Author's notes:

This piece of fiction contains: violence, strong language and sexual themes.

You've been warned, read at your own discretion.

Grammatical incorrectness – deliberate or not can be found in this piece of fiction. I do not care for complaints about it though, spare your time and don't write them.

Also, this is a story inspired by both Norse mythology and the Thor/Avengers franchise by Marvel. However it will not follow the myths completely (nor do I care for the accuracy, neither am I knowledgeable enough with the subject), it is very loosely based on it. If you are here with the wish to learn real Norse legends, you should hit the books and not read fanfiction.

Any explanations of certain things in the story, references and other important details will be at the end of each chapter.

Prophecies

She was gifted with the biggest gift of them all – unending knowledge. The gift of foresight – given by the all-seeing Norns themselves. She forfeited it without even dipping her mind into the unseen. Alas, in the fraction of time it was hers – she witnessed the future. It was the nightmare of darkness, nothing equal in fright to compare. It was more heartbreaking then it should have been but she willed not to know the cause. The unending abyss came to the name of Ragnarök. The only detail she ever shared – the horror unbound, shapeless and soundless. Her silence was deafening, born from the refusal of knowledge, believed by others to be her respect to the yet to come.

Chapter one

Attraction. Part I

The Heirs to the Golden Throne of Asgard walked through the grand winding corridors of Gladsheim. The young sibling Princes made their way to one of the lesser halls, answering to the call of the Allfather. Their pace was languid but with a brooding air surrounding them. Even the booming Thunder God Thor was encased in the same reluctance. A long wait was in place for them.

Their father was discussing important matters with his old 'friend' – the Nobleman Njord. There were talks, which the younger brother had heard, that the Vanir had been the King of the now-forgotten realm of Vanaheim. It was well known that the strange planet would pick a ruler itself and that wasn't referring to the people. In Loki's understanding of the situation, Njord was not a good 'friend' of Odin, he was merely a remnant of the long-lasted Aesir-Vanir wars. And there was no other way than to accept his father's 'gracious' offer and peace-making – the younger son believed so because he was used to looking at the bigger picture. Even if he were to ever voice his opinions aloud on the two rulers' ties – he would not be agreed with, only because the people were too narrow-minded for their own good. It was not the young man's say in any case and he was cunning enough to stay on the good-side of the majority (Odin of course included). Well, most of the time...

The Golden Palace of Realm Eternal was almost void of guards. In the Lie God's mind it was foolish, to believe in one's grandeur so much, be blinded by arrogance – to overrate oneself to such a degree. Although, of course, the fortress was impenetrable, living up to its name for eons. The guards were weak by his measure – the God of Mischief could easily trick or pass them undetected. Still, were he King, he would not allow any weak points in security.

When the entrance came into their line of view, far in the distance both noticed a group of women standing beside it. Straight ahead the younger also caught sight of someone sitting on the lounge in front of a widow. The Princes walked closer towards the hall but the girls were none the wiser to their presence. Loki turned a corner just beside the talking females. For once his brother followed him without a word of inquiry or objection. The God of Lies could sense the urge of snorting emanating from his elder, although he was too dignified for that. Thor knew it was best to take this route, neither had wanted to attract attention and become the object of glances and talk, or even worst – to be flocked by the women.

To any unknowledgeable guest the sideway corridor would not have seemed as anything out of the ordinary, something that had already been there from the beginning. However the heart of Asgard – this castle had many a secret. It would bend and warp to the will of the ones who knew of its nature. You could stand just a corner from someone and you would hear them – but they would not hear you. You could stand in front of someone and you would see them – but they would not see you. A mirage or a mirror ability this dome possessed was such. The God of Magic would often indulge in this feature even if with his magical stealth he could have easily slipped past almost anyone undetected, it would just be a waste of energy though.

Another winding turn and the males were heads protruding behind a wall, which faced directly the large doors, behind which their father was with his guest. Both sons stood in perfect view of the occupants beside the entrance, but no one took notice of them. There was no need for hushed tones since their voices would be unheard anyway.

The green-garbed Prince looked over the conversing circle and the God of Thunder did so as well, both were led by pure boredom. The younger had to agree with the unstated sentiment, there was no use dragging both here when obviously the Odinfather was nowhere near to have ended his politics. The Heirs had to take it though because it was something their father did more often than not.

The group was of Aesir and Vanir women, the latter obviously being Njord's granddaughters. The boundary between the two races was almost untellable. It seemed as if the Vanir females were so undeniably Asgardian that they even looked the part. The sorcerer studied with disinterest the annoying, giggling women. He heard bits of much inappropriate talk for Ladies to indulge (more so in public), mentions of his brother and himself. Curtly put – it was nothing but gossip and slander, a fact he did not find surprising – he was used to such brainless span of interest.

The difference between the Vanir and the people of this realm was that the aforementioned were more exotic. Their eyes especially, they had this ethereal shimmer. They were often rumored to be able to hypnotize with only that gaze. As the God of Magic the young man could say with certainty that that was not so, at best it was merely a half-truth. They had no such ability connected with their sight, it could only be a different power of hypnosis, which had nothing to do with their eyes. Although this blatant mistruth could have been born simply from the fact that many had found that feature of the Vanir incredibly alluring.

They were truly difficult to tell apart. Not only were their heights similar but also their figures. One of the telltale signs were the stumpy waists. The sung-about hourglass figures of the Aesir females were simply the achievement of the old tradition of wearing corsets, which in the millennia past had even become a blood-trait. Such a tradition had never existed in Vanaheim; their culture and garb was completely different. Still, he reasoned, due to the wars being settled ages before his own birth, Njord had taken residence in Noatun (a place like Valhalla, part of Asgard, yet in a sense – a completely different realm). Therefore these 'creatures' were something that couldn't really be considered the children of Vanaheim, they had probably not even seen their ancestral world. The other difference was the lack of accessories and jewelry on the foreign-land females.

The granddaughters of the Vanir Lord had all the same distinctive wheat colored hair. And if memory served right (and it always did) it was a trait inherited from their mother – the Love Goddess Freya. The mischievous Prince had once seen her in court when he was a just a little boy. The Asgardian girls present in the mixed circle, left of the heirs, had a variety of colored locks – from golds to reds. The hair of the females was all uplifted in braids or chignons – all so very much according to etiquette.

Their garbs were of varying shades of pastel pink. Loki shivered – oh Norns, how he hated that color. All were dressed in similar long, loose and flowing dresses. Strapless and cut in a straight line above any hint of their décolletés. However the virginal robes did not hide their physiques, even more so they did not compensate the fact that those young women were anything but innocent in any sense of the word. Their figures – the dream of any warrior of Asgard. The huge busts, the angelic faces and of course big hips – for bringing not one child into the world. The God of Trickery failed to see the appeal of any of these features. Big breasts did not attract him. Their pretty faces were all too generic – honestly, he would accidentally bed another just by failing to see any difference. The flaring hips – heirs were not to be found anywhere on his goal list. Having a hoard of children just because he was expected to – was not reason enough. And the worst part – the absolute lack of intelligence would be disastrous, a minute of conversation with such women left him with the biggest headache ever.

Inwardly he called this type of females fuck toys. In the boy-prince's understanding this was the only reason why these idiots looked appealing to men.

The God of Deceit knew that he was picky, exceedingly so. Not once had a woman caught his fancy, even if just for the looks department. And since he was of the Odin household, where propriety was absolute, his father did not indulge his Heirs into any perversities. Although many a place in Asgard it was a family tradition to take boys of age into those houses (in all actuality whorehouses – because the God of Lies did not attach pretty labels, he referred to things by their true names, even if only in his mind) – the Princes were not subjected to such customs.

Having not been introduced to such 'indulgences' in his very early days, had not made him addicted to the pleasures of flesh. Later on he hadn't acquired the urge to satisfy such needs either. More so, he completely rejected the idea of any regular 'detours' or consorts – because that had a probability of hindering his priorities. Therefore having no interest in nightly endeavors he had not searched for a woman (not like there would be any 'searching' required, there were plenty that wanted to throw themselves all over him, although in their minds he was just the second-best option). His elder did not seem to be too interested in them either, although the younger was not certain – since he did not concern himself with Thor's business.

The magician was a loner by spirit, so solitude never gnawed at him with demands of finding a companion in a more innocent sense either. Of course there was plenty of slander concerning his person but he did not have to deal with any scorned women, because in truth – there were none. He did not encourage nor did he attempt to cease the gossip. If anything the negative talk surrounding his eerie persona drove people away and it left him to his own devices. Well, most of the time...

The apathetic man's gaze was drawn to a small child that made her way from the dumbly chuckling circle of women. The little girl had seemingly appeared from nowhere as he had not noticed her before. A miniature babe that he estimated had not spent in this existence very long, sometime after the learning of most basic things but still very young. The child skipped merrily and the Master of Magic even arched his eyebrow. How very peculiar. It was an imitation of a skip and being the Lie God he could easily notice the theatrics of others. Although the performance of the girl's stride was remarkably believable. How oddly curious.

The child had short, strait cut hair – such a strict cut was very strange for a girl her age. The same color of wheat told him that she was definitely an offspring of Freya. She sat down onto the red, plush lounge and the other creature occupying it stole Loki's gaze completely – it was a breathtaking female.

The young woman made a mocking and comic face at the little girl and she barely contained her mirth. The grimace was meant for the secluded group just a few steps in front of them, but said circle paid no mind to the sitting magnificent woman. He did not know why she was so blatantly ignored by the others.

She sat beside an out-of-proportion plant that represented the spirit of the palace well. It was monstrously grown – as if everything just had to be grand and so out of measure.

The stormy eyes of the female denied the Trick God of breath. She was most definitely a true Vanir. The shine in those orbs was unmistakable. The tint was that of sea, he wondered in his psyche and he even fully believed that it would change its color depending on her mood. Right now they were of the dark, stormy sea blue. It was clear that the girl did not inherit the sky-blues of her mother. His rational mind berated him, his attention was stuck there for too long, this was not like him. But that thought was ignored and locked away somewhere in the buried labyrinths of his mind, never to see the light of day again.

Her hair was as otherworldly as her very being. The hue of hazel but with strands of gold, where the sun from the huge window caressed it. It was as if depending on light the color would choose itself. Face sharp and framed with unruly cut straight-ish bangs – as if they refused to be chopped in an absolute line. Loose strands were on each side of her divine physiognomy. The rest of her lush hair was scooped in a ponytail, which was long and puffy. The clasp that held it together tightly was gold-tinted but definitely not of the metal – having spent a lifetime surrounded by it, he could without error tell it apart from another. Still the ornate piece did not look cheap in any way, he reckoned it was made from a metal he was not familiar with.

Those mesmerizing eyes, daringly lined with a thick black line and adorned with onyx-painted lashes, made his usually quite cold body temperature rise fervently. He did not register the change. However he did notice her peach-dyed lips as they broke into a broad grin at the little sister that joined her. The woman's pose was anything but not Lady-etiquette appropriate. It was boyish and very confident, lacking a care in the world, obvious as she leaned on her hand and her legs were crossed one atop the other. Her vivid dress's cut allowed him view of a bare leg. The color of the gown was fluctuating, it was blindingly orange with shifting tints of green. Much like those on a leaf, still attached to a tree, dying and decaying but still retaining the barest hints of its former greenery. He loved such a masterly crafted metaphor.

The shape of the dress was brave, he had to admit. The thick straps met behind her neck, his gaze followed them downwards. The cut was oh-so deliciously low, giving plenty of view of small, pert breasts. Her silhouette was embraced by the fabric but it flowed weightlessly down her hips. Such garb was not considered inappropriate in Asgard, only that any suitor searching females always chose to accentuate their virginal-innocence (despite the fact whether they had any of that or not).

The young woman's lithe feet were in gold-not-really-gold strapped heals. Again, quite different form the norm. The Prince judged from her seated person that she possibly had a relatively short stature. But that slender physique made her appear quite tall. There was something in that skin of hers that made Loki clench his fingers on the wall, painfully digging his nails into it. The girl was pale, although not as translucently pale as he was. And such flesh just as his own – was envied by the sun-kissed Aesir Noblewomen. They would spend hours dolling their faces with powder, but they would never manage to hide their sun-loved skin.

The loud conversation the two sisters led (and he didn't contemplate his knowledge of this fact, the stunning female could not have been anything else but Njord's granddaughter, despite her lack of resemblance to the rest of her sibling blood-kin) had stunned him. He was a man that prided himself in rarely to ever be caught unaware and when such a thing occurred – he would be heavily displeased. This time though he didn't have the amount of time needed to locate the reaction behind this surprise. The God of Lies had a wider palette of emotions than believed by majority, but smaller than that of the usual Asgardian.

While the content of the vocally shared thoughts was unexpected, there were some much more bizarre facts. The two sitting Vanir on the lounge conversed in loud volume, however the group was none the wiser to it. The elder sister had bent the palace to her whim and it obeyed by hiding the truth with a shawl of unimportance. The others knew that both girls were there, just beside them, but they were hidden into a sight and sound of something that would be utterly unworthy of paying attention to.

But if what the young Lady and the future-to-be-lady child talked about were to be heard, there would be repercussions for such insolence. Therefore it couldn't have been anything but the solid fact that they both knew of something that only a few did. And when in Loki's great moments of vanity – he attributed this knowledge only to himself. The God of Mischief was sure that his elder wasn't even aware of it. It was common belief that the Allfather was all-knowing, but in reality – it wasn't so. While the Golden fortress was like an extension of the Odinfather (not built for such a purpose nor created by Odin himself) it was not exactly an extension of the High God. Mysterious were the ways of this dome. There was that important detail that the woman seemed confidently aware of. The all-knowing Allfather (even if all-aware only in the territory of the palace) was truly all-seeing but not all-hearing. The Trickster child weighed that his predecessor probably did not have the ability to track the conversations going on here. Even if he did, what mere chances there were that he did possess such a power, then he probably did not use it because it would be such a bother. And if the King really did listen in from time to time – then he would have definitely caught his youngest son plotting. The mischievous prankster admitted to himself, with a great air of remorse, that he quite often let out a fraction of a scheme slip out aloud when mulling over the plots in his mind. If father were to know any of his less than innocent ideas forming, he would without a doubt crush their further fruition into reality and serve a befitting punishment. That was a petrifying thought, therefore the young Heir did not delve into it any deeper.

The blond little girl spoke and held herself with such refined aura, which was well beyond her years. The green-clad Princeling however did not ponder on this oddity much, as there was something far too distracting in his view.

"Did you hear what sister said about you?" the child inquired of the elder, her tone was within the boundaries of respectful volume.

The eye-candy of a woman rolled her eyes exasperatedly, which was a very boyish notion. She waved her hand dismissively at her baby-sister and replied loudly.

"As if it's something new. I know the brain-lacking repertoire of her and her dumb friends by word. Lofn can choke on a cock for all I care"

The voice of the mystery of a creature was bewitching to Loki. While the sentences uttered were meant to sting, all he focused into was the texture of the sound. It was finer than silk and rung better than crystal, somewhere between a low and a high octave. The undeniable finality that not only the words but the voice held was mesmerizing somehow.

The tiny conversant barely contained her laughter behind her small hand. Although she composed herself quickly and continued with all seriousness of a scolding adult. This topic seemed not only wholly inappropriate to be shared with a child but from the garnered reactions – it was clear that she understood the implications and accusations in it.

"Sigyn, that's evil"

The God of Deceit greedily sealed the woman's name into memory. Not knowing yet that every minor detail connected to her would be always, without fail, engraved into his psyche.

"Is it?" the older wondered aloud and a wicked grin overpowered her face as she looked at the child. She absentmindedly played with her modest (compared to her clothing) gold-not-really-gold earring.

"But it would be hilarious, no? 'Lord Njord's granddaughter died on her knees in front of some Asgardian soldier-nobody while giving head' – the scandal would be incomparable to any before! I wouldn't miss it for the world! Or I'd be somewhere on the other end of the Universe laughing my arse off!" the mirth in the Lady's tone was prominent (and that title stuck to her image in the youngest Heir's mind, he didn't dare question his certainty).

Again the child barely held back her laughter, however she soon countered wisely.

"Sister, for someone who loathes mingling with society and being connected with scandals in any way as much as you do, why would you wish such gossip-bait of a crisis to befall our family name?" the little girl looked away and continued with her hand still covering her mouth from the earlier attempt at taming her mirth "We are both going to the Unnamed Realms for laughing at this"

Sigyn (her name had started plaguing his conscious and subconscious from the moment he'd heard it, he was irritated greatly by its peculiar pestering) gestured with her hand, pearlescent nail-varnish twinkling.

"And that's a bad thing? Meh, I'd be far away from any commotion as per usual. And it's not like it would be something new, mother is always the talk of the court. It is an everyday occurrence that our blood-line represents the 'in' in 'infamous'" she offered disinterestedly.

The younger sister did not answer to the mention of the Unnamed Realms. Her witty replies tumbled down in their mood, hinting at sadness.

"Truly. I miss our mother... Let us cease this unrealistic conversation, I feel bad about it, even if you were the one joking about it"

"Indeed, it's not like it's going to happen anyway. Lofn would never choke on one, she's far too skilled at it"

"Sigyn!" there was a playful hint in the child's warning. The little girl sighed. "The only thing that unsettles me is the lack of meaning in such an existence. What kind of purpose can they have in their immortal life? I... I-I often wonder myself if I have a reason to exist, if I will actually manage to find and serve a valid, important purpose..." she studied the marble flooring and dangled her feet off the edge of the crimson lounge.

A concerned expression crossed the older sister's face. The young Lady turned her now narrowed gaze to the oblivious group of babbling women in front.

"I couldn't agree more. I mean look at them!" she gestured rudely with her hand at the females "I can't hear anything of even moderate value! Purpose or not, these cock-sucking blockheads are a complete waste of air" pointing at a certain girl (obviously also one of her kin), which was no older than there very beginning of adolescence, she continued "Even Nanna, I mean for the love of the Nine Realms, is it really necessary to imprint all that blatant shite on a child as the 'way of life'? What kind of goddesses shall they become, what will their purpose be, what will they guard and represent? People can talk all they want but mother – the Goddess of Love – is not like this. And knowing that there isn't anything solid on her affairs – means that whatever happens, in detail, is always kept behind locked doors"

The tirade ended abruptly and Sigyn turned to her tiny sibling. She cupped the girl's face in her hands and smiled tenderly.

"Let's continue speaking about 'purpose' and 'existence' in the gardens, shall we, my dearest baby-sister Syn?"

The child grinned and nodded. The young woman rose gracefully from her seat and the movement was in argument with her seemingly very unlady-like behavior. She took the hand of her sister as the blond hopped off the seat. They walked about the piece of furniture towards the huge windows. Loki received the affirmation of the Lady's abilities as the used-to-be-window had now a grand glass door incorporated in it.

The Prince wanted to follow the retreating females but was stopped by the lecture of his mind, it scolded him for this newfound silly fixation. If it would've been just the appearance that would have attracted him so, then he would have shaken it off with an explanation that the instinctual nature had finally caught up with him. This 'need' would be obliterated in denial and buried underneath the solid truth that he was above such trifle obsessions. His ever alert psyche also reminded him that his brother was still present, and he would never show his true interest (which he inwardly called 'weakness' – for he had none of such) to anyone.

The God of Lies glanced at his elder, which was forever drown in his depressive boredom. Their eyes met, emerald against azure. The Storm God's expression suddenly became some sort of variation of startled. The apathetic boy-prince didn't even succeed in raising an eyebrow in question as Thor grasped the lapels of his coat and asked hurriedly.

"What time is it?"

Loki wallowed in rage. The words 'do I look like a pocket-watch' almost slipped from his silver tongue. But there was the fact that right now his 'Golden' brother was a nuisance, and if replying would be the way to get rid of him – it was worth the pleasantry. Well, as much as he could muster of that anyway, which wasn't much at all... He remained indifferent as he answered.

"Quarter past three, actually" the 'Dark' Prince said as he forcefully brushed off the hands away from his form. His tone did not hide his 'ruffled' state but his brother cared not to hear it. Therefore it was left undetected.

Thor slapped his big hand clumsily onto his forehead.

"Damn it! I had promised our friends to meet them" he continued hurriedly "I am sure father shall not notice us gone for a brief time, surely he has still a lot to discuss with his guest" his red-cape swooshed as he turned to briskly walk away. Fourth or fifth midstep in distance he noticed the lack of his younger brother's presence and he looked back.

"Won't you be joining us, brother?"

Really now, what point would it be to tag along and see the brain-dead Warrior Three and the obnoxious Lady Sif as well? Listening to the repetitive stories by the hundredth and conversing about nothing of value – that was not in Loki's list of priorities. Fighting battles of wits and winning against them while they were not even aware of it, obviously eons away from his level of intelligence, was a waste of effort and he was not desperate enough for company to indulge. Furthermore, he could not stand being taken in for the part of the jester. The shadowy outcast of their little exclusive circle – how quaint, he wished not to endure such belittling.

"Yes, I will not be going. I have important matters to attend to, which I have neglected due to father's urgent call. Seeing as it is not as important as we believed, I shall be taking my leave. And if we will not return in time, well we will both share the trouble then"

"Indeed" Thor grinned, the big oaf, completely unaware of his brother's partial-lie and reluctance to follow. The older Prince shrugged. "Suit yourself, brother" and so he left without turning back.

Loki stood in his place, until his ignorant sibling had strolled far enough for his essence to dissipate from the corridor. 'Share the trouble' the heir snorted, like that would ever happen. Were they both guilty or not, their punishment was rarely served equally. It was as if the elder always had credit on his account, the good deeds done at some point that would soften whatever response to his questionable actions. The God of Mischief himself though was forever at the wrong, eternally indebted in that sense. Any worthy act was often viewed upon as lesser than it truly was. And with time, he began to doubt that it was the cause of his elaborate pranks. The miniscule number of being found out only solidified that feeling. The known wrongs could not have overshadowed him so much.

A/N

The prologue (text in italics) is about Frigga. Odin's wife is said to have the gift of prophecy but she does not disclose anything about the future. In this story she does not have the ability because she was frightened by the knowledge and therefore it was forfeited.

Norns in the Norse mythology are goddesses that decide the course of one's destiny. They are the equivalent of the Moirae (Fates) in the Greek mythology.

About ages – since the story is about gods that have lived for centuries – the number of years lived would tell nothing. So in our human years the characters would be considered of these ages: Thor and Loki 19-20ish, Sigyn about 16-17ish, Syn aged 6, Nanna (Sigyn's sister, the young adolescent) 12-13, Lofn (also a sister of Sigyn) similar in age/slightly older than Loki and Thor.

In the actual Norse myths these goddesses are not related. Parts of the family tree are taken from the Marvel-universe.

Sigyn is often portrayed in fanfiction as the Persephone-esque type of character: weak, naïve, representing everything that is good and so on. I didn't find this fitting for her (in this particular story), that's why in this fiction her character won't be the goody-goody two-shoes type.

Reviews would be lovely~