Author's Note: Despair no longer, faithful readers! I have returned with the final story in Loki and Sigrid's saga! I almost didn't because of how crazy and dark Hiddleston made Lok in THE AVENGERS. The Loki of that movie would not have fallen for Sigrid in a matter of days. If anything, he would scorned her, called her a "mewling quim", and then gone about his business. But I couldn't leave you all hanging, so here is the story. Consider it happening in an alternate universe.

But I will eventually be writing a story with a cray-cray Loki. ;)

OoOoOoO

The Quatrain gathered around the large bowl of frozen water, watching the cataclysmic events unfolding under the ice. Loki's face, his wild hair waving around him, contorted in a scream. A sudden explosion, and the image ended. For a long moment, no one spoke.

"It is time," the lead priestess said.

"We must approach with care," said the second.

"But we have waited too long for this," said the third.

"The fruit is ripe," agreed the first. "It is time for the harvest."

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Sigrid stood just outside the Observatory, the colors of the Bifrost flashing beneath her feet. To her right stood Frigga, her grey hair coifed into curls on her head, accentuating her statuesque figure. To her left stood Joan, whose hand clutched hers.

"It will be all right, Mother," Joan muttered beneath her breath.

Sigrid nodded, not responding. They had been waiting many hours on the bridge. War had broken out on Midgard. The descendants of old allies called upon Thor Allfather for his aide. And the Allfather, against the advice of nearly everyone, went to his precious Midgard, taking Loki, his companions, and even Baldur. Sigrid had not been there since the deaths of her beloved sister and cousin and she idly wondered what that world was like now.

The giant globe began to spin and everyone tensed as the stream of light shot into the stars. After a long moment that felt like an age, the globe slowed to a stop. Frigga took a trembling step forward, but stopped, as if afraid. Sigrid's hand tightened on Joan's as she cursed herself for not having gone along. But Loki had forbidden it.

"This battle will be fierce," he had said, "and you must remain behind in case Frigga needs you." It went unspoken between them that, if none of them returned, either she or Joan would have to take the throne. On second thought, she cursed Thor who still acted rashly at times.

Movement caught her eye as figures emerged. The first to appear was Baldur, his blue and green armor bloody and battered. As tall as his father, his long, curling black hair flowed freely to his shoulders. The crowd behind them set up a cheer but Sigrid saw the anguish in his eyes. Frigga swayed as Loki followed Baldur. Sigrid caught the Queen Mother's arm and bore her weight, keeping her from dropping.

She looked at Loki, his face without emotion. But she saw the tumult of grief and rage in his eyes.

"The Allfather is dead," cried Loki. "Long live the Allfather!"

For a long moment, nothing happened. Slowly, all of Asgard knelt at Baldur's feet.