The tunnels were a maze.

By leaving them, abandoning the small group of youngsters and elders…the lieutenants really had doomed them to death. She'd spoken her thoughts aloud to Geva before the fight, before the strength in her body had been sapped by unknown magic…but the twists and turns these strangers took them down proved it.

It had to be intentional because they'd never have found their way out alive.

Twice their unknown saviors had stopped in their tracks, taking completely unfathomable turns and twists into rock that looked solid until you got to it; avoiding great drops and pitfalls, cave ins and caverns of enemies…moving silently so as to avoid as much combat as possible.

Not all though. They still had to take up arms again and again - she didn't use those…gifts, but felt her Nifl side more keenly, with more strength, than ever before. Felt the fire in her belly and the burn in her muscles. The heat in the back of her throat, as if ashes would burst from her clenched fangs.

Fangs that felt…larger, her teeth not quite feeling right in her mouth.

Her blood pounded in her ears, as familiar as war drums as they moved and fought, pushing further and further into the dark. Distantly, she realised that same glow chased them - the glow of their torches, of the Frost Giant ahead, of the algae that grew in spurts from the rock. She could taste blood in her mouth, could feel it dripping down her arms, but knew where it should be - the enormous hole that should have shadowed her stomach…that was fine. Aching, like a bruise, but Sam had forced her shirt up and had sworn blue at the sight of her clear, unmarked abs.

It had been a long time since she'd felt the sticky wash of blood in her hands. Even longer since there'd been enough to slick her grip completely and force her weapon to act against her. Of course, it wasn't her weapon. No, she yearned in her soul for the graceful weight of her weapons. How had she summoned them? And could she only summon her axes, or would she be able to pull the daggers from Eirik's side?

Did she summon the real things, or just a facsimile?

She hoped they were real, that her axes had vanished from their place in whatever trophy room Odin had thrown them in; that she could show Eirik she was alive, safe by stealing the daggers he no doubt coveted, since their separation.

She refused to think about the ghost.

She was in the very realm of the dead but still…for Hela to attack her sanity so plainly…was unfair. And every time she thought of those pitying eyes, that curling hair…she felt her own eyes well. She knew the dirt on her face was streaked with those tears, great channels carving through the filth. Had watched the warriors she travelled with stare at them.

Stare at her.

She'd shocked them all. All but Bodil. Sam had known , but knowing and seeing were two grossly different things. Bodil however, had seen the Gods. Had seen Odin, Thor, and Loki; had seen them flit between outfits and summon weapons from nothing. Had stood amongst the other commoners and watched as Thor summoned Mjolnir from nothing and conjured lightning from a clear, beautiful sky. She practically preened from beside Aela, apparently feeling none of the fatigue that coursed through the Nifl's veins now.

The Asgardians stared, few as they were. They didn't bother hiding it, not like the other races. She'd looked back at them with pure Asgardian magic flowing through her; glowing through her eyes like two stars in the darkness. She'd fought like a valkyrie, fierce and unstoppable.

She'd saved them all.

That much, she knew. As the last enemy had fallen and those newcomers had held out their hand in urgent welcome, the Asgardians had fallen to their knees in supplication. As Geva told her she owed him, they'd both turned - hearing the telltale sound of armour against the ground. He'd startled beside her, but Aela had simply sighed and asked the others to rise, please, to follow.

How far they'd follow, she was unsure. But they'd all fallen into step behind her, chasing those mysterious saviours into the tunnels and the dark until they'd finally, finally stepped into a great cavern, easily five times bigger than the one they'd fought within.

Whether they'd shoved her into a corner or she'd found a defensible position, she was unsure, but she was so tired from the running and the fighting and the Asgardian magic knitting her back together that she passed out almost immediately. Passed out, and dreamt.

She was still getting used to the singular dreams, truth be told. Years of sharing her mind, her soul, with the Bjornlings, had meant that her dreams were always something shared - to some degree or another. Every nightmare of Isla's, or dream of Saf's; worked through together, experienced as one. Eirik would discuss the meaning of her recurring thoughts over breakfast, Jorik would be the steady, grounding influence for them all. It had fascinated Loki, the first time he'd witnessed it- the shared recounting of a memory of Safi's; one that she didn't care to recall. The way they all experienced it, coming together as a group to help her the following morning. He'd never had that kind of support; he'd revealed to her, quietly, that evening. She'd promised him that he was in their pack now, and could talk to any of them about anything. Because of who he was, rather than what Thor had asked someone else to do.

But now, all Aela's mind contained was that, Aela. No distracting friendships or bear senses or forest clearings, just memories and obscure things that made no sense. Shattered things that she was sure had to be something leftover from the others, stuck in her head. Mountains and bones and wells that Aela knew she hadn't seen in life. And thoughts of the bears, of her family. Of Loki. The slam of his daggers against hers as they trained before sunset. The fire that the setting light gave his pale skin. His eyes as they beheld her, walking towards him down the same flowered aisle that his mother walked down so many centuries before. They'd both practised their expressions, forgoing the tradition of surprising each other on the day - needing to ensure they didn't look too besotted. He'd already ravished her in the dress the morning of the wedding, and the afternoon of the wedding. The evening, stolen down an unused side corridor; the nighttime, under the full moon within a forest grove; long after others had become too drunk to notice the couple leaving. In her eyes, the Bjornlings eyes, they were already wed - the Bjornlings bringing him into their pack a good week before the formal event, on the night of the new moon.

It hadn't been the wedding she'd imagined… but had been lovely. She'd grown up picturing the perfect Niflheim wedding. Garlands of holly and winterspring flowers wrapped around the wooden beams of her father's hall. Heavy embroidery on her dress; the suede and fur of their outfits protecting them against the snow. A metaphor for their love and strength as a couple, an acknowledgement that together, united, they could weather any storm. She'd dreamt of roasted meat on spits and hearty food; mead and ale flowing throughout. Traditional dancing and songs, the same that played at her parent's nuptials; and her grandparents before them. Instead, it was hot. The sun beat down upon the party from morning til night; though she knew she had to be grateful, as it was the same bright sun that allowed her parents to visit, for the snowcaps to melt. She'd wept at the small pieces of traditional embroidery that her Mother had packed; the seamstresses incorporating them with the incredibly Asgardian dress that they'd been making. Light, gauzy fabric that flowed as she walked and span beautifully under the watching eyes of the Asgardian court. She'd wanted her usual tapered sleeves but had settled for a split sleeve that formed almost a cape behind her. The embroidery was magnificent, forming a twisting collar that went around her tall, elegant neck and down her sternum; nipping her in at the waist.

They'd spent just as long prepping her for that long day as they would before a difficult battle. Every stroke of the brushes on her face and the draping of her jewels was reminiscent of their pre-battle preparations. Strapping on armour, sharpening weapons and draping their bows and arrows. It had been impossible to keep her truth with Loki from her mother and sister, their observant eyes catching every glance, every touch; until they told the couple to stop hiding. It was embarrassing to watch them try, apparently.

Waking up on the ground of a damp, frigid cave was as far away from that luxurious day as she could get. As far from all the trappings of her former life. She'd slid to one side, and groaned as she forced herself fully upright. Apparently, Godly supplication wasn't quite enough to have earned her a blanket, or someone to not let the weight of the hand-axe still embedded in her horn drag her awkwardly to one side.

She stretched out her tired joints, watching the Frost Giant mull around camp from her position in the corner of the room.

When was the last time she'd seen a Frost Giant?

It should have brought her back to Loki, but didn't. He'd spent too little time in his birth form for it to have become the default; but she could feel hints of him in the brush of cold, the dash of magic in the air. There were so many times she felt watched; had continuously felt watched whilst on her new journey, but the sanity within her knew it wasn't her husband, as much as she wished it was. Or Eirik, as much as she desperately longed for his company. She wondered if it was paranoia, or just Heimdal, using those all-seeing eyes to watch her slow death and demise.

It could be him though…couldn't it. She glanced in the direction her senses told her the eyes came from, but found no glow of orange, no curling hair. No sign of her ghost - if there'd been one to begin with. Perhaps this was the start of her demise into insanity…

"Heimdall, are you watching me? Did I really see Loki, or am I losing it?" Heimdal had always seemed nice, beneath the layer of calm stoicness. Steadfast, reliable. She hoped he was watching, and wondered whether he felt anger towards her, or simply sadness at how far she'd fallen. "I hope you're well; because I certainly am not" she whispered after a moment, not daring to say more, lest they think her entirely mad.

She shifted her gaze from the Rocky ceiling back to the Frost Giant, tall and blue and cold, lumbering across the camp they'd been dragged to. He smiled shyly, lifting tents with ease, crouching through archways and immediately she felt herself brought back to childhood. She felt small, tired, and very off balance. An elf moved forward to stand by her side, squatting with a concerned look as they took in the hand-axe firmly wedged into the delicate ridges of her thick, curved horn.

"I can try and pull it out" they muttered, scoffing at the glare she shot over. "Glare all you like, I've faced off with worse than you"

Aela kept the glare there, hating the patronising words, the humour on the older elf's face. "Don't break my horn"

"I don't know if I can promise that, but we can try...it's not too deep, but you've definitely lost a good chunk...Regnom!"

The Frost Giant looked at them, wandering over.

"You're full Nifl, aren't you?" the elf asked.

"Yes; hence why I'd quite like to keep my horns, thank you"

"Fabulous. Regnom, think you can hold her still and try to remove that axe without snapping her horn clean off?"

He regarded her for a second before turning to the elf, his voice surprisingly light. "Horns are precious, I'll do my best"

Aela nodded to him, thankful for the solemn understanding. His hands were so big as they enveloped her, holding her shoulders down with his left as his right moved towards her horn. He shimmied the axe, and Aela frowned as she felt it tug her head, groaning as she felt a shudder move through her.

"Stop being a child, it's not a limb" the elf snapped, rolling their eyes as they leaned forward to hold the horn with two hands, to give further stability. "And engage your core. Stop moving"

"I'll take one of your precious ears, how about that?" She snapped in response, glad for the blue chest that suddenly overtook her vision. The hand moved from her shoulder to grip her horn - switching places with the elf - whilst the other oh so gently rocked the axe whilst pulling backwards. She felt it as it finally shifted, the lightness as it left, and immediately her hands flew up to take in the feel of the damage.

Her breath caught. The horn was intact, but the deep gash was worse than she'd anticipated. "You'll need to watch yourself, or you'll lose it" the giant rumbled, "we don't have much spare metal here, or the facilities to craft the barrier a break like that requires…"

Aela sighed and smiled, standing on wobbly, shocked legs and formally bowing to the large blue man. "Thank you, Regnom"

"It is nothing…"

The question went unspoken. "Aela"

He repeated her name with a smile, waving at the elf as they left, snarking about not being thanked. "Now come, get some food. It's merely mushrooms but it's better than nothing"

She nodded, missing the juicy fire-roasted meat of home and the delicate Asgardian food more than ever as she took in the large shields filled with glowing mushrooms and little else. Regnom handed her a few of the caps and took a large one for himself, and she smiled at the waves from her companions as she moved towards them. They looked rested and cleaner, and she wondered whether they'd collapsed into sleep as she had.

"How did this happen then? This camp?"

"We were part of the regiment, like yourselves. But we got separated down here and well…we found we enjoyed the quiet. We're still killing undead, and rescuing lost warrior units"

She chuckled, biting into the near-flavourless mushroom and grimacing at the texture. Usually, mushrooms were tolerable, but this was something else.

"And we go out to hunt every now and then before coming back in…but it's nice. No commanders, no shame. We move around the caves, the tunnels, to stay safe"

"So no one is in charge?"

"Syd takes the lead often" he pointed to a shorter Nifl woman tending to her friends; hair short and grey. Unshaved, another small rebellion. "But we decide everything together"

"You don't consider just…leaving?"

He hesitated, before speaking. "We did, for a while. Argued a lot…but we all bear the mark" he gestured to the black smudge on her face, the smaller one on his own. "The moment we were seen by a platoon or the residents of the local villages, we'd be brought back and reprimanded. Here we're serving out our sentences, doing good, honest work. It's something to be proud of"

Aela contemplated his words, liking the silence that followed. What was bubbling under the surface of the army her father had run for so many years, for offshoots to prefer living in the land of the undead, pale from the underground darkness, like voles? For platoons in trouble to be assisted in the most obligatory way possible? For new recruits to be abandoned, left to die?

Activity behind her quelled her thoughts, and she turned alongside the others to see what was happening, exhaustion ringing in her mind. Exhaustion, and confusion, as she realised she knew the group that appeared through the wide length of the cave they'd been brought through hours before.

She stood on tired, weary legs and moved forward, the mushroom an earthy pulp in her mouth that felt hard to swallow as she watched the newcomers appear.

One rushed forward, clasping The elf from before. It was tender, and she looked away - missing her Bjornling companions more than she ever thought possible. The cave felt cramped now, as they rolled the stone doors back into place and she turned, settling herself down beside Sten and the other veterans

"Where are the commanders?" She asked, grimacing down at the mushroom before taking another bite. "They left, purposely, didn't they?"

"We split. I've lost many a recruit, Nifl, but not like that. Not…avoidable damage. We've never just left a group, not like that. I told them I refused to lose fighters, refused to just abandon a new group. Some agreed with me, and we came back for you"

Aela welcomed the swell of emotion in her breast, glad to welcome it like an old friend. She'd never taken pride in being emotionless and had hated how numb she'd felt in recent months.

"Come" he said, gesturing with his head for a great cauldron at the back. "Let's get you something to drink. I feel we've earned it. And then you need to tell us all what the hell that was, because the Asgardians were trying to put trinkets before you as you slept and the rest of us…well it's not often we see something new, let's say that. They think you're a God, girl"

She swallowed, breathing deeply before following. She'd wanted to keep a low profile but there was nothing subtle about what she'd done. And…she needed to be able to do it again; because part of her wondered if the magic of it had been what had summoned the Ghost she ached to see again.

"Nifl?" He turned, bushy eyebrows rising under his blackened forehead.

"The Asgardians are right" a voice called from behind, and both turned to the weathered, greying visage of the camp leader, Syd. "We've got a few, here, and they've not shut up since they saw you in that cave. They know that magic, the stink of it. They know what they saw. You are a God, aren't you girl?"

Aela kept silent, and Syd had a weapon at her chest before she could blink. Old as she was, this woman was good.

"If you want to stay here, nice and safe, you keep honest"

"I'm the God of the Hunt"

"Ullr" one of the Asgardians gasped, from her side. "Ullr has returned to us, as foretold"

Sten merely watched her, watched her turn from the Asgardian soldiers and breathe deeply, before finally speaking again. "I could do with that drink, please, Sten"