Chapter 8: Break New Ground


In the middle of the hallway, somewhere near the north side of the palace, a large painting hung. The sheer detail within it was baffling. Odin and his grand staff, the warriors of Asgard, their enemies.

In this case their combatants were the Fire Giants lead by, Dallea guessed, Surtr.

Their features were grotesque beyond recognition almost to the point of complete propaganda. The Giants writhed and lifted Surtr up to reach Odin's height. The two leaders clashed terribly, as seen by the devastated landscape in the backdrop.

Dallea felt something within her chest tighten at the realization that the backdrop was not Asgard in flames, but Muspelheim that looked more beautiful than it had the previous day. Blinking twice quickly, Dallea looked down at her palm and studied it carefully.

When they had returned to Asgard the previous day she had been much more fascinated with it. She didn't know who caught her obsessively rubbing her own hand. All she knew was that she was summoned down to the medical bay and told she was to have a few tests done.

Dallea had to remove all of her excess clothing and jewelry and lay on a crystalline surface. Since Dallea was so noticeably nervous, Eir sent her a handful of reassuring smiles as a number of medical personnelle flit around, doing their jobs.

Halfway through one of the tests, Eir was standing over Dallea and gave her another easy smile. It was at that moment Dallea realized how grossly visible her ears had been throughout the entire process. There were a number of indicators that told Eir the cause of the sudden horror on Dallea's face.

"I know," Eir said, not able to help grinning. Still uneasy but content for the moment, Dallea mirrored the motion.

They didn't find anything. Every test showed she was perfectly stable. And yet the sporadic pricks of pain in her palm lead her to believe otherwise. She wasn't about to tell them that piece of information, however.

Dallea wondered, looking back up at the canvas, if the mother she had seen in Muspelheim was one of the giants that held up Surtr. She wondered if that mother would still hold him up knowing she would lose her home.

Furrowing her eyebrows with uncertainty, Dallea continued to stare. Would it not be something if somewhere in Muspelheim, there hung a painting just like this one, with the roles reversed? If Odin and the Asgardians were twisted and grotesque?

Shame; she couldn't explain why, but it washed over her at the thought. Was she actually sympathizing?

She looked at the old Muspelheim, one whose buildings had not yet been reduced to rubble. Buildings that to this very day had not been rebuilt.

Maybe, she decided.

"Do you like it?"

Dallea jumped. It was Prince Loki. Seeing him did not make her heart rate decrease. She flit her eyes away, embarrassed she had been thinking such thoughts with him close by.

He stepped closer, hands clasped behind his back. His eyes were not at all sympathetic when they glanced over the painting. He looked back at Dallea.

"Well?"

Dallea exhaled slightly, thinking of the mother's pouch. "Not really."

Her response made a smile play on the corner of his mouth. "Do you often stare at things you don't like?"

"I-" Dallea stuttered, thrown off by his amusement. "I suppose so."

She didn't understand the look in his eye. "Should I be insulted, then?"

Her mouth fell open. Was there anything to say to that? Perhaps an apology, perhaps an argument that she had not been staring at him. All her mouth could utter was a weak: "Um..."

His eyes bore into her soul. "Where were you three days ago?"

Rattled, she stepped backward with her arms raised slightly. "Wait … what?"

"Where," he enunciated. "Were you three days ago?"

There was a moment where she just stared at him. She heard him, but curiosity overcame rationale. "Why?"

"Answer the question," Loki ordered, voice biting.

"In the gardens, why?" Dallea responded quickly. "Were you looking for me?"

"What? No!" Loki said defensively. The loudness of his voice and the way he looked away from her face voiced embarrassment. Dallea, however, saw anger.

"Oh," she breathed. The floor was suddenly fascinating. Loki looked at her, at a momentary loss for words. He opened his mouth then immediately shut it. He drummed his fingers on his palm then tried again:

"My father was looking for you," Loki explained. His voice was considerably softer, but still hosted an edge of wariness. She looked up as he spoke and he hoped she could read the question on his face. After a few more seconds of her being hopelessly confused, he continued. "Be honest … did you do something?"

"No?" Dallea answered, going over every action from that day. "I accidentally went into the servant's quarters in the morning but that was a mistake. I also - accidentally - fell into the lake." Her mouth fell open, terror washing over her. "Oh no, is the Queen angry with me? I didn't mean to get her wet, it was an accident, I swear-"

"What are you… No, she's not upset with you." Loki furrowed his eyebrows but shook his head slightly. "Anything else? I won't be angry, I swear."

It was Dallea's turn to pull a face. "You're already angry."

Loki blinked and drew his head back. "Excuse me?"

Dallea, her fingertips buzzing with new found boldness, continued. "You were just yelling."

"Yelling?!" Loki echoed, face contorting into disbelief. "I was asking you a question."

"Asking angrily," Dallea added. Loki stared at her for a moment and although she had to break eye contact a few times, she refused to bow her head. He crossed his arms.

"Well, I have a right to be cross with you," Loki said. "You're my guest and you had the castle up in arms over something or other."

"What?" Dallea asked, all the colour vanishing from her cheeks. "I … what? What happened?"

"I'm asking you!" Loki said, gesturing to her impatiently.

"Right, sorry," Dallea said, shaking her head and looking at the floor. She thought for a few moments. Three days ago … she got up, wanted to go to the market, went into the servant's quarters because she took a wrong turn, then found the lake. Then Frigga came, then cleaning herself, then skipping the meeting and going to bed. Unless missing dinner was a criminal offense … "I can't think of anything out of the ordinary, sorry."

"What about the day before?" Loki asked.

"I was with you," Dallea said. "Then I went to bed, remember?"

"Right," Loki said slowly, scrutinizing her expression before sighing and looking down. He pulled a face at her ragged grey dress. "Where did you get that?"

"I found it in my room," Dallea said, touching the hem gingerly.

"That looks like a servant's spare uniform," Loki said, looking at her incredulously. "Don't you have your own clothes?"

"I …" Dallea's face reddened. She pawed at the neckline of her dress as Loki narrowed his eyes. "Yes."

He raised his eyebrows and waited for her to correct herself.

"Okay, I don't have any," she sighed.

"Then what was in your bags?" Loki asked in disbelief.

"There … well …" Dallea sputtered, humiliation rising in her chest. How did she explain clothes were the last thing on her mind when she was packing? "That's quite a rude thing to ask."

"I …" Loki started before stopping short. He looked down at her, his discomfort showing as he shifted his weight and took a moment to respond. "Not really."

"Of course it is!" Dallea said, adrenaline pumping through her trembling hands. "Would you ask someone what's in their dresser?"

"No," Loki resigned, taking this moment to look at Dallea. She had that defensiveness again, the one that bested his advances. He watched her wordlessly.

"Then why would you ask what's in my bag? It's my portable dresser. There isn't a difference," Dallea huffed. She looked at him, and he looked at her. The next few moments were filled with Dallea calming down and relaxing her shoulders. Her gusto was gone when she spoke again. "If you must know, I didn't bring any when I went to Vanaheim. All the dresses I wore there, I borrowed from Queen Skandi, and King Njörd only let me keep one," Dallea said, twisting her fingers and dropping her gaze to stare at Loki's chest. "And … that one's … dirty … so …"

Loki waited a heartbeat for her to admit she was joking. She continued to play with her hands. He dragged his hand down his face, exasperated. Seeing him search for something to say made her want to shrivel up and die

"You should have said something," Loki said, using the same hand as before to gesture to something in the corner of the room. Dallea stared at him, waiting to be scolded. "My mother has thousands; she makes some just to give them away. Go speak to her."

Dallea blinked. Then blinked again. He didn't sound like he was chastising her… She looked up at him as he nodded and waited for her to show she had heard him.

"Um, I'll go see her," Dallea said, mirroring his nod with two of her own, knowing full well she would do no such thing. "Thank you."

He cocked his head and looked at her with a knowing smirk. "I will go speak to her about your situation, how about that?"

"You don't … I mean, don't worry about it," Dallea murmured, trying to sound nonchalant and failing. The longer he looked at her the more difficult it was for her to bite back her disdain at him reading her mind yet again.

Fortunately, he turned back to look at the painting she had temporarily forgotten. She took this opportunity to continue looking at him, until she mentally smacked herself upside the head and turned to look at the painting as well. They stared at it in silence.

"I've heard this story a thousand times," Loki said. She listened to him, allowing his words to broach her opinion on the portrait. "My father, against the brutal Fire Giant Surtr. He had an entire realm but it just wasn't enough, so he tried to take everything by force. After a ravaging defeat in Vanaheim," Loki paused, looking down at Dallea, "my father took the battle to him and slayed him in his own house."

He watched her looking at the canvas for a few moments. Her lower lip jut out in concentration as her eyes narrowed. She had to force herself to unclench her hands. While wiping them off absently, Dallea jumped at the sting that came from her bitten hand.

If she were alone she would have started examining it again. She looked up at Prince Loki, his closeness not helping the dismay rising in her throat. He had seen her reaction. He looked at her bitten hand for a long time before she couldn't take his scrutiny anymore and she hid it behind her back.

If he was surprised that she reacted in such a way, her only clue was his sudden change in demeanor. Curiosity fueled his voice and the extension of his hand. "Can I see it?"

She bit her tongue, hard. Once he outright asked her, she didn't have a choice anymore and he knew it. Maybe her discontent showed and maybe he saw it. Dallea hoped he did. She extended her hand towards him and trained her gaze on the motion. He held it like she was made of glass, looking at it from one angle then another. Nerves buzzing, she swallowed thickly and still he didn't look up from her palm.

She didn't know why he was looking so intently. There was nothing there, the doctors had said as much.

He finally tore his eyes away, intrigued. His expression was as open as Dallea had ever seen since she remet him. "When did this happen?"

Something erupted in her stomach, but her mouth twisted into a frown anyway. "There's nothing there-"

"Don't play stupid," Loki said, his voice firm. Dallea blinked owlishly. "Where did this come from?"

She looked at him for a few seconds, considering one eye, then the next. She finally whispered, almost inaudibly; "Muspelheim."

"Muspelheim?" he repeated, squinting at her. She wasn't lying. He looked down at her palm once more. His stoicism was killing her.

"What? What is it?" she whispered.

She could tell he chose his words carefully. "It's as if…"

Trailing off even as Dallea hung to every meaningless word, he decided to instead raise his other hand. It stroked the outside of her hand gently and Dallea's breath caught in her throat.

He brought his index finger to the centre of her palm and she yanked her hand away. His actual touch was feather-light, but as soon as his skin touched hers, pain shot up her arm that was so sudden and intense it caused her knees to tremble.

The instant she had reclaimed her arm, the painting cascaded to the floor. Its frame broke when it reached the ground, and the deafening crack caused Dallea to flinch terribly.

Loki had his gaze glued to the broken canvas as it slid to a shuddering halt. Fear was ablaze in Dallea's eyes. In turn, she turned to watched him. Her breathing was ragged and she could do nothing but wait for him to react. His expression was blank.

Finally he looked at her. The air rushed out of her lungs. The raw skepticism and curiosity in his eyes combined with the uneasiness raging within her mind made her want to keel over.

Not physically able to keep his gaze for a second longer, she took a step backward and used it to turn herself around. From there she ran down the hallway, cradling her hand all the while. She didn't dare look back.


A volcanic eruption is nothing to bat an eye at when in Muspelheim. Yet there was one in particular that groaned and shook the landscape for an unreasonably long time. There was no smoke. No debris.

Deep within the volcano, in a crevice carved by giants who weren't bothered by the heat, the King of Muspelheim paced. It was a lumbering motion, wherein he dragged his stone feet across the ground, eyes trained at the centre of the volcano. A thin but incredibly resilient window stood between the King and the bubbling lava.

This forge had been made years ago, by Kings much more ambitious than he, who had paid for their riskiness with most of the forge collapsing under the pressure of a volcanic eruption. However, when the machinery was removed, the King found it to be a fairly convenient prison cell. He could have the lava drained into the river, but he better enjoyed this:

A shadowy figure - a gust, maybe - rammed itself against the window over and over before disappearing back into the lava. The rocks trembled slightly, causing a grin to appear on the King's face. He knew this shadow of a lifeform. He knew as soon as it escaped from that Elf's bracelet. It pressed up against the glass again.

"Struggle," the King gloated. "You're weak. You cannot break it."

The gust hissed and whined sounds that were incomprehensible to any onlooker. It spoke in a language only known by the King, who shook his head and stopped pacing. The shadow was pressed fully against the glass, the closest thing to begging it could manage.

"Odin would be a fool to attack us," the King said. "You lie."

The volcano groaned and shuddered. The gust began to swirl into a mesmerizing pattern, but the King turned away.

"You're not welcome here," the King said, finality in his voice. "Rot."

The King ignored the gust as it began to slam against the window again, over and over. The sound continued even after he disappeared into an underground tunnel, leaving the furious screaming of the gust far behind him.


Dallea hadn't wanted to go to dinner, why would she want to go to breakfast? The only reason she had slunk out of her room was that it was almost midday and she hoped, for the sake of her growling stomach, that Loki had already eaten so she wouldn't have to suffer through him glancing at her questioningly every five seconds, again.

Luck was on her side; Fandral was the only recognizable face at the table. Inviting herself to sit beside him, Dallea fell into yet another loop of asking how someones morning was, then staring at the table until they asked her about Vanaheim. That was until the other warriors beckoned him away, of course. Then she was by herself, free to look out the window and rip apart her bread before putting it in her mouth.

She didn't know when the man to her left had started to stare, but once she noticed, it was impossible to pretend he wasn't there. Dallea shifted uncomfortably, instinctively covering her ears with her hair and tucking in her elbows. Eyes on her plate. No sudden moves.

He shifted towards her and she stopped chewing to focus all of her attention on him. There was no malicious intent in his eyes, but Dallea equated the type of smile on his face with one she had seen only too often.

His tone of voice was light and disbelieving. "You're an elf."

Dallea wished she could disappear. Swallowing thickly, she resigned to give a short nod and hoped he moved along.

"An actual elf?" he whispered, looking at her as if she were a shiny present. She looked to the side, but there was no one that she recognized. The man was closer when she looked back, causing her to jump. "From Alfheim? I thought you weren't allowed to leave?"

Under the weight of his expectant staring, she found herself obligated to speak. "We can leave whenever, some just like to…"

"But is it like a long process?" the man said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. "Like, you have to ask your leader … you have one, right?"

No matter how many times she heard it, it dumbfounded her every time. The hand that was about to place more bread in her mouth dropped back to her plate slowly. "Yes, of course."

"I was just wondering!" the man threw his hands in the air, wide eyed and innocent. "I've heard you're very secluded and tribal." Dallea's eyebrows furrowed. "You know, like close to nature and not materialistic. Which is fantastic, by the way…"

Dallea looked ahead, pursing her lips. Before she do anything more, someone sat directly to her right, placing themselves between Dallea and the man. That someone was so close her that their legs were touching, effectively capturing all of her attention.

The first thing Dallea noticed about them was a bright smile and warm brown eyes that instantly made her feel at ease. The next thing she noticed was that the person was a woman with long red hair; the same woman who had threatened Eir. Dallea tensed again. The woman disregarded Dallea's discomfort.

"I've been looking for you everywhere!" she said, wagging her finger at Dallea. "You told me you'd meet me by the north entrance about an hour ago."

Dallea stared at the woman blankly. Her instinct to apologize was stopped by her confusion. "I think you have the wrong…"

"Time?" the woman said quickly, widening her eyes and breaking her persona for a second to nod her head towards the exit. "Maybe I was a bit early. Anyway, we have to get going. Come along."

Oh Norns. The colour in Dallea's face ebbed away as her mind turned to the worst. The woman had found out that Dallea had been eavesdropping, but was nice enough to take her away before calling her out on it … for some reason.

Whatever the woman was thinking, Dallea didn't see any way out of her situation. She stood when the woman stood, and they walked towards the exit in step with each other. To add to Dallea's discomfort, the woman laced her arm around Dallea's. Probably to make sure she couldn't run away.

They walked through the dining hall doors arm in arm, and continued until they rounded a corner. Finally, the woman released Dallea, and turned to her.

Dallea expected rage, but she received the same warm smile as before. "I didn't mean to startle you. It just looked like you wanted to get out of there."

Dallea's mouth parted slightly. She searched the woman's face for any hidden anger, but found none. She blinked, then said dumbly: "Yeah. I did."

"Well, you're welcome," the woman said, still grinning. "I'm Sigyn. And you are?"

"Dallea," she replied, extending a hand for Sigyn to shake. Sigyn wavered at the stiffness in Dallea's shoulders, unbeknownst to Sigyn caused by lingering guilt from eavesdropping. She took her hand nonetheless, and then tilted her head.

"Dallea? Dallea Janiadottir? Daughter of Jania the singer?" Sigyn asked curiously. Dallea flexed her free hand to stop it from reflexively clenching into a fist.

"The one and only," Dallea said with a forced smile. Sigyn nodded, her eyes narrowing with a thoughtful expression on her face.

"Huh. I heard you were in the castle. Wasn't the King looking for you?"

Dallea released Sigyn's hand and shrugged, nurturing annoyance from the mention of her mother. "I don't know what for. Seems everything's been sorted out already."

Sigyn nodded, dipping the corners of her mouth down for a second before resuming her smile to express agreement. She gave Dallea a once-over then sighed, glancing down the hallway. When she looked back at Dallea, her expression was cheery.

"Well, I was just heading to the market to pick up a few things. Want to come?" Sigyn offered, jerking her thumb down the hall where she had been leading Dallea before. "You can tell me all about what it's like to be Jania's daughter. I've always loved her singing."

There wasn't anything Dallea would detest doing more than that. She raised her eyebrows and looked away from Sigyn, back towards the dining hall. Catching Dallea's resentful sigh, Sigyn added:

"Or, you could tell me about how awful it is." Dallea looked back at her, the suggestion still not very appealing.

"I …" Dallea licked her lips but didn't have anything nice to say, so she stayed silent. Sigyn cocked an eyebrow.

"You have other plans for today?" she asked. Dallea bit the inside of her cheek before shaking her head.

Sigyn smiled brightly and linked her arm with Dallea's, squeezing it slightly while starting to guide her away from the dining room. "Come on, it's a beautiful day."


Sigyn wasn't wrong, Dallea had to admit; the sun was shining and a cool breeze swept through the marketplace, making bells chime. When they first stepped off the lakeside path and stepped into the stone streets lined with carts and shops, Sigyn was already bored of talking about Jania. The conversation quickly turned into Sigyn pointing out vendors and praising them or cautioning Dallea of their unfair bargaining.

"She's a sweetheart," Sigyn said, leaning into Dallea and keeping her voice low. The woman in question swept dust off her jewelry display and sent Sigyn an amicable wave. Sigyn reciprocated with a smile and a wave of her own before tightening her grip on Dallea's arm. "But all her 'jewels' are made of rubbish."

"Really?" Dallea said, blinking in surprise. They glinted beautifully in the afternoon sun.

"Oh yes," Sigyn nodded before pointing at Dallea's bracelet. "See, those are real gems. They aren't so shiny. Real ones have been worn down, and fake ones seem too perfect."

"How do you know?" Dallea asked, looking from her bracelets to the jewels with this enthralling new information.

"My grandfather was a jeweler," Sigyn said proudly. "He taught me a lot. I thought I was going to take over his business …" she drifted off and smiled before Dallea could see her bitter expression. "Anyway, people only buy things from her if they want to look nice without paying proper money. Ask anyone."

Dallea found out quickly that Sigyn had no problem doing just that; stopping at numerous shops just to talk to the owners for a second, swapping gossip, then moving on without buying anything. To her credit, she always introduced Dallea to the people she spoke to, and even tried to rope her into the gossip. It was brand new, and Dallea found herself enjoying it more as the day went on.

"Well, when did she last see him?" Sigyn asked a middle-aged fruit vendor as she leaned on his counter. Dallea stood beside her, stepping out of the way as a customer bustled forward and dropped some coins on said counter.

The vendor placed the fruit in a bag while giving Sigyn a look. "This morning."

Sigyn's mouth dropped open, and she looked at Dallea, who looked equally as shocked. Funny, how quickly she learned the caricatures of these people. The woman they spoke of, for instance, was married with children but couldn't resist tall and handsome strangers.

"You're kidding," Sigyn said, mouth permanently ajar.

"Norns, I wish, huh?" the vendor tsked, his voice a deep growl. "Can't deal with her coming in and crying no more. Something about guilt and vows and blah blah."

"Why doesn't she just leave her husband?" Dallea asked, puzzled. Sigyn looked at her strangely. The vendor let out a humourless laugh while bidding his customer goodbye. He then turned to Dallea, resting his elbows on the counter.

"Easy said, not so easy done," he said. "Husband keeps a roof over her head, that's a damn good incentive to stay."

"I guess," Dallea said. Sigyn was still looking at her, something unreadable on her face. "But if she wants to be with someone else…"

"She don't want to be with nobody she knows," he said, forehead creasing as he gave Dallea a knowing look. "She's addicted to chasing her next moment, yeah? Living life without feeling a damn thing. But that's life; no one asked for it."

That bothered Dallea a lot more than her expression showed. Sigyn wasn't looking at her anymore, instead studying the floor. The vendor shrugged and stood to his full height.

"You'll get it soon enough. Stuck with settling to survive," he said. A smile broke his solemn expression. "Enough blues. Run along. I spotted some new threads a few blocks down if you're interested, Sigyn."

She looked up and smiled, swallowing whatever emotion had made her look so dreary before. She once again looped her arm through Dallea's and bid the vendor farewell.

Once they were back out on the street, Sigyn sent Dallea a hard look. "You need to watch what you say."

"Pardon?" Dallea said, shrinking under the anger writhing in Sigyn's eyes.

"You can't just say whatever you think," Sigyn said, never breaking eye contact with Dallea even as they made their way down the street. "It's not your business to tell people what to do."

"I didn't mean any disrespect," Dallea responded. If she didn't know any better, she swore she struck a personal cord with Sigyn. She kept that train of thought to herself.

"No, of course you didn't," Sigyn said, looking ahead. "Just … don't comment. It isn't appropriate."

Dallea had nothing to say, so she stayed silent. That tense silence permeated until Sigyn calmed down a few blocks later.

"You know how to sew, right?" Dallea looked and saw Sigyn had that friendly glint in her eye once more.

"Not well," Dallea replied. She was going to add that she hadn't in a long time, but bit her tongue remembering what she had just been told.

"Well, have you ever tried embroidery?" Sigyn asked, tugging Dallea's arm and pulling her into a petite little shop at the corner of the street.

"No," Dallea said, hanging back this time when Sigyn greeted the store owner. She wriggled out of Sigyn's grip and resigned to browsing a row of fabrics. She ducked into a crowded aisle with string on one side and fabric on the other. Some textures she felt were smooth enough to make her eyes brighten. Others were rough and reminded her of the fabrics in her mask. She moved past them quickly.

"There you are," Sigyn said, stepping in front of Dallea. She held a small basket, filled with an assortment of things, including needles and threads. "Did you find anything you like?"

Dallea folded her hands in front of her and tossed a look over her shoulder, down the aisle she just strolled down. "A few."

Sigyn smiled, oblivious to Dallea's flat tone. "Show me?"

Dallea looked at her for a moment before pointing one assured finger toward a blue fabric to her right. "This one's nice."

"It is," Sigyn said, running her fingers over it before pulling out sizable piece and adding it to her basket before making her way to the counter. Dallea followed close by, squinting at Sigyn's basket. There were no other pieces of fabric.

Sigyn explained the measurements of the fabric she needed to the woman. They chattered on as Dallea wrapped a stray piece of thread around her finger and tied a knot, deep in thought. She'd never bought fabric before. Any dresses she wore as a child were made for her by professional seamstresses.

Soon enough Sigyn and Dallea were back on the street, and the smell of fresh meals wafted through the air. Sigyn resumed her place at Dallea's side, arms intertwined. "It's almost dinner. We'll have better luck just going back to the castle to eat."

Dallea looked at a butcher stepping out of his shop and wiping his face with a rag before waving it at Sigyn as they passed. She said nothing.

"Are you hungry?" Sigyn asked, shaking Dallea's arm slightly.

"No," Dallea said. "Just a bit tired."

"I know," Sigyn said, nodding and looking ahead as well. "It's a lot to take in. Sorry, I didn't mean to overwhelm you."

Dallea didn't know if she was being difficult, or if Sigyn was ignoring her reproach. Either way, it was a considerable walk back to the palace, so she thought it better to swallow her discontent than sulk any longer.

So when Sigyn started filling the silence with more gossip, Dallea nodded along and reacted appropriately to every twist and turn. They left the marketplace and started down the path that gave the lake a wide berth; the long way back to the palace.

"And that whole business with the King a few days ago," Sigyn was saying, nudging Dallea with her basket to drag her out of her daze. "When he was looking for you. Now half the kingdom knows what all the fuss was about, thanks to that loudmouth Healer …"

"What?" Dallea blurted, rounding on Sigyn and stopping them both in their tracks. "You know what happened?"

Sigyn adjusted her basket and shrugged. "Well, rumours."

Dallea waited for Sigyn to continue with an intense gaze. Sigyn looked at her curiously but complied.

"Apparently something broke into the castle," Sigyn said, watching as Dallea's face contorted with disbelief then fear. "Past Heimdall, past the guards, and made an attempt on the King's life."

Mouth falling open, Dallea took a second to touch her forehead before gesturing it toward Sigyn. "Then what? They captured it, right?"

"No," Sigyn said, shaking her head to emphasize her words. The colour seeped out of Dallea's expression as she sat back on her heels. "It escape out of the Healing Ward."

After a few moments of watching Dallea's internal breakdown, Sigyn touched her arm gently, moving it up to her shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

"Those are rumours. They came from a very unreliable source," she assured. Dallea looked up at her and so she continued. "That healer Eir. Who knows what that woman would say for attention."

Dallea squinted at Sigyn but said nothing. That didn't seem right. However she slackened her reprieve, remembering the vehemence she had overheard Sigyn direct at Eir. Just like when she witnessed it the first time, curiosity came over common decency.

"Why do you hate her so much?" As soon as Dallea uttered those words, the change in Sigyn was instantaneous. Her back straightened and she gave Dallea an ugly glare. Dallea took a half step backward, away from the heat of anger that radiated off of Sigyn. And Dallea had thought she was cross before; it was nothing compared to the reality in front of her.

"Dallea Janiadottir?" A voice from behind them saved Dallea from witnessing Sigyn boil over and explode. Dallea spun around, jumpy but relieved. A royal guard was marching toward them with no reinforcements, coming from the marketplace instead of the palace. Dallea kept her eyes glued on him, but he repeated her name again, until she spoke.

"That is me," Dallea said. "How may I help you?"

The guard sidled up to the two women and stood to attention. "The Queen has asked me to escort you to her study immediately."

Dallea's heart sank. Out of the cooking pot and into the royal chambers. She turned to glance at Sigyn, who nodded at the guard with no trace of the fury she hosted only moments before. She looked at Dallea with a smile.

"Well, thank you for spending the day with me," Sigyn said, stepping closer to her, and allowing the basket to slip from her arm and into her hand. She then presented it to Dallea. "These are for you. I was going to ask if you wanted to learn embroidery, but I guess that will have to wait."

Dallea looked at Sigyn and placed her hand over her heart, momentarily lost in the gesture. "That's so kind of you."

Sigyn gave her a closed lipped smile and shook the basket, indicating that Dallea should take it. "It's hard to survive in Asgard without any friends."

Dallea smiled back at her, not knowing why she suddenly felt like crying. She looked at the basket, filled with everything Dallea presumed a beginner would need. The guard began to turn away and Dallea followed him down the path that she and Sigyn were travelling down. Sigyn, for some reason, decided to diverge from the path and amble towards the lake, only looking up to wave goodbye. Dallea glanced over her shoulder just in time to return the gesture and then faced forward again. For the rest of the walk, she held her chin a little higher.


The guard pointed her down the hall that lead to the study and offered to hold her basket until she came out. The assurance that she would, in fact, come out made her less nervous to walk down the short corridor alone.

With three loud raps on the door alerting the Queen of her presence, she took the next few moments to remind herself to under no circumstances touch her injured-but-not-injured hand.

The Queen called for her to enter. She obliged, pushing the heavy door open and then closing it behind her before looking up to survey the room. The floor was a beautiful golden colour and flowers lined the walls. That was all she absorbed of her surroundings before the Queen captured her attention. The Queen and …

"For Yggdrasil's sake," Dallea breathed, making eye contact with the youngest prince of Asgard and then immediately ripping her eyes away to stare at the Queen. Panic must have reflected in her eyes, because Frigga stepped forward with an encouraging smile.

"You aren't in any trouble, child," she said, curling her outstretched hand into her chest in a beckoning motion. "Come, Loki and I just wish to speak with you."

Dallea took a second to gauge Loki's relaxed shoulders and hands motionless by his sides before moving closer to the Queen. Frigga smiled brighter and touched Dallea's back soothingly when she was close enough. When she was standing directly between the Queen and her son, Frigga extended a hand to stop her from moving any further.

Frigga's smile melted into a pensive line. She looked at Dallea carefully. "My son told me there is something wrong with your hand."

Before Dallea could turn and glare at Loki, Frigga spoke again. "As I understand it, the healers didn't find anything physically wrong, but Loki is worried there may be something else at play." Dallea's eyebrows knit together. What else … and Loki was worried? She cleared her throat and tilted her head, thankful he couldn't see her face. Frigga's frown deepened. Loki and her obviously spoke about this at length before she was summoned. "Something beyond the physical realm."

Frigga allowed her words to settle until Dallea's eyes widened with understanding. Much like Loki had the day before, Frigga extended her hand, palm skyward.

"May I see it?" she asked, and Dallea nodded, but hesitated before resting her hand atop the Queen's. Frigga looked at it with careful concentration. Forcing herself to breathe evenly, Dallea watched the Queen's eyes glaze over. Loki appeared on her left side, which made keeping calm even more difficult. Seconds, then minutes passed.

Frigga looked up. Dallea could see her reflection in the Queen's dilated pupils. Mouth opening, Frigga glanced to her son, as if he knew the words she needed to say.

"What?" Dallea begged. "Please, what is it?"

Loki added his fingers to the jumble, cradling Dallea's hand as he moved it away from Frigga's. He pivoted so him and Dallea were facing one another head on. An idea to pull away vanished as quickly as it appeared in her mind. She looked up at his face, eyes wide and desperate. Loki glanced up from their hands to give her a nod and to jut his chin toward the space between them.

"Look," he whispered, voice filled with wonder.

Frigga stayed silent and so Dallea had no choice but to buy into his reassuring expression. She looked down.

His hands were cold before, but they now were warm and glowing with magic. And her hand …

She looked back up at him, expecting a mischievous smirk. Instead, he smiled at her with unabashed warmth. Whipping her head to look at the Queen, she found that Frigga had that same comforting smile.

With her initial disbelief ebbing away, Dallea was left with eyes larger than any moon. She forced herself to look down again.

Just like before, she saw her hand swaddled by two of Loki's, glowing with magic of its own. The magic within her palm contrasted with his; hers was divinely white while his was a deep green. She dared to move her hand and when she did, she saw that same bright white on her knuckles.

In the next few moments, she thought she might throw up. What actually bubbled out of her throat was a loud, hysterical laugh. She used her other hand to squeeze her first all while flexing her glowing fingers. A childish smile split her face and it made Loki's grow when she finally tore her eyes away.

Dallea looked to Frigga, then, and the Queen was sitting back on her heels. She was swallowing her concerns to allow this moment of excitement to continue, and put on a mask of jubilation.

"Congratulations, my child," Frigga smiled, staying a pace away as her son continued to carefully hold her hand. "You have magic."