these are hard times
these are hard times for dreamers
and love lost believers
-MS MR, "Bones"

"Nothing else matters but us," Loki whispers into her hair one night, holding her close. In the quiet darkness of his prison cell, she allows herself to believe him, that they're the only two people left in the entire Nine, and that they are all that matters.

It becomes more true when she's imprisoned herself, in a quaint little cottage far out past the mountains and wheat fields of Asgard. Nothing else matters but us, Sigyn thinks as she holds her infant sons. Nothing else but them, and the sons Loki does not know yet.

She had been stupid to trust Frigga, she sees that now. She knew what they had done to Loki, and yet she still thought that when they went to the Queen for help, she would give it. Family was family, even when not bound together by blood, was it not?

She should have been smarter. Their options had been limited, true, but she still should have thought of something. But it had been a valuable lesson as well. Sigyn knew now not to trust the Allfather's family for anything.

I was stupid before, Sigyn thinks as she kisses Narvi's head, then Vali's. The piece of Loki's soul that had entered hers during their wedding throbs slightly just behind her heart, an ice cold orb in the midst of her warm magic. I will not make that same mistake again. Never again.

Her plan begins simply. She must leave the cottage and escape from the control of the royal family. Then she must find a way to get their magic canceling handcuffs off her wrists, so that she can use her magic freely.

And then she must return to the city and find a way to rescue Loki.

It's simple, in theory. The execution of it is what makes Sigyn falter. She must plan everything carefully. She will have to bring the twins with her; her beautiful boys, who do not yet know how to walk and still feed from the breast. After pondering it for a while, she brings out an old apron and, with a day of stitching and sewing, creates a sling strong enough to carry them on her chest, leaving her arms free.

Next comes the problem of food and water. She has a flagon already, but the trouble will be finding fresh water rivers to refill it. Sigyn considers her path. She'll have to follow the ocean. Asgard was circular, more or less; if she followed the ocean, she would eventually come upon the city. But it would be a long way by foot, and that way would not afford her many chances of finding the rivers that led out into the ocean.

Still, she would have to try somehow.

She makes certain her boots are up to the task of walking, redoing the soles and patching up the weaker spots. She packs her one other dress and underthings in a knapsack, as well as some clothes for the twins and fresh diapers. She finds a fallen log in the forest surrounding her cottage and carves it into a walking stick and, if need be, a weapon against wolves or unsavory sorts on the road.

And she plots. There is a way to free herself from these chains. She knows it. But it is a plan that terrifies her, and it is a plan that may not work. In fact, there is a high chance of her failing in this quest.

But for Loki, for her sons, for their happiness, Sigyn will do anything.

The guard comes on the same day he always does, four weeks after his last visit. She waits by the door, ever watchful of him and where his hands are, how close they get to his weapons, as he unloads the cart full of food for the next month.

Her boys are inside. She does not allow the man in. He knows of her, she can see it in his brief glances at her, the disdain and presumption that he's better simply because she's an unmarried woman with children, banished from the city. But she is not certain he knows of the blue of her boys' skin, or the red of their eyes, and she will not risk their safety to find out if the man would raise a sword against innocent babies.

Sigyn studies him carefully as he works. He's one of the lower ranks of soldiers, and from his harried movements and his careful glances over their surroundings, Sigyn knows that Asgard is still at war with the Dark Elves. Or whatever else has turned up since the Bifrost was destroyed and Asgard left isolated from the rest of the Nine.

She intends to use that to her advantage. If Asgard is still at war, then Odin and Heimdall are not watching her, or so she fervently hopes. If they are, then her plan will fail before she can even leave the forest. But if not, well, she will be free to wander as she so chooses, and return to Asgard unnoticed by anyone who matters.

He says nothing to her after unloading the last of the food. She says nothing as well. She merely watches as he gets back on his horse and turns around, going back the way he came.

Once he's well out of sight, Sigyn immediately begins rifling through the food to see what she can take with her. Most of it is already preserved, needing to last the long trek to her home. Figuring out how to pack everything is a challenge. She can't carry two heavy bags full of food and two children by herself. If she had a horse, it would be a different story, but the Queen had not seen it fit to gift her with one during her stay at the cottage.

Eventually, Sigyn decides that she has no choice and must carry as much food as possible, as well as her children. If she runs out, she'll simply have to hope that she can hunt well enough to catch game in the wild during her travels.

"Soon, my loves," she whispers to her children, who squirm and gurgle at her voice, staring at her with wide red eyes. "Soon."

At night, she dreams of him.

She dreams of his comforting weight beside her on the bed, his skin smooth and cool underneath her hands. She dreams of his green eyes, faint in the candle light, roaming over her bare body as his fingers trace patterns between the freckles on her skin. She dreams of him kissing her, running his hand through her long hair, claiming her as his, all his. She dreams of the cuts on their left palms splitting open, their blood running free and smearing as their hands caress each other in their passion, marking each other, declaring their territory, making it plain for all to see that they belong together, to each other, to themselves and no one else.

She wakes feeling frustrated, overly warm, and heartbreakingly alone.

Sigyn rises from her bed and goes over to the crib her boys share, watching as they sleep peacefully. Completely unaware of their father, of their lives, of how they could have grown up in Gladsheim as royal princes of the Nine Realms, had things been different.

She is not stupid, she knows she is not stupid, despite what her Mother often yelled at her. Sigyn knows that the royal family must be somewhat uneasy about her children. They are threats to the throne. They are the next legitimate heirs after Thor. If Thor were to die, then they would be the next ones to take the throne, which would give Loki power over Asgard.

Sigyn knows this. She knows that was why the Allfather and the Allmother had seen it fit to banish her and her children. Why they refused to recognize their marriage as legal and binding. Her sons could be written off as bastards, unable to take the throne and therefore give the genocidal tyrant power over the Realm Eternal once again.

She doesn't want power. She has no use for it, as she told Loki so long ago. She does not want the throne of Asgard or Frigga's crown. She does not want her sons thrust into that power, either. Frankly, Sigyn does not want them anywhere near the city or the Aesir if it can be helped. She fears what the Aesir would do to her sons, especially if they became rulers.

All she wants, quite simply, is for her family to be united once again. For Loki to sleep next to her at night, to smile at her in the morning, for her boys to know their father.

Is it not too much to ask, in her opinion.

The morning after the guard arrives with her food, Sigyn rises before the sun and sets to her work. She doublechecks and then triplechecks her bags before closing them tightly. She wishes she had a charm to put around the openings to dissuade animals from rummaging through them, but there's nothing to be done for it, so she must simply prepare to keep an extra careful eye on her belongings.

She makes certain she has a few potions with her, as well as some other medicine and bandages if need be. Since she cannot access her magic, she cannot heal herself, which makes her highly uncomfortable. She's had her magic all her life-the fact that she now cannot even touch it throws her world out of order, makes her realize just how much she's relied on it all these centuries. Soon, she swears, soon I will have it back.

Once she slips on the packs, wincing at their combined weight on her shoulders, she puts her beautiful boys into their sling and sets it carefully onto her shoulders and chest. They whine at being woken up, but then find comfort in the tight, warm space right next to her heart, her lungs. Sigyn gently rocks them back to sleep, and then takes up her walking stick and casts one last glance over the cottage.

She will not miss it at all, she decides.

With that, Sigyn opens her door and breathes in the cool, early morning air. And then she sets out to save her husband.

A/N: And so we have a sequel. It'll be pretty highly AU from The Dark World, since it's not out yet and obviously we only know a little bit of the story for that movie, not enough to base a fic on.

If you want a bit of atmosphere and a general sense of what's inspired the feel of this story, give a listen to MS MR's Bones and Dark Doo Wop. The title came from the former song, and both songs have played a huge part in how I developed this story. Also giving a shout out to Florence + the Machine's Seven Devils for helping with the creepy, obsessive, codependent lovers reuniting feel of this story. ;)

Here's to a new journey, and I hope y'all enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it. Thanks for reading!