Chapter nine
Transgressions of faith
The following days were tense (as they had been), but to Sigyn they felt tenser. She felt as though at any moment she would be caught lying (although technically she wasn't lying since they hadn't asked and weren't aware of her little detour, still she felt wretched about betraying them with her silence). The healer was not one to deceive and she had never done so, she always opted for the truth and anything but it was incomprehensible for her. However as long as they were all kept alive and would see the grand towers of Asgard again – it was worth it. She was reminded of the saying she disliked – that the end justified the means. The Vanir girl found it to be a despicable thing to live by and yet realized that it was exactly what she was doing now.
Her companions – the ones she had ventured into Jotunheim and been trapped with since – were none the wiser to her secret (the secret that she more than disliked, she loathed keeping them unaware of what had transpired in the library). Their actions were the same as they had been prior, as though they were caught in a vicious circle. The repetitiveness was now predictable. No, it was not that it was like that of a broken toy, which was forever frozen in the same motion, unable to do anything else but repeat. However the melody was very similar and it was hash in its bipolarity. The Aesir were either encased in obvious despair – comprehending that they had to sleep and eat and exist, or they were back to their warrior ways – planning and plotting an escape. And the fruits of the latter were much the same, whether those plans were elaborate or ridiculous. A part of her found them to be unnecessary struggles because of their futility, but her self, her truer self (the optimist) thought it to be quite necessary – they needed to return home and she did not care how the Asgardians would make that happen.
She felt alienated. Not as a person though, they did notice her and made inquiries and similar things. No, she felt alienated from them because she did not share their tumultuous and seemingly communal (although it varied in the individuals) moods. The female did not lapse into the same drowning emotions: neither the dark and negative ones, nor the positive and eager ones. Her state throughout this whole ordeal was quite consistent. Fear always lingered in the back of her mind, but as long as she refrained from contemplating gruesome possibilities (or entered situations that rung the loudest of alarm bells) – it stayed there, simply ghosting about. She did not know and did not ponder why, but when no sharp negativity clouded her consciousness, then the woman simply made do, she just lived and managed it without any tempestuous reactions. It was what she did her whole life (and it wasn't something that she had acquired from her servitude as a healer or as the Queen's handmaiden – an Asynjur), she simply dealt with anything fate threw her way (whatever the Norns wished to bless her with) and did not fight the current.
What happened in the pale-blueish marbled, black-metal metal-esque and icy librarium had not purged her fear. Coming face to face with one's fear was considered to keep the horror away (or at least at bay), in this case it had done no such thing to the half-blood female. Seeing the source of her terror act differently from what she had imagined – had not made her assumptions false, it did not draw a certain sense of safety. Because her expectations were thwarted – was only reason to be unnerved more because all of the predictability was removed from the possible outcomes of the equation. It just made the whole situation more dangerous because the core of the (rational) fear would prove itself worthy of the fright at some point, even if now it was waiting in lieu.
Somewhere deep down Sigyn thought that the Jotunn King was playing a game, pretending and toying with the fate of her friends as well as her own. The question her subconscious added was – when would the frightening (soothingly spoken, sinisterly minded) man tire of the play-pretend, what would happen then? But internal inquiries of that kind were specifically locked away in the region of her subconscious (the back-closet) and not her conscious (the forefront) because they instantly made fear and dread wash her in waves of a high-tide. It was better to leave them be un-pondered, un-thought, un-contemplated, untouched; for now she needed to force-function until this nightmare was over.
The days counted the seventh since the Asgardians were trapped in their elaborate cage. Boredom had filtered back into the healer's brain. Despite the frightening encounter, the memory of the library still danced in her mind, with unnerving frequency.
She had sworn herself up and down, through and through, that she would not venture out again and cause unspeakable damage in some kind of accidental manner. The woman had earned herself a reputation, even the title of someone who never went against her word, who never broke an oath (and how could she, when oath-breaking was considered the worst of crimes to be repenting for in the afterlife?). But she did not know that all those names and her loyalty were gained by trick. It was an unconscious thing, but she never uttered a promise that she could not keep, so in reality she rarely promised anything. Perhaps that was the reason why promises made to herself were so difficult to keep, it was not as though she was betraying someone else.
She did not notice the exact moment when forming pretenses to not go to the librarium had turned into pretenses to go there. For a moment the female felt abashed that she was actually thinking of explanations to her friends – if she were to be caught leaving their current room of stay. She could not lie, so it was a horrifying revelation that was soon obliterated in order to not feel disgusted with herself.
Unconsciously chosen, the corner in which she often rested – was not in line of view of the Aesir, however she could see most of them from it. The day had begun with the low-tide of their now usual repertoire, but almost instantly a heated discussion (this time not an argument) had erupted. By the pattern of their behavior she knew that soon they would reach their high-tide in conversation. And in a moment of weakness, against herself, the girl stood and silently slipped from the chamber.
Whilst walking to the place she yearned to witness once more – she tried to rationalize her behavior. It was midday and she thought that truly, a Ruler of a realm could not be found there at this hour. She knew little of what King's did (and she could hardly draw a conclusion from her scarce knowledge of the Allfather – that the Frost Giant King would be similar in that aspect) but the Vanir thought that his position was not lenient enough to allow him reprieve of duty during the day. Therefore greeting him again was highly unlikely.
She had banished the idea of seeing any other Jotunn there (for it was just too frightening to think about in reality) because she had summarized that it was a royal library – and so like the one in the Bright Home, not accessible to everyone. Alas there was always the chance of seeing a servant. But perhaps the Frost Giant Leader had believed it necessary to disallow anyone to risk direct contact with the prisoners? For the safety of either them or his subjects (and it really did not matter which, as long as her assumption was correct). Besides, did she not have the permission of the Monarch himself to visit that place of knowledge? With these thoughts taking reign over her psyche she opted to go further rather than turn back.
By the doors of that memorable room she experienced a bout of anxiety, feeling foolish for doing this again. The young woman tried to steady herself as she peered inside – still not daring to enter. From what she could see beyond the crack of those heavy, huge doors – the library was empty. After several minutes of stalling, feeling great unease, she entered.
The doors remained partially open – never close your means of escape – her mind advised, she stopped to simply gaze about once more. As usual fright intensified, the fact that she could never be sure that in this large chamber she was truly alone – was not helping either. But as much as her limited sight allowed and hearing strained to the ends of its register's capacity – she could detect no one else present.
Despite her common sense she spent few precious moments simply taking in the grand librarium and it left (as last time) an immense impression on her. Her fretting spring-green eyes drew to a halt by that table. A dark blue book, the same one, still rested where the royal male had left it. Carefully she approached it. The wish to take the object into her hands was great. However for a long while she could not force herself to act on it, as if fearing it to be some sort of trap, as if touching the tome would activate some sort of potent spell.
Alas all of her reservations were for naught because the written word was so captivating, so tempting that she could not stop herself. The leather binding was smooth, smoother than it should have been – but then again, it was a book from Alfheim. Forgetting absolutely everything but the book Sigyn sat down into the armchair, which was just beside the table, as if anticipating an immersed reader to use it.
A fragment of cracking apprehension remained but it was not enough to let her realize the passage of time. More than an hour had gone by – unnoticed – as she pored over the piece of literature, which she found to be quite elusive. Her luck had it that it was not a writing depicted in the ancient Light Elven tongue but in the new language, which was fairly easy to understand. However the runes were a different matter altogether, handwritten in an elaborate cursive and as beautiful as it was – it wasn't easier to decipher. If her encounter with literature from Alfheim would have been purely from her professional experiences and without her own thirst for knowledge, then reading this midnight-bound book would have been extremely frustrating. Still there were plenty of obstacles in the healer's way when it came to understanding it without proper studying and pondering. The Light Elves, and well as much as she knew all Elves in general, were prone to a very interesting (and foreign to her) manner of writing. The tome she read was very poetic, reminding more a prose book than an educational one. Although all of this merely made it all the more interesting, she couldn't tear her glimmering orbs away.
Thoughts of nicking the book and retreading, or abandoning it altogether – had left her conscious. There was a keeper of written word in front of her and she had not finished reading it. The peculiar texts and intricate illustrations stole her away completely, denying her the existence of reality. But the girl-woman knew that this sort of reprieve never lasted forever.
A sound shattered her trance. She had not registered the opening of doors – only them closing. And there was a sense of déjà vu in her. She prayed that it would be an Asgardian that entered the library. As she raised her eyes towards the source of the clicking handle she was met with a familiar face. It was no Aesir, the sanguine gaze of the Jotunn King greeted her.
Her heart was nowhere to be found, as it had fallen to her heels, but her brain still functioned and she was rising to greet the Monarch. She could only hope that proper etiquette would be her savior.
The man acknowledged her.
"Good day, Lady Sigyn."
"Y-Your Majesty."
Her greeting was cut short with a graceful raise of his hand and she plopped back into her chair with the soft command.
His stride appeared to be slow and fluid with confidence, alas far too quickly for her liking he stood at the other end of the table.
"How is the book?" the Giant inquired as if this sort of conversation was nothing but natural.
She was compelled to reply.
"It is w-wonderful, my Lord" and the answer was honest.
The Ruler nodded slightly as though he had already known what she would say. The faultily-called Lady could not tear her startled eyes away from him. She was lost and waiting, waiting for him to say something, anything, praying that he would bid her to leave. Alas he said nothing and he no longer observed her, his red orbs languidly tracing the library with a loving(?) gaze.
In these few longer-than-life moments, her mind was somehow more coherent and this time she saw him more clearly. By all means as a healer she frequently saw her patients undressed (although they were rarely fully nude when she stood close to them) and that never fazed her. However she had never been in such a seemingly intimate situation with a man that wore so little. She felt embarrassed for this, although it was obvious that the Ice Jotunn paid no mind to his garb. And why would he, in the battlefield she had seen plenty of Frost Giants and they were all bare-chested. It was clear that this was completely appropriate for them and in the heat of battle she hadn't cared about that. But now, now it was different and being in the same room with someone so underdressed was stressful for her.
The female did not wish to notice so much about him, yet her mind was swift in inlaying into memory every detail. She was seated and he was standing, she felt tiny but that wasn't because of her position. Often did Asgardians tower over her (even those of average height), however she was sure that he would loom over her even more – he was really tall. The lack of proper clothing revealed the King's figure, he was very slender, but she could easily make out his defined musculature. It was very strange for her to see a male so lean, it was extremely rare in Realm Eternal – thinness always meant weakness, but the muscles of this Jotunn told of strength.
However despite his lack of bulk, the garment that he wore did not make him look ridiculously feminine. It was different than the glimpses caught of clothes worn by his kind that she remembered. It wasn't quite a skirt, she didn't know what to call it; it was long and narrow enough to reveal his legs, the same piece of material in the back was connected by twin strings on the sides. The 'skirt' hung low. The fabric both appeared to be light (by the way it swayed as he moved) and heavy due to the elaborate embroidery. The silk-like garment was dyed in dark hues (hints of blue, green and purple) and decorated by meandering patterns inlaid with a silverine-golden (the color seemingly dependent on light) thread. Sigyn would have imagined that it would be something like this that entertainers (courtesans) would wear. And while he was feminine in physique (and wore something she labeled as women's wear) – she would not have mistook the man for a female.
From what she recalled the inhabitants of this world had their heads either shaven or hair gathered into some metallic ornaments. It was not so in the case of their Leader however. His hair was black and wavy, unbound by ties or other kind of adornments. It was slickened back and on his forehead proudly rested the sole gemstone of the circlet he wore. The crown itself was of silver and the stone within was not one she could identify, dark blues and greens swirled within it and shimmered in a way that reminded her of nebulae or spiral galaxies. The circlet did not remind her of kinship, everything about the Frost Giant reminded her of a Prince rather than a King.
His head was turned, and without having to deal with his unbearably heavy stare for a second, the Vanir was able to get a good momentary look at his features. His profile was strong, defined and sharp. The scarce light from the faraway windows caught him in a way that allowed her to notice the long dark lashes, which framed his unnervingly crimson eyes. That face belonged to royalty (although more the princely than the kingly type) – and she decided that despite the fact that what she would have normally attested to royalty did not include pale blue skin with markings and red eyes. Still, she subconsciously thought that if circumstances were different (and fear not part of the equation), then he would definitely not be a painful sight to look at.
Eternal seconds lost and a question hung in the air, light it seemed – but to the girl it was heavy (well, the icy creature's very presence was hard to endure).
"It is magnificent, is it not?"
His gaze was still detached and she instantly knew what he meant. Disagreeing with a man of power (especially one that had so much power over her friends and her) was foolish, however she did not have to lie when answering the seemingly rhetoric question.
As the seated woman replied her eyes also strayed and wandered about the beautiful librarium. It was nothing even remotely similar to Asgard, but it was impressive nonetheless and she could never feel dislike for places that housed knowledge.
"It is..." her voice sounded small but not because of oppressing fear, it held a dreamy quality to it. And for the minute a metaphorical illusion was cast over her, it eradicated any traces of negativity from her person.
She lost herself in the grandeur of the library, completely unaware of the eyes that were watching her intensely. She studied each detail of the room that she could see, prodding them so they would tell their stories to her. Again her gaze curiously looked at the great plates that held fire, which she had figured were not lights, but their exact reason to be in this chamber, to stand in that neat row – escaped her.
Sigyn returned when that voice of his made itself known. It held a note of amusement to it, he had caught the place where her mind had lingered.
"The pyres?"
A King was inquiring and so she could not keep her thoughts to herself. But his choice of word to describe the fireplaces made an icicle of a shiver travel down her spine. It was entirely too wrong because what dead could be burned there – who would burn their deceased in a library?
The 'pyres' were also not in this wing for the purpose of preparing meals, so that could not be their purpose either. The food that had sustained her and her Asgardian friends was cooked over fire, but as she had never seen what the Ice Giants ate – she could not assume that they needed their meat roasted. The idea of these blue-skinned creatures consuming raw flesh made her nauseous.
The half-blood female was about to say something but the man did not wait for her answer and set to elaborate. And the curious being that she was – she couldn't help but listen, the true reason being beyond just fear and the respect she needed to show.
"We do not need heat to survive" he explained but that she had already known. "However we do not have a severe aversion to heat. Some of us like to indulge in the warmth of fire. That is the reason behind these structures, which can be found in many a chamber within the Palace."
There was a pause and the small duration of time was heavy to the woman, though she was glad that his attention was not focused onto her. She didn't know what to say and just wanted to be away from this place right now. The Jotunn spoke again.
"This was my mother's Palace."
"Your mother's?" she repeated dumbly but he didn't seem annoyed by it.
"Yes, this Palace was hers."
The healer was a curious creature, too curious for her own good. The information he disclosed enthralled her, so without thinking she asked a question, trying to find out more.
"Was this a gift from your father, to her... – the Queen?"
With a strange smile the tall male responded.
"You could say that, but in your understanding of gifts – that would be incorrect."
Her thin eyebrows were furrowed as she tried to process it, finding herself unable to decipher the meaning behind his words.
"It was not a wedding gift or a morning gift. You see, the Winter Palace was actually the heart of the Realm, housing the largest army. It was not given to her symbolically, if a Ruler possessed it – then he or she also ruled everything within it."
The Vanir female's confusion was evident, however she did not ask the King anything. And he appeared to find her reaction amusing, so he graced her with further explanations.
"In my World, the Ruler is not chosen by gender, unlike in yours."
She was stunned by the revelation.
"Jotunheim is equally divided by two fortresses, one in the North Pole, the other in the South Pole. My father, the former King, offered to forsake his post in this Dome along with its armies and take the Summer Palace with the smaller army there (of course the fortress was grand but less strategically potent compared to this Dome). It was the offer to get my mother to be Queen and it was not one made just for show."
"Your mother must have been very important, my Lord" her voice was meek but filled with baffled awe.
"I would not say so. Politically, and while marrying her had its benefits, she was no royalty and it was not a union made in order to quell a feud or gain more power. I cannot tell you why he chose to do so, I do not know that. My mother was very powerful indeed but her power was in no way necessary for the Throne" after a pause he continued "This offer had pleased her and so she accepted."
The girl hardly thought that it was because the offer of marriage was good enough that it had been accepted, for there was no way that any woman could deny someone of such a high status. That was not how the Universe worked. And again she found herself speaking her mind without thinking it through. No matter how unsettling the situation was, the interesting side of it was too blinding for her to plan a way to excuse herself.
"I-It was a gracious offer I am sure, it is impossible for the Queen to have declined."
The Frost Giant let out an entertained sound.
"If she would have found it unworthy – she would have declined" he shook his head "This is not Asgard, my Lady. A Jotunness is free to make her choices, they do not depend on her father or brothers. In case she had said 'no' and if my father would have been displeased by that, then my mother's clan would have fought against it. Of course a small band as that would have stood no chance against the King's armies, still it is not in our nature to give up. My mother had been the Leader of that coven and it would have died to protect her wishes."
It was so different from what she was brought up in; this new information was hard to digest. She now had found out that some realms worked differently than the Golden World.
"But thus had not occurred and so the Winter Palace was given to my mother and she became the Queen to reign over it. Much of it was rebuilt under her care. If you were to understand our politics as those of Realm Eternal, then it would still turn out that the lands were under the King's command – and such an assumption would be wrong. The two Rulers take their halves of the World and rule them as they please. If there are decisions that require both armies or touch the whole Realm – then both King and Queen have to approve it, the orders from one are without power over the rulings of the other. If a decision cannot be found and a compromise is not made, then the Rulers will wage war one against the other. The winner – the one to overthrow the other Monarch, will then annex the fallen one's land and gain command over all."
If anything, the explanation only made it worse. The girl understood what he had said but it was just so alien, so unfathomable – that she could not comprehend it beyond mere words. If she had understood correctly (and she had) then that would mean that the former Queen had had more power than the King. A wife more power than her husband? Absurd! – her mind objected. She did not get it – what could have led the former Ruler, the Jotunn Leader, to take the weaker lot? If all of the subjects of the Winder Palace would fall to the Queen, then she would have control over the most important decisions. Perhaps she was overthinking this, she did – in the end, understand nothing about politics and realm-ruling. Maybe it just sounded in a way that was misleading, it was not like she knew anything solid about this cold race.
"As much as I would like to continue our conversation, I have matters to attend to. I shall leave you to enjoy your book" the Ruler said, the words seemed deceitfully genuine. "My Lady."
"Your H-Highness" she said and this time managed to rise from her seat as was required by proper etiquette.
He did not say anything else as he passed the table and her standing form. As he passed her, her instincts screamed danger – but she couldn't find the power in herself to look behind. She heard the distant bare footfalls as the Giant ventured deeper into the library, presumably to take something from the multitudes of bookshelves. Minutes later she heard the echo of a closing door. As the librarium was huge and she had not inspected it sufficiently – the presence of yet another door was not surprising.
The mixed-blood Asgardian remained in her position, unable to do much else. Again she had fallen prey to her foolish desires and luckily – once more it appeared – managed to garner no severe consequences. The conversation she had shared seemed unrealistic (not just in its content) and she could not decode the reason behind someone of such a high stature wasting his time to acknowledge someone as inconsequential as her. But she had more pressing matters at hand than that of contemplating the strange 'hows' and 'whys'.
As much as the young Lady wanted to continue reading, she realized that she could not (and not just because this meeting had flung her concentration off kilter). She did not know how much time she had spent here, however she was reminded that she needed to return. She felt heavy with guilt – how could she endanger them like this again? And the guilt was only strengthened by the fact that she could not tell the Aesir warriors that she had met someone while she was away, for the sake of their own safety.
Sigyn left the open book in the place she had found it today and turned back to return to the ones she considered to be her friends. She could not let these transgressions of faith continue and with that in mind she left the pale-blueish marbled, black-metal metal-esque and icy librarium.
A/N
Oath-breaking – was actually considered one of the most heinous crimes in the Nordic countries (that is mentioned in Norse mythology).
Morning gift – a gift traditionally given in some cultures by the husband to his wife on the morning after the wedding (after the night of the consummation of marriage). It can be anything, like for example – land.
