Chapter Five – Familial Disdain

A/N: Sorry everyone! I was having some serious computer troubles and coupled with the fact that I wanted to add to this chapter a bit, it took longer than anticipated! I hope the one shots I posted in the mean time made up for it! And thank you to everyone who reviewed those one-shots - I so appreciate it and I'm glad you enjoyed them! I'm going to keep posting one shots throughout as this story isn't exactly lighthearted, I figure some funny/sweet one-shots will balance things out, so keep an eye out for some short stories from me here and there.

This chapter is entirely from Ilmr's perspective. A bit of filler, but some important points that will reemerge later on are being established.

Lyrics are from Muse's "The Small Print".

Take, take all you need
And I'll compensate your greed
With broken hearts
Say, it'll make you insane
And I'm bending the truth
You're to blame
For all the life that you'll lose

It had been half a year since their arrival in Vanaheim and they were no closer to loss, but no closer to victory. They had slain an unfathomable number of Einherjar, but their enemy was an unending force. More nights than Ilmr could count she and Loki returned to their quarters sore, littered with cuts and abrasions, and bathed in the blood of their enemy.

The creature that had slain Njordr had yet to make an appearance.

Hillevi had warmed to them, had begun to trust them. Loki had been training her to work with her abilities, to develop and hone them. To channel them towards new abilities and foster them. Ilmr had been training her in more martial endeavors. She was a quick study, able to pick up various hand-to-hand combat forms and was eager to spar. She infrequently made the same mistake twice.

Ilmr noted she was hesitant to speak to her other relatives, to linger long in their presence unless it was necessary. It was something Ilmr was infinitely glad of.

And made rather apparent one afternoon on her return journey from practicing with Hillevi when they had come across Tyr.

"Sister!" Tyr irked Ilmr not because of his ill will but his lack of will.

He was ever easygoing, and ever lazy. He had the potential to have been a truly gifted warrior, but saw no purpose in practice when he could direct his troops from the comfort of his chair. He irked Ilmr because he was quick to indebt one to him for a favor disproportionate to what had been asked of him.

"Tyr." Ilmr gave him an easy smile. She did like him for his wit.

"How fare you today? I see you've already been to practice your forms and yet it's not quite the noon hour."

"I could ask after your health – how is it that you're awake before the noon hour?"

He laughed, easy and loose and so much like Anleifr that Ilmr was appalled at how she could have forgotten such a thing. "Fair play, sister." He bent to better see Hillevi's face and, unbeknownst to him, better earn her contempt. "And how do you fare? It must truly be a treat to you to watch Ilmr spar."

"Truly."

Tyr rose slowly, an air of unease about him. "Perhaps she could use more sleep, sister. It does not do to wake children before they're ready; she's still growing yet and it would do her temper well to be better rested."

Ilmr hummed her assent. "I will take your advice to heart, brother. You have spent far longer with her these past few years than I."

"Think nothing of it. She can be mercurial and it has not always been easy to determine her needs."

Ilmr smiled wide. "Children are ever a mystery." She turned her gaze to Hillevi, who was fair glowering at both of them. "Come, Hillevi. Breakfast, and your uncle, are awaiting us in our quarters."

Hillevi was only too quick to turn on her heel and hurry away from Tyr ahead of Ilmr.

Hillevi's face was still morphed into a look of barely-masked distaste when they arrived back at their chambers. Loki looked up from his book at Ilmr and Hillevi's arrival and his lips quirked into a smirk at Hillevi's expression.

"Did Ilmr best you yet again? You're welcome to bring into play our training, you know. She is most adept at sparring with those who possess our talents." He had been doing this, Ilmr noted. Using words such as 'talents' and 'skills' and 'abilities'. Only when he and Ilmr were alone and silenced by his enchantments did he utter words like 'deceit' or 'tricks'.

"We came upon Tyr when we were returning."

Loki raised an eyebrow. Of all of Ilmr's siblings, he disliked Tyr least. "You do not like your uncle?"

"He is lazy. He does not go with you each night into battle. He does not rise until midmorning. He rarely trains." Hillevi's face was screwed up into a look of utter disgust by the time she had finished.

Loki nodded, setting his book aside. "Bathe, and we three can discuss how best to manage his failings."

She seemed only too happy to comply.

Hillevi was far faster than usual, Ilmr realized, when she had barely just changed from her practice kit and saw Hillevi emerging from the bathing room in dry clothing.

Ilmr sat herself next to Loki, one of his hands resting on her knee. Hillevi sat across from them and a soft thud sounded as Fenrir lowered himself to lay down nearby his small charge.

"I agree it is difficult to be surrounded by such incompetence at all times. I know your aunt agrees with me." Loki began. Ilmr merely nodded her assent, interested in where he would take this. "But we must be circumspect. We must never show our hand, merely parts of it. Ilmr will teach you as much when it comes to combat, I in the arts of sorcery, and both of us in the arena of family."

She sat quietly for some time, Hillevi did, watching both Ilmr and Loki before finally speaking. "How many parts are you keeping from me?"

At those words, Loki smiled wide. "I would not keep anything from you, because you are intelligent enough even at your age to know when something is withheld. And we are family, now. It is not just the Einherjar battling with our forces. It is the three of us apart from the rest of your grandfather's line."

Hillevi narrowed her eyes and waited.

"We have met only recently because I left Vanaheim for Asgard. I was exiled first from my family, then from my kingdom. I journeyed to the Realm Eternal looking for a place to belong. I found him. I had never belonged here. It is only because Inghard struck a bargain with me that I am here now." Ilmr supplied.

"What bargain?"

"I was Commander before I left for Asgard. He reinstated me, for this war and the duration of my life, should I live through this. I have been pardoned, no longer in exile, and they welcome Loki and allow us to stay should we wish it at the end of the war. All that in return for leading their forces against this foe."

Hillevi's eyes darted to Loki, dark and calculating. "Are you not welcome in Asgard?"

She did not know. She, somehow, did not know. No one had told her. Ilmr kept her features blank, allowing Loki to answer.

"No. At least, not anymore. You see, I was made King, and it was taken from me. I fell into the abyss. The one who pulled me from the Void did so at a price so high I could not pay it, though I tried. I was punished first by the family that had adopted me, and then by he who I had failed. I am welcome very, very few places in the Nine Realms, for my deeds."

A small, strawberry-blonde eyebrow perked in interest. "You are adopted? Like you adopted me?"

"Yes. But younger. As a babe. And those who adopted me did not tell me. That I was who I was, what I was. We will not be making that mistake with you."

"Why are you the God of Lies?"

"I am a skilled liar. The best. And skilled too at detecting lies."

"You are honest with me. And Ilmr."

"Yes. It is just us, now. We three against all. We cannot afford to deceive one another."

She seemed to think over Loki's words for some time, before finally nodding, looking first to Loki, then Ilmr. "I will do it. I will pretend to like them so that we are safe from them."

Loki nodded. "Good. Because they will try to stop you."

Ilmr knew where he was going, but was unsure whether it was right for him to do so, whether it was right of her to think to stop him if she could.

"From what?"

"You are fated to end this war, Hillevi. With the help of myself and Ilmr, you will have the skills to do so. If any of your uncles or aunts were to know, they would try to stop you."

"But I am a child."

"It will be many years before this war ends, Hillevi. Until such time as you are prepared to take to the battlefield, we will hold off the onslaught. Ilmr and I are skilled warriors."

At his words, Hillevi tsked quietly, looking to Ilmr. "Pity your brothers aren't more like you."

Ilmr felt a rueful smile tug at the corners of her mouth. "Your father was. As was Anleifr." Ilmr paused at that. "Which reminds me," she turned then, retrieving a small steel box from the folds of her armor in her armoire. "I would have you learn a lesson Anleifr taught me that you likely have not yet been taught."

Hillevi peered at the box as Ilmr unlocked one end. Before she had even done more than crack the seal, Ilmr felt a wave of nausea overtake her. Hillevi made no motion to back up or indicate that she felt ill. Withdrawing a small chunk of iron wrapped in cloth, Ilmr let the piece get no closer than the layer of cloth between it and her skin.

"What is it?"

Loki's jaw was set, she knew, having seen Ilmr's reaction however muted and had known what she possessed.

"It is iron, Hillevi."

She frowned, small brow pinched. "Oh." She lifted her gaze to Ilmr's then, eyes searching. "What is special about it?"

"You do not feel ill? No nausea, no lightheadedness, nothing?"

Hillevi shook her head. "No. Should I?"

"Elves are susceptible to the effects of iron. As more than half-elven, you should be as susceptible as I am. Its mere presence makes me feel ill. An injury from iron will feel as though a perilous wound. A wound made by iron may kill, in some cases. It will always scar."

Hillevi merely shrugged. "I feel nothing."

Ilmr nodded. "Perhaps that is another part of your gift. Njordr was ever strong and steadfast and less susceptible to iron's effects than the rest of us. It may be that you inherited such resistance." Ilmr wrapped the iron piece and replaced it in the steel box, allowing herself a few moments for the nausea to dissipate before she thought of continuing.

Loki saw fit to interject in those few quiet moments. "And for what reason would you have a piece of iron in your possession? Would you so carelessly keep close that which could harm you?"

He was thinking of the Titan. Of her terror and the therapist and the surgeries.

Ilmr graced him with a placating smile. "Because it is necessary." She held up a hand to him before he could speak again. "Trust me, Loki. There is a need for everything, even that which can harm us."

He cracked his jaw and said nothing.

He said nothing until they had nearly reached their enemy that evening for battle.

"Tell me: what need would you have for a scrap of iron?"

Ilmr graced him with a humorless smile. He would not like her response, she knew, but she had never been in the business of ensuring he was pleased with all she did.

"I am Commander, Loki. I know more of our plans of attack, of our positions and numbers and weaknesses than any other. If I were to be captured, though it is more likely I would simply be killed- but if I were to be captured, I do not think they would be merciful. After the Titan, I do not know that I would have the resolve I once did."

His hand clamped hard on her arm at that, his words coming harsh through grit teeth. "If I wished to follow a fool, I would never have left Asgard."

Ignoring his feral expression, Ilmr leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips, though he made no move to return it. "I will have no need of it. It is merely reassurance for my nerves."

There was no time for him to respond as the shrieking of their enemies had drawn close enough and she swept her sword free of its scabbard just as she saw Loki collect several daggers in hand.

It was that night Ilmr saw for herself the cowardice of Inghard at practice. In truth, he was a skilled warrior. At least, he was skilled when he was not called upon to put action to the prowess he spoke of.

For all that he felled numerous enemies, he took far more injuries than he should have, for one as old as he and as experienced in battle. Tyr might have been a better choice for Commander, in Ilmr's stead. He might have been lazy, but he was fearless, when he deigned to join them in battle. Inghard was all arrogance and puff; in the face of his enemies, he was unsure and full of self-doubt.

Inghard was leading a force of elves alongside the fraction of troops Ilmr had chosen to lead for herself. It was clear that even the elves felt that Inghard was made of more cowardice than his stories belied. For all that he practiced and likely knew on instinct, he misjudged himself again and again. After a time, Ilmr's grim satisfaction at Inghard's every sound born from an injury grew to be an irritating reminder that he was as fit for battle as Hillevi.

Shortly before dawn, Inghard let out a cry far louder and excruciating than the myriad he forced Ilmr to endure that particular evening. It seemed, at a glance, he had earned himself a blade through his side. Not far enough towards his middle to cause any real damage beyond several weeks of healing, but he took the injury as a babe might: once he dispatched of his enemy, he made a spectacle of himself crying out as he tore the blade from his side and making a show of trying to remain upright.

Fortunately, he made several soldiers in his battalion escort him back to the palace. Ilmr was not sure whether she could have endured his whining the entire way back from the battle after dawn without putting him out of his obvious misery.

"Do you think he's dead?" Loki's words came amused and quiet from her right.

"One can only hope. It sounded horrifying."

"How is it that he was named Commander in the stead of any of your other siblings?"

Ilmr sighed, stowing her blade away now that she'd finished cleaning it of blood. "It's hard to say. Likely, he claimed the place because of our birthing order rather than any true skill." The palace seemed much farther away than it really was, no matter how many mornings she trudged back towards it exhausted.

"Pity."

"Pity me, I will need to visit him in the healing rooms for his report."

Loki laughed quiet and low. He was apparently not as exhausted by the night's battle and the thought of sharing a bed with her not-quite-so-tired husband roused her energy and sent a thrill up her spine.

"Hopefully he does not have too much to report." A wicked smile graced Loki's lips. "I will be waiting."

With no more than a raised eyebrow and a smirk of her own, Ilmr made her way to the healing rooms.

Inghard had truly abused his status, at least three healers surrounding him and twice as many attendants assisting the healers.

"Have you made appropriate arrangements, then?" Ilmr placed herself at the foot of his cot.

"What arrangements are those?" His perturbed air did not do as much to dissuade her as he had clearly hoped.

"Your funeral arrangements. One would imagine you are on the brink of death, with so much fuss over such a wound."

Inghard pushed himself into a seated position with a wince. His pride was never well-equipped to manage such goading. "Death is not on the horizon for me as yet, Sister. Much to your dismay, I am sure."

"Then you are hale enough to deliver your daily report."

The flash of fury in her elder brother's eyes was unsurprising and absurd. "Your lack of respect for your elders continues. I cannot say I am surprised. It will cost you someday, Sister."

"Would that I had elders worth respecting." She gave him a serene smile that only served to make him near-quake with his impugned superiority. "And I am still waiting for your report."

"Much the same as every other night these past months. A score dead. General wounded."

"A score? Shameful as it would be, please tell me it is only a score of the Einherjar that your battalion have slain instead of a dozen of your men slain."

Inghard's face shifted into a grimace and he made no reply.

Ilmr laughed. "I will gladly guess, Brother. It will not take particularly long to discover the truth, in any case."

"When it is you here, I will not visit. Rather, I will wish it had been a more fatal wound."

"I don't expect you would visit." She flashed a wide, toothy smile she had borrowed from Loki and Inghard straightened. "And you would not wish such a thing. Were I to endure so grievous a wound it would be you to answer for it. I daresay the Einherjar would seem far more pleasant company than my husband, by the time Loki would be through with you."

Having rendered Inghard rather pale and speechless, Ilmr took her leave of him.

It had not always been so, with her siblings. She remembered being much younger and far closer to her elder brothers. Even if they had only endured her presence, they were far kinder when they had been children.

Her father, she knew, had had no elf-gift, with no elven heritage to his name. But her mother had had the gift, a far subtler gift than most she had ever encountered.

Her mother had never wanted for much, and it was not only because of her status, elven princess that she was. The elf-gift manifested in her mother's persuasiveness. Her mother had agreed with her father: Ilmr was often more troublesome than she was worth and had cost them their eldest –and rather obviously- favored son.

As such, her mother's ill will towards her had slowly and steadily infiltrated her other siblings until there was little but resentment and disdain for her left in them.

Njordr and Tyr did not seem particularly effected. Njordr likely because he had spent an inordinate amount of time and trust on her in war. Tyr was not so easily explained, but he was worth little more than the knowledge of the best places to lounge, it was not usually worth thinking upon.

Instead, she turned her mind towards appointing one of Inghard's men his replacement until her prideful brother was well once more. Ever a hindrance before he was a help, Ilmr hoped it would be a long time indeed before Inghard was able to join them on the field again.

"What did he have to say for himself?" Loki glanced up from his plate, hair still damp from the bath.

Ilmr gave a wry smile as she shrugged out of her heavier armor. "Little beyond empty threats and prideful declarations."

"Pity the blade did not cut deeper." Hillevi made her presence known without looking up from her book.

"Oh?" Ilmr was too hungry until after bathing to eat and so sat herself at their table.

"Were it up to me he would have perished."

Loki raised an eyebrow but did not spend more than half a moment on looking to Ilmr. "And if it were up to you?"

"I would have ensured he died. It would have looked like an accident."

Ilmr listened as she tucked into her plate.

"How?" Loki was both genuinely curious and encouraging.

At this, Hillevi thought for several long moments. "Were I on the battlefield, I would ensure there were too many foes surrounding him for his troops to reach him in time. If I were allowed now, I would ensure the wound did not heal."

"How?" For Loki's liking, she was still being too vague.

"Mislabeling is easiest, but also easily discovered. More difficult but—" she shook her head. "I'm not good enough for that, yet."

"For what?"

"If I can use my abilities to move objects, then I should be able to use them to disrupt his healing. It is still movement, just…different."

Loki nodded. "Yes. Moving an object across a table is not so different from moving his blood. If you focus and practice enough, you could make it so that he ruptures the delicate veins still healing." He smiled. "Very good, Hillevi."

She beamed at him, before looking to Ilmr, her smile smaller, more serious, but no less pleased with herself. "When I am able, I will make them wish they had never crossed either of us."

Her hands had been scrubbed clean enough, Ilmr decided, and placed a gentle hand on Hillevi's hair in thanks as the girl returned to her meal. "I look forward to it as much as you do, my dear."