So I Heard the Rumors
The days had come and gone since the beginning of the end. Asgard seemed to hold its breath as all of the people waited to catch the sound of Heimdall's horn sounding off from the bifrost. Indeed, the rest of the realms too seemed apprehensive and timid from the idea that Ragnarok was upon them. This, of course, went unnoticed on Midgard; but alas, Midgard had become aloof to the gods, choosing to forsake them for a new deity called Jesus. In an odd way, Midgard's ignorance was welcomed. Life continued onwards; the people did not hold back like the other races did. At least there was one place in the entire Tree that was normal.
But Midgard and its ignorance were far away from Asgard...
Rumors had spread like wildfire that the prophets on Midgard were correct—Loki, the greatest trickster the universe had ever witnessed, had betrayed them to lead the giants into Ragnarok. The people of Asgard worried greatly that he would appear and slay their great guardian, Heimdall, before he could sound his golden horn. To Thor's horror, the people had begun to place small livestock outside their house; they only prayed Fenrir would take the small piglets or chicks over their children. So, not to his surprise but nonetheless to his anger, the people had renamed Loki's title: the god of evil.
To his shock, people within the royal palace, people who had seen both he and Loki grow since they were but infants, agreed with these rumors. Among one of these people had been Sif. A great wound had been struck to the thunder god's heart when she had revealed the truth to him some days after the beginning. Though Sif and Loki had never been great friends, he by no means ever thought she held contempt in her heart for his brother. After all they had been through, all the blood they had shed for each other, all the centuries spent beside each other, and she dared to throw that all away? Did all of that mean so little to the Lady Sif?
She had apologized for her feelings towards Loki, but no amount of words could spare Thor of the reality that his brother was no longer welcomed in Asgard. No people considered having a meeting with Allfather to discuss the possibility of searching for Loki. The only person who had even asked Heimdall to search for Loki, or what remained of him, came from a mourning, crying, distraught Frigga. Though the tears stained her face, reddened her eyes to the point where they looked like a Jotun's eyes, and the lines on her face became as deep as the sea that surrounded Asgard, Heimdall had said no. Odin, Allfather, his father, had held his mother while she wept and begged him to search for Loki.
Still, Odin gave her no answer.
Did his father fear that he would lose Frigga if he told her no?
Or did he fear that if he told her yes, all they would find would be a body to bring home?
Thor was not like his brother who was good at reading body language, but the golden child—that was the new title Asgard had bestowed upon him after the beginning—new his father was most certainty not angry with Loki. If anything, Loki had always been the one to get away with actions that would have placed Thor in banishment to Midgard many times over. Thor had always envied Loki, for no matter what his brother did, Loki either talked his way out of trouble or Odin showed leniency towards him. His—their father had always been soft with Loki. Thor had always thought Loki the favored child as a result.
Sure Allfather had given him the throne, but he showed patience and love with Loki. He poured so much more of his time into Loki in an attempt to understand his second son. Odin encouraged the pale prince's abilities, giving unto him his own hall so that he may fill it with scrolls of magic and practice without disturbance. In return, Loki had built a golden wall for Asgard to protect them from the Jotun. The people had loved Loki for his generosity to Asgard; loved him as much as they had their golden boy.
Oh how quickly that love turned to hate.
Thor found himself hating Asgard's people for hating Loki. He himself had not forgiven Loki for what he did—Thor wasn't sure if he ever would forgive the trickster—but that did not mean he did not stop loving his brother. No, he mourned Loki because he still loved his brother. He never wished any harm to bestow him for his deeds. The thunder god wasn't sure if he wished Loki to be forgiven by Allfather for his deeds so they he may forgive him or to understand why Loki had done the deeds he had done. Allfather would not tell him what had come over his brother.
Without any answers, Thor had felt lost, disconnected, and grief.
His isolation had become noticeable.
In response, Odin had declared tonight be blessed with a grand feast, full of music, mead, and life. Thor, for once in his life, dreaded dragging his lead-filled feet to the mead hall. In his room, Thor could hear the echoes of the feast beginning without him … without Loki's grand illusions. He knew this feast would not be grand his father proclaimed. How could any feast be grand without Loki's great entertainment? It was his brother that made the feasts grand with his stories, magic, and wit. Loki was like a fish in water at feasts. He may have been cold at first but never was he more at home than socializing. These feasts were great because he was able to flaunt his silver tongue openly. For once, Loki took the spotlight over Thor.
And Thor didn't mind.
"Will you not come, Thor?"
Sif's voice stirred Thor. He raised his head to Sif. The warrior maiden stood in the doorway, across Thor's wide room; it felt like a canyon separated them with the golden floor not coated in any debris. Not to say his room was ever messy. Thor spent too much time outside his room to ever cause much of a mess—Loki had been the one that had scrolls tossed across the floor, failed experiments leaking strange colored substances onto the ground, and sometimes drops of blood. Thor's room was spacious, only including a rack for his armor in the corner next to an oak dresser, a large window and balcony to the South where storms gathered along the sea, his bed to the north to gaze out upon the storms, a collection of swords next to his armor, and a door to the East.
The prince's golden locks hung around his bronze face like a bad cloud. He sat hunched over, pondering much on his mind. That was another trait that separated him from Loki. Loki could ponder every outcome in a matter of seconds. Thor took minutes if not hours to arrive at the same conclusion. It was not simply because Thor was any less intelligent, but his mind operated differently than Loki's. He did not think about the possibilities as coldly as his brother. He took into account the passion of each possibility and explored that passion before either approving or disapproving of that course of action. Sif could see Thor had engrossed himself in this thinking.
"I hunger not for feasts in times of these, Sif," Thor confided. "I do not see how anyone could desire to feast when Asgard has lost a great son."
In her gleaming, golden top and ebony pants, she looked more man than woman. He supposed if it weren't for her breasts, she could pull off being manly. Not that it took away from her beauty; it only made her that much more exotic in Asgard. Sif was never one to bestow comfort onto people. She saw comfort as too much of a woman's trait. The maiden went as far as she could to rid herself of any feminine trait by becoming a great warrior in single combat. But for once, sympathy spilled onto her face. She gazed upon Thor with a heavy heart. For her to cross the room and place a hand on his shoulder was a great effort on her part to rekindle what had been lost in the beginning. "All wounds heal in time," she offered. Sif confidently smiled.
Thor could not return the smile. Sif's positive smile became a meager frown. She sighed. "Time will heal the wounds, but no amount of time will rid me of these scars from the wounds," Thor answered. He placed his large hand over Sif's. He so easily weaved his fingers between hers. Thor could brag that he knew Sif's hand as well as the back of his hand. There was content to be found in knowing some aspects of their lives had not changed. For that, the thunder god was grateful. "Shall I be your escort this evening, Sif?"
She shook her head. "No, Thor," she replied. "Fandral the romantic has insisted he be my escort this evening." There was an exhausted tone to her voice, but nonetheless a warm tone to his comrade's offer. Thor shook his head while grinning. Sif too grinned. "I am half expecting him to pledge his ever lasting love to me…" Her dark eyes darted to Thor; he looked back at her, seeing the hurt stir in her soul. Her face was tighter, and her smile no longer genuine. Sif could see the apology written in his eyes. Thor squeezed her hand for it was the only comfort he could offer her. "But—" She was not one to dwell on her emotions. Sometimes, like now, Thor worried if her need to be masculine didn't do her more harm than good. "Sigyn needs a new escort. Will you escort her?"
Thor raised his left brow to Sif's unusual kindness. "Since when has the great Sif cared for Sigyn?" he questioned. "You and she are docile enemies on the best of days…"
"Typically not, but Theoric is down at the feast with no Sigyn by his side," Sif explained. "From what the rumors are, Sigyn has been a scarce sight in Njord's hall."
"As if that is new," Thor remarked. "Sigyn is always shy. She is incapable of speaking here without—" He hesitated as his mind was dragged back to the memories of his fallen brother. "Without Loki here," the thunder god finished. "Even when my brother was here, she hardly spoke two words to Allfather, let alone anyone else."
"Yes, she is, Thor, but apparently she has never been this shy." Sif paused for a moment as the sound of Njord's deep laugh echoed up to the room. There was a strain to his voice that could not go unnoticed. "Njord is concerned for her since she is still young into her womanhood. He was not able to find her before he left and worries. Theoric yearns to go after his fiancée; however, he is needed at the feast so that he may propose a toast for better days."
Thor knew when Sif was giving a gift, no matter how subtle. "Thank you," he offered. Sif nodded. Regretfully, she pulled her hand out from underneath Thor's. He could see the remorse in her actions, and he knew inside Sif she was beating herself up for showing this much weakness. Thor stood up and quickly wrapped the young maiden in his arms. Sif was rigid as always and refused to give into what she wanted most because it would never be how she wanted his affection. Still, this would be the apology she would have to settle for again. Thor sighed into her long, raven locks. "Enjoy yourself, Sif."
Sif pulled away from Thor before her knees would give out from her weight. "I shall do my best, Thor," she promised; her voice told Thor she did so only because of all they had endured, of their trust, and the love they shared for each other as deep friends. Swiftly she turned on her heels and headed for the door. Sif took one last glance of Thor in all his glorious armor before disappearing behind the wall.
Thor did not hesitate to seize his beloved Mjollnir and dash off through his balcony. With a simple jump, the Aesir god was as weightless and free as his father's messenger ravens. Asgard was spread beneath him. In the setting sunlight, the grand, shining city on a hill sparkled with the sun's fading colors of blue, purple, red, orange, and pink. Even the sea that encompassed them did not appear blue, but a shade of yellow, orange, and pink on the surface. Blue flecks would sparkle off of its smooth surface. All too soon, distinguishing the ocean from the sky became impossible. The time of Rökkr was upon Asgard.
The thunder god look ahead at the dying sun and saw a tiny black dot. There, he would go to where the exiled king of Njord had made his hall on Aesir soil. Loki had told him the trip took three days on horseback to reach the Vanir hall. He told Thor that he had often transformed himself into a salmon to make the trip quicker and more interesting. Granted, on more than one occasion, Loki had been caught in a net by the local fishermen. The fishermen would be shocked, as they would haul up a full man and prince of Asgard in their net. Every time Odin's hall would burst into laughter when Loki would drag his wet self back to his room. Everyone would hear the trickster ranting on how he was running late now to a meeting with Njord.
Then he, the Warriors Three, and Lady Sif would laugh at the then twenty year-old trickster. No one had quite understood then why Loki was so interested in visiting the hostage-king's hall for silly social calls that Huginn and Muninn could have settled. He recalled how his mother would smile at his slender son while chiding at Thor to be quiet. Odin, too, seemed to chuckle at Loki's actions, but never did he condone him. No, Thor and the others had thought Allfather was encouraging Loki by sending him on these social calls. Well, they hadn't been bothered by Loki's actions at first, but after a while, the halls became dull without Loki creating chaos. Allfather remarked one day how the four of them seemed bored without Thor's brother. To their surprise, Odin admitted he was bored without Loki.
Three years after Loki's unusual behavior had begun, on the longest day, Odin held a great feast for no occasion. Well, no occasion until the hostage-king and his family arrived. Loki rode beside them on the chestnut horse Glenr with a gangly girl wrapped in a green, fish-like dress holding onto him. The girl was obviously not of Vanir blood because of her wolf eyes—the Vanir have bird black pupils with a golden iris of a sea gull. She was not built like a Vanir; Sigyn was much too frail and sickly looking. Thor nor his comrades could tell of what race she belonged. To which they decided she was a half-breed.
Almost immediately, the group knew why Loki was always running off to the hostage-king's hall. The way Loki was careful, patient, and tender with the young child was not character for Thor's calculating, sly, and mischievous brother. The child clung to Loki's side and held his large hand in her small hand. Her wavy fiery hair trailed behind her like Loki's green cloak did in the ocean breeze. All night, Thor, the trio, and lady were waiting for Loki spit out foul words or a cruel trick upon the ever so shy girl. Instead, he had her sitting on his lap, rattling off to her in Vanir tongue. The groups of friends realized before long that Loki was keeping her attention on him so that she would not notice the stares Odin's guests were giving her.
All of them had been floored that Loki was acting as her protector.
Sif had sworn that Loki was only being her protector for some awful prank. They had agreed with the warrior maiden. Loki never did anything without a purpose…
Sigyn—they only learned her name later when she left with Njord—was much different than they had originally thought. She had strange eyes that reminded them of a light elf, Ljósálfar. Of course, she had red hair like the Ljósálfar. Though distinctively, or maybe not, Sigyn had more golden skin like an Asgardian. Each and every one of Thor's friends, and even himself, were a bit disgusted by her clearly mixed heritage. Thor was even ashamed that Loki associated with someone of bad blood.
His disgust for Sigyn's heritage never quelled. Yet, out of that disgust, Thor understood why no one knew of Sigyn outside of the hostage-king's hall. Njord was deeply protection of his foundling. The exiled king had kept the girl confined to his hall so that she wouldn't have to endure any ridicule. To his surprise, Loki was genuinely protective of Sigyn; hence forth, Loki went to the Vanir hall instead of bringing her to Odin's hall. He hadn't wanted Thor or his allies to know of her because they would think ill of her because of her blood. To some extent, Thor felt Loki had to be ashamed of her heritage and kept her secret as a result. After all, she would never be anything but a half-breed, even with being a foundling to an exiled king.
Henceforth why, Thor was assuming this now, Loki never courted Sigyn. Not to say Sigyn wasn't a beautiful maiden—Thor would admit in private he had lusted after her some nights—but she, and he hated the way it sounded inside of his head, was not deserving of Loki. Sigyn had done nothing special or been born of royal blood. He loathed the feeling of being a hypocrite since Jane was not of royal blood either, but, there was always a but, she had aided him during his time on Midgard. For that, stories would be told of the Midgardian who helped a god. That alone made her worthy of him. Already people were telling rumors of the new goddess, Jane.
Thor landed on the soft sands of the Vanir hall. Under his own weight, the thunder god sank an inch into the white sand. The waves rolled over his feet, causing him to sink farther into the icky, sticky sand. He couldn't hide the scowl. The warrior looked to his right, acknowledging the thick thicket and woods that lined the beach for miles. The spring flowers on the trees and bushes were turning brown around the edges from the early summer heat. The grass atop the beach dunes was charred brown and sickly yellow.
Not but fifteen yards away, Thor set his gaze upon the chocolate woodland reindeer. The bull's impressive antlers appeared to be as tall and wide as Thor. The deadly points were only amplified in the dying sunlight—the sun was just a sliver above the horizon. The ocean curled around the animal's hocks. Atop the great beast was a small, relative to the animal, person. In the sunlight, he saw the person's flame colored hair dance to the rhythm of the wind. The reindeer turned in his in the same direction as his masters, towards Thor.
"Sigyn," Thor called as he approached.
As a woman, she kept her doll face, childish eyes, fat lower lip, and thick, red eyelashes. But much about her had changed. She was no longer gangly but by no means a robust woman. She was slender with a tiny waist and no hips or bottom. If it weren't for her tiny waist, she would look more like a man than a woman. The best way Thor could describe her body was stringy and lithe like a foal but alien all the same. In fact, like a foal, she was small, perhaps five feet at most. That too, he assumed came from her Ljósálfar blood. Sigyn had breasts that were neither small nor large. She had a long neck that only added to her fragile, doll appearance. Like most Vanir women, she had shaven the right side of her head to demonstrate she was engaged—the rest of her head she would shave off for her wedding day.
The hair that was left tickled the bottom of the reindeer's creamy barrel. A vine of white flowers ran through her hair. On her expose right side Thor could see the flexible, bat-like ear that was trademark of the light elves. Anymore she looked full Ljósálfar. Especially since her skin had been bleach of all its color and glistened more like diamonds than actual skin. Had Loki sat next to her, he would have looked like he was tan. In a way, she seemed ghostly as a result. Thor was left to wonder if this was indeed the tan, little girl who had been able to expose a different side to his brother.
Perhaps Loki was right? Maybe Sigyn wasn't a half-breed but a full Ljósálfar?
For her sake, Thor dearly hoped…
Like always, Sigyn was dressed in a simple, faded emerald dress. The material was light as a feather and loose against her body. The dress wrapped her neck into a knot that draped over her right shoulder. Her back was exposed, and Thor could not help but watch as the sunlight danced off the sprinkles of water that rolled down her smooth skin. Of course, he could not ignore the shimmer off her left hand. He smiled. There was still someone who loved Loki as much as he and honored him through wearing his ring.
She tipped her head to Thor as he came beside her. Not to his surprise, Sigyn did not address him verbally. Instead she regarded him with weary eyes and tightened her grip on the leather reins that bound the beast to her will. "I have been sent to retrieve you for Theoric. Your presence is much missed in Odin's hall tonight," Thor spoke through his rolling, vibrant voice. Sigyn merely bent her head forward; her hair covered her eyes. He was left to guess what her facial expression was. "Will you not come, Sigyn?"
"I shall not, my golden prince," Sigyn spoke. Her voice was light and soft as a whisper, but the words were growls that came from a wolf. The words were hard to understand. This was just more reason Thor disliked the Vanir dialect.
"May I inquire as to why?" Thor questioned.
She was silent. Thor sighed. Of course, Sigyn would never answ—"I have been recalling Loki as of late. It has been some years since he left us, and that date will be upon us in a few weeks." She baffled the thunder god. She had spoken more words to him in a moment than she had in all the years he had known her. "Nearly four years have passed… I wonder how many more years he shall be gone from us before he graces Asgard with his presence once more," Sigyn told through a sorrowful voice.
Thor stared hard at her and her words. "My brother is no longer with us, Sigyn," he corrected painfully. He felt his heart weigh heavier than it had in years. Quiet literally he was scared that his heart would fall through his chest and plop down on the sand. "He will never strut in Asgard again."
She giggled.
The fifteen year-old dared to giggle at his brother's death!
He growled. The anger boiled in his stomach. Of any person in Asgard, the last to laugh at Loki's death would have been, besides his family, Sigyn. She had been so terribly close to him. She had been Loki's shadow, always following him either in person or spirit. "Explain yourself," Thor demanded viciously.
Sigyn looked to him with a soft, childish smirk. "I do not believe Loki is dead," she explained lightly. "Loki is simply hiding. He shall be back when he feels ready. I shall wait for him to return as always."
"How would you know if Loki is dead or not?" Thor inquired; his voice was bitter and raw like a lemon. "I saw my brother fall into the heavens with the bifrost with my own eyes. Allfather was a witness to the tragedy."
She grinned bigger and shook her head from side-to-side. "No, no," Sigyn replied politely. "Loki is alive. I am as sure of it as the sun will raise tomorrow, my golden prince. Loki would have told me goodbye if he did not plan on returning to Asgard." Her golden wolf eyes rested on Thor, not with blind hope but confidence. She ran her fingers over the golden ring Loki had given her years earlier. Her eyes and Thor's fell on the ring. "Have faith and continue to love him, my golden prince. That is the most you can do until he returns." With a light kick, Sigyn ordered her beast to head to her father's hall.
"How can you be so confident in him?" Thor inquired as he walked beside the reindeer.
Sigyn looked down upon him, though not with any negative emotions. "You should know, my golden prince. You are his brother," she commented.
Thor found the goddess easy to talk to; this surprised him, pleasantly mind you. Her soft voice was soothing, positive, and warm. He was reminded that the Vanir were peaceful, wise people who dwelled more in the present and future than the past. The thunder god welcomed the change of tone. He was growing tired of living in the past and being surrounded by people who spoke of rumors through cruel tones. "I fear I may not be his brother," Thor confided.
"Why would you doubt your bond?" Sigyn asked.
Thor was hesitant to speak of that fateful day. The wound was still raw, and what little healing his heart had felt was ripped away. "He claimed I was not his brother," he spoke; his voice was strained. Her face was grave, and she looked forward. Thor could sense the change in her mood. Thor squeezed his eyebrows together. "You are not surprised, Sigyn?"
"No," she whispered. She took in a deep breath. "The turmoil in Loki was growing before your coronation. He had been losing his way for some time. I could see it in the threads, Thor." Sigyn hung her head low, maybe in defeat, sorrow, or a combination. But best yet, she spoke to him as a mourning friend instead of a prince. "He had not been happy with Asgard in some years. I assume he felt caged here, trapped, and condemned to be your shadow as Odin's blood brother had been to him." Sigyn was choking on the inside from guilt. She could not hold back the tears that pooled along her eyes and overran onto her cheeks. "I fear he shall not come back to Asgard because he is now a free raven."
Thor could only looked forward. He had never been good with comforting or offering comforting words. No, he never knew what to say, and more often than not, his words came out wrong like his father's. The thunder god never meant ill by his words, but he never could grasp the art of weaving them to his will. So, he had learned he was best to remain silent and allow his brother to speak for him. "I will trust your word, Sigyn," Thor said. "For you may have known him better than I."
"But he loved you more than I, Thor," Sigyn quickly replied. The reindeer halted in front of the hostage-king's gate. The gate was created out of out of limestone, coral, and wood. Like the Vanir, there was no intricate design engraved on the smooth surface or bright gold. It was simple and elegant like their life. The gate began to push itself open when in the presence of Sigyn. Thor caught a glimpse of a grassy field behind the gate. A small herd of reindeer was grazing. Some trees dotted the landscape, offering shade to the new reindeer young. Far off Thor only saw the shadows of the buildings that the Vanir royalty called home.
"I bid thee a farewell, my golden prince," she spoke. "Tell Theoric I shall await his return."
"Sigyn," he called. The lady stopped her beast. She looked over her small shoulders at Thor. "Your last statement; did you love my brother?"
There was that same, nervous, painful smile Sif had adorned earlier than evening. She turned her head away from his for a second. She licked her lips before chewing and sucking on her bottom lip. Her bottom lipped flared bloody red. Sigyn sighed before saying, "Of course," she answered in a whisper. "I shall never stop to love Loki. He is my greatest friend."
"No," Thor corrected; he pinched his nose, hating how his words came out wrong again. "I mean as lovers. Did you ever want to marry him?" Sigyn stared at him with large, cautious eyes. "I am not meaning to intrude on your personal business; I am simply trying to understand what brought my brother to let go. I feel as if I never truly knew him. I feel as if you may be the only one who knew him."
She held her head like a small child would to make his or her self appear smaller and more innocent, less threatening. "Indeed, I know much of Loki, but Thor," Sigyn replied patiently. "Loki is not one to give away his secrets easily. I shall honor that aspect of him by keeping the secrets in trusted to me a secret." She felt warmth inside of her chest. The warmth relaxed her strained, tense heart with the knowledge that he had enough trust to tell her secrets he would not dare tell his brother. To be chosen by Loki with his trust was as great as to be appointed one of Odin's sentry guards like Theoric.
Thor nodded, seeming to understand her. He would not push to lose what little trust Sigyn had in him through demanding questions. "I shall respect your wishes, Sigyn," he commented; there was bitterness to his voice. The bitterness wasn't out of spite, but the heartache he felt. She offered him a kind smile before commanding her beast forward once more. The gates of the hostage-king's hall closed around her till he could see no more of the Ljósálfar girl.
Thor stood outside the gate pondering till the moon was high in the sky. Then he narrowed his eyes upon the broken bifrost. His heart raced with an idea and new hope. He reached for his hammer and thrust the weapon forward. He launched himself into the air towards the one person who was gifted enough to see any and all things in the universe, Heimdall.
A/N: Thank you to Lila, Yuzu, Ox King, and byebye-babeh for reviewing! You guys deserve a bunch of giant chocolate chip cookies!
Here's another chapter. I'm still unsure whether to continue this or not. I guess we'll see...
