Chapter 4 - Calm Abiding


So grave was Sif's condition that the Asgardians were afraid to travel through the Bifrost. Yet they couldn't stay in the woods, so they decided to return to the Castle of Vanaheim until she woke, at least. Dallea gave Sif her horse and four of her men offered their steeds to the Asgardians. Loki chose to walk.

Drained, Dallea tugged on the reins of her horse and even though she was a few steps ahead, she could almost sense her mask, in a bag on the saddle. Like an electric pulse, it radiated her shame. How long could she disassociate herself from that guilt?

The forest they walked through was empty, but the Vanir soldiers still flanked the Asgardians. A man in front held a torch and every three men behind him continued the pattern. Fire seemed like the last thing they needed at that moment, seeing as the smell of smoke was still fresh in their senses.

However, Dallea knew that most of her men had been away fighting Mares. They needed the light, especially the medical officer. He jumped at every crackle of the thicket. For Yggdrasil's sake, if they had faced Mares anything like the one she had killed that morning … she didn't even know what to say. Why had their enemies decided to supersize themselves? Why now?

When Loki sidled up beside her, she was tempted to spill all of her worries onto him. Yet his expression showed amicable indifference. It was hard to tell if he was scared or anything at all. She bit her tongue. He didn't speak. Was it because the rest of the Vanir men avoided her like the plague? His pity wasn't comforting.

Though the piece of bread that he offered was welcomed. Flitting her eyes up only briefly, she whispered a thank you.

"How much farther, do you think?" Gingerly, he prompted Dallea to look up from the ground. When she did, he hoped regret wouldn't be in her eyes.

"Not far," said she. Formalities in every syllable, it was obvious the longer she replayed what just happened the more she wished she had done it in a safer way. "We're taking a shortcut around the swamp lands."

"And what happens to you after you get back?"

"Nothing."

He gave her a look, then, and she wished he'd stop arching his eyebrow like that. Just looking at how placid he was while waiting for the truth made her want to ebb away.

"I don't know"

"You aren't ever supposed to take that helmet off."

"No." Her voice broke.

Silence once again surrounded them, but Dallea suspected she was more bothered than he was. He didn't have to deal with liability that smothered her like the fabrics in her hood. Initially, they were put in place to provide comfort, but now their only purpose was suffocation.

"You know," Loki said, stepping over a tree root. His tone was thoughtful. "We already have a woman warrior in Asgard."

Dallea laughed. She couldn't help it. An echo of the noise reached her even after she had settled down. By the Norns, that forest was deceased. Eventually, she looked back at Loki, and humiliation sent her eyes right back to the dirt. He seemed bewildered and expectant for an explanation.

"I can't leave," Dallea shrugged, flustered at the mere suggestion.

"Why not?" he asked. Holding her breath, she cursed herself a million times. She didn't want to fight with him, but he had to understand that just because she did … whatever she had done, didn't mean she was a child again.

"This is my home," Dallea said to the ground. For good measure, she repeated: "I can't leave."

"You should," Loki murmured. Snapping her attention to him, Dallea breathed in quickly. His offhand dismissal of everything she had worked so hard on stung. "Sif won't be asleep forever."

Touching her hair gingerly, Dallea made sure her ears were completely covered. Loki noticed her withdrawal.

"You don't have to," Loki said, clicking his tongue while trying to thinking of the right words to say. "I'm simply asking: what else could you do here that you can't do in Asgard?"

That caught Dallea off guard. Scrambling to come up with a proper response, she had to look away from his face again. His eyes filled her with hopes she didn't have the resources for; until right at that moment at least. She didn't need those dreams; she had everything she wanted in Vanaheim.

"It's a generous offer, but no one wants me there," Dallea reasoned.

"Except me," Loki said easily. His words were holding more weight than Dallea could carry at that moment, and so he pressed even more. "And my mother would love to see you again."

"Frigga?" Dallea smiled fondly. "How is she?"

"Fine," Loki responded, offering Dallea another piece of bread. "You should go and see for yourself."

Her eyes were smiling even if her mouth puckered in disapproval. She knew precisely what he was doing, and she hated how it was working. For years Asgard was a distant place, but the longer she stood amongst Asgardians, the more tangible the idea of returning seemed to be.

"Asgard has changed quite a bit," Loki mused. "It's been … what? A few hundred years since you were there last?"

Dallea smiled and looked ahead, the murmuring of other conversations making this moment even more real. Complacent, she squinted her eyes and adjusted her scabbard.

"Do those golden apples still bloom at this time of year?" she asked. Loki flashed her a wolfish grin that sent the elf into a fit of giggles. Those golden apples were hidden from them as children, which made the challenge of obtaining them even more thrilling.

"Of course."

The noise of her laughter turned a few heads. Dallea subconsciously rolled her shoulders back and touched her ears. Teeth running over her bottom lip callously, the elf sensed her yearning for something else grow.

"I'll see what I can do."

Six words were all it took for a champion's smile to possess Prince Loki's indifferent expression. Six words were all it took for Dallea to allow herself the pleasure of dreaming again.


Sif didn't wake throughout the night, and the healers of Vanaheim were panicking. Her pulse was there, as was her breath, but her eyes refused to open. It took only four hours of pacing and shouting for Thor to finally lose every drop of his patience and demand they take her outside so Heimdall could take them all home. Where proper healers who knew what they were doing worked, as Thor so calmly phrased it.

Waiting for Sif to be carried outside, Thor found his head only so his younger brother would listen to him. He knew how Loki despised when he shouted in his face, so when he spoke he called on the might of the Norns to keep his voice low.

"I hate to say this, brother, but we really don't need her," Thor said. Since her couldn't have been Sif, Loki rolled his eyes at Thor's deserved attack on Dallea. Loki didn't think he would be having this conversation with Thor of all people, but at least he would understand the gist of his words. Sometimes the line between need and want had to be blurred. "We have one woman already. Isn't that enough?"

"Your support is dumbfounding." Loki sighed, folding his hands behind his back but making no move to glance at his brother. Who was he kidding? Thor was a simpleton; he needed not go into such philosophical debates on his choices.

"What would father think?"

Now, this angle impressed him. Loki looked up with a cool demeanor that held no room for debate. "Why would he object to another warrior joining us?"

Loki smirked as Thor looked away, thinking of a suitable retort. When the elder son of Odin looked back, he noticed his brother's gaze was glassy with thought. Thor, although not well versed in the subtleties of nature, knew that look. He chuckled and drew Loki out of his thoughts. His younger brother frowned, annoyed at how smug he looked.

"I know why you want her to come." Loki raised his eyebrows; an invitation for him to explain. "Brother, she is beautiful, but is she truly worth a shag?"

Loki rolled his eyes but Thor wouldn't allow him to slip out of the spotlight so easily. He nudged Loki's shoulder until the younger prince was clenching his jaw in embarrassment. Yet even as irritable as he was, Loki still managed to keep an airy tone in his voice when he said:

"I guess we'll have to see."

Thor threw his head back and laughed. Pleased with himself and the man he squeezed to his side, Thor shook his little brother with gusto. A still unconscious Sif was placed next to them and the warriors three who were conversing a few steps away came forward, saving Loki from further teasing.

"There's hope for you yet!" Thor exclaimed before releasing the raven haired prince and encircling Sif alongside his friends. Bright pink with humiliation, Loki stared at Sif's slumbering face - Heimdall couldn't get him out of there fast enough.

Dallea watched them leave from a balcony not far away. Her gaze was bewitched by the Bifrost. If all went well, perhaps she would be able to ride it as well. With a heavy heart, she knew if anything were to happen beyond this point, she would have to speak with the King and Queen.

Stepping away from the sight of the Aesir's departure, Dallea delved into her own thoughts. Her mind had been made up when she entered the castle of Vanaheim yesterday sans helmet, and was greeted with looks of disgust. It was time for a change.

Turning and entering the hallway, she felt a breeze whisper from the empty corridor heading east. Though the King and Queen of Vanaheim lay straight ahead, Dallea found herself intrigued by the dark hallway. She had been down it before and knew it had no windows. Where was that breeze coming from?

There was a pit in her stomach but she followed her instincts and ventured into the darkness. All the torches had been snuffed out. As if in a trance, she marched forward until she was swallowed from sight.


There was always room for one more in the ranks of the Vanaheim army, and King Njörd liked to broadcast it. However, the King granted her leave with barely a second thought. When Dallea went to bid farewell to her team whom she had worked with all these years, she felt them breathe a sigh of relief.

Dallea's most regretful goodbye in the armory was to the armour itself. Among a few other things, the request that she leave her armour in Vanaheim was a requirement for the King to grant her resignation. She had hardly any earthly possessions in this realm, and leaving her mask behind felt like she was leaving a dear friend. Only able to bargain and keep her sword, Dallea placed it in her bag and tried not to make eye contact with the other soldiers.

Then there was Queen Skandi, to whom she was indebted to eternally. The one who took her in when King Njörd turned her away. The one who tried to convince her to stay, for her husband to deny her leave. Dallea forced herself not to cry, despite having to wipe the eyes of the Queen too many times to count.

Placing a small hand on Dallea's forehead, the Queen forced herself to take a deep breath of air. She whispered: "May Asgard do what Vanaheim could not."

Feeling her eyes beginning to burn, Dallea closed them. Queen Skandi looked upon her with pride and it made Dallea's heart hurt.

"And may the Norns guide you to happiness. Yggdrasil knows you need it."

The Queen began to shake, and Dallea had to hold her carefully, trying not to think of her departure as a betrayal. Too soon, Dallea had to leave so she wouldn't miss her carriage.

Walking out of the courtyard of the castle felt wrong. She hadn't left those walls without her mask in a very long time, so she tried to open her eyes as wide as she could. One can't see the whole world looking through tiny slits of a mask. Placing one foot on the step of the carriage, Dallea thought better of herself and turned to wave to a small group of handmaidens lead by Queen Skandi.

It hurt, watching them wave her off and not knowing if she would see them again, but they were far away enough to not see the tears on Dallea's face. She climbed into her carriage but kept her eyes on the castle through a decent sized window.

On the dirt road behind her, a few of the handmaiden's had run out onto the middle of the street, laughing and holding hands. A few more leaked onto the path and were calling her name and waving their arms. "Sjáumst! Farewell, Dallea!"

Dallea, curious at the noise, opened the carriage door as it was still moving. Daring to poke her head out slightly to see the commotion, her heart ripped in two seeing Queen Skandi and all of her handmaidens on a trodden path, hollering her name. Grinning and crying at the same time, Dallea waved back to the women. She kept on waving until they became dots on the path and their voices had long since faded.

Sitting back in her carriage, Dallea still smiled, but she refused to wipe her tear-strewn face.

"Sjáumst," Dallea whispered. We will meet again.


It took Dallea six days to travel across Vanaheim, with frequent stops to allow the horses time to rest. Once she arrived at a bustling structure with healers coming and going in swarms, Dallea tipped her carriage man and grabbed her bags.

Entering the main foyer, a skylight illuminated the golden tiles and sleek walls that hung portraits of famous Vanir Doctors. Not allowed to bring her weapons past that point, Dallea shed her bags and they were placed elsewhere for safe keeping.

Dallea climbed a spiral staircase and passed the second and third levels up to a specialized intensive care unit. Although the fourth floor was a maze of hallways, Dallea found the room she was looking for quickly.

Knocking on the door and waiting for a raspy voice to hail her in, Dallea laced her fingers together and tried not to be bothered by the heavy silence. It smelt of death up there, and when Dallea opened the door, it intensified.

Frail as she looked, the old woman who laid on the only bed in the room was alert when she heard footsteps. "Who are you?"

"It's me, Nanny," Dallea said, grabbing a chair next to the door so she wouldn't have to look at the woman. "It's Dallea."

The result was instantaneous: a grin broke out across the woman's face, and she extended a quavering hand for Dallea to hold. Obliging, Dallea kissed her old nanny's knuckles and pressed her hand to her heart.

"How are you?" Dallea asked.

"Alive," Nanny said in a teasing tone. "For now."

"That's not funny," Dallea said, tilting her head with a stern expression on her face. Although Nanny couldn't see this, she heard the young woman's tone and let out a cackle.

"Says you." Dallea rolled her eyes, but squeezed Nanny's hand tightly while bringing it to rest on her lap. "And you? How has Vanaheim been treating you?"

"Fine," Dallea said.

"It's always fine, never good," Nanny mused. "That's not good."

"It's fine, Nanny," Dallea said.

"I know," Nanny replied, moving her hand to clasp Dallea's upper arm. "You can handle yourself." She gave Dallea a little squeeze and sat up in her bed slightly. "Good Norns! You could break me in half."

Dallea giggled and reclaimed Nanny's hand into her own. "Maybe."

"Tell me, child," Nanny smiled, brightening at the sound of Dallea's laughter. "What have you been getting yourself into?"

After filling the old woman in on everything that she had been doing since the last few months that she had visited, Dallea squeezed her hand. "I think I'll be leaving, Nanny."

"Oh?" Nanny said, cocking her head at the change of tone in Dallea's voice. "To where?"

"Asgard," Dallea whispered, her mouth upturning when Nanny's did. "A few days ago I saw Prince Loki again. He invited me to go back with him."

"How lovely!" the woman exclaimed, her pointed ears, much like Dallea's, twitching as she smiled. "Just like when you were children. Tell me, how did he look? Handsome enough to stir up some old feelings?"

"Nanny!" Dallea scolded with a grin. "We were children, that was nothing."

"You didn't answer me, young lady," Nanny teased, shaking Dallea's hand playfully. Dallea gave a pursed lip smile to the old elf while shaking her head.

"He was very handsome," Dallea finally admitted, and Nanny guffawed. Finding the laughter contagious, Dallea joined in, until Nanny's chest constricted. She began to cough instead.

Her smile vanishing, Dallea stood up and quickly got her nanny a glass of water. She had to guide the old elf's hand to the cup, and help bring it to her lips. After setting the glass on the nightstand, Dallea swallowed a lump in her throat. The old woman's eyes were pale and glassy, shifting from time to time, but completely blind. As a result of her illness, Nanny had lost many things, including her sight and ability to walk. Becoming sick during Dallea's training in Vanaheim, the woman had to fight her battle alone.

"Where's Jania?" Nanny asked suddenly, breaking the quiet before the smell of her dying body overcame both of them. "Have you seen her?"

Dallea looked down at the woman, her face falling even farther. "Nanny, she disowned me."

"What?" Nanny gasped, her head lurching forward in shock. Nodding despite knowing she couldn't be seen, Dallea rubbed her eyes as they began to itch with unshed tears. "Don't worry about your old mother, Dallea. She's a fickle thing. This room stinks, but you're always welcome here."

"Thank you," Dallea said, finding the old woman's hand and holding it tightly.

"I'll talk to her," Nanny promised, but Dallea wasn't very comforted by her words. "She comes in and talks to me from time to time."

"Talks at you, you mean?" Dallea asked, a trace of scorn lingering in her voice. Nanny clicked her tongue, raising her eyebrows.

"Don't be bitter, Dallea. It's not a good colour on you," Nanny stated. Dallea hung her head, her chest tightening.

"I'm sorry," said Dallea. Sometimes she just couldn't help it.

"The only way that I will forgive you is if you leave this dying old woman at once and go to Asgard," Nanny said firmly, releasing Dallea's hand and folding her hands over her chest. The position reminded Dallea of a body being lowered into a casket. "I don't want your legacy to be worrying about me. Consider it my dying wish."

Dallea looks down at her hands, refusing to find humour in Nanny's words. She played with the purple beaded bracelet on her wrist and sat in silence. Nanny reached out once again, and Dallea allowed her to feel the jewelry on her wrist. Running her hands over the round beads, Nanny's face softened.

Sniffling, Dallea cursed herself for not being strong enough to hold back her tears. Nanny didn't need her pathetic crying; she was dying for Yggdrasil's sake! Nanny, however, carefully brought her hand to where she thought Dallea's cheek was. The young elf guided her hand towards her face and leaned into the touch.

"The only regret I have," Nanny whispered soothingly, feeling Dallea clench her teeth together to try and stop the tears. "Is not being able to see you in all your glory on the battlefield. I remember hearing you go on for days about how much you wanted that."

"I just want you to be better," Dallea admitted in a small voice. Maybe if she hadn't left in the first place she could have done something to help.

Hearing the young elf's voice break made the old woman shed a tear of her own. They sat in silence for a second, one that enabled the coldness of reality to settle in on them.

"I love you, Dallea," Nanny stated. "Don't talk to Jania if you don't want to."

Despite the thought of Jania making Dallea want to cry harder, she managed a smile. "I love you, too."


Standing with all of her belongings in this realm, Dallea came to terms with just how little she owned. Trinkets seemed frivolous when she was traveling to train, but she wished she had something to fiddle with.

Nervous, Dallea wondered how she was to get the attention of the gatekeeper. Yelling was not something she fancied doing while standing in the middle of an open space, especially not to someone she couldn't even see. If Heimdall was anything as she remembered, he would be terrifying on a good day.

Turning her head, she felt eyes on the back of her head. With nobody in sight, Dallea's hand drifted to a knife hidden in the ribbons of her corset. It was tiny but could gut a Mare if need be. Perhaps not a full sized one … oh, Norns. What was she to do if it was a full sized one?

Her questions were never answered. The prickly feeling of being watched amplified to static jumping over her skin. Looking at her bare arms as the hair stood straight, Dallea took a step backward in terror.

A hum. A hum was all it took for her fears to evaporate. Amazed, Dallea craned her neck back as the bifrost descended from the sky and enveloped her. There are no words in the entire universe that could ever describe the colours, the feeling, or the way her body seemed to evaporate then reassemble while within the might of the bifrost. Only that she was in Vanaheim and then in the blink of an eye she was standing on the Bifrost bridge. Beyond the gatekeeper was Asgard in all its glory. It stood proudly in the late afternoon sky, coloured a blood red as swirling clouds decorated the golden palace in divine light.

"Welcome." The single word from the Gatekeeper nearly sent Dallea tumbling to the ground out, overwhelmed.

Not trusting her voice to form the correct words, her lips curled into a smile in response.