ASHES

The blink of an eye.

A heartbeat.

An eternity could pass in the moment between moments.

She fell.

As he had once fallen.

He saw their own life together now - the past few centuries tangled with fragments of some of the possible futures he had lived . . .

He had lived more lifetimes then he could remember now.

He had gone through the torn fabric of the universe, had survived, been found . . . healed.

There would be nothing so hopeful waiting for Sigyn.

And he could do nothing but watch . . .

Then –

She was gone, a streak of fiery silver.

His ears roared –

Something heavy slammed into the Bifrost behind him with bone-shattering force.

Loki jerked his head around, heart in his throat –

It was Thor, curled up on his side, Mjolnir forgotten for the moment. There was something in his arms, but his cape was obscuring it from view. Almost as if he intended to hide it . . .

Thor opened his eyes, looked straight into Loki's own, as his burden was revealed.

Loki stumbled to his feet, his brother's thunder still ringing in his ears. His fingers closed on Sigyn's hand of its own accord.

There was a moment – a brief, tense moment – when the hands of both men were holding Sigyn. Ice and Sky locked in silent combat. Thor had not let go, did not seem willing to relinquish his prize, his latest claim to glory. But Loki would not lose what he had bargained and fought and wept for. Not to Thor. Not to anyone. And even as he wrenched her from Thor's grasp, he felt Thor release her, willingly, as if he was suddenly aware of what had just happened.

Loki took Sigyn in his arms, fear and hope fighting for control in his mind.

She did not move, did not react to the arms desperately searching for any sign of life.

Thor knelt beside him, Odin and Heimdal were watching from above, Sif and the others hanging back as if they felt they should not be there. There was nothing any of them could do.

Nothing he could do . . . nothing . . .

If he could have absorbed what was left of her soul into his own he would have done it, if it only meant he could have held onto her for a moment longer . . .

He tried calling for her, hoping his voice alone would bring her back. But he couldn't do it, couldn't bring himself to say her name. He could only cradle her against him while his mind tore itself to pieces in agonized silence.

Please, he begged, to anyone – anything – that would listen, please don't take her from me! Don't leave me alone . . .

All he heard was the cold silence of an uncaring universe.

Voices whisper in his ear, mocking him, black taunts, the knowledge that he will be condemned to continue through life alone, losing the one thing he now knew he could never survive without –

Loki . . .

Another memory, a mocking echo of what he wanted to hear. A voice, a whisper of empty promise –

". . . Loki . . . ?"

-But this voice is real.

He felt the faint stir of air near his ear. It was a voice that he knew, but so weak and distant that it seemed only a dream. Fragile fingers tightened on his arm, strong enough to rekindle hope. But for a long moment – a lifetime – he didn't dare to move. Hardly dared to think, to hope, that maybe . . .

"Loki . . . ?"

Never before had a Midnight sky been a more welcome sight.

There was a collective sigh of relief.

"Well done," Odin murmured from above. "All of you. But there are cares and labors still to be done."

They were all looking at him; he could feel their eyes on his bowed back. He ignored them. His universe, in that moment, spanned no further than the woman he held in his arms. If he let go, even for a moment, he might lose her again. He had to keep her alive.

He poured every ounce of his magic and strength into her, willing her to take another breath.

Stay with me, Sigyn, he pleaded. You promised you would stay with me. Please . . .

"Brother." Another hand closed on his arm; strong, firm . . . but just as familiar. "Loki, every moment lost brings Sigyn closer to death. We must. Go."

He was reaching for Sigyn. He would take her away from him again . . .

"I can fly her to the Healers House; there may still be time –"

He knew Thor was right. Sigyn had been restored to her mind, but her body had taken a great toll. It was just so hard to let go . . .

The next moment or two were nothing but a blur to Loki. Sigyn was taken up into Thor's arms, Mjolnir roared, and they were gone. Loki found himself staring, watching as the red streak across the sky grew rapidly smaller, fading –

Alsvingdr was suddenly thundering across the Bifrost, racing back to Asgard, his rider leaving the others behind.


"If you keep retracing your steps, brother, you will wear a hole in the floor."

Loki ignored him, continuing to pace the room, eyes turned down. Sif cast uneasy looks between Thor and the man impatiently prowling in front of her. Fandral and Hogun were in the far corner, whispering to each other in low, worried voices, behaving as though they wished they could be anywhere but here. Inwardly, Thor shook his head. They were all worried for Sigyn's life, but if Loki could not calm himself soon he would erupt.

His brother had arrived at the Healer's House long before anyone else, wearied and anxious. All attempts by the Healers to have his own wounds seen to were met with reckless refusal. Loki had been waiting when Thor emerged, demanding to know if Sigyn would live or die. He wished he could have given him an answer, wished he could have eased Loki's mind as well as his own.

But the look on Eir's face when Sigyn had been brought to her had been . . . less than promising.

That was two days ago.

There had been nothing they could do but wait . . . and hope.

Loki's cloak swirled restlessly around his feet as he retraced his steps across the floor.

"Brother, please sit down," Thor insisted, louder this time, resting his arms on his knees. "You are making us all anxious."

Violent green eyes flashed a glare in his direction, but again the request was dismissed. He turned his back on all of them, pacing to the window that faced the eastern sky.

"You must be proud of yourself," Loki hissed abruptly.

It was so sudden, so unexpected – so hateful – that Thor could only match that venomous gaze with innocent confusion.

"Proud, brother?" he whispered. "What have I to be proud of?"

Loki whirled round, fixing the God of Thunder with a black stare.

"The Mighty Thor, hero of Asgard, crushes the enemy and rescues the damsel in distress." Scorn and hate were infused in every syllable spilling from Loki's mouth. "What will the minstrels twist and praise this time, I wonder? Will they sing of your heroic battle with the Fire Demon of the lowest Realm? Or perhaps they will weave tales of how you flew through the skies on the wings of Thunder, snatching the woman from the jaws of death. Hail, the Mighty Thor!" Loki's eyes were mere slits as he presented Thor with a mocking bow.

He had no answer to that.

But Sif did.

"You think this a game? A contest?" she demanded angrily, rising to her feet. "Sigyn would have died on the Bifrost if Thor had not saved-"

"Sif!" Thor barked. He could see the eruption coming . . . and the Healer's House was no place for a battle. "Sit down," he ordered sternly.

There was a tense moment, when neither Sif nor Loki moved. But at last, Sif relented and stepped away. Loki's eyes followed her across the room before returning to glare into his brother's. There was hatred in that gaze. Hatred, jealousy . . . but Thor saw there was pain as well.

Loki was furious, not with Thor, but with himself. Loki had always believed he had to prove himself as Thor's equal, that he was better than the "favored" Son of Odin. He saw Thor's rescue of Sigyn not as a triumph – but as a failure. Loki's failure. Even in a matter as important as this, when the life of his soul mate was in mortal danger . . . he believed he had failed to save her.

In that one moment, Thor knew what to say.

"Loki," Thor replied gently, "it was not I who saved Sigyn that day."

Loki's brow furrowed in confusion. Clearly, that was not the answer he had been expecting.

"You knew, even if the rest of us did not, that she was somewhere beneath the surface, fighting to survive. If you had not believed that – had tried so hard to reach her – she would have been destroyed as an enemy long ago. It was not I that battled for her soul on the Bifrost . . . and it was not my name she called upon her release –"

"Nor is it the name she calls now," a new voice interrupted. Everyone turned to find Eir standing in the doorway. Her silver eyes were fixed on Loki's. "You are needed."

Loki paused at the door, looking down on the master healer with something close to . . . pleading, in his eyes. The burning question on his lips remained unspoken – but he was asking for all of them.

Eir's expression softened . . . but only just.

"She will live."

An audible sigh slipped from all of them, and Thor saw Loki's shoulders sag with relief. Without another word he disappeared into the corridor beyond.

Eir was watching the retreating figure of the God of Mischief, a hard look in her eyes. For some reason, she did not share in the others' joy.

"Her life has been nothing but suffering since she befriended him," she muttered. "First in bringing about her first overshadowing, then in losing her child. And now this . . ." She paused. "That man will be the death of her."

"Have care how you speak," Thor warned sternly, rising to his feet. "Loki has never wished nor intended harm towards your charge. The choice she made to wed my brother was her choice alone – without compulsion or regret. And changeable though he may be, Loki will never see harm come to Sigyn. He has nearly died – more than once – in defending her. Therefore I will hear no slander against him or his love."

"Forgive me," the healer spoke after a moment's hesitation. "I spoke in the trouble of my own heart."

She did not say she regretted her harsh words. But Thor let it pass.

Heavy footfalls in the corridor beyond drew all eyes back to the door.

One of the palace guards stood on the threshold and, catching site of the Prince, knelt with respect.

"Your Highness, your father requests the presence of yourself and the Lady Sif in the throne room as soon as possible."

Thor nodded; he had been expecting as much for days now.

"Tell my father we will come as soon as we can," he ordered. The man nodded, paused, then cast an unsure gaze at the Head Healer standing just beside him.

"The Alfather wishes that Prince Loki and the Lady Sigyn also attend."

Eir's brow furrowed as she carefully considered the guard's words.

"Sigyn is young, and is recovering with remarkable speed. I do not see the harm in allowing her to obey the Alfather's commands. Only allow her to return here to my care as soon as possible."

The guard saluted, bowed to Thor, and returned carrying his answer to the Alfather.

Thor turned to Sif, and found her watching him with a grim expression.

"Wait here a moment for me," he asked. "I will not be long."

Sif cocked an elegant eyebrow at him. She knew as well as he did that convincing Loki to allow Sigyn to accompany them to the throne room would be no easy chore.


Was it merely three days ago that they had all gathered in this fashion?

So much had happened between then and now. Then, they had met in secret, hiding their fears and suspicions from Asgard . . . and hiding their accusations from the young woman they all loved dearly.

Odin's heart felt lighter this day when he saw Sigyn, arm in arm with Loki, walk up the steps of the dais.

She was pale. Tired. But the spark of innocence had returned to her eyes. Her stride was softer than usual, but her body was no longer the wasted, emaciated shell she had been.

It was more than he could ever have hoped for.

Thor was giving his report on his journey to Alfheim, but he was giving less than his usual enthusiasm on that exploit. He seemed troubled about something. And when he paused, and cast an uneasy glance at Sif, Odin decided he must learn the meaning of his son's hesitation.

"Your account makes it seem as if your journey did not take long at all," the Alfather pointed out. "Why then did you not return to Asgard immediately . . . as I had commanded you to do?"

His son shifted uncomfortably, almost as if he was ashamed . . .

"I felt I could not return to Asgard at once, Father," he confessed.

"Then what were you doing?"

A small, satisfied smile was spreading over Loki's mouth. Why he must always enjoy his brother's foolishness . . . ?

"We journeyed first to Muspelheim."

For once, Odin was utterly speechless with rage. Even Loki's mocking smirk seemed to slip for a moment.

The Queen spoke for all of them.

"Thor . . . why would you do something so rash – so reckless?" she demanded, scolding him not as Thor's mother but as the Almother. . . "You knew not when Surtur would return to his domain . . . and if he had done so and you were at hand –"

"Surtur was trying to rebuild his body!" Thor protested. "I felt that if that empty shell could be destroyed . . . then his spirit would have nowhere to return to when he fled Asgard."

"Oh, you foolish boy -!" Frigga turned away, but not before one angry, frightened tear had traced its way down her cheek.

"Even fools can provide useful," Odin interrupted, feeling his wrath cooled slightly. The prospect of learning some new information was far too tempting. "What did you find there, my son?"

There was a tense pause.

"Nothing."

Odin felt his brow furrow in confusion.

"Explain."

"There was nothing that we could see, Father," Thor amended. "It was not difficult to find the place where his soul has been dwelling these long years. But . . . we could not get close enough to see more. He had no need of guards; he had cast some strong magic over the whole of the temple. No use of force or counter-spell could have overcome it."

"Then you do not know how complete his mortal form is?" Thor slowly shook his head in disappointment.

"No, Father."

Odin's gaze moved to the young woman that sat beneath Loki's protective hand.

"Is there anything you can tell us Sigyn?"

She was silent for so long that Odin thought at first she had not heard him. But then her eyes came up and looked into his.

"Nothing that would be of any use, Alfather," she answered with a small shake of her head. "There is very little I can remember throughout the entire ordeal. In that, at least, I am glad." Though her voice was soft it was steady. There was no trace of grief, or fear, in those midnight eyes.

Sigyn was indeed, a woman of uncommon strength.

"It matters little," he assured her. "What does matter is that Surtur's efforts to destroy our people have been all for naught."

"He has been delayed, but not defeated," Thor pointed out, shifting his weight restlessly. "We must prepare for his return, Father. Now that we know his plans, he will strike soon-"

"No."

All eyes turned to Sigyn, who seemed to have spoken without meaning to. Her eyes were distant, faint lines of concentration furrowing her brow.

"He will not strike now," she murmured. "Not yet. There was . . ." But her voice faded into silence, troubled eyes finding her clasped hands in her lap.

"Speak," Odin called gently.

A shuddering breath slipped through pale lips.

"There was something . . . something he needed. Something he did not have before . . . a tool – or weapon – he has been lacking . . ." Again she fell silent, shaking her head with a frustrated sigh. "Whatever it is, he never revealed it to me."

"I doubt he would," the Alfather agreed. "You have been fortunate that he revealed as much as he did."

"He did not do so willingly," Sigyn whispered.

There was a moment of empty silence.

"It seems we have been granted a reprieve," Odin's gaze encompassed them all. "We have won a battle, but not the war. But Surtur has no means of returning unless his body has been rebuilt. And we know now that his endeavors toward that end have been delayed. The Flame is safe in Alfheim – the Light Elves will warn us of any impending danger. And he can never again use any Asgardian as his unwilling tool; I will see to that."

Loki's hand tightened on Sigyn's shoulder, but he said nothing.

Odin knew there was more beneath the surface than any of his children knew. He understood this enemy of Asgard better than any other could. And evil that strong could not be so easily overcome.

But there was no need for them to know that. Not yet.

"Let us enjoy this time of peace . . . while we can."

Thanks everybody for you positive reviews...and patience! It took a while longer than I thought to get this chapter done and edited; for some reason I agonized over this chapter more than any other one. I hope it was worth the wait! Stay tuned: the epilogue for this story is coming soon!