Sigyn was awoken early the next morning when she felt Loki sit up in bed. He had fallen asleep while embracing her, and remained in that position throughout the night. Loki stretched and rolled out from underneath the covers. In the light of dawn, his pale skin resembled marble. Before he could make it any farther, Sigyn placed a hand on his arm. Loki started, and turned back towards Sigyn.
"I did not realize that you were awake," he whispered, voice hoarse with sleep.
"I want to talk to you," Sigyn blurted out. Confused, Loki reclined and propped his head up with his arm.
"What about?" He inquired suspiciously.
"Our marriage." Loki exhaled heavily at this and rubbed his eyes.
"It is too early for this," he began, "I am too tired to have this conversation." Sigyn's eyes began to mist with tears.
"I am too tired to continue this way," she spat, "I am tired of being hurt by you. I am tired of having meaningless intercourse. I feel like a palace whore!" Her words built in ferocity until she was shouting. Loki sat in silence for a few moments, chewing the inside of his cheek.
"What do you want?" he asked, seething.
"I want to be loved by my husband," she retorted, wiping the tears from her eyes. "Is that such a terrible thing to ask?"
"Fine," he shrugged and sprung off the bed, "I can leave you. I can use the excuse that you are barren. We will both be happier." Sigyn's eyes widened in horror. She had hoped for some sort of breakthrough in their relationship. She did not expect—or want—this outcome. Every man would see her as unfit for marriage.
"Please," she begged, "please do not leave me!" She crawled towards the edge of the bed, narrowing the space between them. Loki avoided her pleading eyes.
"You want a man who will love you," he stated, "and I prefer to be alone. This is for the best." Sigyn collapsed into a bawling heap as Loki dressed for the day. He left the room, leaving Sigyn naked and abandoned.
The morning passed in a haze of misery. Sigyn half-heartedly donned her nightgown, desperately seeking comfort in the warmth of the cloth. At noon she heard a sharp rap at the door. After quickly pulling herself together, she hesitantly opened it. A palace guard, stern and terse, greeted her with a nod.
"Prince Loki has announced his divorce from you, my lady," he declared, "I am here to assist you from the palace grounds." Sigyn choked back a sob.
"But—my belongings—" she stammered.
"My men will pack your possessions for you." He replied. As he spoke, a group of guards rushed past the door and into the chamber. They began haphazardly tossing her property into a single trunk. They finished in a matter of minutes; Sigyn did not have many belongings. "I am afraid it is time for you to leave." He concluded. Sigyn nodded, tears streaming down her face, and followed the guard out of the chamber. Still in her nightgown, Sigyn felt humiliated. This walk was the longest of her life. The guard led her to the palace gates, where his men dropped her trunk.
"Where will I go?" Sigyn knew this man could not answer. As a divorcee, the noblewomen would not accept her back into their ranks. She had no place to stay. The guard could not formulate a response, and turned on his heel back towards the palace. Dejected, Sigyn lifted her trunk and made her way into the nearby village. She found an inn and asked for a room, but was denied when she confessed that she had no money. Sigyn dragged her trunk outside once more, and began to openly weep. Night began to fall on the village.
A woman approached Sigyn after a few moments. Her garish dress pushed her breasts up towards her chin, and her face was heavily painted. She laid a hand on Sigyn's shoulder.
"Do you need a place to stay?" Her eyes, full of sympathy, bored into Sigyn's. Sigyn weakly nodded. "What is your name, dear?" She asked.
"Sigyn," she replied, "and yours?"
"Nott," she responded, "come with me." Nott held her hand out, beckoning Sigyn to take it. Sigyn did so, pulling her trunk behind her as they walked. They passed several inns and taverns, making their way towards the edge of the village. They came upon a tall building with brightly lit windows. Nott guided Sigyn inside. As soon as she crossed the threshold, her heart fell into her stomach. She found herself in a hallway lined with closed rooms, each bustling with the activities of its occupants. Sigyn knew those sounds all too well.
"I am not a—" Sigyn was cut off by Nott.
"None of us started out this way," Nott began, "we had hopes and dreams for our lives. But it looks like you can choose either this life or starvation." Nott's eyes were burdened with the pain of her profession. Her face was lined with age—or was it simply the result of the life she led? Sigyn assessed her options. She had been intimate with a man she didn't love for over five years; she had a hard time being indignant at the prospect. She closed her eyes, and accepted her new fate.
"I will do what I have to." Sigyn conceded. Nott nodded in agreement.
"You are brave." She squeezed Sigyn's hand. "Now we must get you ready."
