Asgard's skies are blue and bright; a quiet reflection of the peace that reigns over its lands since the dark elves attacked months before. Her people have few cares, and spend much of their time in raucous celebration for their warriors' victories. They share stories, sing songs, drink, and are blissfully ignorant to the many threats that loom in nearby worlds. Beneath the foggy mountain range lies its golden city, which shines with an orange hue before the setting sun.
Odin The Allfather sits on his throne, feeling somewhat deflated. He tires after a long day of tolling harsh judgments, despite it being his only regular duty in the months since the dark elves came. Criminals are brought forth to his throne and await a call on their fate: some are murderers, some are prisoners from other realms, and all are guilty. One can only send so many men and foul creatures to the stronghold cells below before it takes its toll, constantly reminding him of the carnage that took place there mere months ago. While Odin would never admit it, he craves time spent outside the palace walls.
"Away with you all," he orders with a wave of his hand, dismissing the guards and regretting that his duties as King are much less exciting than anticipated in his youth. This fact frustrates him. Odin stays at the throne for a few moments, pondering his exit, tapping his fingers on the scepter beside him rhythmically. When he does finally stand, he does so with great effort, leaning far too heavily on the left hip as he descends the stairs. Odin's steps are slow, deliberate, almost done as a means to pass the time as he heads through the great hall.
The King stops short at Frigga's old chamber door, noticing that the entrance is cracked open. Who could have unsealed it? Odin thinks. The answer is irrelevant, and he enters.
Each step echoes in the empty room. The balcony beckons to him, open and exposed to the realm; but as much as he yearns to feel the air, he does not wish to be seen here. Instead, Odin makes his way to Frigga's bedchamber, and looks in her mirror. He raises an eyebrow at his reflection, focuses on his single bright eye, and shifts his gaze to the dresser drawers instead. He pulls out a long, blue robe, and runs his fingers down the fabric while he tries to remember just how she looked when traveling through the city streets to greet the people. Odin holds the dress softly while he walks through the room, paying little attention to his loud footsteps, and he sits on the steps where Frigga was killed; there are plans for a real memorial to be placed here someday, but Odin has not yet the heart to break ground on it. The King stares at the robe, holding it ever tighter between his hands, raising it to his face to breathe in any remaining scent of her. His fists stiffen, and he almost begins to weep, when there is a tapping at the door.
A young woman enters; she is tall, with flowing dark hair that reaches just past her shoulders. Her eyes do not immediately meet the King's, as she follows the line of the cracked open door up to the ceiling, in awe of the height. The girl's eyes are dark as well, and her expression is one of curiosity, only laced with humility from her low station. The girl knows she does not belong in here, regardless of her inquisitiveness to find out who had opened the door and was noisily walking inside. She wears the attire of an inconsequential palace worker, with gray robes to the floor. Odin cannot help but notice that the robes still accentuate her slender figure in a flattering manner, but he averts his eye quickly. When the servant steps in, she is surprised to see the King himself sitting on the balcony steps. Now frozen, she hesitates before speaking:
"Allfather? M...might I ask what troubles you?"
Odin does not respond. His eye flickers from her gaze and down to the robe in his hands. His instinct tells him to command her away, but she seems harmless enough. His choice not to dismiss her instead grants her entrance, and she takes the opportunity willingly.
The girl makes her way to him, sitting on his left side on the steps. They stay together in silence for a few moments, as she looks around the room in awe. In this light, the walls seem to shine with their own inner sun. The girl's expression says many things while she says nothing at all; she knows this room, and yet does not belong. Emptiness hangs on the tall ceilings and large pillars. Odin considers telling her to leave, wanting to be left alone with memories that are not yet put to rest. Just as he prepares to wave his hand, she speaks:
"You must mourn so much for her..." she trails, not sure what else to say. "We all do."
Odin's silence is tacit agreement.
"I served Frigga for a time, in this chamber," the girl says, looking at the fountain in the center of the room and closing her eyes. "I know this might sound silly, but she was like a mother to me." She shifts her gaze to Odin at her side. His eye is fixated on her, widened as if he is offended by her words. They sit in silence for a few moments; the tension between them builds until she asks a question that must sound more appropriate in her head: "Allfather, must you dwell alone in your sadness?"
Odin, annoyed by the suggestion that she is worth sharing in his grief, finally speaks. "What is your name, child?"
"Sigyn," she replies. "I have worked in the palace all my life, as my whole family has. My parents passed just before I was called to serve Frigga." She pauses a moment to reflect on the room itself as if it were Frigga's ghost, personified. "I spent many days on these very steps with her during your battles."
There is no response, only the same fixated eye just barely squinting at her last statement. Only now does Sigyn seem to realize her error in addressing the Allfather so casually; she attempts to correct it by changing the focus back to him: "Her worry over you never ceased, Allfather."
Odin nods, and turns his gaze to the floor before answering. "And all that time, I never thought I'd have to worry for her." His statement ends with a sigh, and a tighter grasp of Frigga's robe. The Allfather does not meet the girl's gaze, preferring to look down at his feet.
Sigyn looks around the room again, taking notice of a small pedestal. Resting on it is a token of Frigga's youngest son: Prince Loki's helmet. That is, he once was a Prince of Asgard. This being his mother's chambers, the relic does not surprise the girl, despite his tarnished reputation amongst the citizens of Asgard. When Loki was imprisoned below in the dungeons, Frigga notoriously took hold of the helmet, clutched it to her breast, and shed a tear for her son as he was sentenced to eternal exile.
The girl Sigyn, having been reared within the palace walls with her parents, knew all too well the stories of Loki and Thor, royal brothers of all but blood. It was rumored amongst the people that Loki was not truly one of the Asgardians, yet he was revered as a prince until he betrayed the trust of all in the Royal Court and sought power on Midgard. Sigyn stops to think; did he deserve such a fate? Did he not battle with Thor and defend the realm with his magic and skill? Where Thor had strength, Loki used pure wit to defeat his enemies. His crimes were matched, if not exceeded by, his great deeds of the past, but this mattered little to the judgment of Odin. When Frigga begged to save Loki's life, she was hardly viewed as heroic to the masses. She showed him love when the Allfather denied him even compassion.
It was rumored that Loki discovered his heritage while fighting the Frost Giants with his brother, Thor, many years ago. Sigyn remembers overhearing a dramatic retelling by one of the palace workers who was clearly telling a third or fourth-hand version of the story. Apparently, while staving off hordes of Frost Giant soldiers, Thor and his loyal Warriors Three discovered that the Frost Giants themselves could burn with their icy touch alone, instantly scarring the fairer-skinned Asgardians if the enemy got their hands on them. Loki heard the warning, and was horrified when he was taken by surprise and grabbed by a Frost Giant on the arm. His thick, scaled armor froze and shattered as if made of glass. Loki took a deep breath, waiting for the stinging burn to overtake him. It didn't. Instead, Loki watched in horror as his hand and forearm transformed to deep blue and purple, matching the color of the Frost Giant's grip. Even the soldier stopped dead and looked Loki in the face with a curious glance, almost as if he was looking for some kind of recognition. Loki wasted no time and dispatched the Frost Giant, but stood on the battlefield alone, staring at his arm as it changed back to his Asgardian form. One could only imagine how many thoughts were swirling through his head as he turned to watch his so-called family fight against those that he seemed to have more in common with.
Regardless of whether or not the story Sigyn heard was true, since discovering the Jotunhiem blood within his veins, Loki had imploded with distrust and malice towards the house of Odin.
Only a few months ago, shortly after Frigga's death, Thor returned to Asgard with sorry news that Loki had been killed in battle. Thor told a fantastic tale of valor, how they fought Algrim and Malekith on Svartalfheim, chasing the remaining dark elf soldiers. Thor had defied the orders to remain in the city until the enemy attacked; he knew only Loki could lead the enemy away from the gates of the palace, and risked his own head to use Loki's skills. The story goes that Loki gave his life willingly to avenge Frigga and save Thor; even now, Thor wears the emblem of his brother's golden horns on his wrist guards as a constant reminder and testament that blood does not make brothers. Despite such praise from his kin, Odin openly chose to view Loki as a scapegoat for all the damage done in Frigga's demise, as it was he who directed Algrim up to her royal chambers in the first place.
Sigyn is too bold, but pulls her pride from deep within to ask Odin a burning question: "Allfather, do you not also mourn for the loss of your son? For the loss of Loki?"
Only this gives the King more pause than being asked about Frigga. His head snaps upward and his soft demeanor drops immediately. "Do not ask me about things you know nothing about!" he barks at her, finally meeting her gaze. "He was not my son. He was a traitor against Asgard. And you would be better served to know your place."
Sigyn is so taken aback by this response that she feels locked in place. Her lower lip trembles in fear, remembering the stories of Odin's wrath. She is only able to stammer a half-felt apology: "I'm...I'm sorry, Allfather, I..."
"Go. Go!" Odin shouts.
She has little choice but to stand and exit the chamber. But a small voice inside her cannot resist a single retort to his anger:
"I hope you know how much Asgard loved your sons. Both of them. Forgive me, Allfather." Sigyn curtseys slightly while bowing her head, and turns to leave quickly.
Odin stares in surprise, not just at the truthfulness of Sigyn, but at her boldness. He also cannot help but notice the flash of green beneath her robe: a cloth reserved for citizens much higher than her station.