I avoided eye contact with Loki in the weeks that followed my dismissal.

Hel, I treated the Prince as though he were a total stranger. At first, it was difficult—anger and guilt had warred within me for the first week, but forced apathy set in a time later. With careful rationalization, I embedded within myself that this was a stark reminder of where we stood—as Loki had put it—that he was a Prince of Asgard, and I was a slave. Nothing more.

Though of course, that didn't leave me a bitter fool. I understood why Loki did what he did. Driving me away from the would-be source of all the 'misfortunes' that had befallen me, as he put it.

"Ask me questions when they arise…" he'd offered the last time we spoke. True enough, I continued on with my practices with the seidr, but I didn't bother him with questions. In truth, I had no desire to speak to him at all. There wasn't a single thing that I could think of to be exchanged between us, that would remedy what happened. The onset of intense sadness was also telling—I hadn't realized just how much I'd grown to care for the Prince until that day, when I faced the reality of being expelled from his presence. I hadn't cried harder than I did that first night.

One thing he had accomplished, at the very least, was that his promise of protection had created ripples throughout the period that followed. Among the guards, at least, I'd seen it out of the corner of my eye—one stopping the other stepping toward me when I dropped a heavy crate. It did not preclude me from harsh punishments, but minor things were now forgiven. It was a small piece of the burden removed, at the very least.

Loki's protection at work.

My distancing from the royal family also did me some kind of a favor at least, as it'd become marginally less difficult to avoid Astrid like the plague.

Marginally.

I simply didn't travel in the same circles anymore. Though on nights like this, it was difficult to gauge who I would and wouldn't encounter.

Three of Asgard's central families had reserved a night in the palace—a categorically small number, but their members managed to fill the entirety of the second largest banquet room in the palace. It was neither an extravagant event nor a modest one, due to the fact that the royal family was not formally obligated to attend, so a number of slaves were assigned to work the event itself.

The evening cemented a suspicion that had begun to rise in the time that passed. That Davos and I—among some of the other younger slaves—were carefully selected by pleasing appearance alone. We were the approximate height, figure, and age of most of party-goers these days, as were the other servants. It was a strange system to my mind, and if proven correct, had me wondering what would become of me when I finally aged—many, many hundreds of years from now.

I sighed as I looked down at the food tray in my hands.

To spend hundreds of years in this state…carrying food I could never touch, to serve someone I had no obligation to—it wasn't a life I'd wish on anyone. Never mind the fact that I now had some protections over the other slaves, I still wouldn't want this for a single living soul.

Just as I set the tray down onto the counter, a slew of laughing voices drew my attention to the right, toward the doorways. Thor and his entourage scampered in with a number of the noble ladies, with Loki mingling among them. My eyes lingered on him for a time, observing his classically polite smile as he listened to whatever the woman beside him was saying. Jealousy threatened to rise, but I swallowed it down as I turned away—ignoring the sound of laughter emanating from Loki's direction, which may or may not have come from the woman.

Damn… I sighed, shaking my head a bit. 'Prince' Loki's direction. There could be no familiarity between us anymore—though this was most difficult to remember.

I managed to see just where the Prince sat with his companions, with the woman beside him. A familiar voice suddenly registered to my left, and I nearly froze up a bit as Astrid walked by with the Head Maid—a look of intentness and concentration donning her features as she nodded. My chest eased as she passed.

Seemed everyone was quite busy at the event. Too busy to notice me—which was a good thing. It was better to go unnoticed.

I kept my eyes glued to the marble floors for the rest of the night, reminding myself not to look in the Prince's direction. Pointedly insisting that I resist the urge to see if he'd been looking in my direction. This was the smart thing to do, to my mind—the wise thing. Slave or not, he hadn't attempted to converse with me these past few weeks. Even as a benign friend, he hadn't approached me. He was the only sense of safety and familiarity I'd ever felt here at the palace—save for my mother—and even the glance I'd spared at the start of the evening kindled a bit of the sadness I'd worked hard to bury.

So I kept my head down, and went about my duties for the rest of the night—avoiding Astrid all throughout, as well. After several hours of wearing my feet down in my terrible shoes, there was one last round of refreshing the tables, and it would be over.

Toward the end, I finally spared a glance in the Prince's direction, just in time to see his group standing to leave. There was a grin growing steadily on his features as the woman quickly explained one last thing—eyes wide with intentness—while all the while, he fiddled with the full goblet he kept in his hand.

Some part of me thought that his gaze might sweep up at me dramatically as he left. Not so. As always, reality set in, and he left the banquet room without a single glance. And it was quite late by the time the rest of us had emptied the space. All the quiet muttering had gone, and only the sounds of the few remaining footsteps were left.

"Aila," Davos said as he walked by me, taking my arm to stop me mid-stride. "I must help bring some of the tables down back to the lower corridors, but I will meet you back here before you leave."

"Alright," I nodded, a thankful grin touching my lips. He knew I didn't like walking alone these days. "I'll wait for you."

Davos gave me a warm smile, and a gentle squeeze before heading off. After the furniture had been moved back to its previous arrangement, there wasn't much left to do—I glanced at the time worriedly, noting that Davos hadn't returned yet. Even as the hall grew silent and empty, I waited as long as I could before the discomfort set in. Something had to have kept him, perhaps they needed to move the tables somewhere else? They were quite heavy, after all.

I knew the path to the lower corridors, and despite the anxiety coiling in my abdomen, it still seemed the more attractive option to venture there, instead of staying here all alone—with the servants.

A breath of relief poured out of me as I left the hall, once I was sure that Astrid was nowhere in sight. Down the hall and further down a spiraling staircase, remnants of laughter and loud merriment echoed occasionally through the brisk, nighttime air. Sleep was starting to sweep over me, and I briefly considered returning to the catacombs alone.

Movement at the bottom of the stairs caught my eye to the right—where I was due to walk—and my blood froze at Astrid stalking back toward the stairway with her notepad in hand. With stark concentration, she scribbled something furiously as I glanced around the corridor. I could bolt for the courtyard just on the other side of the arches, or I could turn back. Both would surely catch her attention.

I lowered my hands and eyes down, clamping my wrists before me as I strode around her, leaving ample room to seem inconspicuous. I'd just been prepared to exhale relaxedly, when I heard a frustrated gasp, and a flutter of movement behind me.

"Aila?" I heard her say my name—albeit, it was comparably less hostile than usual.

That didn't stop my blood from freezing, and the rest of my body with it.

Schooling my features into a calm expression, I turned slowly, keeping my eyes on the ground. We stood there for moment, Astrid keeping one foot up on the stairs I'd just descended from. The coolness of the night suddenly seemed freezing, and the pale, blue ambiance streaming over us only added to it.

"Well," she murmured coolly as she slid her foot off the step. "You must be looking for your friend."

I stared at the ground perturbedly as she sauntered toward me, stopping at the echo of laughter coming from somewhere nearby. A cold wind blew over us both, lifting my hair off my shoulders as I watched it billow her skirt. My brows creased together as I stared down at it, suddenly wondering what Astrid truly was capable of. If not by me, then what of the other slaves—and what of her own, the servants?

"Yes, I'm looking for him," I breathed out.

She nodded. "And does the Prince know of your whereabouts this evening?"

I shook my head. "No."

"Do you know of his?"

Again, I shook it.

She paused, and then mumbled something darkly as she looked away. For a moment, I wasn't sure whether to walk away, or continue standing there. Only when she tilted her head in my direction, did I suddenly wish that I had gone when I had the chance.

"I've been wondering what they did to you, you know," her voice lilted with an unsettlingly sincere curiosity, and my eyes flickered up toward her. "The day the Prince left you—what was it, exactly, that drove him to that?"

I paused, wondering why she'd suddenly asked. "I was beaten."

"And the method of punishment?"

I pressed my lips together anxiously. "Hooks."

Astrid stared at me, brows rising incredulously. "Right…" she sighed—disappointedly. I let out a quiet, disbelieving scoff—one I was sure that only I could hear, until her head snapped toward the sound. "What?"

I stood in place for a moment, and finally shook my head, letting the confusion amass in my head.

"I-I don't understand this…" I murmured, gathering the courage to reason with her gently—perhaps once and for all. "I don't understand your hatred. I've done nothing to you."

"Yes—of course you'd think so," she said darkly, and stepped toward me.

"How can you not see that?" I asked earnestly. "Why have this war—"

"This was to be a war from the start."

"Why?"

She paused with a smirk. "You take far too much credit for your own importance."

"W-What?" I narrowed my eyes for a moment, before the realization dawned on me. Too much credit for my own importance…"If all this has been about the Prince, I haven't even spoken to him in weeks. You've got what you wanted—" I breathed out, stepping back as she stepped toward me.

"Yes, but he favors you, doesn't he?" I stumbled against one of the arches as she closed in. "And for all the things it's caused…" she scoffed. "You just wouldn't believe it. Do you know what happens when a Head Maid is demoted, Aila? She can never ascend to that position—or any like it—ever again. Such a small, insignificant little thing you are, and yet, just look at the damage you've caused."

"You think it's all my fault?" I ground out, feeling emboldened by the truth coming to light. Woman to woman, I rose my eyes and glared up at her. "You have no responsibility in what's happened to you?"

"Not as much as you do." It was in that moment, when I'd finally looked her in the eyes, that I realized just how blue they were. How unsettlingly large, as she stood there towering over me, and stared. "I'm not the slave that made eyes at him."

I couldn't tell where the courage had come from, to sneer at her with an incredulous stare. "…but you are a coward."

In a flash of wide-eyed anger, her hand flew to my cheek, striking me to the side. "How dare you?" she growled lowly. Before I could gather myself, her other hand gripped my throat, and she pushed me back against the arch.

Astrid was older, taller, and Asgardian—never mind being better nourished than I was. Whatever I was, whatever my mother was, the combination of factors proved fruitless in that moment—no matter how I grappled her arm, my natural strength couldn't overcome hers.

She shoved me downward with impossible strength, and my throat began to hurt within seconds—my lungs burning for precious air. Stars suddenly littered my vision, and I realized I was close to unconsciousness, or death. The seidr rose weakly, but I couldn't gather it quickly enough to stay the asphyxiation.

Her eyes widened suddenly, and hand loosened as an unseen force blew her against the opposite wall.

In an instant, we both fell to the ground on opposite sides of the corridor. I was unable to cough, and barely able to breath. My eyes watered as I stared at the textured floor, while a pair of boots shuffled in my direction, still trying to breathe. I rolled over and looked up at the figure strolling toward us, empty goblet hanging in his hand.

Emerald eyes dropped down to mine as the Prince kneeled beside me. He kept his gaze on me steadily on the way down, flicking his wrist in Astrid's direction. In the corner of my eye, I saw her fly up against the wall again, and the same hand lowered down to me, sliding over my aching throat—which no longer permitted the flow of air. Warmth poured into me from his skin, the softness of his touch ridding me of the pain as sweet, sweet air sucked into my lungs once more.

His thumb brushed over my jaw once before he stood. My chest heaved as I rolled over, scrambling onto my elbows as he sauntered leisurely toward Astrid—still pinned against the wall. Loki's free hand tucked behind his back, and he raised the goblet up before him, as though admiring it.

His demeanor was…terrifying. The very air around him was hot, and I scrambled to my knees, and slowly my feet—grabbing onto the archways for support.

"Leave us," he muttered darkly.

I looked between him and Astrid—still grappling with the invisible force that held her in place. "Loki, I—"

"Leave."

I stared at him for a moment, before shuffling away slowly. Step by step, I made my way down the hall, tremors still haunting my limbs, and turned back once to see his face—utterly calm as he stared at Astrid. With his expression embedded in my thoughts, I wandered around the hallways for some time, until a familiar voice brought me out of them—and a familiar face, to match, both looking and sounding as though they'd run some distance to get here.

Davos. Begging my forgiveness—from what I caught of the words tumbling from his mouth. 'Are you alright?' I heard him say.

I swayed uneasily, before finally managing to look up at him. "I—I need to sit…"

Once Aila had disappeared down the hallway, Loki stared at the woman still struggling against the magic holding her in place. He turned strolled over to one of the arches, and set his goblet down on a flat spot before releasing her, listening as she dropped to the ground. Loki turned, arching a brow at her terrified expression, and leaned against once of the arches—letting out a hefty sigh.

"I'll admit, you've impressed me." Astrid's eyes narrowed up at him from the ground. "You'd be murdered on the spot if you ever attempted to harm me directly," he said, folding his arms over his chest. "So you pursued a less consequential vulnerability."

"I-I would never hurt you, my Prince—"

"Of course you wouldn't," he interjected calmly. "Though it hardly matters what you would or would not attempt with me. There's another matter at work here, to be rectified"

His gaze hardened at the woman, and she froze the moment she noticed it, eyes widening with fear. All movement ceased.

"For if you ever raise your hand at Aila again," he spoke, his baritone voice humming to life with the magic of a curse. "Or attempt to do her harm, you will be fraught with any pain you cause. After its onset, it will never cease. Every hook, burn, and fall you inflict—you yourself will endure."

Astrid stared at him for moments more from the ground, lips parting and closing as she waited for something to happen. Loki pinpointed exactly when she felt it—the twinge of pain in her throat. He rose from the arch slowly, turning to trail off in Aila's direction as the woman swallowed thickly, raising a hand up to her throat. The last thing he heard was a muffled cough before disappearing around the corner.

The threat would be a lasting one.

Loki only planned to follow after Aila a bit, and give up if the effort proved in vain. Though that minute effort was all it took to find her, as he rounded a corner and spotted her on a lonely bench in the nearby corridor. He quickly hid behind the corner, eyes narrowing at the sight of the second figure sitting beside her, resting his hand on her knee. Being this far down in the Palace, at time of night, they must have known that there would be no one around to apprehend them—Loki certainly wasn't going to do it immediately.

"I need to tell you something." With his advanced hearing, he heard Aila mutter to the man—her tone strange, as though filled with guilt. Before Loki could even guess at what she meant, Aila took the man's hand, and little golden sparks emanated subtly between her fingers.

An intimate secret, revealed.

He shook her hand off immediately, and Loki felt his lips turn downward with an unpleasant bitterness. "W-What is that?" he asked frantically after a moment of staring.

"This is my seidr."

The man looked at her, and the air filled with silence for a moment.

"S-Seidr—but how…!?"

"Mother taught me before she died. She spent a lot of time at it, because…" Aila paused. "Davos, she wanted us to escape Asgard one day."

Loki felt his stomach drop. As did the man, seemingly, as he looked between her hand and her face several times before she continued.

"I don't know how, or when… But if I could do it, I could go… Or 'we' could…."

"You want to go together?" he said it for her. "Leave Asgard, somehow?"

A quiet wind permeated the air.

"There's nothing left for me here, except you," Aila finally whispered, voice trembling with an onslaught of tears, and Loki stared down at the ground as he listened—feeling the frown deepen painfully in his expression, clenched fists loosening at his side. "I don't want to go alone, and I don't want to leave you here…"

"Of course I'll go," the man stuttered earnestly. "If you think it's possible, of course I will go… I'll go anywhere—with you especially, Aila."

"I just can't stay here—there's pain everywhere I look, Davos," she wept quietly, and tension flickered in Loki's brows as his chest tightened. So, that was his name.

"If you find us a way, we will go—together," he answered, and by the scuffling of fabric, Loki gathered that the man stood. "Don't think twice on it, you won't go anywhere alone."

Glancing around the corner, he saw that Davos stood and took Aila by the arm, raising her up. A glimmer of uncertainty passed over her features when he stepped in, and his hands appeared on either side of her neck—but she stared up at him all the same.

She nearly shook her head as she spoke, "Davos, I-I'm in—"

He stepped in without letting her finish, slating his lips over hers. For a brief instant, Loki stopped breathing as he watched him kiss her, heard the sounds of their lips moving together…

Nausea rose when she wrapped her arms around him. And like watching a wreckage, he couldn't look away, until he absolutely forced the movement with every fiber of his will—swinging an arm out behind him, to magically conjure the sound of heavy footsteps nearing the corner.

As they neared, Loki straightened his expression stepped into them, revealing himself to the now-parted couple in the hallway.

He strode toward them at a leisurely pace, schooling his features in a mask of icy calm, with his hands clamped behind his back. "Aila," he muttered neutrally as he approached, and nodded toward the man—before realizing that his eyes were at the ground. He looked back at Aila instead, throat tightening a bit. "Are you alright?"

It took her a moment to nod briskly. "Yes—yes I'm alright…"

"That woman won't be bothering you again."

"What did you do?"

"I protected you." The words slipped out—albeit serenely—before Loki could fully considering how they sounded. Before he could try to see past the vile bitterness pressing him to assert himself over this other man's influence. With the briefest flicker of movement, Loki saw Davos furrow a brow slightly, and a sliver of satisfaction fluttered through him. "I believe I kept my word to you tonight."

Aila looked between them nodded slightly, averting her gaze to Davos as well. "We should go…"

"Indeed," Loki agreed, meeting her brown eyes once more, and subdued the fluttering impulse that swept across his chest.

This was the closest they'd been in weeks, after all. And he couldn't recall the last time he'd caught her looking back at him like this. He'd missed her terribly, having grown so fond of her over the few brief months she'd spent with him—though that hardly negated his reasons for letting her go. One evil had been dealt with, but what of the others? Was it even a possibility to have them dealt with, so they may resume their prior arrangement?

Certainly not, if she successfully escaped Asgard.

"Good night, my Prince," Aila murmured lowly, snapping Loki's attention back to her. He briefly wondered if Davos had also heard the gentility in her voice, the calming softness—by the way his hands were gathered in loose fists, perhaps he had.

An unamused grin tugged on the corner of his lip. "Always yours," he muttered flatly before turning away from the two of them, catching a final glimpse of how Aila blinked surprisedly at the remark. Instead of opting for the corridor, however, Loki stepped toward the arches that stretched across all the lowest levels of the palace. And in a flash of green, he stepped into another form—leaving raven feathers behind as he disappeared against the black sky.

Oh gosh, I am 0% certain that this chapter played out the way it did my head. Usually I try to hide my rationalizations for why characters behave/think/feel/perceive the way they do, but I think it came across more than usual in this chapter. Sorry if that got a bit boring... I got so many reviews for the last chapter, asking for the next one to come out quickly, it was like one sympathetic "gosh I know that feeling of anticipation" sentiment piling on after another until it became "okay I need to write this chapter early." And yes, there'll probably be another one this coming Sunday! Most likely...

And holy canoly the last chapter got such a huge response! I was overwhelmed and a little bit weepy. I've also had to wait for chapters to get posted on stories before, I really felt those feels as I read your reviews, so I hope this one was satisfying at least a little bit until the next one comes. I also want to let you guys know that while Astrid's arc may have come to a big "woaaah" moment this chapter (Aila lost it again toward the end there, heh), it's not fully over. I promised you guys a ton of palace intrigue, etc etc., and while these last two chapters may have been a bit heavy, there's much more to come! New characters and all!

Also, something that really touched my heart: one of you mentioned (and a few of you alluded to) Aila and Loki's happy ending-or worry about how this story would lead them to it. As a writer, it's my obligation to you, the reader, to ALWAYS deliver a whirlwind of an adventurous story, a ton of feels, and a fulfilling ending. This is a sacred bond of trust between writer and reader that I vow to never abuse. *coughgameofthronescough* I already know how this story will end, so don't you worry. :)

Oki doki. Til next time, darlings.