Warning: None!

A/N: I just wanted to tell everyone not to expect updates over the weekend as I'll be away at camp! Sorry for the wait in advance.


Chapter Seven—A Decision


"I'm not sure this is such a good idea," Balder said, warily, as he trailed behind his sister as the two siblings descended the great steps that lead from the palace's entrance hall and down to the grand courtyard.

"Of course it is," Sigyn replied, over her shoulder. "We haven't seen him in nearly three weeks!" She missed her older brother. She missed his cheery smile every morning, his booming laughter that filled the halls of the palace. She missed sitting in the shade and teasing Thor as he sparred, she missed watching Thor, Sif, and the Warriors Three hold eating contests at feasts despite the Emperor's glares at them. And, even though he would never admit it, Balder felt the same exact way.

Ever since Balder had informed Sigyn that their older brother was stationed at the Aesir century along the northern walls of the city, she had been itching to go visit him. Unfortunately for her, Balder suddenly found himself overwhelmed with an array of not only duties that he had to fulfill as heir apparent but new lessons to be crammed into his already busy—in his opinion—schedule. Balder was not at all pleased by this, often remaking to Sigyn that he did not see any need for etiquette lessons when rescuing an imprisoned damsel. She would promptly tell him to stop whining even though such lessons hindered his capability to accompany her to the century post, since she most certainly was not going alone.

Balder just shook his head at his sister's determination and fell into stride with her as they walked along. Glancing around the palace's courtyard, Balder caught sight of another red headed woman, this one with shorter hair and frame then his sister and he couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. He rarely saw another red headed person around other than Sigyn and it always caught his eye when most Asgardians had brown or blond hair. "Hey, Sigyn, look," he said, indicating the woman, "Another red head."

"Yes, amazing isn't it? That someone can have the same hair color as me," Sigyn replied, distractedly as she led the way from the gates of the palace, before adding, "Though, I did meet her just the other day. Her name is Saga, a military strategist for Father and his generals."

"Really?" Balder said, surprised by this news. He opened his mouth to ask for further elaboration but his sister was moving into the streets of Idavoll at a rapid pace that Balder hurried to keep up with. It sometimes was frightening how determined his sister could become when she was on a self-assigned mission. She was very much alike to Thor, or at least the old Thor, in that sense.

Balder attempted to draw her into conversation, but decided it was a lost cause after at least five attempts. It seemed Sigyn was too keen on navigating the twisting and turning streets of the city to pay much attention to her little brother. In Balder's opinion, there was a much simpler route to the century post where their older brother was stationed, as the pair weaved through an obstacle course of stalls in the spice markets, but he kept this to himself. Sigyn would probably just glare coldly at him and he would rather spare himself.

"Here we are," Sigyn announced an hour after the two had set out. Balder blinked up at the plain wall that was set with an archway, ivy climbing up it being the only remarkable part.

"Well," observed Balder. "This is underwhelming."

"I'd have to agree," Sigyn replied, a smile curving up the edges of her mouth.

The two siblings stood together in silence for a moment before Balder sighed and said, "Well, we came all this way, didn't we? No point in just standing outside the post."

"I suppose you do have a point," Sigyn muttered, following Balder's lead through the archway and exiting the busy, cobblestone street to enter a cool, shaded courtyard. It was completely deserted, save for them, and both prince and princess wore identical frowns. "This is the right place…" she mumbled.

"Isn't it?" Balder finished for her after a beat of silence. Before he could say anything else, Sigyn was wandering towards the entrance to, what looked like, the century's training yards. Peering in, they say a small crowd gathered around two combatants that were locked in close combat. Curious, Sigyn made her way to join on the outskirts of the group, Balder following reluctantly behind.

Standing on tip-toes to as to attempt to get a good view of the match, Sigyn had to restrain a gasp of shock before hurriedly turning to Balder. "Balder!" she said, unnecessarily as she already had his attention. "One of the legionnaires fighting is Thor!"

"Really?" Balder said, seeming to perk up at the mention of their brother and craned his neck, attempting to pull himself to his full fourteen-year-old height. It was a difficult task for the prince, who still remained as tall as he had been when he was ten and with the broad backs of the soldiers in front of them blocking much of the spar, it was a difficult task. Finally catching sight of his brother, his blond hair still cropped short and stubble alone his jaw line, Balder nodded his approval. "Nice."

Sigyn scowled at her younger brother before turning her anxious gaze back to Thor. She watched as their swords locked for a brief moment, then the blades arched around together, cutting the air, Thor leveraging his opponent's weapon from his hand and sending it soaring through the sky. Her breath caught in her throat, not daring to break the heavy silence that followed.

Thor's opponent, a lean darker haired legionnaire, slowly turned to face Thor. He nodded his respect for Thor's fighting abilities. There was some kind of understandment in the look the two shared, as Thor broke into a grin and a smirk spread across the other's face and he said, with a laugh, "And that, everyone, is how you lose a match and make yourself look like a total idiot."

The crowd burst into laughter at this as Thor's opponent went over to exchange a handshake with Thor, both clapping each other on the shoulder. Sigyn couldn't help but to smile and glance down at Balder, saying approvingly, "Well, it looks like we don't have to worry about Thor." Balder nodded his agreement and the two walked, side by side, from the Aesir century post, picking their way back through the streets of Idavoll and to the royal palace.


The throne room of Utgard, having been decorated majestically for the trials, was now nothing compared to the splendor of it now that a coronation ceremony was to be held. The warlords all were in their finest attire, their blue Markings painted on in designs that proclaimed their loyalty to the king apparent. The golden braziers along the sides of the room gleamed with polish while not only the emerald and gold of the sigil of Utgard adorned the great walls, but was accompanied by the house colors of every warlord in Jotunheim; all of them having been defeated by Loki and offering their house crests to be added to the walls to signify their allegiance to the throne.

Unlike before, not only did the warlords occupy the room but so did their families, the commanders of Jotunheim's armies, esteemed citizens, and common Jotun folk. All of them dressed in their finest, their excited chatter filling the great hall to a nearly deafening din. Thiazi, looking regal in the burgundy and silver of Thrymheim, observed the throng with keen eyes, a smile hidden underneath his neatly trimmed beard. In his hands was a gleaming crown, crafted of the pure gold from under the Jotun Mountains and set with emeralds from the mines within the royal forest.

Forged over the twenty-nine nights of the coronation trials, the crown was made to appear like that of a stag's antlers, interlocking with one another to form the circlet before branching up into a pair of impressive horns. The antlers were lined with tiny emerald leaves that glittered in the light of the braziers and drew every pair of eyes to it. It was by far the most elaborate crown ever crafted for a Jotun king and also the heaviest.

Thiazi's booming voice called out from over the din of the crowd, "People of Jotunheim, today we are assembled as witnesses to the ascending of the throne a new Jotun king. He has proven himself in battle against the twenty-nine great warlords of Jotunheim, making him ready to become the thirtieth, and most powerful, leader in our realm. He has proven his strength with the sword, his intelligence in tactics, and his force with magic. He is a king apparent that is unlike any other that has come before him. Now, I present him to you to coronate as your king."

To this, the Jotuns cheered their approval as, through the archway of the throne room was unfurled a great stretch of emerald velvet trimmed with gold, the traditional carpet of the king. A pause, allowing for all's attention to focus upon the entrance, and then Loki, garbed in his emerald cloak and his Markings now painted a glinting gold, stepped onto the emerald carpet and into view.

His head was raised proudly, not bothered by the weight of his father's crown that rest proudly upon his brow. His green eyes, so intense in their concentration, were focused upon the Ice Throne at the opposite end of the great hall, his steady, measured steps bringing him ever closer to it. His people were watching his every movement, analyzing the man they would soon bend the knee to as the king.

Stopping before Thiazi, Loki gracefully slid onto one knee before warlord, saying, "I, Loki, son of Laufey, have proven myself to the warlords of Jotunheim. I have won the approval of my people, the strong Jotuns, and have been declared their king apparent. I have taken upon myself the duty of my father to ascend the throne in his stead."

"Loki, son of Laufey, you have fulfilled the duty to your father and now you are to be sworn to fulfill the duty to your kingdom," Thiazi replied before saying, "Do you, as king, vow to always do what is best for the people of Jotunheim."

"I do so vow," Loki replied.

"Do you, as king, vow to honor the opinions of your warlords and people, to always invite them into your counsel?"

"I do so vow."

"Do you, as king, vow to respect the ancient laws of Jotunheim's forefathers, to pass judgment with wisdom and remain steadfast?"

"I do so vow."

"Do you, as king, vow to defend the Jotun borders against the aggression of its neighbors?"

"I do so vow."

"With the vows of the king so spoken, the old king's crown shall be reinstated to King Laufey and instated the new crown," Thiazi announced. Loki reached up and gently slid the iron crown from atop his head. He placed it carefully upon the velvet pillow offered to him by a bearer. Wordlessly, Thiazi lowered the golden crown he held in his hands, with as much pomp and regality as the situation called for, placing the great golden crown upon Loki's brow. "Rise, Loki, son of Laufey, proud descendant of the house of Utgard and protector of the north, as the King of Jotunheim."

Loki raised his head to look into Thiazi's eyes, a brief smile flicking onto his face, before he gracefully rose, not showing any sign of discomfort from the heavy crown. The crowd, having all heard the proclamation as it echoed through the hall, burst into a great roar of approval, sending the new king's ears ringing. Loki remained composed as Thiazi stepped aside, allowing the king to ascend the steps of the dais. Loki ascended regally, savoring the moment before slowly, so as to allow his cloak to flow around him, Loki turned to face his people.

Holding out his hand as was custom, a servant stepped forward, offering Gungnir—back in its spear form—to Loki, bowing away as the king grasped firmly a hold of it. Slowly, his eyes never leaving the shining gold of Gungnir, he raised the great spear up in the air for all the throne room to see. A mighty cheer erupted from the throats the Jotuns—his people—and Loki could not stop a wide grin to come across his face.

As the cheering began to fade, Loki finally sat upon the Ice Throne for the first time as the King. On his exterior, he wore his proud, regal smile, but on the inside, he heaved a sigh of immense relief that he had been holding since his father's passing. He had defeated the warlords of Jotunheim, the twenty-nine greatest warriors in the realm without losing any limbs and had completed every ceremony, saying the traditional words with a practiced ease. He watched with relaxed grin as the festivities commenced; as servants bustled into the throne room, carrying feast tables and long wooden benches for all to crowd together on. Roasting salvers of pork, beef, and chicken soon filled onto the tables along with plates, tableware, and thick cloth napkins. Vegetables platters, smothered in cream sauce followed suit along with stacks of meat, fruit, and jam pastries, mounds of arrays of bread, pots of hearty mutton stews, caldrons of rabbit soup, and heaping piles of honey roasted apples—a favorite Jotun entrée delicacy.

Loki observed as his people ate, catching Mim's eye as he attempted to pry his mother's vice grip on his arm. Mim said something to her making Menglad glance from her son then to the new king, frowning a bit as she did. After a moment of consideration, she nodded and released Mim, the young man gratefully hurrying to the base of the dais. Regarding him with a grin as he arrived, Loki said, "Had your mother wanted to introduce you to a very eligible young maiden here?"

Mim smirked, saying dryly, "It's like you enjoy my pain."

Loki chuckled before heaving a long, relieved sigh, saying, "Well, Mim. Here we are; me as the king and you as my royal advisor."

"Yes, you're now officially a royal—wait, what did you just say?" Mim began to quip sarcastically before he blinked, realizing what Loki had just said.

"You as my royal advisor?" questioned Loki, resisting smirking and instead raising an eyebrow in question.

Mim laughed at that, saying, "Like you ever listen to my advice."

"I may not always listen to your advice, but I always have trusted it to be sound," Loki replied, honestly.

"Oh, stop it, Loki. You're making me blush," Mim replied, grinning at his own jest before he sighed dramatically, saying, "Okay, fine. You need not beg; you've smooth talked me into it. I shall take the post."

"Excellent," Loki nodded. He knew exactly what he needed Mim's aid with immediately. He needed to make good on his final promise to his father. The sooner he vied for peace, the sooner Jotunheim could get out of this conflict. He knew Jotuns wouldn't so easily accept the decision for peace, seeing it as surrender, but he also knew that every one of his people were tired of war. They were ready for their sons, husbands, sweethearts, uncles, and nephews to return home.

Loki glanced about the throne room once more, easily catching Thiazi's eye and gesturing for him. The lord, placing the mutton leg he had been picking through onto his plate, rose from his place, walking with all the regality a man of status should as he swept across the hall. Upon reaching the steps of the dais, Thiazi slightly bowed, saying, "Your Majesty?"

"Lord Thiazi, as the eldest of the warlords, I trust your judgment on all matters," Loki began. Thiazi knew what he meant by this; Thiazi commanded all the warlords should he want and Loki needed him to control the country. "My father made me promise him before he drew his last breath to work for peace with Asgard. He knows what the conflict has done to our country; it has ravaged the southern farmlands, crippled our economy, and slaughtered countless Jotun men and women."

"He made me swear to propose a treaty to the Asgardians, that they would push their borders back one hundred miles, to the River Ifing, and we would promise peace. To ensure it to be long lasting, there would be an union between myself and a princess of Asgard. If these terms were not met, the ultimatum would be total war," Loki explained, thinking of the drafted treaty he had been revising for the past month sitting up on the desk in his personal study.

Neither Mim nor Thiazi spoke for a long moment. Mim's brows were furrowed as he thought, seeming not at all inclined towards the treaty, which was the reaction Loki expected from most Jotuns. Thiazi, meanwhile, seemed to be carefully considering this proposal with interested. After the pause, the warlord finally said, "I see the wisdom of the treaty and I would agree that is the best option for Jotunheim. It would be a decisive first ruling as king, it would reflect well upon your reign if you moved to ensure peace for the country and stop this conflict. I will support you in this, King Loki."

Loki nodded, seeing the genuine approval on Thiazi's face. With the support from the Lord of Thrymheim, he would gain the support of every warlord in Jotunheim. The people would soon follow when they began to dream of the prospect of peace, and he easily would gain support from all of Jotunheim. Taking a deep breath, he looked to Mim. His friend gave small nod of his own approval, convinced now that he heard Thiazi's agreement.

Without needing to be asked, Mim said with a grin, "Yes, I'll help you write the treaty. That's what advisors are for, isn't it?"


The two royal women were reclining in the queen's personal parlor, the afternoon shade that the open aired room provided cool against their skin. The summer heat had finally arrived in Asgard; making most of the wealthier citizens of Idavoll flee to their country estates, leaving the common folk and the royalty to suffer through the miserable heat that had finally set in a week ago—three days after Sigyn and Balder's journey to the Aesir post. Currently, Sigyn was intent on a scroll of Asgardian legends while Frigga stitched onto her latest needlework project, humming softly as she worked.

"Your Majesty." Frigga glanced up to see a servant respectfully standing in the parlor's doorframe, waiting for the queen's leave.

A gentle smile graced her lips and she prompted, "Yes?"

"The Emperor requires Your Majesty and Her Highness' presence in the throne room immediately," the servant replied.

Sigyn, her attention drawn from her scroll at the mention of her title, raised an eyebrow at this news, exchanging a look with her mother. "Thank you, we will go to him shortly," Frigga replied, nodding in dismissal to the servant. He gaze a smart bow before disappearing from the doorframe as quietly as he had arrived.

"What do you think he wishes to discuss?" Sigyn asked her mother as she collected herself from her cushion and the queen carefully set aside her needlework, standing as well.

"Maybe he wishes to begin planning of Balder's name day celebrations?" Frigga speculated as she linked her arms with her daughter's, the two women exiting the parlor and walking in perfect step, their feet carrying them along to the throne room without much thought. Balder would be turning fifteen, the name day when an Asgardian boy was officially a man. Though, that was four months away yet, too early for that to plausibly be what the Emperor requested their presences for.

"Father never plans ahead this far," Sigyn said, chuckling slightly at the thought of her father and his inability to party plan, a task he usually, thankfully, left in the care of his very capable wife. Frigga grinned as well at the thought as both women glided through the great gilded doors of the throne room.

Odin sat upon the throne, his head bent in worry and dark spots under his eyes, as though he hadn't slept in quite some time. Frigga's eyebrows knitted together in worry and she asked as they reached the foot of the dais, "Odin, my love, when have you last slept properly?"

The Emperor merely gazed at his wife for a long moment before his blue eyes fell upon Sigyn, regarding her in a mixture of both sadness and question. As if judging if he should share the sad news that obviously weighed upon his thoughts.

"Frigga, I appreciate your concern, but my health is not the most pressing matter at hand," Odin replied after a pause, not unkindly as he gave his wife a loving look. She nodded in understanding. Frigga knew that expression of her husband's and did not question it.

"You both have heard of Laufey's death," Odin began after another silence to collect his thoughts. Frigga and Sigyn nodded their acknowledgement that they had, though it was not entirely necessary. "It is Jotun tradition to set forth trials for the heir to the throne to prove that he is worthy of ascending it. These trials last for a month, with the thirtieth night of that month being when the heir's coronation is held. We have received word only yesterday's evening that Loki has officially succeeded his father and is now King of Jotunheim. This news was accompanied by a message from the new king, a treaty."

"What does this treaty propose?" Frigga prompted, her eyebrows furrowing even more than they had been previously at this news.

"King Loki offers…" Odin paused for a moment, as if not quite believing the words he was uttering. "Peace."

There was pause before Sigyn finally burst out, "You will accept it, won't you?"

Odin's gaze shifted to her, filled with the same sadness as before. "The terms, I am not sure if I can agree to. He offers permanent peace, if we push the borders back to the Ifing River and if we create a link between our two kingdoms to ensure continuing peace; a royal marriage. A princess of Asgard to wed the King of Jotunheim."

"No!" Frigga burst out, without hesitation. "I will not have my daughter being married off to some savage in the north that calls himself king!"

"He says that if his conditions aren't meant, then Jotunheim will engage in total warfare with Asgard," Odin replied, not letting his gaze waver from Sigyn.

She bit her lip. "Did the peace treaty give a certain date by which these conditions must be fulfilled?"

The Emperor nodded in response. Odin regarded his daughter; she was adopted, but she was still his daughter. He loved his little girl fiercely and he would never impose upon her such a thing as a political marriage if she did not wish it. "The decision is yours alone to make, Sigyn," he said, simply.

Sigyn took in a shaky breath before her eyes hardened and she replied, "Is there really a decision to be made? Asgard can defend against Jotunheim, yes, but at what cost? Blood would run like water through both our lands. I will go to Jotunheim and be the wife of this king."

Frigga let out a cry at this but Odin simply nodded at his daughter, knowing that this would be her decision before he had even asked. He hated that, because Sigyn had picked the right option for Asgard, she picked the wrong option for herself, throwing away her life. And there was absolutely nothing he could do as a father to stop her. Being the Emperor of Asgard came first.


"Are you sure this is a good idea?" questioned Balder, giving his elder sister a skeptical look. "I mean, you don't know anything about Jotunheim culture. You'd probably offend them five minutes after you're presented to the king and then start a war between us anyway."

"I appreciate your confidence in my diplomatic skills," Sigyn replied, dryly.

Balder shrugged, not looking the least apologetic for his words. "And you realize that you're going to have to marry the king, right? Give him heirs?"

Sigyn narrowed her eyes. "The thought has crossed my mind, yes."

"Just making sure," Balder said, turning away from his sister and looking back at the scrolls that were strewn on the study table before them. After being dismissed from the audience with her father, Sigyn had rushed to find Balder and inform him on these latest developments; finding him in his usual haunt: a study table tucked into a quiet corner of the palace's library. "Though, Sigyn, do you think this really is a good idea? I mean, with all that's happened lately…" Balder trailed off, glancing wearily back at Sigyn.

She sighed, saying, "Balder. It's been over a month. Theoric wouldn't want me to cry over him all the time and I'm not going to suddenly collapse into hysterics at any given moment like you seem to think I'm going to."

"What about Thor?" Balder asked, pointedly not rising to Sigyn's jab. "He's doing fine and well in his century but shouldn't—"

"Balder," Sigyn said, her voice sounding tired. "He just wants to fit in with his new comrades and he seems to be doing quite well for himself. Us intruding on him would not help, especially if he is so determined to act as a legionnaire."

The prince frowned. "Why is he doing this?"

Sigyn simply shook her head in response. She missed her brother just as much as Balder did, but Thor had made it quite clear all those nights ago that he wanted to be treated like a lowly legionnaire, that he felt like he deserved it. He was still their brother, but Sigyn knew it was best to leave him be in his century. From what they had seen of him, he was doing well for himself and having two members of the royal family burst in on an ordinary foot soldier would not help Thor keep up appearances in the least. So, as much as they missed him, it was best to keep their distance.

Silence stretched out between the two siblings. Finally Balder sighed and said, "So Jotunheim, eh?"

"It looks like it," Sigyn replied with a small grin at her brother's expression.

"Well, the first thing you need to know about Jotunheim culture—particularly the royalty and nobility—is that the men never wear anything on their torsos. Commoners do as well as nobility on a daily basis, but for ceremonies, battles, and hunts, no tunics. Male members of the royal family are never to be covered after they turn fourteen years old and until they are on their death bed. They are to have the Markings of a warrior on at all times. Because ruling a country is a daily battle, apparently," Balder explained.

"What are the Markings, exactly?" prodded Sigyn, curiosity piqued despite herself.

"Its blue paint that is drawn onto the face and torso of the men to symbolize determination and a commitment, which is also why the higher ranking men don't cover their torsos," Balder elaborated. "Though, apparently, even royal males are allowed to wear fur tunics while hunting in the snowy Jotunheim mountains, since there does come a point when it goes from manly to just plain stupid."

Sigyn laughed at her brother's sarcastic comment, eagerly listening to him prattle on about the realm she would be journeying to in the near future, laughing at his jokes. She tried to push the thoughts that her days were now numbered on when she would be able to speak with Balder as a sister and not a foreign monarch and that she had, most likely, no days whatsoever left to spend with Thor. He most likely wouldn't hear of her betrothal to King Loki before she was made a new wife.


"Dear, you have to convince her to not go through with this," Frigga pleaded with her husband. They were reclining in their shared bedchamber, her head resting against his shoulder.

"Hmm?" Odin asked, not entirely paying attention to his wife as his mind became hazy with sleep.

"Sigyn, our daughter who is willingly selling herself off to be married to some savage king in the north," Frigga clarified. "You must stop her decision! It's not necessary in the least!" Odin frowned at her. He knew his wife never viewed Jotuns as savages, that it was only her desperation and panic speaking.

"My dear, I love our Sigyn as much as you do but there is nothing I can do—" Odin began, attempting to reason with his wife.

"You could tell her not to go through with this treaty!" Frigga interrupted.

Odin frowned down at his wife. "Frigga. She is taking the right, safest course of action. We would be risking full warfare with Jotunheim if we refuse. King Loki gave us that ultimatum and we shall not test his word."

Frigga remained insistent, saying, "Jotunheim's armies are no match for the legions of Asgard. It would only mean their ruin."

"The price of lives from such a conflict would be much too high a cost for Asgard to pay," Odin replied. "My love, you know that she is doing the right thing. The brave thing."

Frigga's lip trembled and then, after attempting to control them for so long, salty. fat tears slid from her eyes and ran in streaks down to her cheek. She buried her face into her husband's shoulder, no longer a dignified queen but simply a mother crying for her children. Odin held her close to his side, rubbing her back in comfort and attempting to rein in his own emotions.

"I—I just feel like I'm l-losing them all," the queen managed to croak out in between tears. Her shoulders shook as her sobs became more hysterical.

"Shh, I know my darling," Odin murmured to her. He wished he could cry for the loss of his beloved children. For the eldest son he had been forced to exile so as to appear to be a strong king that did not tolerate defiance, for his only beloved daughter who was being brave for her country, and for his youngest son, who never wanted to be the heir to the throne and only wanted to read and learn more every day. But, he was the Emperor to the vast realm that Asgard had become. Showing emotions was a sign of weakness that a man of his rank could not afford.

There was nothing to save his children from the duties they had been born into or the punishment for their actions that he did not wish to sentence. He could not save them, only sit to the side and watch as they drifted farther away from him until they would be completely lost.


A/N: I love Frigga, she's wonderful. So, poll time! Are you an Asgardian or Jotun? Visit my profile page and pledge your allegiance! And, as always, thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Leave a thought, question, or what-have-you about the new treaty, Odin's deep fatherly side, what Loki and Sigyn will think of each other when they finally meet, or what ever else that catches your fancy!