It was always interesting how quickly life settled into routine. A day, a week, a fortnight. They so easily became a month, then two, as quickly as if Aela had blinked and missed it. The training was the beginning of what felt like healing - she was there first thing, ensuring the equipment was ready, the blades blunted and the targets lined with cloth and barriers to ensure any off target arrows could be easily retrieved. She mentored the scared new fledglings, learning their stories, helping them grow. More arrived every few days, more than she'd ever imagined and so quickly they weren't the newbies, but experienced fighters, people that the new prisoners turned to for advice.
It felt normal. And with that normality came laughter, and the beginnings of friendship. Of knowing not to accept hooch made by the enormously tall giant folk that tended to congregate on the outskirts of camp - but recognising that with her new Asgardian fortitude it was often the only way to become truly inebriated if that was her true desire. Of working up the courage to go and speak to Themsal only to find him gone, sent to their sister camp further into the breach. Of training with some of the more advanced soldiers after hours - no bravado, only mild bragging and extreme exhaustion. She opened up to them; little by little. Not everything, not who she was or why she was there - they'd respected her request for privacy as soon as it had been given. No judgement, or contempt. She appreciated it, letting them tell their stories and work her until she was boneless and exhausted by sundown. The loss still felt like a gaping wound, but one that she was learning to live with, to work around. The lack of her Bjornlings affected her so much in random moments as she automatically turned to tell them something. She'd started keeping a journal on the recommendation of one of the chefs in camp; one who sometimes looked as haunted as she felt. In it she wrote letters, every few nights, to those she longed to hold.
"I killed a man" one of her new comrades had begun, one night. "I wish I could say I was ashamed but to this day I ain't. I wish I hadn't, but it happened and I can't make it any other way". They were sat around one of the many fires that always found their way into existence as the sun set, as an oddly comradery atmosphere settled in; for a war camp of sentenced criminals. It was Len's turn that night, as a few rare stars peeked out from behind the constant cloud cover above. Aela sipped from the carved wooden cup of some sort of tea someone had produced that quite frankly tasted of tree bark, but the heat was nice against the cool breeze, warming her tired body from the inside. She suspected there was some sort of painkiller in the bark, as it tended to appear after particularly difficult days and after deciding to run everyone through unarmed combat the entire platoon had left the grounds grateful for a cup.
"Why'd you kill him?"
Aela was glad someone had asked, as she'd desperately wanted to know. It didn't feel right to ask though, when she wouldn't give her own story in return.
"He was the lords son. Took and took and took until we had no more to give, no tithe, no land. One day, he turns up and starts slinging insults. Sly ones, commenting on the state of the house, the threadbare curtains, the fact our animals were better fed than we were. Started saying that he was ashamed of his pathetic township; that we'd have to leave, that he had a more prosperous family moving in - old friends, and the like"
There were nods around the fire, understanding glances that Aela felt ashamed to not have understood. She'd had hardship, but not like that. Never had to worry for her next meal, or her family starving.
"We got the notice that taxes were going up. That any families who couldn't pay would be evicted. Just as he'd said when he'd been round. Then our neighbours place burned down, taking them with it… And when he turned up and had found us still there, stubborn as the mules in the yard he pulled a weapon and said if we didn't leave he'd have us in the stocks; or that we'd find ourselves in 'a hot situation' The pitchfork was in my hand before I knew it, I'd just…had enough. I was young, just a kid. Was sent here, and I've been helping fight and train others since. Turns out I was better with that weapon than anything else in my whole life"
"You don't think you've earned your freedom then?" The same young woman asked who'd requested his story, hugging her slim, bony knees.
"Probably, if it worked that way. But I killed a man, and I've killed hundreds of the undead since. Comes easier than breathing, once you're used to it. What life is waiting for me outside of here? My family are safe, they left before I was sentenced - I wouldn't let them stay to see me dispatched. And really, can we earn freedom? Is this not a life sentence for us all?"
"Not necessarily"
The voice was gruff, and they all turned, varying expressions. On the older, more experienced members of their little group were the tired, exasperated expressions. On the newcomers, hope. Aela was merely curious.
"Our Lady has promised us freedom, in exchange for our service"
The storyteller chuckled. "No high lords or ladies here lads, I'm afraid"
"You're wrong"
He nodded, sipping his tea. "Okay, I'm wrong then - that's fine. What do you have to do in exchange for this so-called freedom? What's her price, this mysterious figure?"
"We've already paid it, in part"
The original speaker shook his head, and a younger woman beside him mimicked the gesture before speaking. "The price always grows, for someone making grand promises. Unless it's The General of Niflheim, you've not much chance of freedom"
The man swayed slightly as he sat, smirking over the brim of his battered tin cup. It wasn't attractive, as Loki's or Eirik's were; Aela mused, but slimy, creepy. "What about the future General of Niflheim?"
It was Aela that spoke now, the words coming unbidden and dangerously emotive "Astrid has promised you freedom?"
He guffawed, and Aela was thankful he hadn't noticed her slip in using her sister's first name. "Hardly, that prim Madame wouldn't know ruling qualities if they came up behind her and spanked her. Our lady is from another noble house; and once she gets rid of Astrid the Lame she will be able to swoop in and assume the role- she's next in line and the obvious choice"
The circle was quiet.
A familiar voice came next, one that had talked her through so many moves and stances. He was smaller than most, but fearsome with a polearm. "What about his other daughter? I always heard he had two?"
"That's the best bit - she's supposedly been shipped down here, somewhere. Lots of us think it's crap though, that she's in some Manor House in the woodland letting her hair grow back out whilst she lives her punishment. If we find her though" he laughed, the sound dark and foreboding, "we know what to do"
Surprise rippled from the group. "He sent his own daughter here? What the fuck did she do?"
"Who knows" the intruder laughed, staring into his now empty cup. "We just know she was, not why. Being too arrogant, maybe?"
The group laughed, and Aela forced herself to join in, to chuckle and smile and let her mask slip back into place.
"What's this lady's name then?" she asked, kicking her feet out in front of her, the picture of relaxation. "Who is it we need to cosy up to when she takes over this army?"
"You're a Nifl, surely you know some of the houses?" he asked, and Aela shrugged. "Not that high up, no"
He leaned forwards, gesturing with his empty cup as he spoke. "You knew the name of the Generals daughter though"
"Everyone knows that" Aela defended, forcing a laugh. Sam, beside her, agreed. "Even I knew that, and I'm not from Niflheim"
The group was quiet as he weighed his options, staring at them quietly. Finally, he continued. "Eilen, our lady is Eilen. You must be from right out in the sticks not to know that"
Shit, she was being too suspicious. "I'm from Niflheim, but my parents weren't too into teaching us the noble houses. Just how to fight, to hold a sword"
She could feel eyes on her. She'd never spoken about her life, and could see some of the warriors she'd been training with looking at her. She was no countryside, home trained fighter. Not with the skills she'd demonstrated, the exotic weapons she'd shown aptitude with. They'd found a stash in one of the disused tents recently and she'd laughed at the sight of some of the rare, curved blades. Had taught them all a few moves. You didn't learn those in the middle of nowhere. They remained silent though, simply assessing the conversation, and Aela offered an earthen jug of water to the men, glad to see her hand stay stable as she poured the liquid into his empty cup, letting the conversation continue around them, back to the history of others in the group.
Her mind was racing though, barely listening. She needed to find a way to warn her sister, to get word out that the attempts on her life in Asgard were just the tip of Eilen's iceberg. Aela had been an idiot, and had taken herself out of the picture when she'd allowed herself to be captured and sent out of Asgard, out of Niflheim. She should have used her wits, should have tried to talk her way out of it rather than just accepting her punishment. The laughter stopped abruptly as a siren began, the wailing of whatever spinning noisemaker they were using passed through camp.
"What's that?" she asked, focus snapping from the source of the sound to one of the more experienced of the group who was already standing and reaching for her armored jacket.
"Trouble"
Looking around, she couldn't help but notice others doing the same. The old faces, the ones who had served for months, years, were all standing, gathering their things. If there was one thing she'd learned, it was to emulate those who knew what was happening. Aela reached for her own and followed after the other soldier, who gave her a quizzical look. Aela shrugged. "If you're all moving, then I'm going too. I'm guessing the sound means the fight is coming to us?"
The warrior nodded. "It does, and it would be good to have you with us. Go back and fetch your archer friend but leave the newcomers, I saw them in the training ring yesterday and they're not fit to fight children, nevermind undead"
"Good way to get rid of them though" Aela chuckled, and the woman stopped. Turned. "There aren't enough of us to manage this war. Whatever your issue is with them, or anyone else in camp, we train them. We don't let them die. Do you understand me?"
Aela nodded, shocked, before about facing and grabbing Sam and Bodil and joining the throng of people congregating around the mess tent. They didn't recognise the man waiting to address the crowd, but he was dressed in familiar black armour, the same as the lieutenant and his seconds. Sam quickly tapped the stranger in front, asking the grizzled woman what was happening. She looked them up and down and huffed, turning back to the front. Their question was answered from behind though, as Geva slid through the tightly packed bodies and greeted the trio with a nod. "This means the sister camp has called for reinforcements. Those who can fight will be shipped out. Don't worry though, you'll probably stay here til the next time. They don't send the newbies if they can help it. I might though. Missed the last call, and I don't think I'll be so lucky this time"
Aela bit her lip, thinking. If it was the sister camp they were going to, then she needed to be part of that group. Needed to get to Themsal, if for naught else than to send notice home to her parents, to Astrid. To watch out for Eilen, to protect themselves. To wait for her to get back to them.
"Geva, I want to fight"
"You're bloody good Nifl, but you can't just-"
She leaned in. "No, I need to go. Trust me"
"I don't have that kind of sway, I'm just a fighter, same as you"
"No…" she hesitated, thinking.
"Axes!"
Aela turned, seeing the instructor gesturing from the side of the throng.
"With me"
Sten could send her. She could see the cogs turning in Bodils head as her own worked, and quickly gave her thoughts to the Trio. If she asked the instructor, if he put in a word for her.
"We're coming with you" Sam promised, grabbing for Geva as she followed Aela forwards. He stuttered, confused, and Aela looked back, smirking, before pushing through the crowd to follow their weapons instructor. "Fill him in, would you?" she asked, chuckling at the twin looks of mischief on their faces. He hadn't asked her name, and she hadn't given it. She'd just been 'Nifl' to him for a month, and could see from his shock that they'd whispered her identity as she turned to see if they were following.
"You called for me, Sten?"
"Yes. Go to the Armorers tent and get outfitted in actual armor. Then to my tent, for weapons"
She grinned, glad she didn't have to ask, to reduce herself to begging. She was going to get out of here, she was going to fight, and get to Themsal and send that letter out. He had his ways, and she needed them now as much as she needed an actual weapon in her hand, as much as she needed to feel the thrill of battle.
The wailing cry came out again, and he glared. "Now. Go. Take those three with you. Meet me at the gates as soon as you can"
She reiterated the message to the others, laughing at Geva's expression. "You're...You"
"You have two choices, continue as you have been or go; I don't want awkwardness here"
"I hit you" he deadpanned. "With a blunt sword. In the head"
"You did, well remembered" she replied, smirking.
He stared for a few seconds, and rolled his eyes. "If you're expecting me to treat you differently you'll be disappointed"
"I wouldn't have told you if I thought you would. And, when you're old and grey you can tell your grandchildren you hit a queen in the head"
"Old and grey? You're optimistic, Nifl"
"I'm here because I overthrew a kingdom, Elf. I'll get you through this battle alive if I put my mind to it"
"But...you're here because you failed to overthrow the kingdom" he replied, and Aela laughed from her stomach as she quickly walked across the grass to the armorer's tent. "Touche elf, touche"