This chapter is probably not my best, but I think it's been rewritten about 18 times now and in the words of James Acaster…
"Started making it, had a breakdown, bon appetite"
Ancestors, how long had she been asleep?
They'd trudged through tunnel after tunnel, dispatching groups of enemies until they'd hit a large cavern, the entrance protected by a rock that the frost giant easily moved out of the way. She had a vague recollection of other entrances being pointed out, but mostly of the pounding in her ears and the heavy weight from the axe embedded in her horn; the taste of blood that filled her mouth from a heavy blow, the rivulets of it that ran from the cuts along her arms.
It had been a long time since she'd felt its touch, slicking her hands and forcing her weapon to act against her. Of course, it wasn't her weapon. No, the daggers, the axes - all gone, back in Asgard, in Niflheim.
Whether they'd shoved her into a corner or she'd found a defensible position, she was unsure, but she was so tired from the running and the fighting and the Asgardian magic knitting her back together that she passed out almost immediately. Passed out, and dreamt.
She was still getting used to the singular dreams, truth be told. Years of sharing her mind, her soul, with the Bjornlings, had meant that her dreams were always something shared - to some degree or another. Every nightmare of Isla's, or dream of Safi's; worked through together, experienced as one. Eirik would discuss the meaning of her recurring thoughts over breakfast, Jorik would be the steady, grounding influence for them all. It had fascinated Loki, the first time he'd witnessed it- the shared recounting of a memory of Safi's; one that she didn't care to recall. The way they all experienced it, coming together as a group to help her the following morning. He'd never had that kind of support; he'd revealed to her, quietly, that evening. She'd promised him that he was in their pack now, and could talk to any of them about anything. Because of who he was, rather than what Thor had asked someone else to do.
But now, all Aela's mind contained was that, Aela. No distracting friendships or bear senses or forest glades, just memories and obscure things that made no sense. Shattered things that she was sure had to be something leftover from the others, stuck in her head. Mountains and bones and wells that Aela knew she hadn't seen in life. And thoughts of the bears, of her family. Of Loki. The slam of his daggers against hers as they trained before sunset. The fire that the setting light gave his pale skin. His eyes as they beheld her, walking towards him down the same flowered aisle that his mother walked down so many centuries before. They'd both practised their expressions, forgoing the tradition of surprising each other on the day - needing to ensure they didn't look too besotted. He'd already ravished her in the dress the morning of the wedding, and the afternoon of the wedding. The evening, stolen down an unused side corridor; the nighttime, under the full moon within a forest grove; long after others had become too drunk to notice the couple leaving. In her eyes, the Bjornlings eyes, they were already wed - the Bjornlings bringing him into their pack a good week before the formal event, on the night of the new moon.
It hadn't been the wedding she'd imagined… but had been lovely. She'd grown up picturing the perfect Niflheim wedding. Garlands of holly and winterspring flowers wrapped around the wooden beams of her father's hall. Heavy embroidery on her dress; the suede and fur of their outfits protecting them against the snow. A metaphor for their love and strength as a couple, an acknowledgement that together, united, they could weather any storm. She'd dreamt of roasted meat on spits and hearty food; mead and ale flowing throughout. Traditional dancing and songs, the same that played at her parent's nuptials; and her grandparents before them. Instead, it was hot. The sun beat down upon the party from morning til night; though she knew she had to be grateful, as it was the same bright sun that allowed her parents to visit, for the snowcaps to melt. She'd wept at the small pieces of traditional embroidery that her Mother had packed; the seamstresses incorporating them with the incredibly Asgardian dress that they'd been making. Light, gauzy fabric that flowed as she walked and span beautifully under the watching eyes of the Asgardian court. She'd wanted her usual tapered sleeves, but had settled for a split sleeve that formed almost a cape behind her. The embroidery was magnificent, forming a twisting collar that went around her tall, elegant neck and down her sternum; nipping her in at the waist.
They'd spent just as long prepping her for that long day as they would before a difficult battle. Every stroke of the brushes on her face, the draping of her jewels, was reminiscent of their pre-battle preparations. Strapping on armour, sharpening weapons, draping their bows and arrows. It had been impossible to keep her truth with Loki from her mother and sister, their observant eyes catching every glance, every touch; until they told the couple to stop hiding. It was embarrassing to watch them try.
Waking up on the ground of a wet cave was as far away from that luxurious day as she could get. There was no-one to dress her, to paint her, to leave the room with eyes rolling as they step in to find the groom rubbing scented oil into his bride's muscles. She had an urge to leave, to run and find her people; but knew she needed to be here, to continue.
She watched the Frost Giant mull around camp from her position in the corner of the room.
When was the last time she'd seen a Frost Giant?
It should have brought her back to Loki, but didn't. He'd spent too little time in his birth form for it to have become the default; but she could feel hints of him in the brush of cold, the dash of magic in the air. There were so many times she felt watched; had continuously felt watched whilst on her new journey, but the sanity within her knew it wasn't her husband, as much as she wished it was. Or Eirik, as much as she desperately longed for his company. She wondered if it was paranoia, or just Heimdal, using those all seeing eyes to watch her slow death and demise. She couldn't help but wonder whether it would be with sadness or righteous fury, and whispered her question into the bustling room. Heimdal had always seemed nice, beneath the layer of calm stoicness. Steadfast, reliable. "I hope you're well; because I certainly am not" she whispered after a moment, not daring to say more, lest they think her entirely mad.
She shifted her gaze from the Rocky ceiling to the Frost Giant, tall and blue and cold, lumbering across the makeshift camp they'd been dragged to. He smiled shyly, lifted tents with ease, crouched through archways and immediately brought her back to her childhood. She felt small, tired, and very off balance. An elf moved forwards to stand by her side, squatting with a concerned look as they took in the hand-axe firmly attached to her horn.
"I can try and pull it out" they muttered, scoffing at the glare she shot over. "Glare all you like, I've faced off with worse than you"
Aela kept the glare there, hating the patronising words, the humour on the older elfs face. "Don't break my horn"
"I don't know if I can promise that, but we can try...it's not too deep, but you've definitely lost a good chunk...Regnom!"
The Frost Giant looked at them, wandering over.
"You're full Nifl, aren't you?" the elf asked.
"Yes; hence why I'd quite like to keep my horns, thank you"
"Fabulous. Regnom, think you can hold her still and try to remove that axe without snapping her horn clean off?"
He regarded her for a second before turning to the elf. "Horns are precious, I'll do my best"
Aela nodded to him, thankful for the solemn understanding. His hands were so big as they enveloped her, holding her shoulders down with his left as his right moved towards her horn. He shimmied the axe, and Aela frowned as she felt it tug her head, groaned as she felt a shudder move through her.
"Stop being a child, it's not a limb" the elf snapped, rolling their eyes as they leaned forwards to hold the horn with two hands, to give further stability. "And engage your core. Stop moving"
"I'll take one of your precious ears, how about that?" She snapped in response, glad for the blue chest that suddenly overtook her vision. The hand moved from her shoulder to grip her horn - switching places with the elf - whilst the other oh so gently rocked the axe whilst pulling backwards. She felt it as it finally shifted, the lightness as it left, and immediately her hands flew up to take in the feel of the damage.
Her breath caught. The horn was intact, but the deep gash was worse than she'd anticipated. "You'll need to watch yourself, or you'll lose it" the giant rumbled, "we don't have much spare metal here, or the facilities to craft the barrier a break like that requires…"
Aela sighed and smiled, standing on wobbly, shocked legs and formally bowing to the large blue man. "Thank you, Regnom"
"It is nothing…"
The question went unspoken. "Aela"
He repeated her name with a smile, waving at the elf as they left, snarking about not being thanked. "Now come, get some food. It's merely mushrooms but it's better than nothing"
She nodded, missing the juicy fire-roasted meat of home and the delicate Asgardian food more than ever as she took in the large shields filled with glowing mushrooms and little else. Regnom handed her a few of the caps and took a large one for himself, and she smiled at the waves from her companions as she moved towards them.
"How did this happen then? This camp?"
"We were part of the regiment, like yourselves. But we got separated down here and well…we found we enjoyed the quiet. We're still killing undead, and rescuing lost warrior units"
She chuckled, biting into the near flavourless mushroom and grimacing at the texture. Usually, mushrooms were tolerable, but this was something else.
"And we go out to hunt every now and then before coming back in…but it's nice. No commanders, no shame. We move around the caves, the tunnels, to stay safe"
"So no-one is in charge?"
"Syd takes the lead often" he pointed to a shorter woman tending to her friends; hair short and grey. Unshaved, another small rebellion. "But we decide everything together"
"You don't consider just…leaving?"
He hesitated, before speaking. "We did, for a while. Argued a lot…but we all bear the mark" he gestured to the black smudge on her face, the smaller one on his own. "The moment we were seen by a platoon, or the residents of the local villages, we'd be brought back and reprimanded. Here we're serving out our sentences, doing good, honest work. It's something to be proud of"
Aela contemplated his words, liking the silence that followed. What was bubbling under the surface of the army her father had run for so many years, for offshoots to prefer living in the land of the undead, pale from the underground darkness, like voles? For platoons in trouble to be assisted in the most obligatory way possible? For new recruits to be abandoned, left to die?
Activity behind her quelled her thoughts, and she turned alongside the others to see what was happening, exhaustion ringing in her mind. Exhaustion, and confusion, as she realised she knew the group that appeared through the wide length of cave they'd been brought through hours before.
She stood on tired, weary legs and moved forwards, the mushroom an earthy pulp in her mouth that felt hard to swallow as she watched the newcomers appear - both familiar and new.
One rushed forwards, clasping The elf from before. It was tender, and she looked away - missing her bjornling companions more than she ever thought possible. The cave felt cramped now, as they rolled the stone doors back into place and she realised she was looking into the exhausted, filthy visage of the weapons master, of the veterans that she'd trained alongside for so many weeks. There were no hugs between them, just nods, relief showing in their eyes at the new recruits. Relief and curiosity in equal measure in Aela's. She could see the others rising from where they'd been bandaged up, coming to greet the soldiers like old friends. Aela merely nodded to the Weaponsmaster, a greeting he gave in kind.
"Where are the commanders?" She asked, looking at the motley group and realising they weren't to be seen.
"We split. I've lost many a recruit, Nifl, but not like that. Not…avoidable damage. And once these great idiots agreed I told them I refused to lose my best fighters from the base squadron and that I'd go with them. I didn't give them time to respond, just left.'We couldn't leave you. There will be hell to pay if we…when we make it back'
Aela welcomed the swell of emotion in her breast, glad to welcome it like an old friend. She'd never taken pride in being emotionless, and had hated how numb she'd felt in recent months.
"Come, let's get you something to drink. I feel we've earned it"