, Halla. These things simply don't happen in Asgard!" His voice was becoming a shout. "They don't happen in Asgard!"

His calm face collapsed into a tempest of grief and anger, and wracking sobs started. "Halla…when they were born…I…I held them in my arms, and I swore…I swore…I would never, ever, ever, ever let anything happen to them-" His breath caught in a horrible, harsh way. "I failed, Halla. I failed."

She caught him in her arms as he sank down, attempting to keep her own tears back for his sake. She did not know how to answer him; her mother had never said such things to her. She supposed now that she had been reserved for her daughter's sake, and had broken down where Halla couldn't see her. She wished she hadn't, so that she might have some idea of how to comfort him. Though there was probably no way that would be sufficient, that wouldn't sound horrible and awful and hollow.

Slowly, his sobs ceased, and his breathing slowed. He had fallen asleep; the emotion had been too much, and she doubted he had slept much in recent days. She sat there, his head in her lap, contemplating.

She must have drifted off, because before she knew it, it was the late afternoon and a gruff voice was calling her name.

"Halla! Wake up!"

A great shadow loomed above, and at first she thought it was Balder, and scowled. However, when she turned her head towards the offending voice, it was a distraught Thor. His normal joviality was gone, replaced by deep sadness. At that realization, Halla softened. Of course he would be affected by the death of his nephews, Halla.

"Good day, Thor." He came around to her side of the bench and sat down heavily. He looked at Loki in her lap, who had not woken during the exchange.

He smiled sadly at her. "Thank you for being here for him. You are a good, gallant woman, Halla Baldersdottir."

She returned the smile. "Thank you, Thor. And it's Sveinsdottir."

He inclined his head. "My apologies."

They sat there for a while, watching the sunset in silence. She was still astonished by it; it was so brilliant, so different from those on Midgard. The colours it was painted with were somehow more vibrant and touched her heart in a way that made her hear music different from that which she heard back home. She loved it.

"You care for my brother greatly, do you not?" Thor asked, breaking her reverie.

"Yes. I love him." She said the words without thinking, but it was too late now.

"Mmm," he said importantly, with a raise of his head. "I won't tell."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

They turned their gazes back to the sunset, eagerly awaiting a new dawn.

Elsewhere, a golden-haired sorceress made her plans in an underground lair, lusting after the power only the sword of Balder could give her.

AND SO ENDS THE FIRST PART OF HALLA'S JOURNEY