Chapter 10:

A Friend in Need is a Friend Indeed


When Dallea looked up again, Hlín was quietly making her way down the staircase, obviously not wanting to intrude any more than she already had. She jumped when Dallea called out her name.

"Wait." A curious expression adorned Dallea's face. "You said it's difficult."

Hlín breathed in slowly, hating the optimism in Dallea's voice. "Almost impossible."

Much to Hlín's dismay, Dallea hurried to close the space between them. When they were eye to eye once again, Hlín couldn't ignore her victorious expression. "Almost."

"It's impossible," Hlín affirmed, raising her eyebrows then descending down the staircase quickly. She sighed once more hearing Dallea fall into step beside her.

"That's not what you said," Dallea said, eyes probing her every move.

"I know," Hlín said, inwardly cursing herself. "But there isn't any point in hanging onto any ridiculous hope..."

"Has it ever happened before?" Dallea quizzed as they reached the bottom of the staircase. Hlín stopped abruptly, all but glaring at Dallea, her mouth a thin, unimpressed line. Dallea, in all her earnestly, wasn't swayed. "It has, hasn't it?"

Hlín groaned and then decided to continue marching along, anticipating and dreading the footfalls at her heels.

"Listen, I'm very sorry if I'm bothering you, but I just …" The footsteps died and against Hlín's better judgement she slowed to a stop as well. Spinning and seeing Dallea try her best not to look completely crestfallen while searching for the right words to say, Hlín gripped her sword until her knuckles went white. "Now that I know I have it, I can't ignore it. And for Yggdrasil's sake…"

"Language," Hlín warned.

"Sorry. I just think ignoring it and hoping I don't do anything wrong isn't … right. It's not right," Dallea said, trying to sound firm and failing.

Hlín shook her head. "You don't have to be afraid of yourself."

"I don't want to be," Dallea said. Hlín considered her for a long time.

"What do you propose you do, instead?" Hlín said, sounding defeated. "How are you to…"

"You said that you know magic," Dallea said, stepping closer to Hlín. She, in turn, held up her hands to halt that train of thought.

"I said that to assure you that I can help you if your magic gets out of control…"

"Why can't you help me control it, then?" Dallea asked, spreading her hands with a smile. Hlín groaned almost inaudibly and shifted from one leg to the other.

"You don't know what you're asking," Hlín warned, looking at Dallea from the corner of her eye.

"No, not really," Dallea admitted. The face Hlín made subsequently sent her scrambling for something reassuring to add. "But … but you said Frigga asked you to be with me anyway, right? In the meantime …"

Hlín refused to reply with anything except an arched brow. Dallea clasp her hands together, outright begging.

"Please? If it doesn't work and I'm wrong, I'll shut up. I'll admit that I can't do it, and stop," Dallea said, shaking her intertwined hands to show just how serious she was. Hlín considered her for a moment, fingers drumming on the hilt of her sword. Dallea swore they stood like that for years.

"I have some conditions," Hlín said. She raised one solitary finger to stop the excited smile on Dallea's face from growing. "One, do not try to do anything on your own. If you want to practice, I have to be there with you."

Dallea scrunched her face in an attempted somber way. However, her excitement leaked through the way she rocked back on her heels only to sway forward again.

"Two, I've no idea how many people you have already told about your gifts, but tell no one else," Hlín said. Dallea nodded, but frowned. "Simply because some people see magic as an easy way out of any situation. You do not have the skill to help them, nor is it your responsibility to."

Hlín's voice was so matter of fact, Dallea found herself agreeing without taking any offence.

"Finally," Hlín said, eyes burning. "Do not, under any circumstances, take magical advice from Prince Loki."

"What?" Dallea interrupted, shocked by not only by her words, but disdain she housed as well. "Why not?"

"He uses magic like he uses people; constantly and with no good intention," Hlín explained. "As you probably already know, he cares more about showing off then showing how to do things the correct way."

Maybe, but Dallea didn't sense any ill intention when she was with him today, not like she had the first night she arrived. Or perhaps he had just became better at hiding it? With a sigh, Dallea nodded.

Hlín bowed her head, clearly satisfied with Dallea's response. "If you can do those things for me, then I, to the best of my ability, will try to help you control your magic. I refuse to promise that anything will become of it."

Pushing her restlessness the side, Dallea allowed a grin to split her face. She took a few hesitant steps closer to Hlín, in her mind the closeness making her next words more sincere.

"Thank you, Hlín," Dallea said, her smile becoming lopsided for a second. "And it is very nice to meet you."

Hlín gave an acknowledging nod and Dallea brushed past her, continuing down the hall Hlín lead her down. With a curious expression, Hlín watched Dallea walk a good distance away before slowing to a stop. She looked to the left, then to the right. Since Dallea wasn't looking directly at her, Hlín dared to smile.

"Would you like to walk with me to the banquet hall?" Hlín called. Dallea turned back around, a sheepish grin on her face.

"Yes, please."


"I wish my hand was as steady as yours." Face resting on her fist, Sigyn watched Dallea carefully pull the string through two sheets of fabric with a small smile. "When's the last time you did this, again?"

Dallea stopped threading for a moment to blush. She shifted in her seat and Sigyn's grin widened. "Um … five years ago? I think."

"Oh yeah? With what?" Sigyn asked, ignoring her own sewing in favour of staring at Dallea straighten the blue material she was working on.

Dallea spent most of her afternoon with Sigyn and somehow she had only explained the surface level of her life in Vanaheim. She was a warrior. She knew Queen Skandi quite well. The rest of their time was taken up by measuring Dallea and Sigyn reteaching her some of the basics. Dallea welcomed the lack of excitement graciously; her morning had been hectic enough.

"I …" Dallea started, but when she looked at Sigyn, she found the words refusing to come out. So much for mundane. Uneasiness washed over her; what if she didn't understand? What if Dallea explained it wrong?

"What's wrong?" Sigyn asked. She cocked her head to the side, the concern on her face giving Dallea an inkling of confidence.

"Well, when I was in Vanaheim, I wore a mask," Dallea said, looking down at her hands as if the treacherous thing was on her lap. "The fabric sometimes fell off so I would sew it back."

Here came the part Dallea was dreading. "A mask? Why did you wear a mask?"

Dallea sat back in her chair and looked at Sigyn. The room they were in was lined with shelves and drawers filled with fabrics and needles and threads. Sigyn bought Dallea her own so she wouldn't have to borrow anything. The sun was lowering in the sky, making the gold tiled floors shimmer beautifully. Dallea knew Sigyn was beautiful, too. In a conventional way, all of her features small and feminine.

Never looking away from Sigyn's face, Dallea spoke with a soft voice. "Because I'm an elf."

Sigyn's mouth opened, disbelief and anger swirling in her eyes. Dallea swallowed and babbled on.

"Much worse, I'm a woman. They didn't want to see me, didn't want me per say, just someone who could fight for them."

"Dallea, dear Norns, that's …" Sigyn said, placing her forgotten sewing on a table and moving to kneel beside Dallea's chair. "That's horrendous."

"Not really," Dallea said, shrugging. "I get it. Woman don't fight. Elves don't fight."

"But …" Sigyn said, placing her hands on Dallea's leg to ground herself. "But what about Lady Sif? She's a woman..."

Dallea pursed her lips, looking at Sigyn and trying to ignore the way her eyes began to itch. "She doesn't look like me."

Sigyn's expression fell when Dallea vacantly gestured towards her ears.

"So? They're just ears, so what?" Sigyn said, standing abruptly and shaking with rage. "So what? Why does it matter?"

Dallea shook her head, dropping her chin to her chest. Instantly Sigyn deflated, sinking to her knees once more. She placed a hand gingerly on Dallea's shoulder. Dallea tensed beneath her touch and so she pulled away.

"I'm sorry, we don't have to talk about this anymore," Sigyn said. When Dallea didn't look up, she pressed her lips together and tried again. "Do you want to leave? I understand if you do."

"No, I'm fine," Dallea said weakly. She sat up, gave a reassuring smile, then resumed sewing as if nothing happened. Sigyn blinked, frozen for only a second before she walked back to her chair and picked up her own fabric.

The silence that ensued was thick. Thankfully, after a very long stretch, it was broken. Not looking up, Sigyn spoke with a forced light tone.

"So are you getting used to Asgard?"

"Um," Dallea said, as if that was a suitable response. Embarrassment she couldn't explain had her in a tight grip and made relaxing impossible. The silence that followed made her feel obligated to continue. "Sort of."

If Sigyn heard her, she made no indication. Another stretch of quiet.

"How's it coming along?" Sigyn asked.

"Okay, I think," Dallea said. "I reckon my stitching is a little crooked."

"That's okay, I think mine is too," Sigyn said. Dallea gave her a fleeting, dubious look, but bit her tongue.

"Did you hear the news from Muspelheim?" Sigyn said, expert fingers working three times more quickly than Dallea. "Everyone's talking about it."

"What news?" Dallea asked, not looking up. Emboldened by the intrigue in Dallea's voice, Sigyn continued.

"The King is dead."

Dallea choked on air. Sigyn glanced at her and nodded when she saw Dallea's disbelief.

"How?" Dallea asked.

"He was in a volcano and it erupted," Sigyn said, smoothing her fabric then cutting her thread with practiced perfection. "Apparently it was a huge explosion, even for Muspelheim."

"Oh," was all Dallea could manage to say.

"Odin left this morning, to go and overlook the voting for a new king," Sigyn said. "Because, you know, we don't want another war."

"Yeah," Dallea said. All her mind could focus on was the mother with the empty satchel. How did they survive explosions like that regularly?

"Apparently this is really bad, though," Sigyn said, shrugging. "This particular King being dead, that is."

"Why?" Dallea asked, peeking at Sigyn through her eyelashes, who was rolling up her thread and folding her fabric.

"Because he was scared of Odin, I hear," Sigyn said. "He did whatever Asgard wanted. But who knows how many Fire Giants are scared anymore?"

"Yeah," Dallea murmured. They're not scared. She remembered how she and the others were nearly attacked going into the palace. They're furious.

Dallea didn't notice Sigyn had cleaned up all of her materials until she stood and stretched. Finally, Dallea ripped herself away from her thoughts and noticed how dark it had become. Sigyn swept up a few pieces of dirt on the table with her hand. Dallea, with her sewing utensils still in hand, watched her dumbly.

"I have to go somewhere before dinner, you should head out whenever you're ready," Sigyn said with a smile. "Don't worry about getting lost; the banquet hall is down the first staircase to right."

"Oh," Dallea said, looking at her fabric while starting to clumsily fold it. "Okay. Thank you."


"See you at dinner," Sigyn said, slipping out the door. Before it fully shut, however, she poked her head through and added: "Oh, and you can leave your things in the drawer with the blue ribbons on it. That one's mine."

Sigyn was gone before she could hear Dallea's quiet response. "Okay. Thank you."

Dallea entered the hall just as dinner started. There was a brief moment of panic seeing just how many people there were; it wasn't like breakfast or lunch, where people came and went as they pleased. Dinner was when the sun set and Dallea up to that point had skipped it instead of braving the company of the nobles of Asgard. As if to torment her sensory overload even further, an orchestra in the corner of the room finished a song and received enthusiastic applause. Someone's elbow connected with her arm when she started to slow down. Dallea's chest constricted.

Her stomach steeled her nerves. She hadn't eaten lunch. Stepping to the side and out of the stream of people still entering the hall, she craned her neck in search of a familiar face. Anyone. There had to be someone she knew in the throng of sitting people, chattering and laughing amongst each other. A cold sweat glistened on her forehead. For Yggdrasil's sake, was there no one…

"Dallea?" A voice, garbled by half eaten food, called to her from nearby. "Is that her? Dallea!"

Whipping her head to the left and seeing familiar faces a few tables away made her fists unclench. Fandral had been the one to call her name, coaxing the attention of the other warriors, Sif included. Dallea waved politely and Sif beckoned her to an empty seat on her right.

"She sees you, get your elbow out of my face!" Volstagg grunted, shoving Sif's arm away none too gently. Sif, naturally, used that same arm to smack him upside the head. Hogun snorted and Sif began to hiss threat after threat upon Volstagg. The man and his lady companion who were sitting beside Hogun abruptly stood and left with one last horrified glance at the foul words being spouted.

Dallea took her place beside Sif, and while she and Volstagg continued to curse each others grandchildren, Fandral gestured to Dallea with the brim of his flask.

"I saw you when you came in," he said, flexing his jaw to try and pry a piece of meat out of his teeth with his tongue. "But I didn't say anything because - ask Hogun - I said no, that can't be her. I've never seen her come to dinner. Didn't I, Hogun?"

"Yes," Hogun said, if only to appease the man next to him. He did, however, nod politely in Dallea's direction. "You're brave to join us. Sif and Volstagg haven't stopped screaming all day."

"Oh, Norns," Fandral said, tossing a glance at Sif and Volstagg, whose heated words were starting to turn heads. "Would you … Hey!" He stood abruptly, slamming his cup on the table in favour of reaching across and wrenching a knife out of Sif's hand. Similarly, Hogun yanked Volstagg to the side so he couldn't retaliate against her.

"Come to this side," Hogun commanded, refusing to release Volstagg until the man pushed away from the table. In the time it took for Sif to smooth out her ruffled feathers and for Volstagg to march to their side, Hogun and Fandral exchanged exasperated looks.

Dallea sat rigidly still. She couldn't offer anything but a blank stare. With a grim smile, Fandral picked up his flask and took a sip. "Sorry you had to see … that. Volstagg said some things in jest this morning and Sif didn't wake up with a good humour today."

"Low-brow, moronic comments are never funny," Sif all but snarled. She opened her mouth, a scathing lecture on the tip of her tongue, when a louder voice cut through the distracting chatter.

"We know, Sif." Dallea and Sif turned to see Thor seated on a table a few paces away from theirs. The table was isolated and shorter in length than the rest in the hall, but still hosted an impressive number of chairs. It was at the helm of the room, an obvious indication that whoever sat there was important. Though he sat on the side farthest from them, two empty seats allowed them to see the eldest prince's brilliant smile. He raised his mug, which was much more extravagant than Fandral's, in a toast to Sif's anger. "And we know you proved your point. Let us eat without you starting a revolution, yes?"

The Warriors Three raised their glasses to his words, and threw out a few approving words. Sif wordlessly turned to face Dallea, her eyes burning. Dallea knew the emotion that Sif forced into submission.

Without thinking, Dallea placed a hand on Sif's arm before processing whether or not the gesture would be appreciated. Sif smiled, a dazzling sight, and then turned back to her plate.

No one gave Dallea a second glance when she turned as well, picking up a fork and digging into the plate set in front of her. No one watched as she ate. She felt, for the time being, that she wasn't trespassing.

Fandral idly discussed the state of Asgard's southern region, with Volstagg and Hogun chiming in occasionally. Soldiers were being pulled from their policing duties to secure Vanaheim. For a good amount of time, Dallea listened contentedly, feeling a thrill of warmth every time someone met her eyes while speaking; indicating that she was welcome in the conversation.

So enraptured was she, that she didn't notice the doors reopen until Sif stiffened beside her. Looking first to Sif, then to the people entering the hall midway through dinner, it took her a second to understand what she was seeing.

Two people, tittering to each other with looped arms, walked past their table without giving it a glance. Dallea's mouth fell open. Volstagg turned to see the reason for her and Sif's distress.

Unlike the two women, he rolled his eyes and continued to be unfazed. "What a sight. They can't be on time like the rest of us."

"That's too mundane," Hogun added, when the two came into his line of sight.

"I," Dallea started, then clamped her mouth shut. She turned, openly watching Prince Loki and Sigyn unlock arms and sit at the royal table across from Thor. No one except Thor greeted them, with a loud jeer that was met with raucous laughter from the other lords and ladies beside them. Loki said nothing, only smiled at Frigga down the table. Dallea only had a second to realize that the seat beside Frigga's, Odin's seat, was vacant.

"You might want to tuck in your chair," Sif said. Dallea blinked, forcing herself to look at Sif. She had also turned in her seat, glaring daggers at Loki and Sigyn. "I might just be sick."

Dallea was too wrapped up in her own bewilderment to even try to come up with a witty reply. All she could do was flatly state: "I didn't know they were friends."

"Really?" Sif said, looking at Dallea with traces of disgust still in her expression. "You haven't seen them flouncing around together, sticking up their noses? Count yourself lucky."

Dallea could only shake her head. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Sigyn lean into Loki and say something that made him laugh. Is that where Sigyn had to go before dinner? To go see Loki? Sif faced their own table again and Dallea followed suit.

She poked at a hunk of meat she had yet to touch. An ugly emotion made her spirits wither. As much as she tried to rejoin the conversation, she found she couldn't. Sif waved to someone and she didn't look up. If Nanny were there, she'd probably flick Dallea in the cheek, saying something about how ugly thoughts make ugly people.

To distract herself, Dallea shoved a piece of the meat into her mouth, chewing aggressively until she processed the taste. Tears immediately blurred her vision and the pit in her stomach turned into something more tangible: vomit.

Dallea extended her hands, trying to push others away so as not to be caught in the crossfire. Feeling Dallea fervently smacking her arm, Sif looked to see her rapidly turning green.

"Oh Norns," Sif cursed, pushing away from the table not with the intention to get out of the way, but to somehow, from this new vantage point, think of something better to do to help. "Norns, Norns … here, spit it out…"

She vainly searched for a napkin within reach or something, but it wasn't her hand who brandished a cloth in front of Dallea's mouth.

"Spit," the owner of the hand commanded. Dallea complied, and though the taste still lingered in her mouth, the crisis seemed to be averted. A mug of water was shoved into her hands and she downed it without question.

Dallea looked up to see her saviour tying up the cloth and handing it to a nearby servant with a quiet request. Sif sighed, placing a hand on Dallea's knee.

"Are you okay?" Sif asked, unbothered by the staring of the warriors three and a few other curious onlookers. Dallea nodded and looked back up at the woman still standing above her, a tentative smile overcoming her features.

"It's nice to see you again," the woman said, her voice on the brink of laughter at the sheepishness on Dallea's face.

"Eir, you having unbelievable timing," Sif commended to the woman, before pulling out the empty seat on the other side of her.

"You carry around cloths?" Dallea asked, making Eir throw back her head and laugh. Sif also cracked a smile.

"Hey, you needed it, right?" Eir responded, tapping Dallea on the shoulder with one jesting finger. Dallea tried to match her lightheartedness, but in her mind, it had been a genuine question.

Eir graciously sat down, Dallea hyper focused on her every move so as not to acknowledge the people around them still watching to see if she would projectile vomit all over their food. The Warriors Three thought it best to dive into another conversation instead of interrupting Sif when she spoke. "Managed to turn in early?"

"I was in this morning," Eir explained. "So yes."

Sif nodded. Dallea squirmed in her seat, taking another sip of water, which attracted Sif's attention. She looked to Dallea, then to her plate, then back again. "It was the pheasant, wasn't it?"

Dallea looked at the meat reproachfully. "Yeah."

"I don't blame you," Eir said, apparently not very interested in eating anything the servants placed in front of her. "Asgard has spices and therefore thinks it should use every single one for every dish. You're probably just used to Vanir food." She grinned cheekily at Sif. "It's better."

Sif huffed, but looked to Dallea, as if it was her job to reply. Shifting a little and feeling slightly uncomfortable, Dallea gave a half hearted shrug.

"I didn't eat much fine Vanir food." Dallea said. "Just whatever was available."

"Oh?" Eir said, resting her chin on her fist.

"She was a soldier," Sif said. "She was saving people, not sitting around and critiquing food, Eir."

As horrified as Dallea was at the phrasing of Sif's words, Eir laughed and clasp her hands together, looking at Dallea with shining, interested eyes.

"A soldier?" Eir said, whistling slightly while wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. Dallea forced herself to laugh, but wished she had an excuse to change the topic. "Like a royal guard? I've never heard of any woman soldiers in Vanaheim."

"Um," Dallea said lamely. If this conversation was to be anything like the one she had earlier with Sigyn, she wanted no part of it. Just the thought of Sigyn made her visibly distressed

"Just a soldier," Sif said, searching Dallea's eyes for a second. In response, Dallea swallowed. "A soldier from Vanaheim. Nothing interesting. By the way, Eir, why didn't you mention you knew Dallea?"

Dallea released a steadying breath. Eir rolled her eyes at Sif.

"Because we didn't exactly meet in the nicest circumstances," Eir said. Dallea froze, eyes wide. Eir leaned forward to beam at her. "You were in the background drooling and snoring the whole time. I think it's an experience we don't want to relive…"

Dallea giggled loudly, her heart thudding against her chest. Sif bristled.

"I do not snore, you liar," she said shortly.

After Sif was content in insisting Eir was a miserable, conniving liar and Eir and Dallea were done laughing at her behest, the three men across from them swallowed them into their conversation about some visiting Lord. Fandral called him a Troll and Hogun choked on his beer. Eir thought he was charming and Volstagg pointed out the way he was picking his nose at the royal table, causing the other five of them to turn, eager to witness this for themselves.

A few seconds of fascinated, but disgusted quiet was spent watching the Lord yank something out of his nose. He was obviously piss drunk, but that didn't stop Fandral from raising his flask and yelling out to him.

"Find what you were looking for, my friend?"

Sif folded in on herself laughing at the startled expression of the Lord upon realizing he had an audience. Dallea turned quickly to hide her face, laughing but not quite ready to openly show it. Eir seemed to share the same sentiment.

When Dallea did sit up and look round at the royal table, she instantly caught eyes with Sigyn. Sigyn's expression was disapproving until she recognized Dallea. Then she smiled and sent her a friendly wave.

Dallea copied the gesture hesitantly. From the corner of her eye she watched Eir, but both women seemed blissfully unaware. Guilt that Dallea didn't realize she hosted came to the forefront of her mind. How long would Sigyn's smile last if she noticed who Dallea was sitting with?

To make Dallea's internal turmoil that much worse, Sigyn's waving piqued Loki's attention and he turned to see what had made her turn around. When he recognized Dallea, he too seemed … not upset to see her. Before Dallea had a chance to smile or wave or determine if his smile was tolerant or gracious, he looked beyond her, to the Warriors Three. They guffawed loudly, over some joke that Sif thought was just as funny. His expression hardened, and he said something quietly to Sigyn before they both turned back to their own table.

Dallea stared at the backs of their heads for a moment. Her ears were ringing. She turned back around and wished the floor would open up and swallow her whole. Did she deserve to feel the sting of rejection that made her hands twist?

"I need some air," she muttered, and thankfully Sif heard. The thought of repeating herself when she was so on edge made her want to tear her hair out. Surprisingly, Sif frowned. Before Dallea could be dissuaded, she stood and started to tuck in her chair. The movement caught the attention of Eir, who had a quick exchange with Sif.

"Mind if we join you?" Sif said. It was Dallea's turn to furrow her eyebrows. "After dinner people like to dance, and we're not really in the mood."

Dallea hesitated. Then: "Of course."

They bade farewell to the Warriors and found themselves wrestling through a herd of people escorting each other towards the middle of the hall. The orchestra swelled, an upbeat melody inspiring many to rise from their seats and head to the middle of the room.

Dallea lost sight of Eir and Sif. She slipped out of the door and into the hall with a drawn out sigh. Without so much as a glance backward, she continued forward until spotting a side exit Sigyn showed her a few days prior.

She didn't realize her skin was feverish until a cold night breeze blew past. Another sigh.

Stepping further into the darkness, she tilted back her head to look at the sky. Trying to sort out the jumble of emotions in her chest was like trying to read while blindfolded. Though she'd rather be blindfolded for eternity than have the image of Prince Loki and Sigyn turning away from her. That must have been what Sif had been talking about...

As comforting as the dark was, it wouldn't hide her from melancholy. Maybe it wasn't so comforting after all. Who knew? Not her.

"Dallea?" Her hair stood on end, but it didn't show in her expression when she turned toward the source of the voice. Sif leaned out of a window not too far away. "I thought it was you."

Hanging her head as if she were about to be scolded, Dallea made her way back inside to face Eir and Sif. To her surprise, they didn't look irritated, just curious. Maddeningly, none of them address Dallea's hasty exit.

"Your hair practically glows in the dark," Eir remarked. Her tone was light, but it didn't seem forced. "We saw you from across the hall."

With dreamlike distraction, Dallea began to twirl the ends of her hair around her finger. Her eyes drifted to Sif, inquisitive but shy, and when she found no reproach in the woman she dared to speak.

"You used to be more blonde than I," Dallea said. Sif's face fell, and Dallea wished she could sew her mouth shut.

"Until Loki decided that it would be funny to cut it all off," she grumbled, crossing her arms.

"Oh no," Eir said, laughing. Sif looked at her, disgruntled. Dallea watched them, not wanting to break the playfulness. "I remember when I had to stitch him up afterward."

"That was a good day," Sif said, grinning wolfishly. It was Dallea's turn to cross her arms.

"What happened?"

"Oh, he got arrogant and I put him in his place in the arena," Sif shrugged, but struggled to suppress her smugness.

"Ah." Dallea didn't know if she could say anything else.

"No matter," Eir said, swatting the air. "Should we head outside? Dallea said she wanted some air…"

"You know where else there's air?" Sif said, another smile creeping across her face. "In the training arena."

"You brute," Eir scoffed, but looked to Dallea all the same. A cocked brow asked her next question for her.

"I …" Dallea said, looking at Eir while tugging on the ends of her hair. She had to do something with her buzzing nerves. "I wouldn't mind going to the arena."

Expecting outrage from her and receiving a shrug of nonchalance instead, Dallea matched Sif's smile with her own.

"It's about time!" Sif exclaimed, closing the distance between her and Dallea and clapping her on the shoulder. "I've been waiting for you to wander down ever since you arrived. Let's go see what you're made of."

Still feeling guilty for siding with Sif, Dallea looked to Eir. She seemed equally as eager.

"I'll patch you two up afterwards," she said. "That's my excuse for tagging along."

Sif let out a victorious "Ah-ha!" while shaking Dallea's shoulder. After she was satisfied with Dallea's laughter, she patted her collar. "Come on, then. I can't kick your arse if you don't move it."

A warm feeling blanketed Dallea's doubt. Sif's confidence was contagious. "Please, save your breath. You'll need it if you want to stand a chance."

Stepping around them and making her way down the hall, Eir cackled. Dallea blushed a violent red colour. Sif looked disbelieving for a second, but then drowned out Dallea's nervous giggling with her own laughter.

Dallea scurried after Eir to avoid Sif's half hearted punch to the arm. The sting had long since left Dallea's mind, replaced with side splitting laughter. The night wasn't so cold after all.


An epic battle of me vs me took place whilst going through this chapter; is it boring? Or not.

WishUponADragon - I'm crying in the club too don't worry. Also, depends on your expectations of haywire :)) Love you lots!