Chapter 10

Devious Destination

Sigyn trotted her borrowed chestnut stallion through winding golden streets, her eyes peeled for any suspicious or simply odd occurrences. Loki would not be obvious, but in his panicked flee, he would certainly leave signs.

Sigyn arrived at her own quarters within minutes, and dismounted her horse, looping the reigns about a hitching post which rose from the street just to the left of her front door. She did not enter immediately, however.

She wandered about her residence, peering about for disturbed street panels, befuddled citizens, or any other sign. She found what she was searching for quickly.

A few strides down the street there stood an unbridled and unsaddled horse, breathing heavily and peering about in a spooked manner. It bore sweat marks in its spinal fur, making obvious the fact that it had recently been ridden. Hard.

A snap from above spooked the horse, and it took off at a gallop down the street, causing frightened yelps of unsuspecting citizens to echo through the homes.

Clever, she thought. Untack the horse so it will run away, leaving no sign of your whereabouts.

Her suspicion was now almost entirely affirmed. All she had to do was witness it. What did it mean that he came to her? Did it mean anything at all? Or had he simply made a judgment call—that she had been the most likely to show him kindness?

She steeled herself and pushed inside her home with a creeping sense of anxiety.

Her quarters were absolutely unchanged, and there didn't seem to have been anyone inside since she left the night before. But she walked slowly, pushing the door closed behind her cautiously and peering through her own golden halls as if they were all new to her.

The white drapes hanging over her open balcony blew into the drawing room, causing shadows and shapes to dance across the walls and fool her mind. At one moment, she even thought she saw the silhouette of a man, but it dispersed quickly as the trickster shadow of the curtains again.

She stepped cautiously from the entrance hall into the drawing room, and yelped as she was suddenly grasped tightly from behind, a powerful arm wrapping about her neck. She felt the heavy chains from his wrist drape down her body, and knew.

"You're probably wondering why I've come," his acid voice said quietly into her ear. She could feel some kind of weapon pressing into her back as he held her. "I'm currently wondering the same. You seemed the most logical choice, although I know nothing of your loyalties. Therefore I have two options," he paused, and whatever weapon he held dug into her spine.

"I am going to let you speak, and your, albeit carefully chosen, words will determine whether I release you or cut you from gullet to spine, do I make myself clear?" he whispered venomously against her neck. Something more powerful than fear caused a shiver to run through her, and she thought for a moment about her words.

"I lied," she said suddenly. She knew the simplicity of the statement would entice him inwith curiosity.

He did not speak, but he didn't move either. She listened to his breathing, and determined she could continue.

"I lied to Thor," she said, her hands reaching up slowly. No doubt he noticed, but he didn't stop her. She gently laid both of them across the forearm barring her neck, and it softened slightly. "He blatantly asked me if you had told me anything…"

She began to pull his arm away, and stepped forward, turning lithely in the selfsame movement to face him. He stared in her eyes with an intensity that forced that same unknown shiver to course her.

"And I lied."

He did not react, nor did he dare to move. He simply stared at her. The dagger he held quavered. It was as if he was trying to tell if she spoke the truth simply through her eyes. But if anyone could, it would the master of lies.

"Well, I…" he began, looking away from her, his stance relaxing. The dagger disintegrated into air, and she realized the weapon had been a farce of magic. He rubbed his left wrist where the manacle dug into his skin. "I thank you for that."

She inclined her head; glad to see he had accepted her explanation. "Here," she began, stepping forward and reaching for the chains. "Let me help you with those."

"Oh, that's quite alright," he said halfheartedly, and his arms turned a strange, veined blue from the elbow down. The manacles began to make a crackling sound, and frost formed about them.

With each hand respectively, he yanked at the chains, and the manacles shattered from his wrists like broken icicles. His arms returned to their flesh color, and he rubbed them uncomfortably.

"Perhaps you should share with them my true lineage." Loki's words in the hold. They had tipped her off to the fact that Loki was not of Asgard, but now…

Now she knew.

"Ah, the truth sinks in," he mused, stepping away from her and wandering about her chambers, seeming to admire the room.

"You're a Jotun, then?" she asked, swallowing her immediate dread.

"Aye, and one more hated than the rest, I'm afraid…" he replied, his voice trailing. He continued, but his softness told her he was more talking to himself than to her. "Not of Asgard, not of Jotunheim…"

She could hear a sorrow in his voice, although she could not see his face. He stood at the drapes of her balcony, peering out over the city.

She approached him slowly, following his line of sight through the billowing drapes. Odin's golden fortress loomed high in the distance, the rays of sun cascading over it like heavy rain.

Sigyn sighed, raising a hand and resting it on Loki's shoulder. He peered back at her with a suspicious eye, but did not stop her.

"Come inside," she asked tenderly. "Relax. They'll not find you here."

"Oh, but they certainly will," he retorted, his feet firmly rooted where he stood. "Heimdall's sight finds me even now."

Heimdall… she had forgotten his piercing gaze and boundless ears. They would go straight to him when their search failed.

"Can you hide yourself from him?" she asked. She knew he had done so for quite some time after falling into the void. The limits of his ability with magic were unknown.

"I can, and I am presently. But it takes all my strength of conjuring to veil myself from his sight. I fear the amount it'll drain from me…" he replied with a sigh.

Sigyn sighed as well, understanding the breadth of Loki's predicament.

"Drink?" she asked, walking to her galley. She pulled a bottle of wine and held it up in offering.

Loki peered over his shoulder at her, and smiled halfheartedly to himself at some unknown jest. He then lightly responded, "please."

She poured two glasses, and joined him by the balcony again. No doubt he wished to watch for incoming sentries. And if he would not relax and sit down, then she would simply stand with him.

He took the glass and stared into it longingly, as if he found some lost image staring back at him in the ripples of the drink.

"So…" Sigyn prodded, trying to tear his mind from whatever tortured it. "What happened at the trial?"

It indeed tore him from his thoughts. His head snapped up and he returned to peering over the balcony.

"What is there to say?" he began, finally taking a shaky sip of his drink. "A verdict was delivered. I detest it. So I ran."

There was so much missing from that explanation, she found it almost comical. What verdict was so awful it caused him to abandon pride and flee? How did he manage it? Surely Thor and Odin were both present, how was it he managed to escape them? And since he did, what of the warriors three? Surely they stood guard as well… had he bested them too?

Sigyn watched him for a time, deciding not to prod him. Perhaps she could glean her own answers without squeezing them from him.

Loki stood statuesque, barely taking notice of the drink in his hand. He stared out at the mass of Asgard unwaveringly, as if expecting Odin himself to suddenly rise above the cityscape atop a Pegasus to bring him to justice. Judging by Odin's past feats, it didn't seem all that unlikely, actually…

"Have you ever known an Asgardian to end his own life?" Loki asked suddenly. He never moved as he spoke, despite the horrid nature of the topic. His lips hardly ever quavered as he delivered the query.

"I…n…no. No I have not," Sigyn said, trying to gauge Loki's mood from his features. She could not see any emotion in him, however. "Why would you ask that?"

"Curious, I suppose," he replied, finally tearing his eyes from Asgard and looking down into his wine. He swirled it once, halfheartedly, and watched as the ripples calmed.

"Loki," she said with conviction, stepping closer to him. "Don't you dare consider…"

He grinned and stepped away from her, meandering back into the room, away from the balcony.

"It's just as well… even if you had the answer… what kills an Asgardian may not kill a beast of Jotunheim…" he pondered aloud, his statements halted and strained.

Sigyn sighed in frustration, and finally set down her wine. She strode to him quickly, grasped his arms, and forced him to face her.

"You are no beast," she said, staring the truth into his dejected eyes. "You are Loki. Son of Odin, and Prince of Asgard. God of Mischief is your title, and your deeds ring truth to it. You cannot change what you are, Jotun or deviant. But don't you dare be ashamed."

He smiled mildly, bringing his wine to his lips, forcing space between them. "How quaint," he said cynically. "The Goddess of Fidelity tells me not to be ashamed of my title. It is easy to have pride when thy title is a fair one."

She could see that her words meant nothing to him. He was disregarding her as easily as he had in the hold. And what was worse, he stared in her eyes as he blatantly blew her off.

She clicked her teeth in annoyance, and took his drink from him. She turned quickly, set it down on her bedside table, and turned back to him. His surprise at the action was nothing if not muted.

She livened it up by grasping him by the neck and kissing him firmly.