The attack on the palace was swift but bloody. Many were wounded. Many innocent lives lost, but many blackened souls blown out much like a candle unwanted. Open the broken throne sat Matilda, queen of Jotunheim. Her servants and healers were tending to the wounded being sheltered in the throne room, the dead being carried outside for identification by living family. More innocent souls tainted by the blood of bigotry, more children without fathers, mothers, both.

Matilda felt heaviness in her heart. She felt like shedding a tear, but she could not, will not. She had to remain strong for the others who were mourning. But her soul did not rest. It simmered over the heat of unknowing. She called a servant and asked if they found him. 'We have not' responded the servant. Her hands were bloody from tending the wounds. Matilda nodded nervously as they brought in another wounded Jotun into her hall. But her heart sank when she saw who it was.

A Jotun with short choppy hair and fine lines decorating his body. His stomach was bandaged but blood was seeping from the wound. His red eyes were closed from the world. His dark brown armor was torn and bloodied and the beautiful furs he wore were stained red. He was set closest to Matilda's throne. Upon a bed of bloodied furs, ones that he himself had hunted and claimed as his own.

Matilda's heart nearly stopped. She felt herself whisper his name as she slid off the throne. A few medics ran to his side and started their feeble attempt to relieve his suffering. She heard the soft crunch of her bandaged knees falling to the Jotun's side. His eyes opened slowly, blinked twice. They settled upon Matilda's reddened mournful eyes. He reached out for and held her hand in his grip. Matilda felt herself whimper as a tear streamed down her cheek. Then another. And then more. The Jotun's face turned to fret. 'Do not weep for me, my love. You are safe. My precious blue rose is safe.' He smiled but coughed up a bit of blood. The healer sat back, shaking her head. The Jotun looked up at Matilda one last time, his eyes glassing over. 'Never forget, my love. I will love you.'

His firm grip slackened.

Matilda felt herself holding his massive hand. She felt the man's cheek, as though attempting to awaken him. She shook his shoulder. She looked at the healer in desperation, but she was already gone.

Dag was already gone.

The man who she had let into her weak heart, the man who had competed for her hand, who protected her from assassins and distasteful looks alike. The man who she allowed to be her king. She tried to heal the gash that was upon his abdomen. She healed it, then called for another healer.

None came to her aid.

She felt abandoned. As abandoned as she felt after her first lover tried to kill her, and in turn, killed himself. She felt like her heart had cracked in the same ways as it did before. And shattered.

She felt herself screaming for help. Her voice echoed throughout the hall, but no one came to her aid. She screamed his name over and over, begging for him to awaken. That his childish antics were making her uneasy and he would have to make up for it later. She told him that if he woke up she would smile and laugh for him. She'd make him his favorite Midgardian snack, popcorn. She'd smother it in butter just like he adored.

But his eyes remained staring at the darkened sky of Jotunheim. Those beautiful rubies that once held undying love for her were now dull.

She felt her throat crack and inflame with pain as she whimpered. Her whole body shivered as though she was just feeling the cold. She laid down next to his body, wrapping his large arm around her. The tears continued to fall and nearly burn her face. The loud calls of her name were no use in bringing her out of this state.

Her lover, her king, was dead. And so, with his death, came with her own, in a sort of way. She felt dead, yet she still lived.

And even as the strong arms of Thor pulled her away from Dag's body and into a sort of embrace, she felt alone. Horribly, horribly alone. She felt as though she were in one of her horrible dreams. But the Thunderer's arms were never a part of her dreams. He cradled her as he took her out to a group of Asgardian healers, who in turn, started to heal her of her cuts and scrapes. Even with all those around her who claimed they cared, none had an idea of the pain she felt.

Her eyes opened. Thor stood over her, a look of concern on his face. No, it was pity. Had he seen Dag's death? Or was the simple act of her curling up with his corpse to sleep for an eternity a strong enough image?

The medicines they put on her were taking effect. She closed her eyes one final time. She heard Dag's voice echo in the background.

'Come to me, my love. We shall spend time eternal together, as I promised.'

And that was when her heart gave in,