Once she was active, training, keeping her mind focused on the now , rather than what was, or what could have been, her life settled quickly into a routine.

If she could get through a day, then she could make it a week; she'd told herself, in the early days. She had to make it out of the tent, had to drag herself to training more days than not. A week quickly became a fortnight, then a month. She'd made it to two months before she felt like she could blink; once she'd begun really overseeing the training of her new…friends.

It was the beginning of what felt like healing - she was there first thing, ensuring the equipment was ready, the blades blunted and the targets lined with cloth and barriers to ensure any off-target arrows could be easily retrieved. She mentored the scared new fledglings, learning their stories and helping them grow. More arrived every few days, more than she'd ever imagined and so quickly she and her cohort weren't the newbies, but experienced fighters, people that the new prisoners turned to for advice.

It felt normal. And with that normality came laughter, and the beginnings of friendship. Of knowing not to accept hooch made by the enormously tall giant folk that tended to congregate on the outskirts of camp - but recognising that with her new Asgardian fortitude it was often the only way to become truly inebriated if that was her true desire. Of working up the courage to go and speak to Themsal only to find him gone, sent to their sister camp further into the breach. Of training with some of the more advanced soldiers after hours - no bravado, only mild bragging and extreme exhaustion. She opened up to them; little by little. Not everything, not who she was or why she was there - they'd respected her request for privacy as soon as it had been given. No judgement, or contempt. She appreciated it, letting them tell their stories and work her until she was boneless and exhausted by sundown. The loss still felt like a gaping wound, but one that she was learning to live with, to work around. The lack of her Bjornlings affected her so much in random moments as she found herself automatically turning to to tell them something.

She'd started keeping a journal on the recommendation of one of the chefs in camp; one who sometimes looked as haunted as she felt. In it, she wrote letters every few nights to those she longed to hold. Longed to speak to, to laugh with and cry with.

"I killed a man" one of her new comrades had randomly said one night; breaking the comfortable silence with a confession said so quickly it was as if he'd either held the words back or forced them forwards. "I wish I could say I was ashamed… but to this day I ain't. I wish I hadn't, but it happened and I can't make it any other way".

They were sat around one of the many fires that always found their way into existence as the sun set, as an oddly friendly atmosphere settled in; for a war camp of sentenced criminals. This happened often; and Len had apparently decided it was his turn to speak his truth as a few rare stars peeked out from behind the constant cloud cover above. Aela remained silent, sipping her tea from a worn wooden cup. Frankly it tasted like bark, but the heat was nice against her hands and it always soothed her body - it was often brewed after difficult training days, so she'd long suspected it was medicinal.

"Why'd you kill him?"

Aela was glad someone had asked, as she'd desperately wanted to know. It didn't feel right to ask though, when she wouldn't give her own story in return.

"He was the lord's son. Took and took and took until we had no more to give, no tithe, no land. One day, he turns up and starts slinging insults. Sly ones, commenting on the state of the house, the threadbare curtains, the fact our animals were better fed than we were. Started saying that he was ashamed of his pathetic township; that we'd have to leave, that he had a more prosperous family moving in - old friends, and the like"

There were nods around the fire, understanding glances that Aela felt ashamed to not have understood. She'd had hardship, but not like that. Never had to worry for her next meal, or her family starving.

"We got the notice that taxes were going up. That any families who couldn't pay would be evicted. Just as he'd said when he'd been round. Then our neighbours place burned down, taking them with it… And when he turned up and had found us still there, stubborn as the mules in the yard he pulled a weapon and said if we didn't leave he'd have us in the stocks; or that we'd find ourselves in 'a hot situation' The pitchfork was in my hand before I knew it, I'd just…had enough. I was young, just a kid. Was sent here, and I've been helping fight and train others since. Turns out I was better with that weapon than anything else in my whole life"

"You don't think you've earned your freedom then?" The same young woman asked who'd requested his story, hugging her slim, bony knees.

"Probably, if it worked that way. But I killed a man, and I've killed hundreds of the undead since. Comes easier than breathing, once you're used to it. What life is waiting for me outside of here? My family are safe, they left before I was sentenced - I wouldn't let them stay to see me dispatched. And really, can we earn freedom? Is this not a life sentence for us all?"

"Not necessarily"

The voice was gruff, and they all turned, varying expressions. On the older, more experienced members of their little group were the tired, exasperated expressions. On the newcomers, hope. Aela was merely curious.

"Our Lady has promised us freedom, in exchange for our service"

The storyteller chuckled. "No high lords or ladies here lads, I'm afraid"

"You're wrong"

He nodded, sipping his tea. "Okay, I'm wrong then - that's fine. What do you have to do in exchange for this so-called freedom? What's her price, this mysterious figure?"

"We've already paid it, in part"

The original speaker shook his head, and a younger woman beside him mimicked the gesture before speaking. "The price always grows, for someone making grand promises. Unless it's The General of Niflheim, you've not much chance of freedom"

The man swayed slightly as he sat, smirking over the brim of his battered tin cup. It wasn't attractive, as Loki's or Eirik's were; Aela mused, but slimy, creepy. "What about the future General of Niflheim?"

It was Aela who spoke now, the words coming unbidden and dangerously emotive. She wanted to shove them back in as soon as they were out, but knew it was too late and just hoped no-one would think anything of them. "Astrid has promised you freedom?"

He guffawed, and Aela was thankful he hadn't noticed her slip in using her sister's first name. "Hardly, that prim Madame wouldn't know ruling qualities if they came up behind her and spanked her. Our lady is from another noble house; and once she gets rid of the little madame she will be able to swoop in and assume the role- she's next in line and the obvious choice"

The circle was quiet.

A familiar voice came next, one that had talked her through so many moves and stances. He was smaller than most, but fearsome with a polearm. "What about his other daughter? I always heard he had two?"

"That's the best bit - she's supposedly been shipped down here, somewhere. Lots of us think it's crap though, that she's in some Manor House in the woodland letting her hair grow back out whilst she lives her punishment. If we find her though" he laughed, the sound dark and foreboding, "we know what to do"

Surprise rippled from the group. "He sent his own daughter here? What the fuck did she do?"

"Who knows" the intruder laughed, staring into his now empty cup. "We just know she was, not why. Being too arrogant, maybe?"

The group laughed, and Aela forced herself to join in, to chuckle and smile and let her mask slip back into place.

"What's this lady's name then?" she asked, kicking her feet out in front of her, the picture of relaxation. "Who is it we need to cosy up to when she takes over this army?"

"You're a Nifl, surely you know some of the houses?" he asked, and Aela shrugged. "Not that high up, no"

He leaned forward, gesturing with his empty cup as he spoke. "You knew the name of the General's daughter though"

"Everyone knows that" Aela defended, forcing a laugh. Sam, beside her, agreed, and she could have kissed them. "Even I knew that, and I'm not from Niflheim"

The group was quiet as he weighed his options, staring at them quietly. Finally, he continued. "Eilen, our lady is Eilen. You must be from right out in the sticks not to know that"

Shit, she was being too suspicious. "I'm from Niflheim, but my parents weren't too into teaching us the noble houses. Just how to fight, to hold a sword"

She could feel eyes on her. She'd never spoken about her life, and could see some of the warriors she'd been training with looking at her. She was no countryside, home-trained fighter. Not with the skills she'd demonstrated, the exotic weapons she'd shown aptitude with. They'd found a stash in one of the disused tents recently and she'd laughed at the sight of some of the rare, curved blades. Had taught them all a few moves. You didn't learn those in the middle of nowhere. They remained silent though, simply assessing the conversation, and Aela offered an earthen jug of water to the men, glad to see her hand stay stable as she poured the liquid into his empty cup, letting the conversation continue around them, back to the history of others in the group.

Her mind was racing though, barely listening. She needed to find a way to warn her sister, to get word out that the attempts on her life in Asgard were just the tip of Eilen's iceberg. Aela had been an idiot, and had taken herself out of the picture when she'd allowed herself to be captured and sent out of Asgard, out of Niflheim. She should have used her wits, should have tried to talk her way out of it rather than just accepting her punishment.

Hells, she'd tried to talk her way out of a war with Laufey, ignoring the presence of Odin at her side, but had been so broken by Loki's death that she'd just accepted whatever they did, sobbing all the way.

"Any stories from you, Nifl?"

She shook her head, consumed with her own memories but not ready to share, not yet. She tipped the rest of the tea back and stared up at the few tired, weak stars, thinking back on the coronation, the day that really was the beginning of the end.

She was a warrior, and they'd left her behind.

She wasn't angry. She wasn't annoyed. She raged.

Loki had used her people's longstanding ally as a tool in this feud, and she wasn't happy about it. Had never been happy about Thor's hatred of the Frost giants - a proud people who'd been dealt a bad hand. Their world, half destroyed, their prince, lost to the world. Killed in battle or stolen, no one knew, but she'd heard her parents whisper of it over and over, the fear of losing her or Astrid as Laufey had lost his.

Loki had used that feud, wielded it like a weapon and had run with his golden brother and their band of warriors into the Frost Giant realm.

"I have no plans to die today" Thor had bragged, and she could see that smug little smile from her rapidly approaching position as she stormed towards Heimdall's room, shouting for them to stop, to wait.

"Trust me"

Loki's words had brushed her consciousness, brushed all of their consciousnesses through the bond, and for an angry moment she hated him.

"Heimdal, why did you not stop them?"

He blinked at her, those golden eyes almost uncaring.

"They will cause a diplomatic incident!"

"You heard my words. No one has made it into Asgard without my knowing"

She scoffed. "So you sent them there for abject curiosity! Marvellous - and they didn't think to take the one warrior who can actually touch a frost giant?"

The screech of her anger echoed off the walls, and she turned, storming back down the corridor, the previously glorious coronation dress now feeling frustrating as it tangled around her legs. She needed to tell the queen, she needed to tell Odin, she needed to-

'Aela, if Thor causes a diplomatic incident then surely Odin cannot crown him King'

The words flowed through her mind, Safs voice calm as it always tended to be. Truthful, as she often managed to be.

'Wise' Jorik added, 'Though your earlier idea of telling the King and Queen was also wise. It'll only work if the boy doesn't get himself killed in the process. Laufey is many things, but…'

'He'll kill them on sight to get back at Odin!' Isla continued, tone panicked.

'No, he's still a king, and bound to the rules of diplomacy' Jorik argued, as they continued down the corridor. 'He won't attack unless they attack first, he'll goad though'

'He could argue that their trespassing is enough to warrant violence" Isla argued "And then they're screwed!'

'Odin would retaliate in kind. Thor would need to attack first for Laufey to come out of the situation without a massacre'

It was Eirik who said what they were all thinking, worry lacing every word. 'If…if Loki can't stop Thor from attacking, they're doomed'

Aela picked up the pace, desperate to get to the King and Queen, catching up with two guards, heading in the same direction. "The Prince" one said, glancing her way.

"I know" Aela responded, glad the fear in her tone would only work in her favour. "I saw the same, the All-Father must be made aware!"

"With us then, my Lady" he responded, pushing the door open and allowing her to step through, to march towards the royals as they sat, deep in conversation. She knew what it would be about, it was all she'd heard from any of the staff they'd passed. The Coronation, the Frost Giants.

"My King" Aela began, dipping into a bow at the last second, remembering her manners at the final moment - too panicked to think of it instantly. He smiled, obviously finding her panic funny, her lack of decorum. "The Princes, my King. They've gone to Jotunheim!"

Frigga gasped, standing - one hand pressed against her heart. Odin however shook his head, practically growling with his anger. "Thank you for coming to us, for going against the wishes of your Fiance"

She hadn't even thought about that…about her position as his bride. She'd simply thought of his death, of Loki's death.

"He chases his own anger" Aela muttered, voice growing as she stared up at him, at his golden armour; his single patched eye. "The Frost Giants are my family's Allies, and a war is not the best thing for Asgard or its people. Coming to you was the right thing to do"

She hadn't expected the All-Father to hold a hand out towards her. "I am glad he will have a level-headed bride to rule alongside him, to tame that heart. Come, let's get them"

Hadn't expected him to summon his horse, to summon one for her alongside it. To draw an unimaginable amount of magic over them. Her gown changed, shifting in the way she'd seen Loki and Thor both do with their own garments; tightening, twisting and forming into armour. Where his helm stood proud and tall, her horns became its mirror, gold seeping along their edges until she knew she looked resplendent.

Thor looked so happy to see them, but all Aela could see was just how overpowered the small cadre of warriors were. If she hadn't gone to Odin, if…if they'd never been saved…

"Father, we'll finish them together!"

She'd have lost them all…and then what? If both princes died, what would it achieve? She could hardly be crowned ruler, a Niflheim woman with no knowledge of Asgard…and war would be upon their doors as Odin sought revenge for his lost sons…

Loki looked numb behind his brother, his face drawn in shadow, and Aela's brows furrowed in confusion. This was Loki's plan, obviously, there was no way two rogue Frost Giants were going to make their way into the most sacred part of Odin's collection without some sort of help, but why did he look so confused, so…scared, behind those eyes? What had happened? As Odin hissed for silence, however, the look on both Thor and Loki's faces shifted to matching looks of shock, deepening even more so when her own horse stepped out from behind his, moving alongside and towards where the Frost Giant King approached.

Laufey was enormous, the ice under his feet bringing him eye level with Odin. He had always been quick to anger, but looked ready to kill; ready to reap vengeance.

"Allfather, you look weary"

"Laufey, end this now"

"Your boy sought this out" Laufey insisted, voice measured and calm, even when anger flashed behind his eyes

"You're right, and these are the actions of a boy" Odin insisted, and she could see the tension in his body, as close as she was, could feel the worry and fear of a father trying to stoically save his sons. "Treat them as such. You and I can end this, here and now, before there's further bloodshed

We are beyond diplomacy now, All Father"

No. She could feel his magic, feel the pull of ice in the air and the tension from the crowd behind them. She pulled the reins, urging the horse to step forward, swallowing deeply as she moved past the All father. She didn't care if it annoyed him, or emasculated him, she knew Laufey, and couldn't allow it to come to this.

"Uncle, please"

She heard the gasp from Thor, even as far away as they were, and stood up in her saddle, reaching forward and clasping her much smaller hand around Laufey's wrist - his own hand smothering her wrist in return.

"Please, I apologise for the actions of my betrothed"

The words felt like ash in her mouth, but she hadn't come this far to watch Thor and his friends be killed by bloody Frost Giants. To watch war break out. No, she wouldn't be the Queen of a war-torn land, not if she could help it.

"Your…betrothed?"

"He's headstrong, filled with fire, much as you were in your youth" Aela argued, knowing she sounded desperate and relying on that. He needed to feel for her, to feel her worry and concern. To weaponise her femininity. "You know I know the stories you and Father swap, growing grander and grander with each re-telling"

His eyes crinkled, but his face remained impassive as he stared down at her.

"You would defend this…boy? These childish actions?"

"I would beg for mercy, rather than come to his defence" she responded, eyes downcast. The red in her eyes matched his, the shared ancestry obvious, regardless of height, of horns. "He has never known hardship" she stressed, looking over towards the increasingly angry blonde. "And has grown within the shadows of his father's accomplishments. Haven't we all chased glory, weapon high and intent misguided?"

It wasn't enough. The hand slid to her shoulder, pressing her back down against the horse. She could feel the magic of a portal brewing and knew her words had been for naught. He wouldn't hurt her, not when she'd run around his realm often enough as a child, but Thor wouldn't be allowed the same mercy…She desperately hoped Heimdal had eyes on them all, lest she find herself right back in her realm, splattered in the blood of her new comrades.

"He'll get what he came for - war, and death"

Odin didn't sound surprised, merely resigned, as he accepted the other ruler's words; the horse rearing as Heimdal finally, thankfully, opened the portal.

That calmness, that acceptance, gave way to anger though the moment they stepped foot in Asgard; as Thor instantly argued with his father.

She pressed against Loki's mind, shouting, demanding to know what he was thinking, putting them all in that situation. He didn't get a chance to respond, not as she poured all her frustration down the bond; not even the Bjornlings stepping in. How dare he potentially start a war? How dare he put the diplomatic relationship between Niflheim and Jotun at risk, all for the sake of their love? For the sake of a crown? What point was there in ruling a land, only to watch it fall into ruin at the hands of another realm? If he wanted to do this without her input, he needed to do it the right way!

"You are a vain, greedy, cruel boy!"

"And you are an old man and a fool!"

She whipped her attention around to stare at Thor in shock. Anger, pure anger twisted his handsome face into one she found she didn't recognise. Nostrils flared, lips pulled back almost in a snarl. The room was silent as Odin looked down, agreeing quietly with his son and Aela's heart stuttered in her chest. What…was happening?

"I was a fool…to think you were ready"

Loki stepped forward, pale from whatever had happened in that realm and from her beration; eyes rimmed with the tense redness of held emotion. "Father"

Odin silenced him with another yell, and Aela stepped back, not wanting to be in such a…private moment. She should have left with the others. She shouldn't be here, witnessing this.

Odin continued, but she linked her mind back with Loki's; the action getting easier and easier every time.

'What happened?' she asked, down that link

'Choosing softness this time then?'

His words were cutting, but she knew his ire wasn't aimed at her, not fully. And she wouldn't apologise, not for speaking true. Not with something as serious as this.

'Loki, what happened? You seem shaken'

'I was touched…I'

His voice trailed off, choked even mentally, as they were.

'You are uninjured?' she checked, glancing over his skin and seeing it entirely unharmed. It made sense though, he'd…been fine with the frost magic coursing through her back in that field. Ancestors, it felt so long ago and yet yesterday, all at once. Jorik had reported the change in his skin, and they'd assumed it was his own magic, working with hers, but the look he'd given Laufey, the sheer shock on his face as he watched his father and brother argue?

Lightning filled the room and their conversation ended, both turning their attention to the King, unable to look away as he yelled, as he ripped the finery from Thor. She'd call it uncaring if the King didn't look ready to cry at any moment.

She couldn't help but step forward, hand clasped to her chest as the portal opened, as Thor was cast out through it. It was what she wanted, but…like this? Stripped of all power and cast out entirely in only his underclothes?

The magic in the room was stifling, and cavernous, and Loki left; knowing he couldn't look at her for even a moment.

Odin turned towards her, holding out an arm and nodding as she reached forward, clasping her strong hand around his bicep. He was offering her support, she realised - but she could see the weariness in his frame, the slight shake of those powerful hands.

Did he need her, in that moment, as much as she needed to appear to need him?

"You did the right thing, child. I know you must feel guilt, now, but he must learn this lesson if he's ever to rule"