WAR

Tuarwen woke up to soft footfalls in the room. Startled, she silently jumped down, preparing to make a move if it was someone hostile. She was relieved to find that it was only a servant girl who was carrying Loki's breakfast. She wasn't ready to fight someone at the moment, she was feeling weak and unprepared. She was tempted to sneak out and go to the Marketplace to steal some food, she hadn't eaten since the day before last. She would have left if it wasn't for the strange feeling that gripped her heart. She knew there was another assassin close, just waiting for her to leave the prince's side for more than a few minutes. She couldn't afford it today, she also couldn't let Loki's magical tricks slow her down either. She'd have to talk to him about that, she wasn't looking forward to it. She decided to sit down in a corner and wait for him to wake up.

She let her mind wander to the assassin she knew was close. Dark Elf assassins were one-of-a-kind, they didn't try to fit in with anyone, they simply melded with the shadows and ignored everything around them. The world that they were living in for maybe only a few days, was nothing more than a pile of rocks to them, but not to Tuarwen. Every world was different and unique, Vanaheim was filled with forests and wheat fields. The cities were formed by magic and some even floated through the air. In Muspelheim, the ground was covered in lava and the atmosphere was thick with ash and smoke and blazing heat that could melt you. And Jotunheim, covered in an eternal winter, ice coated and freezing. It was never pleasant for a Dark Elf to step foot there, it was too different from Svartalfheim, too cold. She had been to many different places and had come to treasure each place for what it was. Each world had a bit of magic in itself. Each one was special in its own way. It didn't matter if it was different or hostile to her and her civilization, it was still beautiful and breathtaking. Asgard was slightly different though. There was something more to it, more magic, more beauty. Something housed beneath everything that you saw and felt, something bigger and more fulfilling. But it was only a shadow compared to what was calling her. There were times when she knew there was something more, something beyond the world she had lived and traveled in. It seemed so small to her, no matter that there was nine planets filled with life, no matter that there were worlds beyond the ones she knew. It was so small. She could feel something greater pulling her and everything around her, but she couldn't name it. Couldn't describe it, she awaited the day she could, somewhere in her subconscious, she knew that it would be the day that would change everything in her life and in the whole universe.

Tuarwen could hear faint rustlings from the bed. Judging from the quickened breathing, she could tell that he was waking up. Slowly, forcing her numb legs awake, she stood and threw open the curtains. The light streamed through the window, catching in the glass and reflecting into the room with a thousand colors. It was warm, bright, and inviting. She threw back her hood and let the warm sun kiss her ashen skin. She breathed deeply and contentedly, closing her eyes to the comforting feeling that was slowly drifting over her conscious. Her relaxed senses didn't catch the eyes starring at her from the bed, with it's now opened curtains. For a moment, Loki forgot that this was the broken woman that he had pondered and questioned for the last couple of days. She looked different, foreign to his eyes. A beautiful queen to behold, clothed in sunlight and shadows. Warm, but distant. At that moment, he held out the hope that one day she might know peace and love. That she might know a life a thousand ways different than the one she had led. But not yet, it would be quite awhile before that happened.

It took longer than Tuarwen cared to admit for her to realize that he was awake and was watching her. She didn't turn to him though, she waited for him to make the first move, and he did. He moved silently, Tuarwen did not hear him until he was nearly next to her. She made no move of surprise like he thought she would, not even the slightest tensing of the shoulders. She was relaxed and still, watching and waiting for the smallest sign of hostility.

Loki stood next to her silently, looking through the clear glass like Tuarwen, but he didn't keep his gaze from wandering to her queenly figure next to him. She turned and looked up at him suddenly, catching his gentle gaze, her own being as hard as a rock, piercing him with daggers.

"There are shadows moving in the darkness, it's not safe," she whispered mysteriously. He eyed her bemusedly. "Don't leave my sight for one second until I say it's safe," she finished. He nodded his understanding, wanting to ask more, but decided it would be hopeless. It wouldn't be likely for her to give away information easily and he wasn't in the mood to play her games. He sat down by his table and opened a book while Tuarwen walked to the door and listened. She opening it slightly, looking both directions before closing it again. She pulled her cloak around her and disappeared back into the shadows. She had warned him and completed part one of her mission, now it was just a matter of time before the assassins picked their time to strike.

Around midday, a guard came to summon them to the throne room. The assassin was going to be interrogated and both Loki and Tuarwen were required for it to proceed. With a stroke of forewarning, Tuarwen made sure that Loki carried several daggers with him. Her mind told her that now would be an excellent time for an attempt. She wasn't going to be caught unprepared.

They left his room and started off down the hallway. Tuarwen was trailing behind the prince, hood down, but still keeping to the shadows. Some openly stared at her, but quickly turned away when they were met with Tuarwen's harsh gaze. The halls still shone with gold light, but a murky gray in the shadows. The shadows dimmed the brightness of her eyes to the same murky gold of the halls, but it brought the blue out with strength. Her eyes would shine with light and in all places. Like her, no matter where she was, or what she was doing, she would always shine out with brightness. She was gold, pure, unaltered gold. Somewhere beneath the scars, she had a heart of gold.

The large doors to the Throne Room loomed up ahead. Tuarwen wasn't sure if she was ready for another encounter with Durion, she feared to do something she shouldn't. Asgard needed information from him, they needed to know why Svartalfheim was trying to assassinate Loki, who was behind it, and what their motives were. Tuarwen wondered what was going on in her old home, for the first time ever, she wished she had some way of seeing her home from a distance. She had a strange feeling that something wasn't right. A feeling of foreboding and danger, everything was like a tight coil waiting to be released and do its damage. Asgard was a bomb, the timer starting to wind down to the explosion. Tuarwen sensed the upheaval, she had sensed it at Svartalfheim before Malekith took control of the planet. She sensed it in Jotunheim before Loki nearly destroyed it. And she could sense it now, the Dark Elves were seeking revenge in Asgard, but it wasn't her king. No, it was someone with far more power and backbone, someone not afraid of taking risks and wasting lives. She may have been thinking about Svartalfheim, but she couldn't think of one person who would fit that description, she could think of more than a hundred.

The doors opened to them and Loki walked through, Tuarwen trailed behind him, senses alert and reaching out to all the corners of the room. She tensed when she reached out to the edges of the room, something was there, watching from the shadows. Waiting, intent upon death and destruction, but there was nothing there, at least visible. Something was going to happen, she could feel the energy seeping into her bones, giving her the strength to keep moving, the adrenaline of the game had kicked in. She followed Loki to the end of the Throne Room where the king and queen were standing. She stopped in front of them and slightly inclined her head.

"Tuarwen, as you are from Svartalfheim, I would like you to interrogate the prisoner. You will know how to get information out of him easier," said the king. She tensed ever so slightly, it wouldn't be an interrogation, it would be a war, a war of words and intimidation. The only thing that helped her was the fear that Durion had, fear of her ability to make him know pain. It was only a slight advantage though, Dark Elf assassins were remade to know pain. They suffered intense amounts of it in training. Poison, broken bones, embedded knives, and burns, hours upon hours of torture, until you were numb. Only a machine, no longer a person with opinions or emotions. Nothing more than a tool of the royalty.

Tuarwen watched with guarded eyes as two Asgardian guards brought the prisoner into the hall. He looked no different from the moment he was imprisoned, a little worse for wear, but still wearing the same amused smile. Tuarwen told herself that the first thing she would do in the 'interrogation' was remove that smug smile. It was too unsettling for her. The prisoner was brought to the center of the hall, in front of the king's throne. Tuarwen looked around her. The Allfather was seated on his throne, with Frigga standing to his left and Loki a few steps away to his right. A woman flanked Frigga a few steps down the dais. Tuarwen assumed it was the Lady Sif, the female warrior of Asgard. Tuarwen turned back to the prisoner and walked down the dais towards him. Her stare intent upon him, it was numb and emotionless, intimidating to the Asgardians, but useless against an assassin. Durion smiled sweetly.

"The great and mighty Tuarwen is to interrogate me? Oh please, who's idea was this?" Tuarwen remained silent to his taunting, she stood in front of him and returned his laughing gaze with her hard one. His smile faded when she started a stare down. He shifted uneasily, but still met her iron gaze. She would not lift her stare until he admitted her dominance. His eyes jerked to the floor for a fraction of a second and that's all Tuarwen needed to begin.

"Your mission was to eliminate the prince of Asgard, I am sure they're are many who would like to do this, but never have there been such organized efforts. Who leads you?" When he did not answer, Tuarwen started walking around him, her gaze shifted to the door at the side of the hall, it lead back to the prison. She paused for a moment, her eyes had caught a shimmer on the wall. The whole wall was shimmering, distorting the golden hues. How many were there? Durion's voice broke her out of her thinking.

"He is a wolf, counseling even the highest of authorities," he had become uncomfortable with her silence and the fact that he couldn't see her. It made him nervous, more than he cared to admit. So he offered her a riddle.

"Please, not him. Anyone but him," begged Tuarwen in her mind. It had been years since she had begged, even in her thoughts. A pit of fear fell into her stomach. She never wanted to see him again, never even wanted to hear anything about him.

"Why?" was her simple reply, she needed to know why he authorized this. Durion didn't reply. Tuarwen was losing patience and time, the shimmering against the wall was covering a larger area and fading, signaling movement away from it. She pulled out a knife, flipped it in the air, and held it against the prisoner's throat, pulling his long hair back to make easy access.

"Why does he wish for war?" she had lowered her voice to a whisper, desperation filled her. "I have had enough of your stalling, Durion. Answer me," nothing, he remained quiet. "Don't think I will hesitate to torture you," he laughed, he dared to laugh. She pushed her dagger further into his throat, turning his laugh into a cough and covering her hands with slick blood.

"You think torture will change my mind, Tuarwen? You have grown naive in your exile," he coughed out. His voice raspy from the pressure to his throat. Tuarwen did not release the pressure from her hold on his throat, but he somehow managed to get out his poisonous thoughts.

"We could leave, Tuarwen," he said quietly, but loud enough for all in the room to hear and question Tuarwen's loyalty, if she had any. "You could get us out of here. We could leave, we could go back to where we belong." Tuarwen turned her gaze back to the wall, she ignored Durion's words, they stung, but there was a more important task at hand. It was now or never. She glanced at Loki, he was gazing at her with a. . . Hurt expression? What would he have to be hurt about? She wanted to somehow beg him to trust her, to let him know that it was alright, but she decided against it. Maybe she liked making things difficult for herself, but she always chose the harder way, especially when it involved working with other people.

Tuarwen made her move, it was a move that surprised and shocked everyone around her. Durion, Loki, Sif, and all of Asgard. They expected she might listen to the prisoner's words, but they never would have thought she would be so stupid as to try something in front of all the guards. But she did, she hurled herself at one of Durion's guards, knocking him to the ground and hitting his head. She threw herself at the other, she knocked him off balance. She attached herself to his back, making him even more off balance. He fell backwards, just before he hit the floor, Tuarwen crawled from under him and let him hit the floor hard. With his guards out of the way, Tuarwen drug Durion toward the entrance that opened into the great hall and led back toward the prison. Appearing to double-cross the Asgardians, the shimmering figures of the Dark Elven assassins let her through. She reached the door and looked back to see the throne room swarming with Dark Elves, the royal family and the Lady Sif were able to hold back the assassins. She worried that she would get back too late to do anything, but she had something more important to attend to at the moment. She was through the door and half way down the hallway before Durion even thought about asking her. "Where are we going?" he asked with his hoarse voice, Tuarwen's dagger had caused more damage than just a little blood.

"Isn't it obvious?" she exclaimed quietly, not stopping one step. She doubled her speed when she heard a large explosion behind her. She turned a corner sharply and started running, dragging Durion behind her.

"This isn't the way out," Durion whispered between strained breathes. Tuarwen had taken the hallway back to the prison and back to some order, the Asgardian guards were unharmed here. Going about their daily tasks, ignorant of the invasion.

Tuarwen threw the prisoner into one of the guards and looked at him disinterestedly, but a small smolder of anger was hiding behind her numb gaze, which sparked her reply.

"Do you really think me that stupid or naive, Durion?" she snapped, the guards kept their distance, sensing this was not something they wanted to get involved in. "Give me a reason why I would want to return," she breathed quickly, thinking about the place that had been her home for over a half a millennial. There was nothing worth returning for, no memories, joys, anything. There was nothing, only a void and empty dream. Asgard may not have been her home, but it was possibly the closest home she would ever have.

"Tuarwen," he replied soothingly, mocking concern lacing his melodious voice. He took her hand and stroked it softly, she gave him a cool glance. "Where is your loyalty?" She snapped, but in a small way. She threw him off of her and replied with heat.

"My loyalty lies with those who want it," She said, the gold in her eyes flashing. "Not with those who throw me from their land," she left him with the guards, trusting them to make sure he was locked back up, but his calm voice kept her from leaving, she whirled around. He had said something, something important. She walked back and leveled him with her icy stare. He barely lasted thirty seconds before giving up information that she needed so badly.

"Echor ned Agarwaen." he murmured, Tuarwen froze at the phrase. It was uncommonly used in Svartalfheim, but the times she had heard, it signaled one thing: War. The phrase would run through the streets, sending the news out to the people and creating soldiers willing to die for a war. But this was different. She didn't think Echor ned Agarwaen just meant war, she felt there was a second meaning to it. And whatever war that came, would not be a few soldiers dying, protecting their people. No, it would be a massacre. The slaughtering of hundreds of innocent people. But she knew nothing for sure, she only felt it in her heart. Wait, heart? Since when did she feel things?

She rushed through the hallway, back to the throne room. She could still hear the sounds of a battle from the end of the hallway. She knew someone was still alive if a battle was still going on. She didn't know who though. She slowed down near the door and pulled her cloak around herself, making her invisible to the naked eye. She opened the door enough to see around and surveyed the scene in front of her. The assassins had gotten bold, their silver hair floated in the windless air, freed from the bondage of it's hood. The room was flooded with Dark Elves and the corpses of dead Asgardians, the royal family was still alive, but no doubt tiring quickly from the mob of assassins they were holding back. Tuarwen saw that Lady Sif was joined by three soldiers, she presumed they were the Warriors Three, she would leave investigating for later. There was a battle to be fought at the moment.

She slipped through the door and nearly collided with a Dark Elf. Good. They didn't know she was there. She slipped through the assassins and made her way without conflict to the bottom of the dais. Then, throwing back her hood, she joined the fight. On the side of the Asgardians, she would remain loyal to them as long as she saw fit, and as long as they desired her loyalty. Durion was right, this was a war, and Tuarwen was not trained to fight a war, but she managed to put up a stiff resistance against the swarming soldiers trying to get to the dais. The more she looked around the room and the more Dark Elves she took down, the more she realized something. They weren't assassins. These were soldiers, not trained killers.

Tuarwen had kept one eye on her enemy and one on Loki, she wasn't about to let anything harm him. She couldn't afford to. But sometimes, she would just stop and watch him. Watch his raven hair flying and the deadly efficiency he would take down the Dark Elves. He fought with fluid and graceful motions, she wondered how long he had trained in the quiet of his room. Trained to become a deadly warriors that the Nine Realms would fear. He fought without reserve, with attention to every person in the room. He was alert and cautious. He sent daggers through the air to his targets and in the chaos of the room, had somehow managed to avoid hitting any of the Asgardians. That took skill and precision. It had taken Tuarwen years to perfect her dagger throwing, she wondered how long it had taken him.

The numbers in the room had been reduced, but still they seemed to come, from the shadows, through the hallways, behind pillars. They were everywhere. Loki had somehow ended up halfway across the throne room, Tuarwen close behind. They fought almost side-by-side, only a few feet apart. They covered the side that the other could not see. Loki was involved in hand-to-hand combat with only a small dagger, but it was enough. Tuarwen was hurling knives in every direction. Always with the same calm, cool manner, nothing fazed her, nothing could get past the walls that she put up. On the outside she may have appeared numb, but on the inside there were cracks. Small cracks, ones where she recognized the men she killed, and she felt. . . What? What did she feel? Guilt, anger, despair? She hadn't felt like this since her first mission, her first kill. This wasn't even a mission and she felt guilty for what she was doing. What had happened to her? What was happening to her?

She momentarily forgot where she was and what she was doing, she wasn't brought back from her revelry until she was knocked to the ground by Loki. She looked up to see a dagger lodged in the pillar that she was standing in front of a few seconds ago. There was enough of a lull in the fighting for Loki to offer her a hand up. She took it and pulled herself up with some effort, that fall was going to result in a good painting of bruises. She didn't take any time to recover, she was slicing the air with her daggers before anyone else could harm her. Right now it was a war for survival, nothing else, just a bloody fight to live another day. The floor was becoming thick with blood, it flowed down in small rivers, coating the lustrous gold. Tuarwen had to be careful, or she would end up on the floor again, this time she might not have gotten up. This time the dagger might just have hit its target, it could have meant the end to her.

She kept one eye on Loki occasionally, watching him fight, he was graceful and deadly. She almost shuddered watching him take down six soldiers single-handed with ease. This was the result of his training, years of being considered inferior to Thor, when in reality, he was the superior, in battle and in cunning. He was gifted with a strong mind and the ability to wield magic, he was known throughout the Nine Realms for the strength of his gift. He was using it well today to conjure daggers.

Tuarwen was relieved to see the number of elves becoming smaller and smaller, the fighting was still furious, but at least it wasn't as suffocating as it was. But there was still enough of the assassin soldiers to cause injury. Tuarwen no longer had to dance to avoid flying daggers, there were no more flying at her, there were bigger targets to acquire, such as the royal family. Tuarwen had kept an eye on Loki during the whole ordeal, he was skilled and she had little to fear, but only one small mistake could end up with him dead and her planet destroyed in Asgard's wrath. It wasn't until she stopped to catch her breath that she noticed the assassin taking his aim for a target she couldn't see from behind the pillar she was leaning against. She had an uneasy feeling which caused her to look around at his target. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw it was Loki, he had his back turned, focused on another target. She could yell at him and tell him to move, but he could easily be distracted by her and get knifed by the other assassin, she wasn't going to take that chance. She ran out from the behind the pillar and race toward him as fast as she could. It felt like she was watching it in slow-motion, all she could feel was the exhaustion in her legs as she tried to reach him before the dagger lodged itself in his neck. With all the strength she had left, Tuarwen jumped and hurled herself at him wrapping herself around his back and pushing him to the ground. They both dropped to the floor, Tuarwen rolled away and tripped the approaching assassin Loki had been fighting, she plunged her knife into his heart quickly, in the most painless way she could. She realized something was dripping onto the floor below where she was crouched, something deep, dark red. She looked up to her shoulder and saw the dagger embedded there, she could see the barbed point protruding from her shoulder. The iron odor of blood permeated her air. She stared at the dagger, not quite believing that she hadn't noticed the feeling of it sinking into her muscle. It was hard to miss a sharp ripping dagger sinking into your skin, and she knew that. If she left it in, she would be in a world of pain, but if she took it out, she risked bleeding out, or cutting a nerve and immobilizing her arm. But what choice did she have? Loki was running out of the hall, Sif close behind him. She had no doubt he was making sure the Vault was safe, if the Dark elves managed to take any of the precious treasures in that room, Asgard was done for. Smashing her teeth together, she pulled the dagger out as fast as she could, pulling straight forward. A sound did not come from her mouth, but the sound of flesh ripping from her shoulder was enough to make some sick. There was only one person watching her. Frigga was shocked when Tuarwen pulled the dagger from her shoulder, choosing to continue fighting when she could have easily left the battle injured.

Tuarwen ran after the echoing footsteps, leaving a trail of blood behind her. The hallways were mercifully empty and void of Dark Elves. Tuarwen stopped at a crossroad, listening intently and stopping to put pressure on her wound in hopes of stopping the bleeding. She moved onward in the direction she faintly remembered was the way to the Vault. When she could no longer hear footsteps she increased her pace. What if something had already happened to them and she was too late? Determination and adrenalin pushed her forward, past empty hallways and dark corners. Gold walls blurred in her vision as she ran past them, they created intimidating images behind her eyes, like she was running through a wall of elven cloaks. What if she was running through them? She wanted to stop and make sure, but she knew she couldn't, she had to keep moving. She saw the looming doors of the Vault ahead of her and she breathed a sigh of relief, even more so when she heard voices. She stopped just outside of the doors and for some reason beyond her comprehension, she pulled up the hood to her cloak. What was she wanting to hide from? Even she didn't know, maybe she was hiding from Loki and Sif, maybe she didn't want them to see her, but why? She entered the room and stepped backwards to stand by the doors, she could see anything that moved from there.

"It's strange, I can't understand why they haven't touched the treasures here," commented Loki, catching his breath from the sprint to the Vault. Tuarwen perked up her ears when he started to speak.

"Perhaps they do not know of the Vault, perhaps it is only a rebel band of soldiers," replied the Lady Sif, warily watching the room.

"Do you really believe that, Sif? You saw how they fought, you saw their equipment. Do you really believe they are just rebels?"

"Not for an instance," replied Sif with a smile. Her smile faded when she had short memories from the Throne Room. "Who was the girl? The one interrogating the prisoner and fighting with you?" She added when Loki seemed confused.

Loki glanced at Sif cautiously, he didn't want any trouble with her and he knew how she could be outspoken when it came to people and the threats they could cause. He replied slowly and with care. "She is my guard,"

"Where did she come from?" Sif countered immediately, there was something about making Loki nervous that gave her a sense of pride. Knowing she could play games with the trickster made her very proud.

"Why does it matter?" Loki replied indignantly.

"She's a Dark Elf, isn't she?" asked Sif, she knew her answer when Loki did not reply. A small hidden smile of victory filled her. "Do you trust her?"

"Yes," he stated quietly. He did trust her, he trusted her to keep him safe and to do what was right.

"How do you know we can trust her? What if she was sent here for a purpose?"

Loki's head shot up, a calm burning fire resided in his eyes. "What are you suggesting, Sif?"

Sif decided to choose her words carefully, she was treading in deep waters. She could tell Loki was starting to form an attachment to the girl, it would start with a feeling of protectiveness and the longing to do anything for her, it would end in heartbreak for him. As much as Sif despised him, she didn't want to see him get hurt again. Didn't want to see him go on the rampage again.

"What if the Dark Elves planted her here to gain our trust and then she turns on us at an opportune moment? In the middle of the night or in the middle of a battle? I watched her fight, she is deadly and with the element of surprise who knows if we will be able to stop her," Sif certainly didn't want to fight her, and she wasn't sure if Loki would want to either. Besides the Allfather and the queen, they were the best warriors in Asgard. Take them out of the picture and Tuarwen could cause serious damage.

If Sif didn't think Loki was protective of the girl before, she was sure now. She didn't know how to describe the fire behind his eyes, it was a blazing full flame by now. His voice was strained when he answered, she knew he was trying not to lash out at her.

"She has had many chances of turning on me and causing damage. The fact that she hasn't taken them should make her innocent in your eyes," Loki began to walk away from Sif, he was afraid what he would do if she continued on this subject. He would remain loyal to Tuarwen until she was proven guilty. He almost managed to get away before Sif stopped him again, she held him by the arm and looked up at him in an almost caring look, or at least as close to caring as she could come.

"Just don't hurt yourself, Loki. Some things are better left unsaid," he was confused, what was she talking about? He almost asked her, but he was interrupted by a noise. He looked up to see something come rolling down the stairs, or rather someone. He shouted to alert Sif, but in the end, he simply pushed her out of the way and jumped sideways to avoid being tripped up. He was surprised to see a familiar head of brownish-gray hair pinning a Dark Elf to the ground. Sif stood up next to him and together they watched the strange scene play out. At first they thought Tuarwen would just slit his throat and let it be done, but they watched as her face went from impassive to strangled surprise and horror. She nearly lost her hold on the dagger, the man beneath her chuckled.

"It's nice to see you too, Tuarwen. Now do me a favor and help me up," Tuarwen nearly growled and gripped the handle on her knife harder. She pushed down on his forehead and slipped the dagger against his throat. A flash of alarm passed over his face.

"Come now, Tuarwen. You wouldn't kill me," a hint of conflict flashed through his voice. Before anyone could get one word out, Tuarwen had sunk her dagger into his heart, her alarm was replaced with raw and broken anger.

"I'm not your pupil anymore," she spat, watching him take his final breaths.

Loki looked at Sif, who looked at him. Both were unsure what to do. Loki decided it would be best to get Tuarwen and get back to the Throne Room and try to sort out what had just sent Asgard into an unofficial war with Svartalfheim. It scared him to see how still she was sitting, just staring at the dead body in front of her. Her face had returned to her impassive cold mask, but there was something different about it now. It looked almost tired, exhausted from what she had just done. Loki could almost see the memories stirring behind her eyes, filling the void with hundreds of years of exhaustion, pain, despair, and nothingness. The memories seemed to put her in shock. Loki approached her slowly and knelt next to her, he reached out and took hold of her chin, she did not fight him when he turned it towards his own face. He searched her face, he couldn't discern what was going through her head, but he knew it wasn't pleasant for her.

Sif watched the interaction without interrupting, something was different about the girl. She wasn't like anything Sif had fought before, she seemed harmless. Nothing more than a child. A broken and scared child. Sif felt useless just standing there, so she decided to look over the dead Dark Elf. She knelt down beside the lifeless body and removed the hood from his face, she was met with a pair of golden ghost-like eyes. She noticed immediately the wrinkles around his eyes, thick heavy wrinkles. He wasn't young like the other soldiers she had fought, he was old and battle hardened. He had experience where as the dead men littering the Throne Room were merely boys. This one must have been waiting for them to separate themselves from everyone else and become prey to assassins. Would this game ever end? Sif wouldn't admit it, but in her heart she knew that Asgard was not able to handle assassins, they weren't built for secrecy and quickness. They were built for wars and frontal attacks. Which meant that Tuarwen had saved them, she knew what to expect. She was watching over them.

Loki was worried about Tuarwen, she wasn't responding to any of his movements or gestures. She wasn't even looking at him, it was like she was seeing through him. It was strange to see the normally strong and powerful woman shut down and crack. But it was more than strange, it was concerning when she didn't acknowledge his existence. He tried touching her face and kissing her forehead, no response. He tried breaking her continuous stare by waving his hand in front of her face. Nothing, no sense of knowing he was there, right next to her, willing her to understand he wanted to help. He tried shouting at her, hoping to break the fragile connection from her senses and her memories. Nothing, he sat helpless next to her, watching her eyes tell a story of there own. Her breathing accelerated and she was muttering brief exclamations.

"What are you seeing?" he asked, hoping that she would answer, if he knew what she was seeing, perhaps he could talk her out of the nightmare that had overtaken her.

"Visions," she responded softly, Loki was overjoyed to at last receive a small part of coherence from her. She still remained dazed and in another world though.

"Visions of what?" he gently led her on, hoping for more answers.

"Death, blood, hunger, war, disease," her voice sped up as she named catastrophes of every sort. "I see visions of the dead, bodies long corrupt, ones that I corrupted. I see blood, covering the streets, blood that I painted with. I see hunger, hunger that I caused by bringing war and disease. I have destroyed much and I will destroy more if I stay."

"No, you have caused nothing, Tuarwen. You have stopped these things from happening, you have stopped death, hunger, and war. You have prohibited them from happening, Asgard is in your debt," he willed her to believe what he knew to be true. Many would never accept her, many would despise her for who she was. She would face the discrimination that he had faced, but she would do it knowing that he, and even a few others, would always accept her.

She turned and smiled sadly at him. "It is not Asgard who I speak of. I will see a river of blood wash away all that is left of my nation and will not stop it. I will cause it. There is no flood after my life, only during it," she sighed, the memory was broken and it left her scared and open for all to see. "So this is what she's really like," mused Loki, he liked this version of her, it was soft, but full of conviction. The connection was broken and Tuarwen pushed herself up and onto her feet.

"They will be looking for you both," she stated, Loki turned to Sif, how long had she been standing there watching them?

Tuarwen stiffly walked past Sif, but Sif reached out a hand and detained her. She searched deeply into the golden-blue eyes eyeing her warily.

"I'm sorry," she said, releasing her firm hold. Tuarwen wondered what she meant, what was she sorry for?

The trio walked out of the Vault all the more confused and twisted than when they walked in, it's strange how one small meaningless event can change everything for someone. It changed Tuarwen because she realized that this place could become the home she never had. It gave Sif the meaning behind being truly broken and the sympathy to understand it. It gave Loki the protective feeling for Tuarwen that was beginning to overwhelm him, a place to start repairing the damage that had been placed on her in Svartalfheim. It changed everything, and yet confused everything. Had Svartalfheim started a war? Who were they after? What was their goal? And what part would the trio play in it for better or for worse?