The Shadow glided slowly over the land. It was nothing. Yet it was something. And it was seeking. Searching for a god.

Its pitch black form slithered from hill to hill in the darkness of night, following the trail of green that could only be the wayward prince. It would have to retreat into the darkness of a brush or hole in the ground once the sun rose, or it would cease to exist. But if there was darkness, any amount, it would keep going.

As it passed, the birds in the trees hushed, watching it before flying quickly away. Plants shriveled into themselves, wishing to escape the Shadow. The ground beneath it turned to ash, the midnight frost simply disappearing.

The dark form hissed unintelligible words, turning this way and that. A deer foolishly jumped into the Shadow's path. The Shadow lunged, its dark tentacles wrapping around the deer, paralyzing it as it tried to escape the shock of nothingness that came with the Shadow's embrace. And yet, as the deer thought it was going to die, it didn't. It stayed frozen, glossy eyes watching the Shadow continue on in a rugged path, forever doomed to stay paralyzed.

The Shadow screeched as the sky began to light, gleaming off of some tall, golden structure. The path of green was everywhere in the mess of lights far below, millions of different strings to follow. Different shades of green, some leading far away, some tangling in a confused jumble with other colors. The Shadow hissed, sinking into the shade of a bush nearby, the green leaves shriveling immediately at the nothingness of the shadow.

It would wait. It would follow the prince's path very carefully through the maze. And it would find the prince. And it would take the prince to its master.


Loki walked down the stairs and into his secret closet room. He ducked quickly as a dagger whizzed past his head, barely missing him. Mya blushed, apologizing, before running past him and retrieving the dagger. Luckily, it was a training dagger. The most it could give him was a bloody nose.

Loki watched as she stood in front of the target, which was a big chunk of wood Loki had always used to practice. He watched as she twisted clumsily, letting the dagger fly… straight into the ground. Yet, she didn't lose confidence. She picked up the dagger once more, starting over again. And again. And again. Loki stopped her from throwing the poor dagger.

"Left foot forward, right hand throwing. Keep your index finger on the back of the blade, your thumb on one side, the rest of your fingers on the other side, curled. Hold it straight out towards the target, bring your arm back…"

Loki helped her position her arm correctly, making her position her arm several more times without his help until he deemed it good enough to proceed.

"Now, make sure your dagger is vertical to the ground, and as you bring your arm down quickly, make sure it is horizontal. Then, let it slide out of your hand."

Loki showed her all the positions slowly, making sure she was able to copy it herself before she tried again. Loki made her stand two of her arms' lengths away from the target. She put her left foot forward, bringing her right arm back, index finger on the back of the blade, dagger vertical to the ground. She brought her arm down, the dagger sliding out of her hand. It bounced off the target and, with a clatter, it fell to the ground.

Mya stared at the dagger. Loki thought she was going to cry, but she looked up at him with the brightest smile he had ever seen. She charged after the dagger, swiping it from the ground and positioning herself again. Loki watched, amazed as she tried it again, the result the same, the dagger clattering to the ground.

He counted nineteen times before it finally stuck into the wood, staying there. Mya bounced up and down, clapping her sore hands. She tugged on Loki's arm, pointing. "I did it! I hit the target!"

The corners of Loki's mouth twitched up into a smile. He patted her back. "Good work, little one."

Mya's nose scrunched up. "I am not 'little one'! I am Mya, the dagger throwerer!"

Loki clucked his tongue. "What was wrong with that last sentence of yours?"

Mya twiddled a piece of her nearly white hair as she thought, mouthing out her previous words. "Throwerer?" She asked.

Loki nodded. "And what is the correction?"

"I am Mya, the dagger thrower!" Mya shouted enthusiastically, pumping a small fist into the air.

Loki couldn't believe how much she had grown since he had first seen her. She was at least up to his ribcage by now, growing too fast. It had been a year since she had asked him to teach her the art of the dagger. He had forced her to wait until she was old enough. No matter how many times she had stolen one of his daggers and hurt herself on accident, begged, pleaded, or even whined (which Loki had put a stop to fairly quickly, as whining was for babies, not for ten year olds), he had only begun training her at the right time.

He no longer had to speak to her in her elven tongue, as she was almost fully fluent in Aesir. He had forced her to learn the basics of sewing, stitching, and first aid even though she had absolutely no interest. He had taught her how to read the stars, do basic calculations, and even recognize different plant and animal species.

He had given her tips on controlling her fire better, as he couldn't show her himself because his magic was bound, though she was extremely talented for a child her age. Extremely. He was shocked she was able to do more complicated spells at such an early age, even for a royally-bred fire elf. Children as young as her could barely make a drizzle of smoke and a spark come out of their fingertip.

Yet, she had shown him numerous times her skill. She had almost scared him half to death a few months ago when she had breathed fire out of her mouth… at the Healer.

He watched as she retrieved the dagger from the stump of wood, positioning herself and throwing it again. It hit the target, staying for a few seconds before it fell. Loki sat on a chair, watching her form carefully as she threw the dagger again and again.

She was a natural.

In fact, she was so good at it by an hour's end that she was hitting the target nearly every time. Loki watched her closely, making sure she was doing everything right. Her aim was a bit off, her footing a bit weak, always reverting to a different stance. But in her eyes, he could see the determination to hit the target, adjusting her aim and footing every time she shifted out of the correct posture. But there was also something else in her gaze. An anger. A fierce anger that spoke of pain and injustice.

He couldn't admit that he did not worry.

Finally, when the anger grew too strongly in her gaze, he told her it was time for dinner. Mya reluctantly put the dagger back on the wall next to its brothers and sisters, and they headed back upstairs, Loki pulling the switch to close the closet stairs.


Mya sat on her bed that night, wrapped in Loki's green cape, tracing the swollen, blistering spots on her hands. These were the places where there would be callouses, just like Loki's. She could almost see them. She remembered the feel of cold metal in her hands, the dagger sliding easily from her grasp. Almost as if she was born to do this. To throw a dagger. And the thing was… she didn't feel small and helpless when she held a dagger in her hand. She felt as though she could conquer anything. As if… as if nobody could hurt her.

She thought about the soldiers, the men who had brought her to Asgard. The way the touched her and mocked her, made her walk miles on burning sand and hard rocks until her feet bled and split open. The night they grabbed her by the arm and carved insults into her skin. She still remembered them… the words. No matter how long ago they had healed, she could still see the blood dripping down her arm and onto the harsh sand below, sizzling as the sand was so hot.

She pulled her feet up onto the bed. She hadn't admitted to Loki that she couldn't really feel anything in her feet. She had thought they would heal, and that the feeling would come back to them. But after a year of feeling nothing, she gave up. Most of the time they felt numb. Like they weren't even there. Yet, she could see them, touch them, feel them hit the ground when she ran. Her small finger traced the slim, silver lines that crisscrossed all over her feet.

Then, she thought about holding the dagger. The feeling it gave her. Why was it so easy to feel angry, yet so hard to let it go? Loki had told her to forget it, that all beings make mistakes, that it was an Asgardian's nature to dominate their opponent. Loki, she thought, chose his words very carefully. But no matter what combination of words he came up with, she couldn't simply forget. Not when she couldn't feel her feet, when she still saw the words cut into her skin, when she heard the thud of a dagger above her head as palace guards threw them as she lay there, cold and afraid.

Mya sighed, letting her legs dangle over the side of the bed again. That's when she saw her poem book. Her heart leapt with excitement. She didn't know why, but a good poem was always enough to keep those images out of her head. She pulled out the poem book and flipped through her favorite pages, reading poem after poem, though she knew them all by heart.

Nature's first green is gold,

Her hardest hue to hold.

Her only leaf's a flower;

But only so an hour.

Then leaf subsides to leaf.

So Eden sank to grief,

So dawn goes down to day.

Nothing gold can stay.

Loki said that poem was by a Midgardian poet named Robert Frost. Mya loved it so much that Loki had written it on a separate piece of paper, once in Elven, the other in Asgardian, just for her. Though Loki had been teaching her Asgardian, he had also been teaching her more of her native language. He said it was important to learn Asgardian, for the purpose of communicating with others. But he said it was important to learn her own language, to remember her people, to remember that she is not an Asgardian.

She heard Loki call her name and she snapped the book closed, tucking it under her bed. She straightened her dress as she wandered into the main room where she and Loki always ate dinner together.

She pushed herself up onto the chair opposite Loki as he poured her some soup brought from the kitchens. She wished he would cook more often. Whenever Loki cooked, she swore it had to have come from Valhalla. Especially his chocolate cake. He had told her not to tell anyone that he could cook, but a few months ago, on her birthday, he had baked her a cake made of something that surely was from Valhalla. Chocolate.

She tucked a piece of light blonde hair behind her ear, her green eyes studying the contents of the soup. It was red with vegetables and meat. Mya stirred it around with her spoon, watching the steam dance above the surface, her aching hands burning at just the touch of the metal spoon. She winced as she picked the spoon up, not realizing just how swore they were, how angry they were with metal.

"Let me see your hands." She heard Loki's voice. Mya held up her hands for Loki to see. He smirked before standing up. "It looks painful." He said, remembering his own hands after throwing his first daggers. His mother had taught him how to sooth the pain of a blister with aloe vera and a cold wash cloth, and then to wrap them in cool bandages.

Loki came back with the supplies setting them on the table. He would have taken care of it after dinner, but she winced every time she picked up her spoon, and he knew he would have begun laughing at the face she was making as she stirred her soup. Loki took one of her tiny, swollen hands, wrapping it in a cold, wet rag, taking her other hand and doing the same.

"Very cold." He heard her say.

Loki cleared his throat. He might have used his ice powers to help cool the water down. The Allfather hadn't restricted his Jotun side… in fact, Loki wondered if Odin had remembered that Loki could still use ice magic. After a few minutes, he took away the rags, much to her protest, and smoothed aloe vera over her skin. He could hear her sigh in relief as the gel settled into her furious skin. Lastly, he wrapped her hands in cooler bandages, making sure they weren't too tight.

He watched as she inspected the bandages. "You are good at this." She said.

Loki hummed in response. "I've had plenty of practice, young one." He watched as she went back to eating, handling her spoon cautiously.

It had been almost two years. Two years since he first saw her, naked and shivering on his floor, those miserable green eyes wide with fear. She had been afraid to even get near him, hissing like an animal at others, clutching his cape tightly to his chest whenever he neared her.

But now, she was sitting across from him, eating soup with bandaged hands from dagger practice. It was almost surreal. Loki folded his arms across his chest, leaning back in his chair. He still saw the pain in her eyes. She hadn't yet mastered the ability to mask her emotions. Every now and then he could see the twinkle of a memory in her summer green eyes, or hear her toss and turn and cry out in the middle of the night. He knew the anger that was growing in her heart. But what could he do? He had nothing but words, words that he knew she would not listen to. Even though he had learned his lesson, he doubted she would believe him if he told her he was a frost giant, that he had been holding a grudge for over three centuries now. A pathetic grudge, that perhaps if he hadn't fed it, would have disappeared after a few months.

He sighed as he heard a knock on his door. Mya looked up at him, her summer green eyes flitting to the door, then back to Loki. Loki slowly made his way to the door. It was undoubtedly Thor, as only Thor knocked so heavily on the door. Loki swung the door open. "What?"

Thor was dressed in his war armor, Mjolnir in hand, a solemn expression on his face. "There is trouble."

Loki glanced back at Mya, who was staring at him and Thor, undoubtedly listening. "Immediate?"

Thor glanced at Mya over Loki's shoulder. "Aye."


Hello peoples! Sorry for the VERY slow update. I've been busy with stuff like summer school and driver's ed, but that isn't an excuse though, is it? Anyways... hope you liked the chapter. For those of you who read my other stories, I will most likely be updating them soon... Idk. I kinda went into a writing slump. My parents don't really like me writing because it takes a lot of time. Also, I must also apologize for the confusing time skips. I know I haven't really specified on how much time has passed in the beginning of each chapter, so I will edit that in. Additionally, I will be putting Loki and Mya's speech in italics whenever they are talking in Elven.

Thanks to those of you who have stuck with my stories even though I update very slowly! You guys really are amazing!

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