Disclaimer: I own NOTHING you may recognize from the MCU or Marvel comics. Just Murielle...and her OC's.

Chapter X

There was to be dancing.

Murielle hated formal dancing. She hated it when she was at school and had been made to dance the silly rituals of people who had long since forgotten the ways of the Elves. Dancing in Thyscar was entirely different. It was always joyous, done during times of great celebration or to retell their history. There was purpose and life in it. Not dancing just to dance. She wished she could find a way to get out of dinner tonight, but unfortunately dinner was one of the only times that required an appearance of her.

Helga had helped dress her again for dinner, despite Murielle's protests that she could dress herself. The dress was a dark burnt orange with a square open neckline trimmed in gold. Olive green sleeves draped down her arms and a wide belt, which matched the trim, encircled her at the waist. Murielle pushed her hair back over her shoulders, and pulled back the sides with dark orange combs.

Dinner was not as formal as it was last night. There were no long tables as smaller tables were scattered about and the elves were given free reign to mingle about with the nobility and the royalty. It dawned on Murielle that by choosing to spend the day with Prince Loki, that she'd forgone the opportunity to meet people. The nobility guided the trainings that were to be held throughout the week and she'd chosen to occupy her time elsewhere. Somehow, she couldn't feel guilty about it. The horse…the forest…it had reminded her so much of home. And to offer an ancient prayer as she planted the tree next to a stream that poured into Asgard's water supply…such an event was something she couldn't wait to retell to her mother.

"I don't think that we have been properly introduced," a voice spoke from just to her left.

Murielle, who had done everything in her power to keep her back to the wall and remain out of sight, forced a smile to her face, not wanting to be rude. She prayed to the Ancients that this stranger would not ask for a dance. As she turned to face him, she thought that his face looked familiar, but she couldn't place it. He had a pleasing countenance with bright blue eyes and short blonde hair. His smile though…it was a little too eager. He must have been one of Thor's friends.

"I am Murielle Orloth," she supplied, giving him a slight bob of her head.

"Sir Fandral," he replied, taking one of her hands and almost kissing it had she not been quick enough. "I am one of the Warriors Three," he boasted, striking a very self-indulgent pose and giving her a smile that she assumed won over all ladies. "My father is the General to the Allfather's armies."

What could cause a man to boast so much? "So your path was decided for you," she said, shaking her head. "How tragic."

"What do you mean?" Fandral looked at her, confused. Clearly his charm was not having its desired affect.

"I must akin you to a puppy, always led about on its leash never growing and experience life for itself." It took everything within Murielle to smile. To give him some outward sign that she was indeed teasing him. But where would the fun be in that?

"There is purpose though in knowing what your calling is, Lady Murielle." His tone was turning defensive.

"Sir Fandral, I beg you to think about such a thing. Purpose in being dictated to is not a purpose at all. I daresay you cannot put a foot out of bed without being told which one must touch the floor first."

The logic must have been too much for him, and she silently pitied him. How she wished that so many could think and feel for themselves. While logic would yes dictate that he would grow up to be a warrior, what his heart wants him to do is another thing entirely. When the mind and heart work in tandem…only then can true purpose be found.

"Well, if you'll excuse me then, my lady. I do believe I see the rest of the Warriors Three."

"Oh do not let me keep you, sir." Murielle gave a slight curtsy which sent him scurrying away. It was only then that she smiled and laughed. All too easy.

"I don't think I've ever seen Fandral so confused before." Prince Loki whispered, coming to stand to her right. "What on earth did you say to him?"

"The truth, I'm afraid. Though probably with a bit more tact that he's usually met with."

The prince laughed, and Murielle took a moment to really look at him. He was dressed in his usual colors of black, green and gold, and his short hair was slicked back. This morning, while he still donned those colors, his hair had hung loose and had become very windswept during their ride. His emerald green eyes held their usual mirth which twinkled when he looked at her.

"I feared that he had come to ask you to dance," his voice dropped to a low whisper. "I had hoped to claim that honor."

The half-elf frowned, and fiddled with a strand of hair that had fallen over her shoulder. "I fear that I would have disappointed you both. I cannot dance."

"But last night…"

"Let me rephrase. I cannot dance with a partner. The boys weren't really lining up to dance with me while I was in school." Even still she could feel the bitter sting of rejection when, during dance class, all of the boys and girls were paired up and she sat by and watched. "I dance what I was taught in Thyscar, and those are usually routines and ceremonial things. Otherwise, I dance by myself."

She could feel his hand travel down her arm and slowly grasp her hand. "Come with me," he whispered, pulling her after him.

"Your Highness," she whispered, but he didn't respond. They walked for a few minutes going farther away from the crowd. It was a small garden away from prying eyes. "What are we doing here?"

"I'm going to teach you to dance," he replied smiling devilishly down at her.

"B-but…" She felt her face heat and she avoided his green eyed gaze.

"Now don't be like that, Murielle." He stole his hand around her waist and pulled her closer. "No one will see how bad you are."

She glared up at him only to find that he was teasing her. "That isn't funny, Your Highness."

"Then why I am laughing?" He asked, chuckling. "Now, you place this hand here and I take this one in mine."

She was silent as she found herself pressed up against him. If her face wasn't red earlier it certainly was now. After their time together this morning, she'd felt something shift between them. He matched her words with the same fiery temper she had. He didn't judge her when she talked about her people. He didn't think her mad, or that her people were akin to savages. He asked questions. Tried to understand. She'd never experienced that from an outsider. It had done strange things to her heart.

"Now we simply count to three and step each time, moving around in a circle. I move forward with my left and you follow with your right." He stepped forward and Murielle moved back, following his lead.

At first, Murielle looked down trying to focus on her feet and giving her an excuse to not be so close to the prince. It felt strange, dancing with somebody regardless of the fact that that somebody was a prince of Asgard. Dancing so close to another felt so constricting and she was uncomfortable.

"You can't look down, Murielle." Prince Loki laughed and she felt his hand hook beneath her chin and force her eyes to his. He pulled her closer and she instantly tripped over her own feet.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, stepping out of embrace. "I told you, I cannot dance." She put her hands behind her back and knew that her face was as red as the roses that adorned the garden. "Besides, there's no music so it's just silly."

Prince Loki came to stand in front of her again and took her hands. "Perhaps you know a tune that could help you?"

Murielle looked up at him and smiled slightly. "Take my mind off the steps?"

He nodded and his hand went back around her waist again, pulling her close to him. She placed a hand on his shoulder and her right hand was incased in his left. He began counting and slowly the two began to dance in a small circle around the garden. Wanting to follow his advice, Murielle closed her eyes and hummed a tune she'd heard since childhood. It was a sad plaintive tune but it did keep her mind off the steps and she found herself twirled around, spun out and brought close to him again.

"So, what shall we do tomorrow, my lady?"

Murielle looked up at him. "There are some trainings I should like to attend. Medicine and the like. I find it interesting to discover how others live and survive."

"You say that as if you're better than us."

"You twist my words, Your Highness." She glared up at him, but found his eyes smiling down at her. She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Do you enjoy making me angry?"

"Just being 'who I am,' remember?"

His mimic of her words earlier in the day made her smile before he twirled her out so that she could curtsy and he could bow. The lesson was over.

"Thank you," she whispered, standing back up and meeting his eyes. "I might not make a complete fool of myself now."

The look on his face was strange and she wondered if she'd done something to offend him. "I'm tempted to not let you dance with anyone else this evening. Such a pleasure should only granted to the most worthy." He took his hand in hers and brushed his lips against her knuckles.

She wondered if it was because she suddenly felt feverish that his hand and lips were so cool on her skin. "Well, I have to be asked first."

"Then you can be sure that I shall claim you," he whispered. "For the first dance, I mean."

Murielle nodded and took a step back. "Until then, Your Highness." She curtsied slightly and he bowed in return to her. Without a further word he left her in the garden and she turned to watch him go. She held the hand he'd kissed close to her chest, thinking that he was such a strange person. He had held her almost tenderly in his arms and Murielle had never felt so safe. And yet, there was something dangerous about him. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it made her want to run, and it made her want to stay.

The Allmother sat next to her husband, watching the people in front of them as the dancing got well underway. It gave her heart no end of joy to see Loki dancing with Murielle. To see him smiling, really smiling…it was something she feared she'd never witness. She wasn't blind to how others treated her youngest son, and she had done everything she could to give him more love when Odin and Thor didn't seem to really recognize how gifted he was.

"Do you support this?" Odin asked her, leaning over to whisper to her.

"Husband, Murielle will be good for both of our boys, in her own way. I think she'll help keep Loki honest, and Thor less…well…she'll be good for our youngest son at least. Besides, an alliance with Thyscar will help both of us."

"What have you seen, Frigga?"

She shook her head, not wanting to give away what she had seen but she was also unable to truly put into words all that her vision had shown her.

"Power," she replied, trying to find the easiest way to sum it up. "Great power. And it seems to center around Murielle."