Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters from Marvel Studios.

Part One

The Warriors' Arena

The first time Loki lays eyes on Sigyn, she's getting her ass kicked.

Or so it seems.

Thor had woken him up before dawn to show him some stupid new move with Mjolnir and dragged him to the Warriors' Arena, only to find that it's occupied.

As they step outside the Mead Hall, they notice Haldana, a friend of theirs and sole heir of the Lord Andor. She stands against the wall of the edifice, nervously tapping her foot as she watches the two fighters in the large, sunken arena.

With the colorful rays of light from the sunrise raining over the ring, Loki sees Sif and a woman about his age exchanging vicious blows. Sif continuously knocks the other woman onto the ground, but can never seem to pin her opponent down long enough to end the spar.

Inspecting Sif's adversary closer, he wonders who she is. She must be a warrior—she's in the training grounds designated only for warriors, after all—and only nobility can rise to such a position. He knows all the Lords and Ladies of Asgard, so why doesn't he recognize her?

She's awfully pretty, too. He can't imagine he'd simply never noticed her before.

His brother's booming voice pulls him away from his musings. "What do we have here," Thor inquires, addressing Haldana as he regards the display before him.

The young goddess turns to look at the men joining her on the side of the arena, apprehensively twisting a lock of her long, golden hair around one finger. Her lips turn down in an anxious frown. "I brought my sister here for a spar because I thought no one would be around at dawn, but then Sif showed up, flew into a rage and challenged her to a duel."

"Ah, so this is the bastard sibling, then," Thor remarks, chuckling. "I have heard many a complaint from Sif about her."

Loki raises an eyebrow at the revelation of the woman's identity, a bit confused. He had heard Andor's spurious offspring was a soldier and simply assumed that the child was a man. There were very few female soldiers, after all. Less than a dozen in the entire army.

It'd be awfully impressive if this woman is indeed a soldier. Likewise, it could explain why she's been able to keep up with Sif for so long. Usually the warrior finishes off her opponents in a matter of a few short minutes, but from what Loki can tell, they've been engaged in this skirmish for quite some time.

"Yes," Haldana sighs. "She's loathed her ever since we were little. I believe my mother spoke so ill of her that Sif grew to hate her before they even met."

Both Loki and Thor nod in understanding, knowing well how stubborn Sif can be, but Haldana isn't looking at them anymore, too engrossed in the fight between her half-sister and best friend. The brothers follow suit, turning their attention back to the arena.

Sif delivers a series of harsh, overhanded blows with her spear. The smaller woman manages to block all of them with her blade, but the force of the hits sends her to the ground, and her longsword slips from her grasp, flying across the ring.

With a victorious cry, Sif beams and spins around to give an extravagant finishing blow. However, as her back is turned, Haldana's sister duplicates herself and leaves behind her doppelgänger.

Suffice it to say, Loki is floored. He certainly hadn't expected to share the skill of illusionary magic with an illegitimate peasant girl. Although, he realizes her abilities are clearly lacking as she dashes away from her duplicate just outside of Sif's peripheral vision, unable to blend into her surroundings.

However, the trick works just as well. Sif brings her spear down on the woman's copy. By the time the illusion dispels, Haldana's sister is standing behind Sif with a dagger to her back.

"Ha," she shouts, a grin of victory across her face. "I've got you! Now, yield, you s—"

The woman's voice breaks off with a howl of pain as Sif's elbow snaps back and slams into her face. She stumbles back, raising her arm to deflect a stroke from her opponent's weapon. Once again, they begin trading blows.

Rather loudly, Thor acclaims, "That was quite impressive! I almost thought she'd had her."

For the first time since their arrival, Loki speaks up. "What are the stipulations of this duel," he asks, though not quite sure why he's interested.

"If my sister wins, Sif has to allow her to finish training here for the day," Haldana discloses. "If she loses, however, she must never return to the Warriors' Arena and cut off her hair."

Sif must truly despise this girl, Loki thinks. Asgardian women of all backgrounds prefer to keep their hair long. Short hair is often recognized as a symbol of servitude and low-birth. To make her cut her hair is to rub her nose in her loss in a surprisingly cruel fashion for a mere sparring duel. Besides, such terms seem very disproportionate.

Thor looks as though he too believes it's a bit harsh of a punishment, but says nothing.

At this point in the match, the soldier has had not one but two daggers knocked out of her hands, and she's scrambling to avoid the swipes of Sif's blades. Eventually, her inferior speed gets the best of her, and Sif lands a kick square in her chest. The strength behind the punt is enough to send her crashing into the wall in the space between the crown prince and her sister.

However, Loki notices that she seems to slow down ever so slightly just before she makes contact with the hard surface, somewhat lessening the impact of her collision. It almost appears as though she's using telekinesis, but the moment before he can really process it, Thor steps in front of her, asking, "Are you alright? I know the Lady Sif can—"

Sif shoves him out of her way before he can finish whatever he was going to say. She raises one pointed end of her spear to the other woman's neck and yells, "Yield!"

The woman merely smiles with surreptitious satisfaction. Sif snarls in outrage. Just as she parts her lips to bark out something else, Haldana's sister comes up behind Sif—it's now clear to everyone that she had by some means made another duplicate of herself sometime between hitting the wall and this very moment—and places a shortsword at the warrior's throat.

"No," she puffs out, blowing a loose strand of hair out of her face. "You first."

It looks as though she's won, and Loki can't help but feel oddly pleased with the outcome.

Withal, Sif suddenly bends and twists her body with the grace only a seasoned fighter could possess, once again turning on her opponent. She pushes the other woman down onto the declining steps that lead to the arena below and holds the blade of her metal lance to bastard's neck once more, gritting out, "Yield."

The woman's chest heaves with effort for a few seconds before she finally hangs her head, softly muttering, "I yield."

Momentarily appeased, Sif smirks and deactivates her weapon. "About time, peasant. You could have saved yourself a lot of pain if you had only surrendered earlier."

"My name is Sigyn," the woman declares savagely as she gets to her feet.

"Whatever," Sif sneers.

Now that she's so close, Loki takes a moment to examine her more closely. She has dark, mud-colored hair and eyes to match. Some of the characteristics of her form match her sister's—her nose and brow, for instance—but for the most part, her features are more ordinary than refined.

She's not quite short, most likely thanks to her mixed parentage as Asgardian nobility stand at roughly a foot above the lower classes, though she's not exactly tall either. She wears a short dress typical of female fighters, but it's noticeably threadbare, betraying her station in life.

Loki thinks she is utterly unremarkable, like any peasant he has ever seen.

He watches as Sigyn grasps her long braid at the base of her neck and brings her dagger behind her head to cut it off from the roots. Her freshly-cut chocolate locks spill past her ears, coming to rest above her shoulders in disarray. Eyes hard, she tosses the thick plait at Sif's feet and brazenly lifts her chin, face set in defiance and covered in drying blood.

Loki thinks she is utterly gorgeous, like no goddess he has ever seen.

As if she can hear his thoughts, her eyes suddenly snap to meet his, losing their fury all at once. Instead, they shine with surprise, as though she's only just noticed that the two sons of the Allfather had watched her lose a fight in a place she didn't belong.

He's practically certain she can hear his thoughts when those same sepia-brown eyes widen in overt embarrassment. Before he can even think to say anything, she lets out an inscrutable squawk, turns tail and promptly runs away at full speed, her uneven mane fluttering in the wind as she goes.

Sigyn, he thinks, is a rather lovely name.