The first thing Sigyn sees as her eyes slip open is the weathered and cracked spine of a book. It's one of Loki's favorites, open and face-down on the floor just to the side of his desk, half of the well-thumbed pages crumpled and creased in its careless treatment. Just beyond lie three more, one of them steadily soaking up the contents of an overturned inkwell.
Three things occur to her in rapid succession: how unusual it is for Loki to drop his books so haphazardly; followed by a memory of them not being dropped so much as hastily removed with a swipe of Loki's arm to make room for their previous evening's decidedly adventurous pursuits involving his desk; and finally, by the realization that the daylight streaming through the window is far brighter than it should be if she has any hope of reporting for her duties with the Queen at the expected time.
Her eyes go wide in a surge of panic. Oversleeping is the one thing Sigyn has prided herself on never doing while in the Queen's employ, but now it seems her unblemished record of punctuality has come to an end.
Of course, for the first six months of her service she wasn't being kept up for hours nearly every night doing unspeakable things with the younger prince of the realm. But Sigyn feels her lack of sleep is no excuse for shirking her responsibilities, even if the most recent seven weeks have been eye-opening in regards to Loki's prowess and her own physical endurance.
She shifts in the bed, preparing to swing her legs over the edge and to the floor, when a strong arm encircles her waist, keeping her in place.
"Where are you going?" Loki asks, sounding suspiciously alert to have just woken up.
"I'm late for my duties," Sigyn sighs, trying her best to ignore Loki's fingers as they draw half circles into the skin of her bare abdomen, each passing stroke taking them lower and lower across her belly. "Your mother will be wondering where I am."
"She knows where you are," he says, pulling Sigyn closer until the long length of his body is molded around hers. "She would have sent someone to collect you by now…if she had a need as urgent as mine." He not-so-subtly moves his hips forward, and she is left with no question as to the very specific nature of his need.
"You're not helping."
"I'm helping myself," he says, his hand sliding even lower, and the way he moves his fingers next is far more difficult for her to ignore. The bed itself could go up in flames around them and Sigyn wouldn't leave it to save her own life.
"Ugh. I hate you," she says, even as her legs involuntarily relax wider.
"Really? For such a cold emotion, hate certainly feels rather warm and wet."
Her body goes pliant beneath his manipulation; when she whines in frustration, angry with herself for giving in so easily, he takes it as a sign of encouragement and doubles his efforts. Damn him and his talented fingers.
"You're already overdue, my love," he whispers, and she abandons all pretense of struggle. "You might as well make it worth it."
With every step closer to the queen's chambers, Sigyn's sense of dread grows.
Her braids are less tidy than usual, her dress faintly disheveled, her lips still kiss-swollen…everything about her appearance veritably screams quite recently and thoroughly fucked. Not exactly the look she would prefer to be wearing while attending her lover's mother.
She couldn't afford the luxury of a lengthy bath after she finally escaped Loki's bed, and as a result thoroughness was sacrificed for swiftness. Anyone venturing within speaking distance will smell Loki all over her, as was doubtless his intention. It's new territory for her, to feel newly unrestricted and yet still so utterly possessed.
Queen Frigga is pacing in front of her bookshelves when Sigyn walks in. She gives Sigyn a quick once over, and it is with no small amount of relief that Sigyn notes a distinct lack of anger in her face.
Sigyn thinks it best to speak before the queen does, to explain by way of an apology. A pithy truth, one Sigyn hopes will be enough. "Forgive me, Your Majesty. I…I overslept," she says, nervously running her fingers over the neckline of her gown. In her rush to leave Loki's chambers, she didn't think to check for visible marks he may have left on her body; she wouldn't put it past him to not tell her if she had any.
"All is forgiven," says Frigga with a wave of her hand. "I'm quite certain you are not entirely to blame for your tardiness."
"No ma'am. I am a grown woman, capable of making my own choices. I cannot lay the blame for this at anyone's feet but my own."
Frigga tilts her head, her face a combination of pity and resignation. "Sigyn, there are those in Asgard whose powers of persuasion rival even the most seasoned of politicians. When you find yourself entangled with one, you come to an understanding that your choices are, on occasion…easily manipulated."
Sigyn cannot bring herself to get upset at such an unflattering yet obvious truth, especially spoken with a complete lack of judgment or condemnation from someone she holds in such high esteem. For a fleeting second, she wonders if the queen ever had this conversation with any of Loki's former companions, but she chases the thought away as soon as it's formed. She doesn't like to dwell on the knowledge that she is not the first to warm his bed at night, but she's not stupid. No one gets to his level of expertise without copious amounts of practice.
"Of course, my queen," she says. "Regretfully, I am still adjusting to my new circumstances. But rest assured, I am a quick study."
"That you are, dear girl," says the queen, and Sigyn swears she sees a hint of amusement in her eyes.
Halfway through her morning, Sigyn is finding it near impossible to concentrate on even her most basic duties. Her mind constantly drifts to thoughts of Loki – beautiful, devastating, terrible Loki – and how they had ushered in the new day.
"You're going to think about this later," he'd said as he'd hovered over her. "When it's least appropriate, you're going to remember just how incredible it felt to be filled by me, and you will be wholly unable to disguise the joy on your face. Everyone will guess your wicked thoughts."
He'd turned to kiss the inside of her right ankle as it rested on his shoulder, and Sigyn had watched as a tiny drop of sweat trickled from his hair and into the hollow of his cheek, reflecting the decadent, too-late-in-the-morning light. She would have reached to wipe it away if her wrists hadn't been pinned to the bed above her head in one of his large hands.
"You – oh Norns! – you're the worst," she'd said, trying to sound convincing and failing completely.
"I think you mean the best," he'd said with a grin, and his hips hadn't faltered once in their maddening pace.
The memory is so fresh, so vivid, Sigyn can actually hear Loki's voice…and when she looks up from her perch on the sofa she understands why.
Despite strict instructions from his mother to stay occupied elsewhere during the day, Loki has silently entered the room and is standing next to his mother's writing desk, holding an ink-saturated book Sigyn last saw on the floor of his chambers not three hours prior. He has gently wrapped it in a cloth to prevent it staining anything.
"Mother, it seems I've ruined one of my poetry books. Is there anything to be done for it?"
"What happened?" asks the queen, taking it from him with a scowl. "It's unlike you to be so careless with your things, especially your books."
He shrugs, his face deceptively innocent. "A desk accident. Sigyn and I were having a particularly vigorous discussion about this individual poet's body of work, and in my enthusiasm for the subject I must have knocked a few books to the floor. I don't know what's come over me lately to make me so clumsy."
"I see," says the queen. "And was this…vigorous discussion the reason she was late for her duties this morning?"
"Was she?" he asks, and the shock he manages to convey would assure even the most cynical person of his sincerity. He looks to Sigyn with an infuriating amount of smugness. "How terribly unprofessional of her."
Sigyn stops herself from snapping at him with only the most monumental of efforts. "Indeed it was," she says instead, her tone as icy as she can manage. "Fortunately, I am taking steps to ensure it never happens again."
Loki's smile falters so faintly she almost misses it, before returning to full blinding intensity. "Excellent. For the sake of your position here at the palace, I do think that's the wisest course of action." He draws out the word position in such a way she flushes scarlet with thoughts of how thorough his recent tutelage in such matters has been. She wonders idly if she could get away with smothering him in his sleep before deciding it wouldn't be worth the trouble.
"I'm not sure this book can be salvaged, Loki," says the queen. "The damage is quite extensive."
"That's a shame. It was one of my favorites." He turns his attention to Sigyn once more. "Well, since I'm already here, would it be possible for me to spirit your handmaiden away for our midday meal? I do realize her earlier belatedness has put her behind in her duties, but I don't wish to eat alone…and I am finding my appetite today is rather insatiable."
"I have no objection to that, if Sigyn does not. In fact, as exhausted as she has been lately, perhaps it would be better for her to take the remainder of the afternoon off to catch up on her rest."
"It will be my pleasure to see to it that she does."
The queen sighs. "Loki, you do understand what rest is, do you not? It's a popular alternative use for a bed, so I hear. Not all of us have your limitless reservoirs of energy."
"Of course, Mother. There's no need to be indelicate. You're making Sigyn blush."
"For pity's sake, do not lecture me on indelicacies, my son."
Sigyn has been watching this exchange, pinned to the sofa as if affixed to it, silently observing as others seek to determine her afternoon activities. A surge of rebelliousness bubbles up into her gut.
Easily manipulated. Not this time, Your Highness.
"Forgive me, Your Majesty," she interrupts, rising to her feet and joining them at the queen's table. "As kind as you are to make the offer, I feel my energies would be better used in attending you this afternoon. Perhaps even into the evening, should you require my services. It's really the least I can do to make up for my earlier…unprofessional conduct." She says the last with a pointed look at Loki, and for the first time it seems to occur to him that he may have misjudged the extent to which his charisma makes up for his less than delightful behavior.
His smile evaporates. "You would leave me to eat alone?"
"Well yes, but luckily for you, eating alone is just as effective at curbing your hunger as eating with company."
"But not as enjoyable." His eyes are wide, his jaw jutted out…the face of someone who is painfully unaccustomed to not getting his way.
"An unavoidable consequence, I'm afraid."
The fire in his eyes is momentarily spectacular, and Sigyn knows without a doubt that if she and Loki were literally anywhere else in the palace besides his mother's chambers, with his mother present, she would find herself being taken against the nearest wall for her lack of cooperation. It's a thrilling thought, one that almost causes her to change her mind, to take his hand and allow him to lead her away and sate his appetite, but she persists.
"Perhaps another time? Now if you'll excuse me, I should really be getting back to my work."
He blinks, shaking his head minutely as if banishing a bad dream. "Of course," he says. "Another time then."
He takes her hands in his, drawing her near so he can kiss her cheek just out of his mother's earshot. He lingers a moment, long enough to whisper in her ear, his breath hot and ticklish on her skin. "When you return to me this evening, I am going to devour you."
She can't stop the shiver before it appears, and as she watches over Loki's shoulder the queen averts her eyes, clearing her throat as a reminder that she's still there.
He pulls back, and with a curt bow to his mother he turns on his heels and walks away. He doesn't glance back, leaving Sigyn to watch him as he retreats, his body impossibly more sinuous and sensual hidden under his numerous layers of clothing than it is when exposed.
The queen lets out an unexpected delicate laugh the moment the door latches, startling Sigyn out of her thoughts. "In all my years, I don't think I've ever seen my son so nonplussed," she says. "He's always thinking, trying to plan for nearly every eventuality – but I'm sure he never planned for someone like you. A quick study indeed."
She turns back to her writing, leaving Sigyn to return to her work in silence, pondering the intelligence of her actions and whether she'll ever get a full night's rest again.