Chapter eleven

Bathing gone wrong

Sigyn had not made any trips to the library after her second encounter with the King (she had to discipline her mind that often called the Ruler as the Jotunn Prince – to cease referring to him in such a way, lest her thoughts would somehow manage to turn into actual words; perhaps it was the Frost Giant's very visage and the circlet he wore that mislead her psyche into categorizing him faultily).

Venturing again on her own was beyond foolish (not that it wasn't that the first two times), no matter how appealing the library of the Winter Palace was. It was extremely fortunate that both times she had met the Leader of the Ice Giants – had ended without incident (although not greeting him would have been much better). Alas there was no guarantee that she would not see the Prince (King!) again or that another meeting would come to pass in such a threat-less manner (to her and the warriors). Additionally, if she would continue with these outrageous and dangerous journeys it would only be a matter of time until her trapped allies would notice her presence disappearing – their oblivion could not last. And in that scenario she would be forced to lie because she could offer no valid explanation of her trips to the icy librarium, nor could she reveal the truth of what she had found there.

Oath-breaking was considered to be amongst the most heinous crimes – both an immortal and a mortal could commit, punished after death in the Nastrandir – a place located in Hel. And she was supposed to be one who never broke her oaths, apparently however that did not include what she swore to herself. So because of that she had discreetly sworn to her Asgardian friends that she would not leave again.

When another fruitless attempt at escaping had occurred, a strong shockwave from the green tinted barrier had harmed everyone involved in it. The healer had to commit herself to her duty once more and heal the ones who were wounded. Fandral had been the one to unwittingly accept her oath then. The flirtatious warrior had asked her with a gallant smirk whether she would not leave him and she'd said that she would not – unless the situation was beyond her control. The girl hadn't known how true her faulty phrasing was...

The Asynjur was a woman who valued her cleanliness greatly. It was not like she had a severe aversion to getting dirtied, if she would have, then being a healer and especially one that often took part in helping the men injured in battle – where mud and blood, and other bodily fluids reigned – would not have been possible. However in her current predicament cleaning herself was fully possible and she was feeling so sweaty and dirty that she simply wanted to wash it all away (sometimes a bath had the capacity of cleansing not only the body but the mind as well, however that was highly unlikely to occur this time – her psyche was simply too heavy and too much under stress of a real threat).

The washroom was close to the chamber the Aesir occupied, so it would be quite safe for her to visit it for a longer amount of time. The half-blood Vanir had informed the Asgardians where she would be heading and what she intended to do, they had found no reason to oppose.

She had been in the washrooms plenty of times, however she had never quite allowed herself to explore them in detail, this time was no different in that aspect. No matter how well they were accommodated – it was best not to forget that she and her friends were still prisoners, so taking such liberties (and she had done so before – with high risks, she added inwardly) was not very wise.

The area was accessible through a single door and there were several rooms meant for different purposes. The blonde female went for one of the bathing chambers, it was fashioned from white blue-veined marble – just like the rest of them. It was brightly lit with strange lights and there were no windows. The room was very large and housed a lot of tubs and other peculiar washing facilities (which she did not investigate). Some were small (Asgardian-sized), others were huge. The latter reflected the purpose of being used by the true inhabitants of the Ice Realm. She didn't consider that they might have been meant to be used by more than a single person and although such was not unheard of in Asgard, she was very modest and the possibility had not crossed her mind. Even though she was royalty she had never had servants help her bathe, therefore to her it was a very private matter.

The untitled Lady chose a white marble tub that was moderately small and would be comfortable for her to use. She fiddled with the taps for a few minutes and was not surprised when the water had turned hot. When such things like fireplaces could be found in this wing of the palace, and the information she had gathered from the owner of this dome himself – it wasn't all that odd.

It wasn't difficult to locate all the necessities she would need for a sufficient bath, clearly this was considered by their captors. Beside one of the walls there was a plentitude of cabinets where plush towels were located, as if in waiting for someone to use them. Also on the rim of the tub she was filling up with steaming hot water – rested at least a dozen of various bottles and vials, which couldn't have been anything else than bathing oils.

The girl-woman undressed and neatly folded her clothing, afterwards she placed them beside the readied towels. Behind the cabinets there was a thick mirror that reflected Sigyn from middle up. Having to look at herself when she was nude was difficult, she felt exposed and vulnerable, however that wasn't all that it was. It was not that she felt inadequate (although she did, but only if she stressed the subject), it was just that being naked was so embarrassing and she felt so... indecent. Therefore she quickly turned away from the reflective surface that hung on the wall and swiftly made her way to the bathtub.

Closing the tap so that it would cease filling the round tub with liquid – she quickly entered it. The water was very hot (although not unbearably hot, the high temperature was exactly what she was aiming for) and somehow seemed very pure, perhaps it was melted ice that she was now lounging in. It lulled her terribly, urging her to relax and spend a few hours in its warm embrace – however that was not something she could do. So a tad leisurely, but with all the quickness she could muster, she commenced with her cleaning procedures.


The bathing was great and it tempted her to enjoy herself longer. However she had stretched her preset limit as much as she could, so she did not have the luxury to remain in the warm water anymore. The bathing oils had been marvelously effective, her body had not been exactly dirty – but they worked wonders on her slightly matted hair. They had strong but pleasant scents, even if she couldn't recognize them enough to say what they had been made from.

Draining the bathtub, while still being in it, the young woman turned the liquid to run again. Scooping little handfuls of it she rinsed herself off of the sudsy water. With that done she exited the tub and made her way swiftly to the cabinet that she had placed the towels upon, feeling great discomfort at having to walk naked. Distractedly she removed one of the towels and did a thorough job of drying herself and a slightly shabby one on her wet, darkened by water, hair.

After debating for a moment on what to do with the plush cloth she had used to dry herself, she decided on folding it and placing it onto the ground. Just for good measure she took another huge white towel and wrapped herself in its softness, it was so big that it trailed on the ground like a gown. While taking care of her wet skin she had lamented a bit about her clothing. She didn't have anything else to change into (it was not like she had assumed that she would be taken captive in Jotunheim and given access to washing facilities). If she would have had something, any other set of clothing (no matter how little, as long as they were clean) – the healer could have washed these and then resumed wearing them. But really, that was such a minor thing; she felt slightly guilty for how casually her brain sometimes thought in her current (dangerous) situation.

The soak had left her feeling happy and somewhat calmed, but that feeling did not last. It was violently shattered when she turned to start putting on her clothing – only to find all of it gone. Immediately her warmed flesh had gone cold – a side effect of her dread. The girl quickly began looking around, trying to locate her missing garments, although she was more than certain that she had put them there where they were no longer present. Clad in only the oversized snowy towel she made a quick round of the chamber, alas found no sign of her clothes.

She wasn't feeling frustrated – she was downright scared. There was nothing else to be done, she could only head back to the room the Asgardians occupied. Surely she could remain in the corridor and call Lady Sif through the crack of the door, she would help her without a doubt and something could be worked out. And with that in mind the Vanir went towards the direction of the door, however she didn't make it as she stopped dead in her tracks. All she saw was a wall, the door was... gone.

Instantly nausea began crawling up her throat. And although now she was feeling dizzy she hadn't been disoriented in the slightest when she had entered this place, so it was impossible that she was simply looking in the wrong direction. Franticly, but not very quickly, she walked to the bare wall where the exit should have been. She touched it with one shaking hand, hoping beyond all hope that her eyes were deceiving her, but that her touch would not. Alas the Asynjur was met with no visual illusion, there was no trick – the cold wall had no door incorporated in it.

Sigyn didn't scream, didn't cry out for help. She knew that that was useless, the walls were simply too thick and there was a corridor to which the entrance had now disappeared. No one would hear her. Even when listening beside a closed door (and she had done so when she had returned from her first venture to the library) – nothing could be heard, the chambers were just too soundproof.

Completely encased in blind panic she nearly started spinning in circles (which wasn't at all wise, if one was attempting to get their bearings), desperately trying to find a way out of this trap, while trying not to trip over the trailing towel. Mid sixth spin she paused when she saw something that was out of place. In the opposite side of the large room there was a door – one that had not been there prior. And the young Lady had checked out these chambers multiple times before, this time included. And it wasn't only because she was within enemy territory that she was so keen on mapping every exit and entrance point, but also because something so private always made her very attentive to such vital details.

She startled terribly at this strange new development (although she couldn't truly say just how new it was – the door was not there when she had arrived to take her bath, but whether it had appeared just now – she couldn't say for sure), however her mind was already furiously mulling over her choices. And in the minutes that had passed she had not managed to find any other solution to her problem (if this even was a solution and not merely another complication). The only thing this fright-encased thinking yielded was that she had no other option but to inspect what lied beyond the door, which had appeared so unexpectedly.

With a white-knuckled grip on the towel she cautiously approached it. Her hand shook terribly (just as her whole form did) when she placed it on the round doorknob. The female found the door unlocked as she slowly turned the knob. She did not open the white painted, wooden door fully. With a heart that hammered in her chest like a trapped little bird – she peered through the tiny crack she had created, hoping to find something familiar...


A/N

Nastrond (plural: Nastrandir) – in Old Norse meaning "corpse shore(s)", a place located in Hel, meant for punishing the guilty in the afterlife.