Amethystine

Alieni Appetens (adj.): [Latin] Covetous of another's possessions.


Here she was once again, staring at the wall as a set of five spindly fingers danced circles over back. Flat against the bed, her cheek squished into her eye. For one reason or another, she had always disliked pillows. They tilted her neck at a strange angle and didn't allow her safe passage into sleep. She could feel the energy of the man beside her as he slowly fell asleep.

How many years had it been? A decade? A millennium? How long had they kept up this distantly intimate relationship? Where neither spoke of it, but they both knew what had to happen. It was never awkward before now. Why the sudden change? Was it last week, or last year? Volla couldn't remember for sure.

But, the image was clear, or, at least, the sensation was.

One night, who knows how long ago, Volla was half asleep on her stomach letting the frigid air of Loki's magic save her from a horrible scorching death. It was hypnotic as his fingers slugged slowly over her back in smooth circles, slowing infinitesimally until the whole hand lowered. That in and of itself was not uncommon, the poor man did had to sleep eventually. It was more the way it happened that jarred her. Those long fingers slid along her back, curling gently over the curve of her spinal column, slipping over, then falling into the sensitive area just above her hip. Ever so sweetly he bagan running his thumb up and down her side, intimate without becoming invasive.

It was unacceptable. It broke their unspoken treaty. Yet, she couldn't speak of it. He would simply deny every word and make her feel even more foolish.

They didn't speak much for a reason. She was younger than him. Much younger. It wasn't impossible to think she might want him in a different way than was acceptable. The sparse few conversations they had during the day were biting and sarcastic. The silence was never uncomfortable. But it was now.

The circles over her back grew lazy until spiraling into obscurity, again pulling to hold Volla close. His chest, covered by a thin green shirt, sealed over the curve of her shoulders delicately. She felt herself flare with heat and the hand jerked sleepily back into motion. She could almost feel the frustration coming off him. If only he knew how this all affected her. How much it ached her poor heart.

She couldn't help wondering if he knew that he broke their unspoken agreement. She had the feeling he might have right then realized. She wanted nothing more than to turn over and just talk. It could be about anything really. Speaking to him, no matter how biting, was always easy. Her wish was granted when she heard him stir.

"Are you awake?" A deep, groggy voice came in her ear, "You're hot." Volla flipped over, red faced, dragging every sheet from the glowering prince. He narrowed his eyes at her. Voice now crisp and free of the grogginess of sleep, "Not in that way you ignoramus!"

She said nothing as the blood drained from her face; unsure what was more embarrassing.

Pale fingers caught a few blonde curls right before her eyes, holding them the way barren winter trees catch snow. His brow furrowed gently before snatching her up in his arms.

It all happened so fast.

Suddenly her flesh was blistering and peeling away. First, second, then third degree burns came over her hands leaving them white. She was confused and growing weaker by the second. Why was this happening? He hadn't even touched her skin.

Loki jostled her around, but Volla's mind was gone. She cound't comprehend what was happening around her. Consciousness faded in and out. Images flashed through her head, fire, burning; the smell of smoke and death. If the images weren't enough, her temperature spiked, leaving her body flimsy as plucked daisy left to whither in the sun. Her consciousness faded and the last image she saw was of Loki's face drawing white as death.

A new image bruised over her eyesight. Blue skin with circular designs engraved into flesh, red eyes and a menacing grin, it seemed to materialize on Loki's face briefly before fading into darkness.

There was stillness here. Nothingness and emptiness. She felt herself being pulled silkily through the void, feeling nothing. This must be what death feels like, she mused, allowing the darkness to caress her without a fight.

Then, a shock of ice against her heart caused Volla to shriek painfully awake, eyes wide. Steam fizzed from her pores and she clutched onto Loki's arms to fight him away, it was so painful! But he held her tight.

A loud crack came and the bedroom door split open. Two blonde men and an auburn woman spilled into the room. It was only then that Loki realized how compromising their position appeared. Volla was barely conscious on her back, Loki held her to his body with one hand pressed to her chest. Her knees were bent and parted as he braced himself with his elbow as his arm wrapped around her waist, holding her up against his chest. It certainly did not help that he removed his shirt to use his whole body as a medium for his icy energy to pass through.

As awful as it looked, he did what he had to in order to get her heart back into rhythm. It had stopped briefly and panic set in quickly. He had never even considered her dying as an option. It never seemed possible until that exact moment. She was just another part of life, like an arm or a leg. Innocuous, really, but without one life could become very difficult to manage. Her hands were charred, as was the trace outline of his hand on her chest.

Loki lifted himself from their odd position and addressed his family and the guard, insisting that the burning smell was nothing to concern themselves with. Frigga didn't seem convinced. Thor cast worried blue eyes between the smaller, half-conscious woman and his calm, collected brother. He was always unsure of what to make of them, and this brought about a whole slew of unanswered questions. The guard, on the other hand, looked utterly rapacious.

Frigga ushered the two blonde men out of the room so she could speak to Volla and Loki alone. But, before she could get a word out, Loki started, "Mother, now, before you come to any false conclusions you need to know she's grown tolerant to magic. If this trend continues unchecked—"

Frigga smiled, ignoring her son's excuses, her hair falling in sleepy curls over her shoulder. "Volla has nothing to fear. It appears that this flare-up had less to do with her blood and more to do with spending the night beside a young man in his bed." The queen mildly reprimanded. Both mouths fell open at the accusation and Volla folded herself away from the prince.

Volla could barely keep from running away and hiding under a rock for the rest of eternity. She dared to glance at Loki to find him rolling his eyes.

"Perhaps it is time to consider letting Loki sleep alone." The queen addressed Volla then moved her eyes to a pair of wide green eyes, "And, my son, you need not fret over our seeress. She is far more sturdy than you seem to think. Unless, of course, this is about something more than the arrangement we've had since she was a child." Frigga let her words linger in the air and she soon left the two alone with a little smile without needing to go much further into her opinions on the matter.

The two watched the door swing closed behind the Queen with matching expressions. Neither could believe what they'd just been accused of.

"Well, that was awkward." Volla broke the tense silence. Loki laughed under his breath, unable to look at her quite yet. Volla's eyes dropped to her hands that still clutched his wrist desperately, char marks dusted the outlines of her hands on his skin. She unfurled her achy fingers and scooted back against the headboard.

Loki's eyes didn't deviate from a fixed position at something unseen in the dark. He was trying to sort through the whole occurrence. Something very specific was bothering him. He could understand his mother and Thor coming to inspect the sound of that bright screech. But why that damned archer? The way he looked over Volla like a toy in another's toy box sent possessive energy through Loki's stomach. What right did he have over the young seeress?

Violet eyes watched him in the dark, hoping he might say something to alleviate the anxiety. He could feel the heat of that stare. It always seemed to perceive far too much. She could see right through most of his well trained expressions and cut right through the core of him. Right now hopefully she saw nothing more than the blank canvass he schooled from his features. Once he felt confident that his expression was solid he let himself look to her. But when he beheld the cream color of her barely contained chest his eyes snapped shut. Her silk nightgown was clinging to her body desperately and it made him incredibly uncomfortable.

"Shouldn't a girl your age be wearing something with a touch more modesty?"

Volla's mouth dropped open. Was he blaming her for the way their intruders took their situation? It wasn't her fault no one else was allowed to know about her condition! Blame Odin you idiot! Words spun around and round trying to weave up the proper retort but her tongue was tied. So she did the only thing she could think of. She slipped from his bed, gave a scowl from the moonlit doorframe, and left him there to his own thoughts.

She'd be back. He dropped himself back into bed and propped his arms behind his neck. She always came back.

...

The smooth lines of her back shifted closer to him. 4:45. He knew she was lying; she wasn't covered in blisters or cringing painfully. But he couldn't find it in him to turn her away, even in light of their incredibly embarrassing moment earlier in the night. Instead he watched her squirm into place in bed next to him with tired eyes. Her hands donned a new pair of gloves to keep her skin away from his and a fully sleeved nightgown that buttoned up to the top of her neck. He scratched light circles into her back as she fell back to sleep curled to his side, allowing him silence of mind for the first time since she left with that accusing glare.

The nights when she didn't appear were nights when Loki had to wander the palace. Eventually he would circle around until he was bound to find her door then peek inside to see if she was still breathing. Typically she was just sitting in the moonlight writing, or reading something in the windowsill. But he had to check, just to be sure. Not that he was worried. That would be preposterous. It was not that he was afraid that she had become afflicted in his absence, and certainly not that he feared his father might bargain her away to some distant realm. Or, that he would find her with Baldur, the guard that came to his door earlier in the night with Thor and his mother.

Again— preposterous.

That time of morning was a curse that followed him full into adulthood. Bedmates would complain and grew angry when he would leave them, still soft from lovemaking, to check on Volla. It was almost as if they were jealous. And they would be completely out of line for feeling that way. Volla was just a child after all.

Loki showed Volla how he could unlock any door with magic. Pride seeped through the bravado of his expression at her unbridled excitement. Even though he was trying hard not to, he ended up enjoying her company those early mornings, at 4:45, as usual. Sometimes she would talk to him, asking endless questions about magic and the places he had traveled. Other days she was silent. Either one was comfortably easy. The things he had to say genuinely interested her and he was one of the rare people she was comfortable speaking with. She was quick to ask questions of anyone, but meaningless banter was reserved for Loki and Frigga. It seemed that his mere presence alleviated her anxieties about being around others. She was soothed by his presence, both physically and mentally.

When this realization hit, his first foolish, foolish instinct was to see what Thor thought.

"Perhaps your illusions are getting the best of you brother!" Thor was, as always, terribly insightful.

Loki deadpanned at the taller, broader blonde. "Your shining intellect never ceases to amaze." He rolled his eyes, "Volla has been behaving strangely."

The training ground was a beehive of activity. There were battles to be held against Vanaheim's latest enslaving race and Asgard swore to aid them in any way possible. Loki watched his fierce brother plunge tomahawks deep into the hearts of dummies.

"Such an imagination must be exhausting for one so small." Thor laughed deeply, throwing his head back. His slightly shorter, slimmer brother sighed; wishing he hadn't been naïve enough to think Thor would have something helpful to say. Thor's hand fell heavy onto his brother's shoulder. "Am I to believe the seeress of Asgard loves the god of lies and mischief? Surely you see the irony."

Loki watched Thor attack the large cork target with another axe, not bothering to correct his offensive misuse of the word 'irony'. There was commotion all around as arrows flew and swords clashed. There were many places Loki preferred to the training grounds. It was too hectic here. He preferred a more delicate hand in the face of combat where his brother, well, didn't.

"And if I recall properly, I think both of you seemed fairly comfortable last night. And that scream of hers! ..."

He could strangle his brother sometimes. Loki was wondering when he would bring that into the conversation. It took every bit of restraint not to turn his brother's axe into a mongoose.

Now that he realized how Volla admired him, it should have been apparent to everyone else.

Thor's blue eyes had dark lashes that accentuated the raw emotions that constantly flickered over them. Right now they glowed with contemplation, a rare sight indeed, as he realized that this was something his brother was confiding in him. Thor did actually give sound advice from time to time, one just had to catch him in the right mood. He was better at articulating emotions than any Aesir Loki had ever known. And then, just as he was about to say something, his eyes flickered behind Loki. An exultant bravado exploded into existence. "Lady Sif!" Thor bellowed to the approaching dark haired young woman.

Her hair tied back in a tight knot with a braided band of her own hair that fell in a ponytail down to the middle of her armor plated back. She had an elegant face that held strong intensity in her pointed features and avian grey eyes. She strode over to speak directly with Thor, pointedly ignoring Loki. He was used to this kind of treatment when he was near Thor, it was only when the two were entirely alone that Sif would force herself to converse with the younger, lesser, prince. Loki barely noticed anymore. He had spent a thousand years with Sif and the others. Thor was simply a more likable person.

"Thor, there is something I've been meaning to ask." She asked with her slightly cracked alto voice, gripping the man's biceps to pull him along with her, away from Loki's vigilant ears no doubt. Her secretiveness piqued his interest more than if she had just spoken outright. Had she not pulled Thor aside to interrogate him about Queen Frigga's little seeress, Loki would never have thought to eavesdrop. Then he might not have overheard Sif's ridiculous plan.

"Lady Volla," Sif bowed her head lightly with a thin smile. Volla smiled back with finely disguised trepidation. It was rare for anyone to speak to her without invitation. It was said that she had an intimidating look about her, as if she might strike a person like a snake. It was a ridiculous description. Volla preferred to call it her resting bitch face.

Volla stopped dead in her tracks and tried to look natural. She was headed out to the stable to ride Hiti without Loki's expressed permission, maybe Sif was there to warn her against it? The violet eyed girl gave a creaky fake smile, "It's good to see you're well Lady Sif but must we refer to each other with such formality?" Sif's grey eyes seemed to lighten in color at the suggestion. Volla smiled, attempting not to bite her lip nervously at the unplanned interaction. If she knew she was going to be speaking with someone she would have planned a thousand things to talk about beforehand so she would not be left feeling so foolish and nervous.

The two walked silently, awkwardly, for a little while until Volla asked, "How is Thor? Healing well I hope?"

Sif rolled her eyes, leaning heavily against the railing above the training grounds, eyes eagerly searching for a particular blonde man. "He is this realm's worst patient. Would you believe he has already begun training again?" Both disappointment and hard relief seemed to flood her stature when she discovered Thor wasn't there.

Volla considered running away before taking Sif's cue to lean against the railing next to her. She had never experienced useless banter with the female warrior before. She was having a hard time thinking of what to say as she tried her best to focus her energy on not biting her lip or tapping her foot or making any stupid faces or tripping on her words. After giving a breathy laugh at Sif's biting tone Volla sighed and tried to cheer her up, "I would be far more shocked had he actually headed the healer's advice."

Sif smiled half-heartedly at her smaller companion before sizing her up like a piece of meat. Volla started chewing the corner of her lip until it was raw and bleeding. Then the beautiful warrior asked, "Have you considered training with a weapon?"

Volla's face screwed up unpleasantly. She was not fond of war; she was not fond of hurting others. So, no, she had never even thought to pick up a weapon. It would be of no use to her. Not yet. "Never. Afraid that I'm not exactly fit for war."

Sif's head tilted with curiosity, not really understanding the concept of pacifism. Volla explained, "I never want to hurt someone, so a weapon would be of no use to me." She admitted quietly as if the words would have her forcibly exiled from Asgard. "What made you want to become a warrior?"

Sif sniffed a one-chorded laugh before turning her face slightly, but not before Volla caught the pink across the bridge of her nose. Then it dawned on her. The name 'Thor' might as well have branded itself across her face.

"It was my dream to become the first woman in the army. This past year that wish was granted. Never have I been so proud."

Volla knew exactly how to goad more girl talk from the woman. "Thor was proud too. He wouldn't stop bringing your achievement into every conversation. I thought Loki might sew his mouth shut." It was a very real threat when Loki said things like that. They both tried to button their lips while laughing, creating silly sputterings and shuddering shoulders.

The training ground below was a din of activity. Fighters and students danced among one another like an intricately designed ballet. One god stood out among the others. A tall, platinum blonde man with a well built body and strong pale features. He dominated the field, destroying entire targets with arrow strikes and a smooth swing of his sword. He had a mess of blonde curls atop his head that swooped with his movement. He looked like a Grecian statue had come to life.

Aha! She remembered him! He was the one she threw stones at from Loki's window when she was young. He was also the one who came to check on her in Loki's room when she had that awful vision the night before.

Sif caught Volla's eyes and slightly parted lips and commented before she could manage to look away and explain her stare.

"Ah, Baldur. He is a fine specimen." The taller girl shrugged her shoulder against Volla's. She blushed heavily, realizing that Sif had completely misread her expression as one of interest. Sif continued smoothly, "He is one of the best loved warriors in our ranks. His skin is said to be entirely impenetrable."

Sif touched the back of Volla's shoulder, pushing her toward the stairs before she could protest. "Uh, um, S-Sif. I don't know if I should—"

"Let us introduce you two. He has yet to meet a lady worth his indulgence."

Oh Valhalla please no. Volla tried her best to breathe and calm her shaking hands and to keep from losing the feeling in her face. She did not plan to talk to this many new people today. She was utterly unprepared! What would she say? What if he accidentally touched her skin? What if she fainted?! Oh, no no no. If Loki saw he would never let it go.

They made their way to the training grounds, Sif ignored her protests and stuttering complaints the whole way. The pair watched intently as the beautiful god moved gracefully across the field, correcting a man's swordsmanship then helping a youngster cock a crossbow properly. Sif gave a short wave and he raised his head to smile at her.

"Lady Sif!" Baldur greeted the brunette with a deep, mellow voice. His eyes fell to Volla apologetically, instantly recognizing her. Her face burned hot at the memory and her eyes dropped to the ground. "I'm afraid we haven't had the pleasure of personally meeting. I am Baldur the Brave." He lifted a hand expecting her to place hers on top. After glancing to her hands to make sure she'd remembered to wear her gloves, she obliged. Baldur provided the reward of a kiss to the top of cream colored glove. He seriously just introduced himself with an epithet. Wow. She was so embarrassed for him.

Volla blushed profusely. This was just awful. "I'm Volla, just Volla, please, no titles."

Above, with long legs hanging from the edge of a balcony, was a dark prince with green eyes pinned to his young friend. Hot resentment boiled through his veins when Baldur lifted her small, gloved hand to his lips. The warrior meant nothing by the greeting. But Volla obviously did not feel the same apathy. She blinked too much and fiddled with the edges of her gloves too frequently. She even stopped chewing her lip to try failingly to seem blasé as she stared his face with those amaranthine eyes of hers. Sif slowly inched her way out of the training area to let the two speak alone.

Posture tight with disapproval, Loki materialized before Sif, halting her steps abruptly. She gasped at his sudden arrival, stumbling a few steps backward before straightening a solid distance from the mischief-maker. He nodded acknowledgement toward her before allowing his eyes to flicker toward the upper level training area where Volla tried hard not to redden at whatever Baldur said. His eyes swooped back to the amazonian as if to say, Seriously?

Sif recognized that dejected expression. She smiled a little, ready to tease the prince. "Little Volla is not so little these days." She stifled a laugh as his irate expression hardened. Sif nodded lightly to the pair of blondes talking only a few hundred meters away. "And it seems she's stolen the attention of a suitable warrior." She noted she slight stiffening of Loki's posture and pressed on with a feline grin. Sif knew exactly what she was doing. It was as if his big brain clouded his vision when it came to Volla, so Sif decided to give them a little push in the right direction with the help of Thor. It wasn't one of Sif's typical proclivities to get involved in people's relationships. But if it forced Loki to quit chasing Amora, Sif was willing to do just about anything. "It would be nice to see Baldur finally settle with a woman. Wouldn't you agree?"

Not bothering to rise to Sif's provocations Loki watched Baldur gently stroke a curly piece of Volla's hair and smoothed it behind her ear. Smugness distorted Loki's features, much to Sif's dismay, as Volla jerked to an upright position, expression tight with pain. He'd know that vacuous expression anywhere. For of curiosity's sake, Loki produced a double to listen in on the conversation. What was so interesting that Volla was not biting her lip?

Sif noticed his attention beginning to slip. "Eavesdropping is a terrible habit, you know." She teased gently, coming up alongside him to watch the pair of blondes as Volla appeared to explain something to Baldur. "You should be grateful! Rumors say that you've been trying to rid yourself of your little shadow for ages to devote more time to Amora's increasing needs."

Loki looked away from Sif dismissively as Volla ducked away behind a column, eyes wide and haunted ash she hugged herself. Baldur was left looking incredibly confused, eyes following where the girl had walked off to.

Sif watched in horror while Loki laughed hysterically as the shrinking violet was reduced to a wet cat and sunk to the ground, miserable and confused with huge eyes that begged for Loki to tease her later. Sif glowered at the prince and pushed past him to rescue her from certain death by panic attack.

Once she was far enough away, Loki decided to dematerialize his clone and listened to what his double recorded.

Yes, yes, Baldur's training was always impressive.

Mhm, of course, Volla has the most intriguing eyes in all of the Nine.

Oh, whats this?...Mistletoe? Now that's just silly.

A slow stretching grin upturned the corners of Loki's mouth. It was just silly enough to be true.

"My apologies Volla." Sif grinned wolfishly. Volla wrung her hands together and caught her breath. She smiled timidly at the slightly older woman, the tightness in her expression still remained form the harrowing interaction. Sif looked a little defeated, "What is it? Did Baldur say something to upset you?"

Unsure whether or not to tell someone, Volla sat up a little straighter and Sif lowered to a squat before her. Then, finally, Volla admitted something she had never dared admit aloud before: a person's foreseen death. "I had a vision." Volla looked to the ground. "I saw Baldur murdered." Volla spoke softly holding her hands slowly away from her face to stare at them as if it was their fault.

Sif rolled her eyes with a sate smirk. "Baldur is indestructible."

Volla was wise enough not to tell the details of her vision. Sif was right. She knew Loki better than to think him a killer.

...

Years came and passed. Through Loki's excellent example Volla had learned everything every person in Asgard feared. She learned how to read a person's face for fright. And more importantly, she learned what each of Loki's endless array of expressions meant.

His eyes were easy to read, even when his face, words and actions told a completely different story. She hated to admit exactly how much time she dedicated to the different states of his eyes. Like how they became dense and bright with elation when he was kissed by Amora for the first time. And then felt compelled to tell Volla every last detail. Or how they would become molten puddles of green when he was brokenhearted, which happened far more frequently than it ever should have.

Loki had developed the highly detrimental habit of sleeping with women who were in love with his brother. Floozies would initially go after Thor, but when he was finished with them or found someone more attractive to fool around with. Loki would become their next target. Or means to cause the elder to want them back.

And Loki fell for it.

Every. Damned. Time.

"She's only looking for a lay." Volla cautioned with an air of nonchalance, filing her nails as she leaned against the wall next to Loki's bathroom door. He was readying himself for a festival. His armor was all polished and beautiful which highly contrasted with his face. He was visibly nervous. Picking things up that he didn't need then putting them back down as quietly as possible so Volla wouldn't notice. But she always noticed. He redid his hair a dozen times to ensure not even one curl dared show it's face when he encountered the object of his affection.

Amora, the goddess of beauty, had been leading him on for years. No, decades. A teasing kiss here and heated whisper there, whatever kept him hanging on just a little bit longer. Then, as if Loki's heart didn't matter at all, the beautiful goddess would go off with Thor, or Frandral, or whoever else she fancied that night, leaving Loki with that lost-puppy expression that Volla hated so much. Amora's indifference made her blood boil. Literally.

Amora was the logos of beauty. White blonde hair and cornflower blue eyes that one could see even when sitting in complete darkness. Her lips were perfectly shaped with a deep cupid's bow and the color and texture of a winter rose. She was pale with rosen cheeks with dark black eyelashes. Her every move was pure elegance, each word was spoken with angelic fluidity, every kiss was another echelon of heaven.

Or at least that was how Loki described it.

Naturally, Volla hated Amora. She hated how much effort Loki put into pleasing her. How much he cared about her opinion. All of his affection was utterly lost on that fickle harpy. But, Loki was determined. If there was one thing Volla knew for sure, it was that Loki was dangerously tenacious and he'd sooner die than give up on something he wanted. So, instead of actively trying to keep them apart, Volla was resigned to inject her opinion into conversation as much as possible.

"How many times are you going to try and buff that scratch? It's not something you can- oh, never mind." Loki magicked the scuff away, shooting her a haughty look out of the corner of his eye. Volla rolled her eyes dramatically even though he couldn't see it.

Volla rambled on carelessly, trying to make him see how silly this whole game was.

"Who knows, maybe our dearest Amora will find Thor first tonight, or Frandral, or Baldur, or—"

"Shut up Volla." Loki snapped at her, immediately regretting his decision when he remembered the helmet in his hands. He attempted to connect the two sections of his helmet alone but it was nearly impossible to do alone.

Volla sat there and filed her nails condescendingly (if that's even possible) taking the time to extend her hand to observe how handy she was with a buffing board. The clanking of metal in the background was music to her ears, only stealing a glance at the struggling prince every once in a while to decide if this was retribution enough for his rudeness.

Half of the helmet clanked to the ground. He closed his eyes and tried not to curse before bending at the waist to pick it up.

Nope, not yet. Smiling like an imp, Volla continued working her cuticles until they were perfect, humming a tune to drown out Loki's exasperated groans and self-depreciating scoffs at the offending metal.

When Volla looked again up she saw Loki silently watching himself in the mirror.

Propping himself up against the vanity with his hands, he gazed at his face, comparing his features to his brother's. He hated his pale skin. He hated his nonexistent facial hair. He hated his wild curls. He hated his slender build. The worst part was that he could not change the way he looked no matter how hard he tried. And oh how he had tried.

Volla felt her heart lurch when he asked his reflection softly, "Do you really think she will reject me again?"

The mirror did not give him the answer he wanted. Instead Volla appeared in the reflection behind him, gloves back in place. She reached around him and picked up the curved bottom half of his helmet. Loki took the noiseless cue and lifted the horned top end, resting it against his head. The second part snapped into place over the back of his neck. The blonde was standing in the reflection behind him with her lips pressed together, deep in thought. Loki regretted asking that question out loud. Now he was in for it.

"Yes, she would. Amora is manipulative and impulsive. She would absolutely go home with some other man if she so desired in that moment." Loki squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't like to hear Volla's opinions on Amora. But, as quiet and socially awkward as she was, there was no stopping Volla when she wanted to be heard.

Quiet suffering pulled the blonde's shoulders down as her expression fell away from the reflection of his eyes. "Loki, you are my best friend and I want you to be happy. But you're making a terrible mistake. There are only so many times I can warn you of rapids only to watch you drown."

Loki turned on her, imposingly glorious in his shining bronze armor. Volla looked past him to the mirror's image of his back to remind herself that she was not supposed to think of Asgard's prince as 'glorious' or 'beautiful' or 'handsome'. Because he wasn't. He was callous and devious and nearly impossible to understand. He clasped his hands in front of him as he always did when he was trying strenuously to remain calm.

"What do you know of loneliness? Count yourself lucky not to know the sting of a broken heart." His fluid green eyes were set hard as emeralds. Volla knew that expression and wanted to make his despair go away, even when she felt her heart falter and lower lip tighten at his careless words. She had never known loneliness? A broken heart? Was he mad? She was abandoned and given away by her own mother only to live in solitary confinement for the first five hundred years of her life! Towering above, Loki sneered. "Until your still-beating heart has been ripped from your chest you will never understand that I'm making no mistakes in my pursuit of Amora."

Volla almost choked. It was as if he was completely blind. She bit her lips together and decided that now was the time to go and turned on her heel toward the door. She could watch the heartbreaking scene unfold from her tower window.

But she had to get the sunken, angry feeling off of her chest before stepping out that door. Her heart seemed to speak for her, turning only her face to look at him, "My life is loneliness! You will never understand the pain of watching someone you care about insist on this insane form of sadomasochism!" Tightening her lips to prevent the last biting remark from escaping didn't work as her chin quivered, her hands in tight balls at her sides. "You have meticulously, and successfully, scoured yourself of every friend you have ever had." She glanced around the empty room, knowing how Thor's room was likely filled with friends and comrades. But right now she was too upset with her oblivious, love-sick friend to leave room for his feelings. She gestured to the emptiness with a fanning arm, "Enjoy the spoils of victory."

Then, before acknowledging exactly how cruel accusation was, she rushed out toward the beckoning call of her room just a few towers over. There she could spend the next few hours debating whether or not to torture herself by watching the festival just below her window or to attend. She wanted to have fun, but she had such severe anxiety about crowds that she would never make it through the night.

It was a ritual.

First she would crack open a book and pretend to read but look back to realize that she reread the same sentence five hundred times and still didn't know what it said. It was in that room that she would cry into her pillows, sob actually, because she was utterly unloved, sometimes even intensely disliked, by the person she admired most.

This time it only took about twenty minutes to give up and throw I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings at the wall and perch herself on the windowsill with a deep frown chiseled into her face. Her deeply masochistic streak had taken over and she suddenly felt like a massive hypocrite.

There she watched Thor let four young women use his arms as a bench as he lifted all of them at once. Volla rolled her eyes, her lip twitching to smirk. He was an insatiable show off.

Then there were Sif and The Warriors Three. Frandral broke off immediately to make nice with a pair of ladies drinking wine in the corner of the courtyard. Amora was one of them. Volla wasn't sure if she was happy or sad. Proud that she had been correct, depressed that Loki had already lost his chance and he hadn't even made it to the dining hall.

A tear or two leaped off of her face, barely even skating over her skin before exploding onto her lap. She sighed, not bothering to wipe her eyes though there were surely foggy grey streaks from her mascara. What she would give to be one of those pretty, dancing ladies down in the great hall. What she wouldn't do to be normal. If only she wasn't born with this curse Frigga and Odin had dubbed a gift.

She scoffed a laugh when she visualized the brunette next to Amora throwing her drink on Frandral just before it unfolded. Another image showed him leading both of the women back to his home, giggling like love struck fools.

Then there were images of Amora holding Loki's heart hostage when he would walk through and see her pressing Frandral to a wall in an intimate embrace. For once Volla wanted to make the prophecies go away, to make his pain stop, and to end her own suffering. But Volla was not destined for happiness. She only ever existed to be used by Asgard. By the broken system that made an unkind, callous man their omnipotent ruler.

A vision overcame Volla's eyes.

A burning fire overwhelmed the high spire of Asgard, toppling the balustrade of surrounding buildings. Bodies of warriors, women and children fell as they rushed to escape the unyielding blaze. Fire and violent imagery flooded her head. She fell off of the window sill and cracked her head against the tiles, setting off another painful reaction. Heat burned her skin from the inside. She refused to scream, to yell, to show the pain. She would not call for Loki tonight. After all the effort he put into capturing Amora, he deserved the opportunity to try and indulge himself.

Overwhelmed and exhausted, she crawled into bed and oblivion pulled her into spiteful nightmares.

Yes, this was a gift that just kept on giving.


A/N: So, what do we think of Volla? I'd love to hear your thoughts!