Chapter 5: House of Cards
The Gatekeeper stepped down from his place, taking his time to edge closer to where Dallea stood. The upraised platform made him tower everything else in the dome they stood in. Movements slow and deliberate to minimize the shaking of her hands, he spoke:
"You have returned." Striking as his mere presence was, Dallea found his golden eyes the hardest to meet. Instead, she settled to stare at his folded hands, resting on a sword. "One of the Princes of Asgard warned me of this over a week ago."
Emboldened by the need to explain herself, Dallea looked up. "I needed to say goodbye. I hope I have not angered anyone with my late arrival."
"Indeed." After ignoring the second part of her statement, Heimdall nodded his head. With gentleness in his tone so as not to frighten her, he continued: "I have seen you in Vanaheim from time to time."
Coming from a faint stirring in her chest, Dallea felt the need to turn away. Yet she held his searching gaze even when his words struck a chord in her mind.
"Except, that is, on the last day you saw the Princes of Asgard," Heimdall said. Shifting his weapon from hand to hand, his body went rigid. "I sent the Bifrost to them and you watched from a balcony not far away." Dallea flitted her eyes down to his feet, which were set apart. Her heart skipped a beat. "Then, when I looked back, you were nowhere in sight."
The breath that escaped her lips was coarse and didn't resemble air in the slightest. Calmness smothered the spike of fear that was his accusing words. For even though her mind was doubtful, her face was confused.
"I went to speak with the King of Vanaheim about my resignation," Dallea answered. Her eyebrows furrowed. "I left the balcony from where I saw the Bifrost and immediately went to the King and Queen."
"And is the answer to my question as simple as that?" Heimdall asked. His refusal to drop his tensed shoulders spoke of doubt. "Why could I not see you?"
"Well …" Dallea wracked her mind to think of a reason why she was shrouded from the Gatekeeper. It didn't make sense; she had gone directly to the throne room. The memory was as clear as day in her mind. Her eyes lit up as a possible explanation settled on the tip of her tongue. "The Mages of Vanaheim entered the castle around the same time as me. Perhaps they enchanted it from your view?"
Heimdall raised his chin but didn't blink as he watched her. She kept her head up, but pressed her palms together to stop them from shaking. Eyes wide and waiting, Dallea chewed on the inside of her cheek; the way someone would if they were falsely accused of a crime. While he contemplated her words, she hoped this was not to be her renewed impression on such a powerful being. Heimdall was not someone she wanted as an enemy.
"Perhaps," Heimdall said eventually. Dallea voiced her relief through a stoic bob of her head. Sighing felt inappropriate under such an intense gaze. "I will send someone to speak with the Mages if this is the case."
Sensing the conversation was finished, Dallea turned and picked up her few bags. Heimdall climbed back up to his rightful place and froze, his eyes empty, but full of all the stars in the sky. It was a long trek to mainland Asgard, but Dallea welcomed the opportunity to think without interruption.
The twisting streets would have consumed her had the palace of Asgard's figure not kept her on the right path. Alive with the hums of conversation, Asgard was awake
as ever in the setting sun. She passed townsfolk who looked at her Vanir styled cloak with muted murmurings. Glad she had decided to wear a hood to cover her ears, Dallea could do little more than keep walking.
The closer she drew to the palace the more people she saw, bustling and cleaning up their marketed goods for the day. Aesir people filed into bars and restaurants to while away the rest of their night. People whose hearts were not too tired offered their neighbours assistance, or simply asked about their day. Children wove in and out of the crowd, daring each other to steal a piece of fruit off of distracted vendors.
A girl whose height barely passed Dallea's knee tripped in front of the elf. Seeing the scratches on the child's hands, Dallea felt her heart swell. When the girl whimpered in pain, she sank to her knees to offer an extra pair of hands. Wiping off a few pieces of cobblestone that lodged themselves into the girl's flesh, Dallea was oblivious to the child's wariness. A hooded figure whose face she could not read warranted the urge to yank her hand away. After Dallea noticed the girl's distress she revealed her face in one swift movement.
Smiling to keep the child calm, Dallea was pleased when the Aesir girl giggled. Var liked to say beauty could open one's mind, but Dallea hoped the child wasn't laughing at the way she crinkled her nose.
"Bryn!"
Upon hearing the little girl be beckoned by her mother, Dallea hastily stood to her full height. Not wanting to get involved any further, the elf reached back to flick her hood over her head. A few heads had turned to her direction as Bryn's mother cooed over the girl's wounds. Ready to depart in a heartbeat, Dallea froze after hearing her own name be hollered.
"Dallea?!" An exceptionally drunk Fandral spotted her from inside a bar. Waving his hand so she could see him, Dallea resisted the urge to ignore him. Entering the spacious tavern, she lowered her hood out of respect. However, she made sure to cover her ears with any wisp of hair she could find, blowing a few wisps out of her mouth in the process.
Decorated with horns and heads of exotic animals, the bar was comprised of a deep red wood. That, combined with the setting sun, made the tavern glow like the entire building was made of lava. Dallea took a seat beside Fandral after he pulled out a stool for her.
Alongside feeling awkward among the already drunk throng of people, Dallea was not sure what to say. Surely they expected her to be courteous enough to crack a joke or even begin a conversation, but Dallea's mind drew blank.
"You're just in time!" Volstagg shouted. He was seated a few tables away surrounded by an assortment of children, including Bryn, who was holding her mother's hand near the back. Feeling some attention shift to her, Dallea smiled shyly and waved at a rosy-cheeked Volstagg. "I was just explaining how we defeated the Fire Giant in Vanaheim." Turning his attention back to the children, his voice adopted a magical quality to it. "With the Mighty Thor whisked out of the way, it was only the three of us against this hulking monster ... "
"He's got a gift for twisting the truth," Hogun chuckled into his flask. He was seated across from Fandral and Dallea, arms crossed and drinking his ale without remorse. "I think he calls it 'storytelling'."
"You should have heard him describing the giant," Fandral laughed, winking at the barmaid who placed another beer in front of him. He turned to push it in Dallea's direction and placed a hand on her shoulder. Leaning in for added effect, Fandral dropped his voice a few octaves to imitate his friend. "'It was bigger than the entire palace of Asgard - times two!'"
Dallea smiled, not quite as giddy as the other two men. Perhaps a bit of ale would change her mind.
"'Oh, but that was only its leg!'" Hogun mocked, swinging his arm and wiggling his eyebrows. "'Its teeth were the size of my father. And you can all guess how large he was!'"
waDallea choked on her alcohol while Fandral crowed with laughter. A few tables over, a group of men cheered, their flasks clashing together as an inside joke was shared. Tucked away from the rest of the pulsing tavern, a few lovers held hands, thankful their heads were level despite the other occupants being so elevated. Dallea, too wrapped up in her own world to pay any mind, shuffled her chair closer to the table.
The three of them fell silent when the children gasped in unison. Voice barely a whisper, Volstagg's hand was extended to reach out and ensnare the children further.
"And just as we thought the giant was going to catch us …"
Every person in earshot held their breath out of worry. The men glanced over, ears straining to hear what he had to say. Perhaps later they would retell this riveting tale to someone else. Mothers and fathers mirrored their children's excitement. What next? Bryn's eyes reflected the light of the blazing hearth. Even the loudest chatter of in the bar faded to dull chuckles..
"Prince Thor of Asgard erupted from the brush, legendary hammer in hand. He struck the giant square in the jaw!" Volstagg imitated giving himself an uppercut then squealed like a dying pig. The reaction was instantaneous; all the kids chortled and fidgeted at the image of Thor bringing down the huge monster. "It hit the ground with a crash that shook the entire realm. The beast was finished!"
Loud conversation once again filled the tavern and Dallea sipped the last of her beer, a grin on her face. She turned to Fandral, who shook his head. Smoothing out his moustache with his thumb and forefinger, his aloofness did not go undetected.
"Of course he would conveniently forget to mention how he ran away like a spooked Bilgesnipe," Fandral scoffed. He and Hogun continued to point out flaws in Volstagg's storytelling while Dallea stared at the bottom of her cup. Aesir beer was some of the strongest, bested only by that of the dwarves. However, as much as she would love to stay seated and listen for the rest of the night, she would rather not risk getting drunk and losing her bags.
Unsure whether he would become uncomfortable if she tapped his shoulder, Dallea instead beckoned Fandral's attention through speaking his name. As sleepy as his half opened eyes were, he still tried his hardest to give her his attention. For that, she was grateful.
"How is Sif?" she asked, shaking her head when a barmaid tried to pour more beer into her flask.
"Sif? Much better," Fandral said. He swayed a little where he sat but Dallea didn't doubt his words. "She woke when we returned to Asgard. I think she may still be in the Healing Ward for now, but she is definitely better."
Healing Ward? If Dallea remembered correctly, it was on the easternmost part of the palace of Asgard. Yet her memory was hazy.
"Where might I find the Healing Ward?" she asked.
"West," Hogun said. He thanked the barmaid who topped him off. "If you want to go straight there, keep heading west towards the Queen's garden. You can't miss the door."
West, right. Dallea nodded, standing up. She sifted through her pockets for some money she could leave on the table. "Thank you, for everything."
"We're just glad you're here so we can stop listening to Loki's worrying," Fandral snorted. He noticed her rifling and shook his head. "We'll cover your bill as long as you promise to go and see the royal Prince of Whining." Making a face after swallowing his beer, he jerked his cup towards Hogun. "Did they change our order? This doesn't taste like Aes Beer…"
Hogun shrugged and tipped back another mouthful. Dallea grabbed her bags, wishing she had money to set on the table. She would have to live with their generosity. Waving goodbye to Volstagg, the red-haired man winked instead of interrupting another one of his stories.
The sun had already set when Dallea re-entered the street. The sky was never truly dark, though, and the colours weaving through the stars gave the sparsely populated street a companionable quality. Destination in mind, Dallea pulled her hood over her head and moved west.
Dallea found no reason to compare Queen Frigga's garden to Queen Skandi's, since they were both beautiful in their own respectful ways. However, instead of the mystery that hung like morning dew on each flower bud, the Asgardian garden was open even if no one was there to see. She recognized a few of the flowers, but the vast majority were not only exotic, but bizarre as well.
Unable to control herself, Dallea gingerly touched the petal of a drooping blossom. Upon discovering it was wet with nectar, the elf drew back her hand sharply. Sighing, the aroma of the garden threatened to pull her in. She would love to meet the gardeners.
The door to the healing ward was lined with moon flowers and roses both. Spreading across the walls like they had a mind of their own, vines interrupted the golden palace with life as green as could be. Fixing her grip on her bags, Dallea stepped up to the doors and wondered if she should knock.
Deciding to be safe, the elf rapped her knuckles against the brass entrance. Patient, she waited a minute, then two. The lack of reply encouraged her to pull on the handle and hope it wasn't locked. Though large in size, the hinges of the door only whispered a squeal of protest. Dallea entered the hospital ward and made sure to close the exit behind her.
As far as hospitals went, this one was not very well lit. She remembered this odd detail from her time in Asgard, but it did not stop her straining eyes from trembling in protest. The patterns on the walls were in Dwarvish, which struck odd to Dallea. She never took the dwarves for healers, but she knew little to nothing about the craft.
Continuing down the hall to another set of doors, Dallea had to pass at least six different openings. Thankfully, the actual hospital wing where the patients were kept was labeled. She opened that door a fraction, but froze when the heat of an argument hit her ears.
"... lucky that I don't have time." Not recognizing the voice, Dallea was tempted to close the door and wait until the spat was settled. Yet she stiffened her limbs.
There was a pause, and a scuffling sound of movement that made Dallea strain her ears.
"If you were to, you would have to go through my supervisor first," a second woman said. Calm as she sounded, fear was obviously present in her voice. "I don't do anything without direct commands from my supervisors."
"Well, maybe it's time that both you and your supervisor receive a thorough investigation," the first woman suggested, her tone scathing. "I believe you all see guidelines as heavy-handed suggestions. But I won't sit by and let you ruin someone else's life."
Silence was the reply. Swallowing hard, Dallea's eyes flit from the ground to the ceiling. What was happening? A response came in the form of startlingly close footsteps.
Dallea snapped her head back, standing tall and rigid. She was the epitome of all things suspicious in that moment, and coming face to face with one of the women did nothing to erase the guilt off her expression.
The woman jumped after noticing the hooded person in front of her. Holding a hand over her heart, the woman released a huff of air and gave the hooded stranger a once-over. They were definitely not someone she had ever seen around Asgard before, so she offered a courteous nod.
Dallea mirrored the movements of the woman, keeping her lips pursed in worry. Fortunately, the red-haired woman did not scorn her for eavesdropping, nor did she ask who she was. Instead, the woman swept past her and paid her no more attention.
Shoulders wilting in relief, Dallea entered the hospital wing and spotted Sif straight away. Regrettably, the other woman was leaning over her unconscious body, placing her fingers on the warrior's neck to check her pulse. The elf stopped in her tracks once more.
Judging by the wrapped blue garments she wore and her mere presence in a hospital ward, Dallea guessed the woman was some kind of doctor. What struck her, however, were the undeniable tears she was swiping from her face. Frozen, Dallea watched the woman massage her temples, oblivious to other person in the room.
Thinking through her actions seemed ridiculous in such a situation, so Dallea didn't think twice before dropping her bags at the entrance and approaching the cot Sif lay on. With an embarrassment that Dallea could taste, the doctor covered her mouth after noticing someone else was present.
"Norns," the doctor croaked, her voice failing while trying to take a step away from a situation she didn't want any part of. "Sorry, you weren't … I wasn't …"
Recognizing that she couldn't form a proper sentence, she made a move to turn away. Instantly recognizing the woman's voice as the one who was being threatened, Dallea was conflicted for only a moment before making up her mind.
"No, no, it's alright," Dallea assured. One hand removing her hood while the other reached out to touch the woman's shoulder, Dallea tried to sound positive enough for the woman to stop turning away. "Are you okay? Can I get you anything?"
"I'm the Healer," the woman answered shortly. Not grasping the meaning of her words, Dallea nodded.
"I know," Dallea said. "I'm not from here, but I know that much."
"No, I mean I'm the one who is supposed to be asking you if you need anything," the woman explained. Jerking her head back, Dallea felt humiliation rush into her throat. Of course, how could she have been so ridiculous? Lowering her hands and intertwining them over her waist, Dallea discovered she didn't know how to refute such a statement.
"I-I know," Dallea murmured, her shoulders raising in an attempt to make herself look smaller. "It's just, I'm not the one who's crying." Cringing at her words, Dallea covered her mouth then raised her hands defensively. "I didn't mean that. You are crying, but it's not … it's not bad, I just thought ... "
Deciding to cover her mouth again to stop any other stupid things from slipping out, Dallea cast her eyes to the ground and kept them there.
"I know what you mean, it's just you weren't supposed to see this," the Healer explained while gesturing to her red face, not as insulted by Dallea as said elf thought she was. "It's my fault, don't worry about it. I was just finishing up with your friend."
"She's not my friend," Dallea said. Horrified, she pinched the bridge of her nose then tried again. "She is! I meant she is. She's an old friend. We just haven't seen each other in a long time."
Ignoring the slight mix up, the Healer never missed a beat of the conversation: "I'm sure she will appreciate your visit. Can a take a name for her? Where do you hail from?" The Healer changed what looked like a piece of cloth on Sif's forehead, shaking it out and retrieving another from a nearby drawer.
Red in the cheeks from the Healer's offhand comment, Dallea raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Absently, the elf combed her hair over her ears in a hope the Healer wouldn't notice them. "Vanaheim."
"Hm, really?" the Healer asked, bending over to adjust the piece of cloth that was beginning to glow in the dim room. "Near where, the west?"
Dallea knew the woman was not truly interested, but she appreciated the politeness she upheld. However, Dallea could not think of an area in Vanaheim that would not arouse suspicion. The castle of Vanaheim was located near the east and was where she spent most of her days, but with talk of Vanaheim her mind drifted to Queen Skandi.
"North-east of the Ulfr sea, in a dockside city called Melrakki," That was the Queen's favourite spot to travel in the summertime.
Straightening, the Healer flashed her a brilliant smile. "Me as well."
"Really?" Dallea asked, her own mouth quirking upwards. However, her stomach clenched. How was she supposed to get away with lying now?
"Yes!" Affirming her answer with a quick nod of her head, the Healer met Dallea's eyes for the first time. "I haven't been in years. Tell me; do the men still take that month-long journey in the spring?"
"Yes," Dallea answered, thanking the Norns that Queen Skandi had rehashed the details of her trip that year. "Though they caught less than they have in years."
Clicking her tongue, the woman pursed her lips. "My extended apologies." Dallea nodded, touching her hair to certify that it was covering properly. "That's so odd; that we would meet here and not there."
"Yes," Dallea responded quickly. "Yes, very odd. Odd and strange …"
The Healer rubbed her hands together thoughtfully. The clothes Dallea wore were certainly Vanir, but there was no doubt that she was lying through her teeth. Eyes narrowing and then crinkling in a smile when she understood why Dallea kept on fighting with her hair, the Healer cleared her throat to regain her attention.
"What did you say your name was?" the Healer asked.
"Well, I-I didn't say," the elf shrugged, then smiled. "My name is Dallea."
"They call me Eir," the woman said. "It was nice to meet you, Dallea. If you'll excuse me, I must go … clean myself up."
"Okay," Dallea whispered, looking for some kind of chair sit on beside Sif's cot. Something occurred to her. The only other occupants of the hospital were asleep, so she dared to rasp across to Eir's departing back: "I won't tell a soul."
Eir's steps slowed before stopping altogether. Turning, her expression was questioning. Unaware as to why she looked so confused, Dallea mustered what she hoped to be a reassuring smile.
Picking at her sleeve, Eir nodded. "Thank you."
Despite Eir disappearing from sight, Dallea mirrored the Healer's actions while smoothing out her dress. That hadn't went as catastrophically as she anticipated. Finally, she turned her attention to Sif.
With black hair and the lack of youthful roundness in her cheeks, Sif looked different. How simple of a statement, yet how it nagged at Dallea the longer she looked at her sleeping form. A small candle cast shadows on the cot, and it was the only one in the room which had a flame. This made seeing entire room more difficult, but Dallea's attention was trapped by the sleeping woman in front of her.
"Did you …" Dallea muttered to Sif's sleeping form. Licking her lips and feeling incredibly foolish, she managed to choke out: "Did you even remember me? Or did Volstagg have to re-explain who I was?"
How her voice faded so quickly in the healing ward, reminding her that nothing she said mattered. The same emotion resonated in her chest. "I'll admit there were days I forced myself to remember, but I just hoped that you would too."
Her hands fidgeted in her lap, thankful and saddened knowing that Sif would never be able to hear her. Inclining her head when she heard movement beyond the candle's ray of light, Dallea paused until she was satisfied no one was listening.
"I feel bad not realizing straight away that you were missing," Dallea admitted, her voice gaining strength, but still quiet in volume. "You saved me from that fire and I couldn't return the favour."
Sif looked so peaceful, sleeping there. Dallea didn't think she had ever seen such serenity on that woman's face. Yet she looked so wildly out of place in a hospital, adorned in clothes that resembled the rags Nanny wore.
"Remember when you promised to teach me how to fight?" Dallea recalled, smiling at the memory of her younger self trying to hold a sword properly. "You were a terrible teacher. You wanted to throw me into battle when I didn't even know what a scabbard was."
Touching Sif's arm gingerly, Dallea wished she could bottle up the courage she felt in that moment and say those words when they could be heard. "I never gave up on it, not any of it. And I wish I was better so I could show you how much your belief in me meant."
Swallowing a lump in her throat, Dallea squeezed Sif's arm ever so slightly. "Because it was one thing to want to fight, but it was a whole other world to see it happen."
Leaning back in her seat, she didn't know how else to explain the gratitude and penance she felt.
"So ... thank you."
"Dallea?"
Eir nearly frightened the elf to death when she crept up on the other side of the cot. Dallea went as white as a ghost upon realizing that someone had been listening. Terror made it hard to breathe in that moment.
"Sorry to frighten you," Eir said, her grass green eyes dilated at how Dallea's chest refused to expand. "I just forgot to … are you alright?"
Staring at Eir was the only thing she could do. Until, that is, she stood up and prepared herself to leave. Baffled at Dallea's rigid posture and large strides as she moved away from the cot, Eir's hung her hands uselessly, unsure what to say. "Hello? Can you hear me?"
Dallea certainly could. Eir's words were undeterred by the elf's attempts to shut off her ears. The ringing she heard was persistent but didn't drown out her embarrassment. She could only walk away from that. Away to her bags and then to the door.
That is, until someone opened the door and nearly hit her with it.
Yelping, Dallea took a few hasty steps backward. She dropped a bag and froze in horror at all the noise she had just made. A hand reached out and grabbed the door to stop it from opening any farther. Attached to that hand was a startled Prince Loki, who stepped into sight to see who he nearly hit.
"Oh," Loki blinked. While Dallea looked alarmed upon recognizing him, his mouth cracked into an apprehensive smile. "They said you might be here."
'They' most likely being the Warrior's Three, Dallea refused to spare a thought to his words. Her anxiety spiked to immeasurable amounts. With Eir behind her, most likely scorning and judging her for what she had just witnessed, and Prince Loki in front of her, no doubt silently chiding her clumsiness, she found it difficult stay standing.
Eir busied herself with Sif, but dared to glance over at Dallea a few times to make sure she didn't need any medical assistance. How odd was she? Eir shook her head only slightly, glad she could slip away from the scenario about to unfold.
Waiting until Eir was gone to speak again, Loki didn't know how to receive the fright she exuded. Raising his chin to gesture to Sif beyond her, Loki forced his voice to remain light. "She's been awake since."
Dallea omitted a sound that sounded as if she was trying to say the word 'yes', but with an extra click of her tongue. Squinting, Loki wasn't sure if she was too nervous to speak or was speaking elvish, which could also be a product of her unease. Dallea pursed her lips, aghast that she had to be such a wreck. The only thing she could come up with to save herself was to kneel into a deep curtsy. So she did, and the excuse to look away from him and wince at herself was refreshing.
Loki didn't mean to laugh, but a small exclamation of his mirth slipped out anyway. He wasn't laughing at her; he was pleased with the fact his very presence made her trip over herself. In a strange way, it was flattering. He cocked his head and gestured to her bowing form. "You don't need to do that."
Immediately she was standing straight again, pressing her shoulders into her neck to become smaller. Dallea didn't know if he was ignoring her fumbling or if he was laughing at her, but asking for clarification was a terrifying thought.
For a moment, he just looked. There wasn't much to see except for her face, but he seemed to look beyond what was right in front of him. His eye twitched, too caught in his thoughts to realize he had begun to scowl. Truth be told, it took only a few days for him to doubt she would stick to her word. However, he greeted the opportunity to clear his mind from the initial shock of seeing her again; now he could calculate exactly how he wanted them to proceed.
Dallea cleared her throat and touched her hair, hoping to Yggdrasil that he wasn't looking at her ears. That was all Loki needed to return from his trance. He pointed at her bags. "Is this all you have?"
"Yes," she answered. Though she heard confusion in his voice. Being scrutinized again made the instinct to hide overpower common sense; it reasoned he was asking a mere question.
"I'll call a servant to take them," he said. "My mother was excited to hear of your return, and she had a room cleaned for you … if you did return."
"That's …" So kind of you both, Dallea wanted to say. However, Dallea felt awful that they had given her so much already. It took years to earn a room for herself in Vanaheim. "That's not necessary, really."
"Then where else are you to stay?" Loki asked shortly, words having a jagged edge to them. Could she not just accept this simple gesture? When she responded, her lack of gumption set him back.
"I didn't mean to sound ungrateful." Not wanting to rile him up, Dallea placed her bags on the ground beside the one that had fallen. Sudden exhaustion hit the prince. She always sounded so close to tears. Such a tune would get old very fast.
"Walk with me," he said, leaving no room for discussion. Instead of nodding, Dallea decided it was best to keep her eyes to the ground and let him guide her.
He held the door of the hospital wing open for her, as well as the one that separated the Healing Ward from the rest of the castle. Loki stopped to speak with a guard who just so happened to be walking by at that moment. Abandoning the need to keep her head down, Dallea craned her neck to try and see everything at once. Nostalgia was a bitter emotion, but at least it replaced embarrassment.
There was nothing mesmerizing about the dull hallway they walked down after Loki was done speaking with the guard, but Dallea was fascinated by everything. In fact, it was a hassle to regain her attention from the sky-high pillars adorned with intricate symbols.
"It's a good thing you have such a taste for architecture," Loki shrugged. "Otherwise, I doubt you would waste your time coming back."
All of her attention was focused on him in the next moment, surprise causing her mouth to fall open. "They told you I said that?"
"Oh yes," he laughed, enjoying her groan of disgust more than he should have. "Your lying ability hasn't improved in the slightest."
The best part about the smile they shared was that neither of them had only one memory to recall fondly.
Wanting to smother her more thickly with nostalgia, he lead her up a flight of stairs to double doors that the elf recognized in an instant. A grin erupted on her face as he lead the way into the most beautiful library Dallea had ever seen. Like he had cast a spell on her, she reacted exactly the way he had anticipated; excited yet wistful. Such a place was not easy to forget, with its looming towers and various reading rooms making it massive in size.
As a bonus, she was immediately drawn to the nearest bookshelf, squinting to see the wood clearly in the dim lamplight. Running her fingers over the smooth surface and feeling the etched letters she had been searching for, Dallea spoke:
"For Yggdrasil's sake, how are our names still here?" It did seem unlikely that the awkward carving of two children would still be as prominent after all this time, but she didn't dwell on the logic of it. Instead she observed the library from this new angle. It was still a massive room, but a little less now that she was much taller.
"That's nothing," Loki said, walking backwards so she could see his enticing smile. Reaching up to grab a book he seemed to know the place of off by heart, Loki beckoned her closer. By the time she was at his side, he had flipped to the page he wanted to show her.
"Oh no," Dallea exclaimed, failing to stop a giggle from passing her lips. On the page was a most unflattering picture of a man licking a horse. Looking up at an also smiling Prince Loki, Dallea pointed at the picture. "I drew that, didn't I? Yggdrasil, who even was that man?"
"It was our riding instructor," Loki answered, handing her the book so she could see it more clearly. "You hated him."
Dallea, too distracted by the ridiculousness of her 'artwork', didn't notice Loki had slipped away to retrieve something else.
"I can't believe I drew this over top of the words!" Bringing it closer to her face, her expression lit up with excitement. "Oh, and look! I wrote my name beside it! My life of crime began at a very early age."
"It's not as if you didn't memorize that old thing," Loki said, but from the opposite direction of where Dallea thought he stood. Jumping out of her skin and pressing the book to her chest, she squeezed her eyes shut to expel the swelling humiliation. Upon opening them, she noticed Loki was playing with something in his palm. "You used to love philosophy."
"Yeah," Dallea whispered, entranced at the way he fiddled with the small sphere with such precision. He managed to let it roll down his fingers. Then, he tossed it back to his palm yet it never fell. "And you like …alchemy."
"Used to," Loki corrected. "I found something else."
His palm finally stilled. The black sphere sat in the centre, quivering slightly. Dallea watched it carefully, and jumped when it broke in two. Out of the seed came one green strand, growing longer with every passing second. It spiraled as it grew. It adopted three tiny buds that nestled at the tallest point. Each bud erupted into blossoming flowers that were red and orange in colour.
After the flower had shuddered to a halt, Dallea looked up at Loki, awed. "Magic."
"Yes," he said, glad he could recreate the wonderment she had expressed when they were in Vanaheim. It was worth it to see someone light up in the wake of his abilities. To add to her giddiness, he carefully picked up the flower and offered it to her. Though they were standing so close he barely had to move his hand.
Her mouth opened then shut, unsure if he really wanted her to take it or not. After he nodded, she gingerly plucked it from his hand and twirled it in her own fingers. Remembering what a bland seed had created such a beautiful blossom rendered her speechless. Perhaps not in the way Loki had wanted. He was obviously extremely talented in wielding magic, but she doubted his skills ended in party tricks.
Not liking her prolonged silence, Loki hovered his hand on her shoulder. "Come along."
He lead her to the balcony. Being away from the coziness of the library was certainly a change in scenery, but Dallea didn't know if it was for the better. The longer she stared at the flower, the more the colours resembled the flames of the forest where she had thrown away everything she had. A feeling settled in her stomach when she looked at that flower, and it was no longer awe.
Loki wasn't sure how to take her sudden reproach, but he listened to her when she began to speak. "You must practice alot to become this good. Magic, I mean."
"I do." Still not liking the tone of voice she used, he began to think of any way to backtrack what he had done wrong. "It's a skill to work on, very much like archery, or even sword fighting."
Dallea looked away from the flower to see the expression on his face. Why was he always so difficult to read? "I suppose to be considered 'good' at anything you must put in a lot of time."
Eye twitching, Loki had to admit his surprise. Out of all people, he expected Dallea to be the last person he would have a backhanded conversation with. Their faces said something that didn't match their level words. Had she discovered why he had brought her here? Was she angry?
Dallea couldn't figure out why he was being so kind to her. Whatever the reason, it made her wary. If he expected her to begin spilling the secrets of Vanaheim, she would be happy to let him know that she knew nothing that he didn't. She looked back at the flower. The fire giant had also been red and orange in colour.
Resting his elbow on the balcony railing, Loki was close enough to almost detect her rapidly beating heart. He decided to test just how far she would play along with the pseudo composure they were displaying.
"The staff that you wielded in Vanaheim," he said. His tone resembled that of an interrogator, all while staying blissfully sweet. "You should tell me about it."
"It was a gift from the Mages of Vanaheim. It was made to ward off Mares and is made out of enchanted wood."
"Did you bring it here?"
"No, I was not allowed to bring any of my armour."
"What a shame." He sounded genuine. "Such an object would be useful in times like these."
Dallea couldn't look away from his face. She was close enough to see the glint in his eye. Since it was so familiar, Dallea was able to keep herself from doing anything but walk along the fine line he had created.
"Would you happen to know what kind of magic it was imbued with?" Loki asked.
"No, they never told me," Dallea answered, then added for good measure: "Sorry."
As much as he hated this sour turn of events, he couldn't help but be delighted as well. The plan he had made included only needing to swoon her for a day or two before she would be willing to slip into his bedroom. Therefore, he reasoned that it didn't matter if they got along that well. Yet the bet that he had made Thor about how quickly he could get Dallea to sleep with him slipped his mind in that moment. For all he took her for, he never expected such defensiveness.
When he leaned away, Dallea didn't know whether to infer a surrender or a regrouping of thoughts. He smirked at her resumed fumbling. He had drawn out something from her, and no amount of blushing could make him forget.
"So tell me," Loki said casually, ignoring what had just transpired. "How did you manage to convince Njörd to accept you into his ranks? That must be quite a tale…"
Ever since he was a child, the nickname 'Silver Tongue' stuck to Loki like glue. Dallea knew this; but that didn't stop her from growing leery at how he manipulated the conversation so she didn't have time to be indignant.
"It's a long story," Dallea said instead of humouring him. Hoping he would take the hint wasn't enough. Praying that he would actually listen filled her mind.
"And you must be tired," Loki finished, standing up straight and nodding along to her words. On the contrary, her mind was alive and whirring, desperately trying to make sense of the man in front of her. "I'll have someone come and take you to your room." Giving her a wink, he explained without her having to ask: "I'm supposed to be meeting with my father and Thor. I'm sure they'll appreciate my presence, albeit late."
She couldn't find the words to explain her thoughts on what he just said. Fortunately, although much to her dismay, he seemed to glean her thoughts just from a glance her way. He gestured for her to begin walking towards the exit.
"You haven't even been here a day and are already scolding me?" Loki teased. Folding her hands, she wondered if he could hold up an entire conversation without her uttering a single word. It was unnerving; the way he acted as if now he knew her so well that he could speak for her.
Or perhaps she was simply making things up and was being disrespectful. Horrified, Dallea came upon this conclusion too late. Prince Loki had already retreated into his thoughts, blankly staring ahead until he opened the door for her. Yet even the hollow smile he offered spoke of his absence. She wondered if he would hear if she spoke.
Such thoughts would have to wait, it seemed, since Loki gave her no time to open her mouth, much less speak. A servant ready to escort her to her 'room' was beckoned in a heartbeat. The sheer amount of guards and servants that seemed to haunt the Asgardian palace was comical. Despite the courteous nod she gave the servant, Dallea felt uneasy with an unsaid apology she felt she needed to express.
"Rest well," Loki muttered after she had already moved to follow the servant. Dallea turned to echo his words but something stopped her.
"Good night," she said instead. Maybe her tone of voice would act as some kind of condolence for her behavior. The way he smirked as a reply made her want to retract her words. It was a good thing he was already walking away so he couldn't catch her scowl.
