Chapter 9:

Snatching Defeat From the Jaws of Victory


Still not wanting to dampen the excitement, Frigga sent Dallea off to dinner before Loki could dive into the less-than-pleasant drawbacks. Loki was supposed to escort her, but chose to stay with his mother. Dallea's last glance of the room as she closed the door behind her was of him ducking his head and whispering earnestly to his mother.

Dallea shook off the frown she had seen grace Frigga's features. Instead, she looked down at her hand with a newfound appreciation.

Magic! She had magic!

She was so wrapped up in her giddiness that she walked right past the guard at the end of the hallway.

"Lady Dallea?" the guard called, startling her. He held up her basket and she placed a hand on her chest, sucking in a breath of relief.

"For Yggdrasil's sake," Dallea smiled. She floated over to the guard and smoothly looped her arm through the handle. "I forgot. Thank you so very much! What would I do without you?"

Humming, she spun around and waltzed away. The guard blankly stared after her until she rounded a corner. Then he cleared his throat and stiffly marched the same way, shaking off any semblance of a blush.

To Dallea, Asgard awakened nostalgia but was still buried in her memories. She knew the path the guard had led her down passed by her room so instead of braving the corridors and risking getting lost, she retired for the day.

She delicately placed the basket on an end table near the door. Before she could turn away, curiosity overcame her. She stepped up to the basket and removed the blue fabric to see the other contents. Three needles and three different coloured strings; silver, white, and blue. Dallea picked up the silver string, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. An idea that included searching for Sigyn crossed her mind.

Considering the time, Sigyn was probably eating dinner in the dining hall. Dallea not only didn't feel like eating, but her limbs were restless. She put the thread away and wandered further into her room.

When Dallea had first looked upon it in all its lavish glory, she had rested her head against the door, exasperated. Frigga obviously hadn't been aware that Dallea had been disowned when she cleared a room for her and Dallea didn't have the heart to explain to the servant she had no claim to wealth anymore.

Granted, she had a large room in Vanaheim, but that was different. She earned her seniority. She didn't show up and get a massive bed and a balcony just because she grew up with those things.

The longer she thought about it, the more she felt out of place here.

She shook her head violently. No, this was a happy moment for her. The wardrobe had gone untouched, apart from her one dirty dress placed haphazardly at its feet. Without sparing it a glance, she walked past it to her bags, positioned dutifully by the bathroom door.

From the biggest one she pulled out a book she hadn't read in forever. She placed it on the floor and continued rummaging until she pinched a leather-bound notebook. Victorious, she rose to her feet and opened the first page. Tiny but impeccably neat music notes were scrawled across it.

"Ballad of the Broken," Dallea read the top of the page, pulling a face. "No thank you."

She flipped until she happened across a piece named. A Valkyrie's Wing. Having been wandering aimlessly around her room, she stood still to dramatically clear her throat.

With a hand on her lower stomach, she dared to open her mouth. From deep within her diaphragm came a low G note, loud enough for her to wince when her voice cracked.

"Yggdrasil help me," Dallea sighed, tilting her head and deciding to recite a few warm up exercises before she tried again.

The sun had long since set and finally she was able to stumble her way through the song. Her mother would have cried hearing her fail so miserably, but Dallea closed her eyes and listened to herself sing a ballad that reflected the happiness still buzzing in her chest.

With a final sweep of her hand to an imaginary audience while shouting a note she could barely reach, Dallea ended the song. She fell on the bed, too exhausted to do anything but shut her eyes with a dying grin on her lips.


From deep within the core of the volcano came an unsettling sound; a shriek and an undercurrent of groaning rubble. It was getting louder.

The King stepped into the light emitted by the lava, which was dimmed slightly by the Gust pressed up against the window of its prison. As the King ventured closer, he noticed the Gust was swirling slowly. Its calmness was infuriating.

It crooned at him, the sound making the floor tremble uneasily. The King's ember eyes narrowed and his hackles raised.

"Vanaheim has no such relic," he growled. His head jerked to the side. "Liar."

The Gust lazily tapped against the window, the patterns it traced making the King dizzy. Pebbles on the ground jumped when the Gust whined again. The noise was more prolonged than the previous.

The King tore his eyes away and pawed at his breastplate. He shook his head and refused to look at his prisoner: "How convenient, that you're the only one who can reach it."

The Gust started speaking its strange language again, but was cut off by the now very agitated King.

"Enough! How noble you are is judged by the ones you threw into poverty," the King said before putting his hands behind his back and fixing the Gust with a glare dripping in venom. "And they don't want you here. Even as a prisoner."

The Gust dissipated briefly, and the King smiled coldly at its anger.

"You may go to Vanaheim. You may go wherever you wish," the King said, already turning away. "But you are weak and a fool. And if you return, I will not hesitate to destroy you."

At the edge of the light, the King stopped dead in his tracks upon hearing the Gust's final words. Mocking and laced with contempt all at once, the King felt his pride swell until it was his turn to tremble with rage.

"I could wipe you out of existence if I wanted to," he said with tense shoulders. "I needn't prove anything to you…"

The King still didn't turned around. He waited for another quip. Another jab at his pride, another sing-song taunt that he was too frightened to fight. Instead came a rumble from within the volcano. He turned just in time to see a spider web of cracks appear on the window.

Something that sounded eerily akin to laughter intertwined with the roar of the volcano as it exploded, spewing lava and molten rock for miles. The Gust turned back for a second, as it spiralled into the sky, to see half of the volcano collapse in on itself. It twirled in delight and disappeared into the forever-cloudy sky.


Dallea ate breakfast early. Her body was too excited to sleep and woke her with the sun. She wasn't sure what she was going to do with her day, however. Remembering how disgruntled Thor had been when she accompanied them to Muspelheim made her dread training, lest she run into him. In the present, she stood from her spot in the banquet hall winced at the memory. Her mind was everywhere but the door she was approaching. She might have ran right into it had someone not already been opening it from the other side.

"Oh." The other person exclaimed, jolting Dallea to attention and causing her to take a step back. Prince Loki laughed at her dazed expression. "Did someone open doors for you in Vanaheim?"

Instead of looking down or mumbling something incoherent, she surprised him by offering a brilliant smile. Any pretense of embarrassment was drowned out by how her mood improved upon seeing him.

"Good morning," she said, curtseying slightly. She promptly straightened when his only reply was to stand still, looking terribly confused. "Sorry, forgot. I don't have to do that. How are you?"

Loki squinted, looking her over once before deciding that the person in front of him was, in fact, Dallea. "I'm ...fine."

"Good!" Dallea said, still smiling. "That's good."

"What are you doing?" Loki asked, before realizing they were in the middle of the doorway still. "Here, come with me."

"Okay," Dallea said, her voice light.

Loki placed a hand on her upper back to steer her away from the stream of people entering the banquet hall. They moved away from it, despite Loki not eating anything and the thought made Dallea falter for a second.

"Are you not hungry?" Dallea asked. The question distracted him enough to look away from navigating them through the stream of people.

"What?" He examined her face.. Someone bumped into his shoulder and he muttered something under his breath. With a shake of his head,he said: "No. Just … here, down here."

When Loki and Dallea ducked into a more secluded corridor and were finally free from the constantly jostling, he rounded on her and crossed his arms.

"What's wrong with you?" he demanded.

"What? Nothing," Dallea said softly, her small smile now fueled by uncertainty. "I'm just … happy to see you."

"Why?" he asked curtly. His arms unfolded and his cautious expression started to fade.

"Because …" Dallea started then sighed and thought better of herself. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. "I was excited because of … you know."

He watched her flex her fingers, then flip her hand over to examine the other side. He swallowed and glanced to the side, allowing himself a second to regroup his thoughts before looking at her again. With knit eyebrows, she was already considering him.

"Well," he said, studying her outstretched hand. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about."

When his eyes focused on hers again, Dallea noted his uneven smile and the way he analyzed every aspect of her face. A silent apology? Or perhaps Dallea was seeing what she wanted to see.

She dared to offer him a pursed lip smile. He copied the motion then jerked his head further down the corridor. "So what do you say?"

Whether she laughed out of hysteric excitement or anxiety was beyond him. In any case, they started down the hall together.

A few moments passed, which he took to look her over once more. "I see you've ridden yourself of that servant's uniform."

Dallea looked down at herself, as if realizing this for the first time. Her hand drifted to her neckline, which was wider than her collarbones and low enough to just barely be modest.

"What?" Loki said, a teasing smile on his lips. "Do you miss it?"

Dallea tilted her head and sent him a good-humoured glare. "No. I'm just not sure this is my colour."

To underline her words she rubbed the dark violet fabric of her sleeve between her fingers. Loki blew air out of his nose instead of commenting. Naturally, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she turned to him pleadingly.

"I mean no disrespect. The dress is beautiful, please don't think I don't appreciate you and your mother letting me borrow it…" Dallea said. Loki waved his hand to silence her before she could start crying or something.

"I know what you meant," Loki said flatly, sounding bored. Dallea's gaze returned to the hall in front of them. Her ears reddened and she swept a lock of hair over them so he wouldn't see her take offence to his words. He thought she … didn't look good in the dress? "And the dress is yours to keep. Mother said she'll have more sent in the next few days when she figures out your size. You should probably see her about that yourself."

"That's very kind," Dallea mumbled. Loki pointed down the hallway they were to travel down before they reached it so Dallea wouldn't have to scramble. "Thank you for speaking with her."

Loki nodded once, and then they lapsed into silence.

After a number of turns that Dallea couldn't retrace, they stepped onto a staircase that lead to gigantic double doors.

Dallea ignored a spark of nervousness remembering the last time she and Loki had been in the library together. In the morning light, the rows and rows of bookshelves looked more welcoming; the burgundy walls had a chance to glow in the sunlight instead of make shadows.

Loki didn't wait for her when she took a moment to scan the room. He was making his way towards the study rooms near the leftmost corner and heard her following footsteps soon enough.

Once settled in a study room he frequented, the companionable silence gave way to something more tense. She fidgeted with uncertainty and he reclined in his chair easily. In the next few moments, where eye contact was met and then disconnected, more than a table separated them.

Instead of speaking, Loki pulled a red fruit out of his pocket and placed it on the wooden surface firmly. It was the size of his palm and the skin looked rough. She had seen it before but the name escaped her at that particular moment. Instantly Dallea stilled and looked from him, to the fruit, then back again.

"How much do you know about magic?"

Dallea swallowed hard. He folded his arms and watched her with an unnerving amount of intensity.

"Almost nothing," she admitted. He nodded encouragingly. She straightened. "Some people have it, some don't. It manifests in a thing or a person."

Loki grinned. "That doesn't sound like nothing."

Dallea pursed her lips and looked to her hands, splayed on the table. Her bitten hand twitched, the jolts of pain fleeting but present.

"Where did you learn that?"

She took a second to respond. "The Mages of Vanaheim."

Seeing her fingertips press into the table, anticipating an onslaught of questions, he instead leaned forward and rest his elbows on the surface. She looked up warily.

"Did you read much in Vanaheim?" he asked innocently.

Blinking once, then twice, her shoulders slumped. "When I had the time."

"What did you like to read about?" he asked, tracing the curvature of the fruit with his finger. Dallea's eyes never left his face.

"Just … stories," Dallea said, bewilderment clear in her voice. Partly because of the change in topic, but mostly because of something Dallea couldn't quite articulate. Thus far he looked at her and assumed his answer. Why was he asking all of a sudden?

"Really?" Loki said, looking at her with genuine interest. "Like what?"

"Eddaic poetry and … whatever I could get my hands on," Dallea finished her sentence quickly. Her eyelids fluttered closed for a brief moment while she shook her head. When she opened them she regarded the Prince, slightly irritated. "Why are you asking me this? You said you wanted to …"

"I know," he said quickly. He looked down at the fruit, frowning. With a flick of his finger, it disappeared.

Dallea sat up quickly. "How did you do that?"

"Easy," Loki said, pointing at her with that same finger. The playfulness in his eyes helped her believe she wasn't being threatened. "You can't see it?"

Dallea looked down at where the fruit had been a second before. Nothing. A crease of impatience formed on her forehead. "No?"

"You're trying too hard," Loki said, leaning back in his seat.

"That doesn't make sense," Dallea said, looking back down at the place where the fruit was. "What am I supposed to do? Close my eyes?"

He chuckled until he saw her expression. "No, don't close your eyes. Just … trust me."

She resigned to give him no answer, instead raising her eyebrows and waiting for him to start doling out instructions.

He cocked his head again. "How is your Nanny? Do you still call her that?"

Opening and then closing her mouth, she pushed her confusion to the side in favour of indignation. "Yes, I do still call her that."

"I meant no disrespect," he said, raising his hands in mock surrender. He seemed to be fine with how agitated she was. "How is she?"

Dallea sighed and then allowed her eyes to wander the room. One wall was covered in a beautiful gold tapestry. "She's dying."

Dallea watched him sit up out of the corner of her eye as she examined the black accents of the tapestry. A few quiet moments passed in which Dallea sat back against her chair.

"I'm sorry to hear that." She looked at him. All the teasing was gone, replaced by a solemn expression Dallea hoped was genuine. "Is there anything …"

"No," Dallea said, her voice shaky. "No, she's … too far gone."

He cast his gaze downward. She took this opportunity to hastily rub the dampness from her eyes. He waited until she composed herself to look back up.

Clearing her throat, a ghost of smile formed on her face. "She wanted me to come back to Asgard."

"Really?" he said, finding her smile contagious. Dallea nodded.

"She remembered you, too." Just as Dallea hoped, Loki's expression lit up. "She said that if you're anything like you were, Asgard's security should be tripled."

He laughed, then. Dallea did too. For the next few moments they fell back into their thoughts, recalling fond memories. Dallea's eyes drifted to his face, then to the fruit, then to his hands …

The fruit?

Eyes opening wider to ensure what she was seeing was real, Dallea leaned forward. The fruit was red and scaly, but slightly hazy, as if it was just a projection of the real thing. Loki noticed her intense staring.

"Did you ..?" Dallea asked, fixated on the fruit.

"No," Loki said. He waved his hand over the fruit and suddenly it was crystal-clear to see. Awed, Dallea met Loki's thoughtful expression and faltered. "I was going to try to get you to make it reappear."

She didn't know how to respond to that, so she waited for him to explain. Of course, he didn't. Instead, he ran his tongue over his teeth.

"What did you tell her?" Loki asked. "When she asked if I was anything like I once was?"

Dallea's throat constricted. The words on the tip of her tongue were an accumulation of a nagging fear she'd had ever since she remet him.

"That you're not," Dallea said quietly. She forced herself to keep eye contact with him. "You're different."

Was that a bad thing? Would they not get along anymore? Would that mean she would get sent back to Vanaheim? Dallea had already let those questions intrude her thoughts.

Loki nodded. That was the answer he was expecting and she found herself blinking far more quickly than usual.

"I don't know you anymore," Loki relented, unreadable as ever. Dallea bowed her head. Hearing him say those words hurt even though she was anticipating them. She felt the same; how nervous she was around him, how she assumed the worst. There was a stranger sitting across from her with a name she recognized.

She forced her jaw to unclench. She considered him slowly, then said: "I know."

His stare was vacantly studying the tapestry, now. Evidently, he didn't want to have the last word.

Dallea rubbed her hands together, ignoring the following pricks of discomfort. With a deep, steadying breath, she continued.

"I don't hate you," is what she said while standing. He looked at her thoughtfully. A rousing speech entered her mind. Something heartfelt about how he had been the best friend she ever had. Something completely overdone to the point of it sounding disingenuous. Instead she shrugged. "Thank you for spending time with me. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

Something flickered in his eyes, but it passed too quickly for her to catch exactly what it was. There was a second of hesitation, where Dallea swore he was about to say something rude.

Instead he nodded once, then twice. The second time was more assured. He laced his hands together while his mouth quirked upward almost unnoticeably. "Of course."

A bright grin shattered her uncertainty. Taking her leave without another word, she caught one last glimpse of him taking a bite out of the fruit with a fading smile.

She closed the door and angled herself to go down the aisle leading to the exit. Blocking her path was a woman staring straight at her, unmoving.

"Dallea," the woman said. The loudness of the woman's voice combined with her initial panic of not being alone made Dallea freeze, watching every little move the woman made.

The woman wore a royal blue dress, but what caught Dallea's eye was the Queen's golden seal on her chest. It was pinned to attach a cloak over the left side of her body, much like how Skandi's women wore the crest of Vanaheim. Dallea relaxed, stepping away from the study room and toward the woman.

"Yes?"

As if her face was made of stone, the woman ignored Dallea's fidgeting hands and looked her over slowly. A twitch of the woman's eyes could be a hint at impatience or surprise, but Dallea couldn't decipher which.

"I have a message for you from the Queen," the woman said. Her voice was lowered considerably. "If you will follow me."

"Where are we going?" Dallea asked, not moving a muscle as the woman began her departure from the library.

"Out of earshot," the woman called, not bothering to turn around. Dallea glanced at the study room, wondering if Loki could hear their exchange. She followed the woman.

As soon as she stepped out of the library, the woman closed the doors behind her and placed a hand on a broadsword Dallea was acutely aware of. Dallea folded her hands in front of her torso to give the illusion of calm.

"My name is Hlín," the woman said, bowing her head slightly to Dallea. The longer she stood, the more Dallea recognized the woman's posture as relaxed and allowed herself to stop scrutinizing the woman's weapon.

"Nice to meet you," Dallea said, returning the gesture. "You evidently know me."

"Indeed," Hlín said. "I'm one of Queen Frigga's most trusted ladies in waiting."

Dallea flit her eyes to the side, but nodded her head politely. Was this the Queen's message?

Once again ignoring Dallea, she continued. "Although I am not myself blessed with magical abilities, I have been around it most of my life and I am well aware of how it functions."

Dallea inclined her head forward, masking her exasperation as interest. Hlín paused, finally offering a grimace that was supposed to be a smile.

"And so, for the foreseeable future, the Queen has asked me to watched over you and your new found abilities."

"What?" Dallea blurted, arms falling to her sides. After a heartbeat, she regained her senses as her fingers gently wrapped around her throat. "My apologies, but you … the Queen asked you to do what, sorry?"

"Watch over you," Hlín said with another nod of her head. Her eyes matched the colour of her dress and they suddenly took on an eerie quality against her dark skin. Seeing the unbridled disbelief on Dallea's face made her exhale loudly. "Not as if you were a child. I've heard many things about you. I am of the belief that you are more than capable of taking care of yourself."

"I don't understand," Dallea said, looking down to collect her scattered thoughts. "Then why would I need you to … watch me?"

Hlín sat back on her heels, pity taking hold of her expression. "They didn't tell you?"

"What? Didn't tell me what?" Dallea implored, heart sinking upon seeing Hlín was unable to meet her gaze.

"Of course he wouldn't tell you, would he?" Hlín said, her bitterness redirecting itself toward the youngest prince. "It's all tricks and showing off for him. Responsibility is for everyone else."

"Please, what are you talking about?" Dallea interrupted, distress making her wring her hands uselessly.

Hlín looked back up at Dallea with a graveness that made her feel even worse. "Magic is a skill much like speaking another language, Dallea. It's difficult, if not impossible, to learn it as an adult."

Respectfully, Hlín didn't break eye contact with Dallea as her heart broke in two. Dallea looked between Hlín's eyes, every ounce of excitement she had felt the past day evaporating in the blink of an eye.

"I'm sorry," Hlín offered. She debated giving Dallea a few more moments to digest this new information, but decided against it. "The reason the Queen wants me to watch over you is because since your magic is active and uncontrolled, it is dangerous to both you and others."

Dallea looked at Hlín meekly, her head shaking slightly. She mouthed something but no sound came out. Dangerous?

Hlín bit her tongue. Dallea looked down at her feet.

Hlín looked down as well. "I'm sorry."


Hlín is pronounced LEAN, believe it or not. I know I didn't. And Sigyn is pronounced SEE-GAN. But however you enunciated them in your head is probably better.

Thanks for stopping by!

WishUponADragon - You know I love you, right? Always? Forever? Let's make this movie

Autobotavenger (I forgot to do it last chapter!) - You're an all around sweetheart, thank you! I'll be here till the end, have yourself a great day as well!