Chapter 7: Familiarity Breeds Contempt
The sounds of clinking armour and the excited chatter of people preparing for battle died the instant Dallea entered the room. There was no way she could pretend it wasn't happening, which left her only course of action to be standing still until someone broke the silence.
It took a while. Either too polite or too at a loss for words, the warriors three exchanged almost identical looks of confusion. Sif waited for her to speak. Of course Thor was the one to sit up and ask: "What are you doing?"
Her mouth was too dry to sound as confident as she had hoped. "I've come to prepare myself."
"For what?" Dallea knew his words were supposed to sting. She even braced herself before he opened his mouth, knowing what he was about to say would diminish her, and she shrunk anyway.
"For the voyage to Muspelheim today," Dallea said, as if everyone in the room didn't know that was precisely what she meant. Her eyes instinctively flit to Loki, who raised his eyebrows and looked to his brother. His arms were crossed.
Thor looked at her as if she was a foreign creature. Dallea swallowed hard, but stood her ground.
"My father said-"
"The Queen instructed me to come along with you," Dallea interrupted, nerves getting the best of her. If she let him speak for even a moment longer she would turn on her heel and leave. Withdrawing his elbow from his leg, Thor receded to a more stoic sitting position. Evidently, he did not appreciate being cut off. "Your father as well. They approached me earlier this morning."
"Is that so?" Thor asked, his tone slightly mocking. This time Dallea didn't even flinch.
"Yes."
The eldest son's eye twitched, annoyed she was pretending to not understand his subtle rudeness. As a response, he wordlessly resumed gathering his armour.
Dallea's shoulders relaxed only a fraction. There were still five other people staring at her. She looked between each one of them until they followed Thor's example and simply ignored her. As the Norns would conceive it, Loki was the last one to look away. He inspected her for so long that eventually she looked away and walked towards where spare armour sat in a cluttered heap.
As she tried on different pieces of metal, she felt eyes on the back of her head. Licking her lips, she wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead and kept searching for a breastplate small enough to fit her. Every movement she made was jerky and ungraceful as the tension in the room made it hard for her to breathe properly.
A tap on her shoulder made her jump, whirring around and expecting something much more aggressive. Sif stared at her, obviously concerned.
"Are you alright?" Sif asked, watching the fear leak from Dallea's eyes. Dallea shrugged as a response and hoped the action made her look careless and less on edge. Sif, accepting she wouldn't get a better reply than that, shifted and help up a breastplate that was a bit rusty and less sleek that she was used to. "You can use my old one, since I doubt any of these will fit you."
Sif thrust her chin in the direction of the mismatched pieces of armour and Dallea agreed with a nod.
"You can use any of my old things you want, they're over there," Sif pointed to a corner near where she kept her current armour. Dallea looked down at the breastplate in her hands, holding it as if it were made of glass.
"Thank you," Dallea said.
"Don't mention it," Sif replied, then reached out and held her shoulder in a display of affection Dallea was familiar with.
After Sif moved away, Dallea shifted to head to the corner she had been directed towards. She looked down at her wrist and frowned. Her other hand ghosted over the purple bracelet, debating whether she should take it off.
The longer she looked at it, the more she thought of Nanny. A refreshing calm passed over her, and she tucked it into her shirt sleeve. For good luck, she thought.
None of the warriors had ever journeyed to Muspelheim. Not only was the political climate between Asgard and said realm undesirable, but there were very few beings in the universe that could stand to be there for extended periods of time.
Dallea understood why when the Bifrost had long since faded from view and left them in a place that had never seen the light of day. Sluggish volcanoes and rivers of molten lava illuminated the hazy landscape, only enough for deeper shadows to form. The ground was a harsh rock that was as bleak and lifeless as the forever grey sky, albeit darker.
Directly to her right there was a large tree that was charred black, dead for a considerable length of time, and leaning in the direction of a zigzagging path.
Odin, at the helm of this envoy, looked upon Muspelheim and grit his jaw. The Fire Giants weren't infamous for their building capabilities, but one would think they would at least bury their dead after letting them rot on the surface for centuries.
When the king began to march down the path, the warriors didn't hesitate before following, determined not to let their unease show.
The path was a steep decline leading to a bridge that looked like most of it had been destroyed a long time ago. In fact, most of the structures they passed seemed to belong to a long destroyed civilization, not to some of the most feared creatures to ever exist. Occasionally they'd pass a half decayed body of a Fire Giant, or they'd be stared at by the living ones. Odin kept a careful eye on Thor to ensure his son never kept their gaze for longer than a few seconds.
Travelling near the center of the group, Dallea could only let fear cast her eyes down for so long. Eventually she had to look up and reach the gaze of a Fire Giant who was grunting at them in another language. For all of its vehemence, it stayed safely inside its hut, training its beady eyes on each of the warriors, one by one.
When it was Dallea's turn to be glared at, the Giants' incoherent spitting halted instantly. Its eyes, two pitch black holes with flaming embers in the center, followed her long after Dallea was looking forward again. Even after the Giant was long behind them, Dallea couldn't shake its haunting stare.
At long last they made it to the bridge. Far below them, at the bottom of the yawning chasm, a frothing river of lava lay waiting. Odin held up his hand to stop them from advancing any further.
"Four will cross first, and then the other four will follow," Odin ordered. His voice cut through the air, a jab of familiarity in an alien landscape. "Do not make any sudden moves; it is less stable than it seems."
Thor grunted and adjusted his hammer, opening his mouth to suggest he simply leap over the chasm. He was more than capable, they all knew.
For reasons he didn't disclose aloud, Odin pressed a warning glare against Thor's sudden movement.
Thor loosened his grip on his weapon and looked forward upon seeing the severity in his father.
To Dallea, the bridge already seemed terribly unstable. She wiped her sweaty hands on her cloak, and took a step backwards, deciding to cross the bridge in the second group. Sif, Loki, Thor, and Odin began a painstakingly slow journey across. Or perhaps it seemed especially slow to Dallea, who was nervously biting her nails.
The bridge was lined with huge spikes that looked like they existed for decoration more than practicality. They started off small and gradually became larger as they reached the center of the bridge. On the right hand side, they decreased in size once again near the far ledge. Dallea would have guessed that the pattern continued on the left hand side a long time ago, before a huge chunk was taken out of the bridge.
When it came time for them to cross the small sliver of rock left from where the bridge had collapsed, they crossed it one by one. Odin first, then Thor, then Sif, then …
Loki caught sight of something at the bottom of the chasm and nearly lost his footing. Dallea's heart was in her mouth until he had regained his balance and jumped to safety. She didn't have time to be relieved; it was her turn now.
There was an immediate difference, Dallea noticed, going from solid ground to the bridge. Or maybe it was her imagination running rampant. Either way, she tried to keep her footfalls light and careful.
She looked to Fandral, who held his foil in both hands. He nodded at her twice and she looked forward again.
Due to her eagerness to get off the bridge or not, she was the first to reach the sliver. It was a good three strides wide, but the size made her nervous anyway. She swore she wouldn't look down, but of course she did anyway.
Near the bottom of the chasm, laid to rest in a way that the lava couldn't touch it, was a large carcass of a Fire Giant. It wore some sort of armour that was damaged beyond repair and black with soot. It was angled in a way that made Dallea believe it had been thrown into the chasm, or perhaps slipped in, and on its way down took out a large portion of the bridge. She looked over her shoulder, to check her theory and see if there was a place where the land had been ruptured due to a struggle.
Instead, she was met with the sight of hundreds upon hundreds of Fire Giants gathering around the chasm. They seemed interested in only observing the Asgardians; for the moment.
Hogun, who was wondering why their progress had completely stopped, followed her gaze. By the time he looked back, Dallea was considerably quicker in her exit and joined the other group who were already speculating.
"They're restless," Thor said to no one but Odin, the one who held his reins as tight as ever.
"They won't try anything," Odin replied. Volstagg only had a few more steps until he joined them, then they could continue.
They now stood at the base of a particularly large volcano that had seemed like just another shadow from their original path. Now that they were closer, the damage of the buildings was more obviously from a battle. The chinks in the rock from swords and spears, various magical burns that missed their mark and blew out windows instead.
More Giants reared their heads, watching them as they marched on. Not that she was ignorant to it before, but from then on Dallea understood the barely contained hatred she was given from the Giants. They lived like this because Asgard made them like this.
Their destination was clearly now a somehow still intact castle nestled between two volcanoes. The path that leads to its door was straight so all the Giants behind them could continue looking until they entered.
The closer the Asgardians got, however, the more the murmured disdain became a vocal, hissing hatred. Subconsciously the group became more tightly knit, Dallea taking a second to catch on before following suit. The Giants were pressing in on them now, strengthened by their mutual hatred and numbers. Odin seemed to remain calm.
"Father…" Thor pressed, gripping his weapon tightly as one Giant stepped in their path. It spat and roared and bared its craggy teeth, sporadically gesturing to a thin piece of cloth hanging around its midsection.
Dallea knew next to nothing about Fire Giants, but she knew enough about animals to recognize a pouch for mothers to place their young. The Giant blamed them for whatever happened to her child. She was so adamant and angry that no one was sure whether she would move when they finally reached her.
Dallea, who was tightly gripping her sheath, pulled her sword out enough to display a warning. Though she would have to fight to get a lick in with the rest of the Asgardians quietly teeming with energy and bloodlust.
As if the mother noticed this, she stepped to the side when the time came. Yet she never adjusted the volume of her cussing, even as they entered the palace.
The change in scenery was a welcoming thought, but far from a welcoming reality. The air quality was just as terrible and full of smoke as the outside. The floors were a shinier material that gave the illusion of brightness when it reflected the giant bonfire in the center of the room.
An escort was waiting for them by the fire. It said nothing to Odin and so Odin said nothing to it. They didn't scrutinize each other either; the Giant turned as soon as the Asgardians were near it and lead them down an adjoining corridor.
Dallea supposed light wasn't always a necessity for creatures that were comprised of mostly fire, but Dallea found the darkness unnerving. She couldn't ever see properly and swore the shadows moved when she turned her head…
Dallea zeroed in on one shadow in particular. It clung to the ceiling, completely still for a good amount of time, enough for her to doubt her eyes. Until she caught it jump in the opposite direction she was traveling.
She spun around, maybe to follow it, and scared Sif, who was directly behind her. Before the confusion could sour into anything else, Dallea quickly turned around, shoulders tight with embarrassment.
At the end of the corridor was another door that presumably lead to the King, but Dallea would never know. Odin ordered everyone aside from his sons to remain outside along with the escort. No questions were asked and the doors shut behind them with an echoing bang.
Dallea would have gladly stayed in the first few seconds; where everyone was shunned equally. Everyone was on the same page and muttered a scathing retort about how they were never included in anything.
"Brilliant, it is," Volstagg said, leaning against the wall and letting his axe drop to his side. "I hope we don't miss an army marching down this hallway."
"I'm glad there are five of us to do it, too," Fandral chimed in, easing his shoulder beside his friend. He tossed a wary glance at the Fire Giant escort, who couldn't look less interested if he tried. "Five and a half."
Hogun punched Fandral but even he joined in as they all laughed. All except Dallea, of course. She could practically feel the rupture between her and them form, the ringing in her ears one of the lesser indications.
When she first pressed her back again the wall she was near Sif. Yet as their conversation moved forward and left Dallea behind, they became more and more tightly knit until Dallea was a few paces away. They naturally gravitated away from her.
She stared straight ahead, still pondering the words Fandral spoke. There was no way the giant didn't hear. As much as the Fire Giant was ugly and rough and cowing to be in the presence of, Dallea couldn't help but be embarrassed. Embarrassed that it had to hear such a thing when it looked like it didn't want to be there in the first place. The more she thought about it, the more she was glad she was physically dissociated from the Asgardians who were laughing quite obnoxiously.
Dallea swallowed thickly and touched her ears. There was a pit in her stomach that was too sour to be fear.
She looked to her left, in the opposite direction of the door, searching for a distraction. Instead she found a shadow. One that stilled when it made eye contact with Dallea, and then slowly scuttled backwards.
Her reaction was instantaneous. Pushing off the wall and placing a warning hand on her sword, she squared herself to the shadow. The warriors three were so caught up in themselves they didn't notice how Dallea was staring into the darkened hallway with such intense focus.
The shadow blinked, its eyes familiar and dark even as they stood out amidst the ill-lighted corridor. Yet those eyes were Dallea's only indication that she was not just seeing things. They shifted left, most likely because the monster attached to them feigned in that direction, and Dallea darted towards it. As she ran, she removed her hand from her sword hilt. She'd have much better luck without a bulkier weapon.
Her knife whistled out of its sheath with a clear note. Its echoes eventually turned the sound ominous, especially when the chatter of the warriors three became more distant.
The eyes were gone. Now that she was within it, the darkness of the hallway felt more substantial. She waited one second, then another. Going deeper into the darkness with nothing but her unadjusted eyes seemed less than ideal, so she rolled her shoulders back and turned around.
No one had noticed her movement aside from the Giant, who seemed entirely uninterested still in what she was doing.
Her left hand erupted in pain, causing her back to arch. No sound erupted from her mouth; years of silenced agony made the reaction easy. She tried to jerk her arm away from the source of the pain, but it held fast. Two eyes attached to the body of a Mare had bitten down on her hand, hard enough that she feared it would be bit clean off. She could feel its teeth digging into her flesh, getting closer to the bone every second.
Raising her knife in the air, she didn't get the opportunity to follow through with her action. It released her as quickly as it came, and then scrambled into the darkness.
Dropping her knife, Dallea grabbed her wrist and held it tightly as if to cut off circulation to the throbbing pain in each of her fingers.
"Dallea?" The voice belonged to Sif, finally at attention thanks to the loud clatter of the knife. Dallea turned at her name, but wouldn't look away from her hand that felt like it was on fire at this point. She had witnessed men be bit by those creatures but never stuck around long enough to see if they survived or died a slow death.
Allowing herself to come out of the blackness to see her wound better, her face went pale. She flexed her fingers and the pain began to ebb away. There was no wound. Not even a slight indent on her skin.
The doors opened and out came a Fire Giant that was larger than any of the others she had seen. It didn't seem pleased, the doors slamming on either wall to amplify the impatience on its face. Odin's voice sounded within the room, but the Giant did not respond. It looked around the hallway, surveying the watch guard and the warriors three carefully before noticing Dallea, and her extended hand.
Its eyes narrowed. Dallea stopped breathing and released her hand quickly, pinning it to her side.
Its lips pulled back. For a terrifying moment, Dallea thought it was going to speak.
Instead, it looked to the guard and dealt out a silent command. With this new order in mind, the guard stood straight and walked a few paces down the hallway.
The largest Giant finally turned back to Odin. "This visit is over."
Dallea looked down at her hand warily, flipping it over to observe the alternate side. Her bracelet glinted in the minimal light.
She felt as though she were moving through syrup while everyone else was hurrying around her. Unable to empathize with the hastiness of the others, she gave a long look towards the room where the large giant was retreating into.
Her vision must have been distorted as well, to see movement in the room with no object to cause it.
Loki's hand was on her shoulder in the next moment, yanking her back to reality. His face was tight with fear. "We have to go."
Only then did she allow herself to be dragged away.
