twenty eight
"never at peace"

In the expanse where the lines had been blurred and smudged by the clumsy hand, Lusine floated.

This was not death. She knew death well. Greeted it when it passed her, smiled when it bowed to her, kissed its hand when she returned the bow.

But this was not life either.

Yes, she lived, but this life had been drained when the blood had gushed from her wounds, flooded the hall and filled the empty reservoir, devoid of magic, to the brim.

Somewhere in the distance, she heard a being enter the room and quietly request the healers to leave them for a moment. This uninvited guest slid her soft hands around Lusine's and was all at once announced as welcome.

"Lusine," She said gently. There was little response as the princess lay and stared at the blank ceiling above as she realigned herself. "I do not know if you are able to hear me."

Lusine's head rolled to the side, blinked slowly as she bore into her cousin. Vision murky and swarmed.

"Oh, you can?" Olea ran her thumb over the back of Lusine's hand, healing the wound with the wisp of green magic that bloomed beneath her touch.

The gorge closed, but an unhealable scar would remain. Lusine gasped at the sting of the heal, but rasped out a sigh at the soothing magic that entered her system.

"I want you to know how... how sorry I am for what happened to you. I wish I could have stopped them, but my vow... my vow prevented me." Olea spoke quietly, her shame burnt vibrant against her pale cheeks.

The tiniest twitch of Lusine's fingers in her hand and the strained nature of the breathy thank you let her know she was forgiven.

"I promise to do everything in my power to heal you in the quickest time possible. It is the most I can do to repent for what I allowed to happen to you," Olea said.

Lusine could barely hear her, could barely see her, though she was completely aware of her presence and her magic knitting her back together steadily.

"Do not... burn out," Lusine managed to choke out, throat sore from screaming as she lay in the pits of hell.

Olea's head titled forwards, her dark mess of scraggly hair falling into her face. A warped smile sank onto her mouth, heavy as a stone thrown into water by the curious boy, eager to see its ripple and the sinking weight diving the depths.

"I am always cautious of that, cousin, but for you I would burn out a thousand times. Even that would not be enough to repent. I should have believed you. I should have never let you go in there. I should have demanded we leave immediately. Oh, I have been truly awful!" Olea pressed her palms to her face. Hid behind them as the tears spilled from her dolly eyes.

"Please," Lusine's fingers curled and uncurled, "heal me. I forgive you, just please. I cannot stand this pain, cannot hold the power when I cannot even hold myself."

Olea's hands fell wet from her face and her teary eyes scanned over Lusine's body, a healer at work immediately.

"I can do that," Olea said, "but it will take more than one sitting and could become quite painful, unbearable even."

"I don't care," Lusine grit out as she attempted to control the appearance of agony as it careened across the expanses of her body. Her head tilted back, the muscles in her neck strained as she swallowed back the hot saliva, kept the little contents of her stomach down.

"I can begin now," Olea offered and rose from the chair, "I rested on the ship over here. Florian flew while I rested to be able to heal when I arrived."

"Please," Lusine begged and nodded weakly.

Olea unbuckled her leather belt and pulled it free. In knowledge, Lusine parted her jaw for the bit and locked eyes with her little cousin who she had mocked for her fear, but now would do anything to protect, had done anything to protect.

"I will begin," Olea said simply and placed her hands upon Lusine's stomach, barely touching the skin. "Please, bite down."

Then she began and Lusine was plunged into white hot fire, teeth clenched tight and jaw about to snap. Glass daggers in the soles of her feet. A thundering green smoke flooded her lungs, absorbed into her flesh and overcame her bloodstream.

The pain was immense as the healing magic forged the ravines back together with cement and any scrap it could find. Plugged the holes, prevented the leakage of darkness that seeped from her wounds.

Lusine's screams were muffled by the teeth locked together as the slices through her thighs were knitted back together little by little. The process was slow and both women breathed heavily, shoulders heaved and chest swelled.

Agony eased as Olea sent the soothing magic to combat once the majority of the healing had been completed to the legs. Now, she worked both in combination. In a divine dance, accompanied by the sweet melodies of a sole singer and the swirling emerald smoke to shadow their glee.

When the final piece locked into place, Olea yielded and stumbled back. She had to steady herself on the armchair while Lusine slowly peeled open her eyes and spat out the belt.

"If nothing at all," Olea breathed out between heaves of her shoulders, "you should be able to walk without aid for short amounts of time in a day or too. Although, I'm afraid the scars will remain."

"That's okay," Lusine managed to reply, though her voice was fragile. "Thank you, cousin, thank you."

-

-

"Come on," Kyrie demanded, hands on her hips as she stood in the centre of the room as Casia moped on her bed, "you need to continue training or you're going to waste away into nothing but fire and bones."

"I don't care," Casia replied with a grumble underpinning her voice. "Leave me alone."

Kryie rolled her eyes and stormed forwards, heavy boots clobbered the wooden floor with each step. A trained solder didn't have time for a child, but Lusine had requested this one thing of her and so this one thing she would do.

Without another word, Kyrie's hand clamped around Casia's ankles and yanked her from the comforts to tumble onto the hard floor.

"Hey!" Casia exclaimed as her head bashed against the floor, but was thankful that the wave of dizziness didn't come bounding to greet her.

"You have slept enough," Kyrie said. She glared down at her with annoyance, as if she were a hindrance to her perfect day. "You want to learn, don't you? Well you're not going to learn cooped up in here waiting for my cousin to heal and you're certainly not going to learn by shuffling around sad because Thor doesn't know where his head's gone."

Casia's mouth opened and closed, cheeks flushed red and she scrambled to her feet. That was the most words she'd ever heard the warrior woman speak. Yet, every single one was the harsh truth.

"Fine," Casia agreed begrudgingly, "but can we do something other than jogging and pull-ups?"

"Yes," Kyrie replied.

"Wait, really?" She wasn't expecting her supposedly absurd requests to be even slightly agreeable, but Kyrie looked deadly serious.

Casia wasn't even sure that the woman knew what a joke was.

"Yes," She said. "So, get into your training clothes and meet me down there."

Casia nodded and hurried across the room into the bathroom, moved more spiritedly than she had in weeks. This was something new. Something exciting. Something to really get her teeth into other than flimsy romance.

Through trembling fingers, the buttons of the loose shirt wouldn't do up. By the time she'd dressed, her enthusiasm had somewhat returned for her training. A curiosity of what Kyrie had in store burnt a hole in her stomach as it fluttered with a thousand butterflies set alight by her own internalised fire pit.

After she stuffed her feet into her boots, she hurried from the room and barrelled down the stairs, dodged oncoming maids and servants who muttered obscenities under their breath at her childish behaviour, and skirted around the corner.

Had she already been too long? Had Kyrie begun without her or, worse yet, written off the session and left?

But, when she saw the bobbing head of Kyrie as she sparred with another guard, her lips pulled into a smile and she hurried into the training ground, boots pattered on the courtyard stones.

Kyrie glanced over her shoulder and noticed Casia. She sent a curt nod to the guard she'd been training with and he returned the gesture, lowered his sword and slipped away to find a new sparring partner.

"Pick up a sword," Kyrie told her, not taking a breath to greet her or waste the movement of muscle to smile.

Casia frowned and argued, "But I don't even know how to use one."

"Then learn quickly," Kyrie replied sternly, unyielding to her childish student.

The agent picked up one of the blunted training swords and weighed it in her hand, tested the feel of it on her palm and beneath her fingers. A foreign object. Not designed for her Midgardian grip. It was medieval; more brutal than the guns and bullets she'd been trained to shoot to kill with.

"Hurry up," Kyrie snapped as she watched the stranger stare down at the weapon in her hand.

Casia turned and strolled back to her tutor as if the entire situation didn't shake her. She'd seen countless movies where these weapons tore, sliced and beheaded. The gun was cleaner. This seemed brutish.

"Stop frowning." Kyrie's short temper was unforgiving. "Hold it like you mean it and spar with me."

"Right," Casia mumbles as if this should have been obvious information.

She lifted the sword up. Immediately, Kyrie swung her sword and sent Casia's skittering across the courtyard.

Sheepishly, she smiled at Kyrie who just sighed.

"Go and get it. We'll try again," She said, fully aware that this was going to be a long afternoon of trial and error until Casia finally got to grips with sword play, but throwing her in at the deep end was the best way to see the errors that needed to be smoothed out.

She had trained many men and women, boys and girls. This was no different. Casia was not from this realm, but she would be trained as if she was.

When she returned with sagged shoulders and the sword loose in her hand, Kyrie sighed again and fastened her own blade at her belt.

"No," She said and reached forward to readjust Casia's hand around the handle, "hold it like this." Casia nodded as if she knew what the tutor was talking about. "Let's go again. Make sure you actually keep a firm grip this time."

"Okay," Casia replied, the sense of unease not dulling.

This realisation of just how out of place she was in Asgard struck her as hard as one of Kryie's blunt blows to the calf. This was not her home and it never would be. Her home wasn't waiting for her. It wasn't on hold while she found herself once more. S.H.I.E.L.D had likely replaced her in her absence and her apartment collected dust, beloved books and DVDs unused.

No matter how many times Kyrie ran her through the same drill, it didn't look like any progress was even being made.

In exasperation, Casia stepped away and let the sword hang heavy from her hand.

"You're tired already?" Kyrie questioned, nose wrinkled.

"Yes," Casia replied and wiped the needles of sweat from her forehead with the loose white sleeve, "of course I am. We've been out here for two hours."

"it's been that long?" Her brows shot up and she pushed her sword through her belt. "Well, I suppose that'll do for today, but tomorrow we start earlier and go for longer. You don't need anymore days of rest."

"I think I do now," Casia quipped, not understanding how the woman could adore training as much as she appeared to. But this was her life.

The warrior lifestyle never stopped for days of rest. Kyrie never found herself gasping for rest and never wanted to. There was pride in her stamina. She had arrived in Asgard a Commander and she intended to hold that position with both calloused hands.

Competition was fierce for leading positions and her family ties bought her a lead in the race, but that would count for nothing if her opponents caught her unawares. While Kyrie Kella still breathed, there was no chance of that happening. Not in a million years.

"Meet me here," Kyrie commanded. "Bright and early."

-

-

A week passed slow and steady. It was seven days of healing. Of agony as her wounds were soldered back together by the forest magic.

Olea would often reel with a brow slick with sweat and collapse into the armchair. Her chest would heave up and down, heart thumped in her chest, the pulse audible in her ears.

"That's enough," Lusine would tell her quietly while her own lungs gasped for air. "Get some rest."

There was one eve when the moon shone above and the cold air sauntered through the window about its business. It was one of the first evenings where Olea would crawl into Lusine's queen sized bed and curl into her side as she fed her with the hum of soothing magic.

Lusine stroked her palm over her hair and closed her eyes as she slowly succumbed to the rocking of Olea's magic, like a babe to her mother.

Not long after Lusine drifted away into the dream world, Olea lapsed her healing and let herself follow, eyes heavy with exhaustion and body fatigued.

When Olea awoke, the bed was empty and for a moment panic struck her. Had Lusine been overcome? Had she woken in the middle of the night possessed and slipped away to do her evil bidding to those who did not deserve their world to be fractured into pieces at their feet?

She sat up like a bolt and vision darted around the room. Her shoulders sagged at the sight of Lusine stood upon the balcony, leaned against the stone wall. Eyes welled with tears and bottom lip trembled as she rose from the bed. Olea crossed the room to her cousin, happiness a swell inside of her as she approached.

Lusine glanced over her shoulder at the movement, her scarred face set alight by the morning glow as the sun crept into the sky.

"You truly are a miracle worker, little cousin," She said and looped her arm over Olea's shoulders, holding her close. "I can never thank you enough for the magic you have expended on me."

"What greater use could there have been?" Olea replied as she sunk into Lusine's side, arm wrapped around her waist. "And there is no severe pain anymore?"

"No," She said and eased a thumb over her cousin's shoulder in a silent wish for silence.

"That's wonderful," Olea breathed, but she couldn't help but notice the shift in Lusine's aura. There was something not quite right. Something not as it had once been. "And your magic?" Olea questioned, not satisfied.

"It is yet to replenish," She said stiffly, jaw wound tight. Her arm dropped from around Olea and she took a few steps forward, steadied herself on the balcony's low wall. "But I can feel it inside of me. Every day, a little piece of it grows. Always there. Always. Always. Always."

She let out an airy laugh and shook her head of dirty hair, matted with sweat, blood and tears.

"That's good," Olea offered, unsettled. Her hands wound together, fingers fidgeted nervously.

"No, no, no. Dear little cousin, it's what defines me! Never can I be a simple woman, a beautiful bride dressed in white, a lover to come home to. I will forever be the princess who died and returned a monster. A monster!" She barked out a laugh, hands clutched the railing tighter, vision fogged. "Always, always a monster."

"You're not a monster," She tried, but Lusine whirled on her with madness that made her step back.

"Don't lie to me!" She snarled and lurched with a force that yanked the railing from where it had been for too long. "Don't lie to me," She repeated as she weighed the metal in her hand, but deemed it futile and dropped it to the floor. "And now I even look the part. Scarred, beyond repair, broken, dangerous. Even my own mother couldn't find it in her heart to love me."

"Lusine, I-"

Lusine didn't hear her, Olea remained nothing but  blur in the background to the disaster occurring. She carried on rambling.

"Monster, monster, monster." Another horrific laugh escaped her. "Goddess of Chaos? That's what I'll always be. Defined. Boxed. Better off dead."

Lusine dropped to her knees with a thud, her palms pressed flat onto the floor. Her shoulders shook with a laugh only the emptiest could produce.

"Always better of dead," She whispered, vision blackened as she collapsed to the side before the marble statue of a witness, eyed rolled back in her head to rattle in the hollowed skull of the monster born of the void.

Olea's stomach churned as Lusine's rag-doll body was lifted back into the bed. The guards tentatively told her it would not be wise for her to be alone with Lusine any longer, but she did not listen and instead chose to continue the rest of the week as she had begun it: healing her broken cousin.

By the end of the seven days, Lusine barely awoke. While her physical appearance was scarred but whole, the inside could not be healed by green thumbs and prayers.

Olea did not leave her side, even when her sister begged her to. Insisted it would be safer elsewhere. Olea didn't think anywhere was safe anymore. So, she spent her time sat at her cousin's bed side just to watch over her. To be there if needed.

Lusine lay in silence. In a far away place, her consciousness wandered.

She saw the faces of those she had lost. Regina, Cloris, Lycus, her father. Each came to her, held her body and let her weep into their neck.

When she finished sobbing, Cloris braided her hair and her father spoke his words of wisdom to her, apologised on behalf of the mother who died with their son. The empty shell that lived only for revenge, that had unleashed itself upon the heir, the daughter.

He told her she would not go back to the dark that extended the hand. Told her he would never forgive or rest in peace if she did. The child promised she would not go back to that place ever again. The father smiled; he believed her. And she spoke honest truth.

That cave of monsters and nightmares was no home for any soul, not even chaos.

The next morning, just as Olea entered the chambers, Lusine opened her eyes. Lifted her arm to shield her retinas from the sun that beamed through the window, even in the brittle cold that swept the lands.

"You're awake!" Olea said with relief as she hurried to the bedside.

Lusine nodded slowly, frowned down at her marred body and, in honest disbelief, replied, "Yes, it appears that I am."

-

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