I'm actually super excited to write this, and I'm happy I finally got the first chapter done! So this is actually a totally new take on something I started earlier, Sigyn in mythology has very little character and she's incredibly boring and useless in the comics, so there's a ton of different ways to take her character. Please read and review!

Loki stood overlooking the city, watching lines of ambassadors come to give their condolences for his mother and himself. It got rather confusing being Odin, his foster father tended to be rather thick when it came to the intricacies of politics and he often had to dumb down his decrees to avoid suspicion. He also hadn't regulated the colonies nearly as well as he should have, leaving many of them in a state of independent disrepair. Their allies were more than slightly miffed about the closing of the Bifrost and Loki feared their political and economic alliances may be in jeopardy.

The Vanaheim colony was relatively well off, but remained dependent on Asgard for many of its manufactured goods and military aid. Freya and her brother Freyr led the procession, her husband Od rode with their daughter Gemesi beside him. Their other daughter Hnoss remained in Vanaheim while her mother and uncle were away. Freya and Freyr's father had been nothing more than a stupid drunk, sinking most of his money into gambling and high end courtesans. He angered dozens of warlords and kings, including Odin himself, and when he died the Allfather considered placing as Asgardian governor in charge of the Vanaheim colony. However Freya immediately claimed leadership, and proved to be incredibly capable as a political leader, allowing her brother to take over the military. Frigga was one of her strongest supporters and eventually Odin agreed to let her keep power. Loki had heard many stories about Freya's beauty, and even from high above he could tell they weren't far off. She had hair the color of jet, so dark it seemed to suck up the light around it, in comparison her face was as radiant as the sun. She had the slanted, relatively close together eyes one often saw in Vanaheim, and her nose sloped steeply to a full, wide mouth. Freyr was no different, both he and his sister were well known for their immense beauty and flawless olive skin. Od was another story altogether, he was older than his wife and war torn. The right half of his face was marred by a puckered red scar and his hair was already mostly gray, but Loki remembered him as a very kind, soft spoken man. Odin sent him to Vanaheim as a last ditch effort to avoid sending in an army, and he was immediately enchanted by Freya's immense beauty. Their story was one of true love, if a bit odd. Freya was as strong minded as she was beautiful, and was at first furious to find that Odin was unwilling to send soldiers. Od was supposed to train Vanaheim natives to fight, but Freya demanded further military aid, claiming her soldiers were perfectly capable men only lacking in numbers. After months of fierce negotiations Odin finally gave her two large armies of Asgardian soldiers. By then Freya had grown quite fond of Od, and they were married within a year. Freya would likely raise the question of independence while in Asgard, Loki was prepared for negotiations as long as they retained a strong trade agreement.

The land of Alfheim was extremely hot, largely desert with a few oases. Its people had skin tones ranging from bronze to black as night. They all had incredibly light, almost white blond hair often worn long. None of the men had beards, a surprising sight in Asgard. The royal family themselves were easy to spot, they wore long white robes that covered them from head to toe. Unlike most leaders they rode in the back of the crowd, followed by only a single line of guards. None of the royals spoke any Asgardian, and their interpreters were some of the most respected people in the realm. The interpreters wore royal white as well, though they didn't hide their faces. The king was called Alflin, his wife Alflinessa and their daughter Alfina. The names were recycled with every new generation, they were really nothing more than titles. In Alfheim the rulers were supposed to be nothing more than an extension of their people, thus the lack of names and hiding of their faces. Loki found it a bit tedious and rather odd, and more than a little funny.

As the Alfheimen envoy soon came into step with the Vanaheimen group, Freyr fell back to ride beside Alfina. Loki had heard rumors of marriage negotiations between the two groups, and based on the young elf's tinkling laughter he could only assume they were true.

The last group to enter the city was a large, walking band of dwarves. They were far from tall but made up for their height with girth and richly decorated armor. They were well-known smiths and often made Asgardian armor, Thor's hammer and Loki's helmet were both dwarf-made. They had no real king, only clan leaders that were joined in a rather fragile alliance. Each clan was fiercely independent, and Loki knew from experience never to confuse one for another. The dwarven alliance was often under serious stress, but none of them were willing to put their trade with Asgard in jeopardy by making any sort of attack.

"Fitch," Loki boomed, it was nearly impossible to say anything quietly while he was in Odin's form. "Has Heimdell closed the Bifrost?"

The skinny, rat-like secretary raced through his notes. "He claims there's a call from Jotunheim, Allfather."

"The Jotuns refused our summons, have they changed their minds?"

"He claims….no this can't be right sire. He claims it's a call from the Utgard colony."

Loki turned and laughed harshly. "Utgard colony? I disbanded that centuries ago."

"I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding, Allfather. Should I send a messenger?"

"No, I shall go there myself. I have not seen the city's reconstruction efforts in a few days after all. I'm sure our guests will want some time to settle in before we begin the discussions."

"Yes, Allfather."

Sleipnir was one of Loki's first creations. He really could not explain what he was thinking, giving some poor foal eight legs instead of four, but it seemed like a genius idea when he was young. The poor creature's mother had abandoned it after seeing the extra legs, and Odin ordered the young boy to raise the horse on his own. He spent months sleeping in a small cot in Sleipnir's stable, bottle feeding the clumsy, awkward horse until it could eat on its own. When he was full grown Odin had him saddled and trained as a warhorse, much to Loki's horror. By then the horse was more like a child than a pet to him, but his father ignored his cries and rode the eight-legged beast into many battles. Finally, after two huge wars and multiple skirmishes Sleipnir spent most of his time in the large horse pasture munching on grass and running with his awkward gait. He was still a rather young horse by Asgardian standards, they lived about half as long as Asgardians themselves, but when Loki took the throne he immediately released the horse from his saddle and bit.

So Loki rode an older mare who seemed perfectly happy to carry his weight. She was quite majestic, with a black body and flaming red mane and tail, no one could argue she wasn't fit for a king. However she was no war horse, and if Loki were the real Odin she wouldn't have been able to carry him in full armor. She liked Loki, though, unlike most animals and put up with Sleipnir better than most horses.

Asgard was rebuilding itself after the attack from the dark elves, and most of the city was in working shape. The poorer districts were the first to be rebuilt, since Loki knew the rich wouldn't put up with the poor clogging up their streets. Many of the wealthier citizens hired private builders to fix their homes and streets, and they took a few liberties in the design. Now interspersed with classic Asgardian architecture were Vanaheimen glass ceilings and Alfheimen spired roofs. In the last few months the city had become much more of a melting pot, bringing in new ideas and trade from every other realm. Even Jotun's had their place in the city, if indirectly. Jotunheim produced some of the strongest metal to be found in all nine realms, and Laufey's successor was slowly beginning to warm to the idea of increased trade and commerce with Asgard.

The Bifrost still held unhappy memories for Loki, and he couldn't help but wince passing the slightly flawed section where he'd nearly fallen to his death. Since then it had been rebuilt but the flaw was still there in the bridge, like a scar that could never heal. Heimdell watched him coming in silence, the point of his sword resting on the bridge. Following his acquittal the guard had become even more vigilant, a bit obsessed really. He rarely left the Bifrost and when he did he spent most his time either asleep or staring out the window making sure no invaders made it through. He never suspected a ruse, and Loki was thankful for that. Despite all his swagger he was truly terrified of the man.

"Allfather," Heimdell said.

"Heimdell. I understand there's been a call from Jotunheim." Loki replied as he climbed down from the saddle. Odin's old bone creaked under his own weight and he once again cursed the moment he came up with this convoluted plan.

"Yes, my lord. A young woman claims to be an envoy from Utgard colony, she is accompanied by two guards. Should I let her through?"

"Is she armed?"

"Not that I can tell, sire, but her guards carry crossbows and knives."

"Let them through, I wish to speak to these Utgardians."

"Yes, Allfather."

The Bifrost whirled to life as Heimdell returned his sword to the device. Three figures, one huge and two slightly smaller, began to take form by the entrance. Finally, with one last push the three fell forward to their hands and knees, fully formed and obviously starstruck.

The two guards shot to their feet first, gripping their knives and standing on either side of their employer. Said woman still crouched, her face was covered by a thick black cloak but Loki could still see her back shake. She slowly pulled herself to her feet and smoothed out her dark tunic and trousers before slowly pulling back the hood.

"My name is Sigyn of Utgard," she spoke in an almost husky accent as the hood fell away. "I apologize for coming at such short notice, Allfather, but it appears our invitation got lost."

Loki's hand flew to the broadsword at his hip and Heimdell flew into action, pressing the blade against the young woman's throat. Her guards brandished their knives but she raised a hand to stop them. "You are a traitor to the realm, Sigyn," Heimdell snapped. "Why have you returned?"

The woman smiled and turned to look Loki in the eye. "You know very well why I have come, Allfather. I demand justice for the crime against me, and my people."

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