**Author's Note**

I made cuts to one scene and some language in this one. The full version (again, not overly graphic nor gratuitous, but a bit more descriptive) available on Archive.

Chapter 12: I Am Not Who I Was.

"I could tell you my adventures—

beginning from this morning,"

said Alice a little timidly;

"but it's no use going back to yesterday,

because I was a different person then."

-from "Through the Looking Glass" by Lewis Carroll

~A Private Healing Room, Two hours after the return from Jotunheim~

Sitting next to Fandral's bed in the private healing room, Sigyn placed a hand on his forehead. "Despite my distaste for you seemingly knowing no bounds, I do hope that you won't have to suffer long," she said, winking.

"Your concern is much appreciated," he groaned, offering a weak smile, and rolled to his side to face her. "Even more so because of said distaste."

Sighing heavily, Sigyn offered him a real smile. She hadn't realized that she genuinely cared about his well-being. She cared for all of them, even if they were idiots. Well, not Hogun. He was the only one with a brain worth its weight.

"How's your shoulder?" she asked, leaning over to peek at the wound underneath the bandage.

Oh that was a mistake.

She cringed, gagging at the clear fluid seeping out of the jagged ripped flesh. Fandral laughed as she covered her mouth and nose.

"Not too pretty, eh, pretty girl?" he said, wincing when the bandage tugged on the skin.

"I wouldn't talk to her like that if I were you, Fandral," Hogun said, approaching him to hand him a glass of water. "Loki would kill you if he found out."

"No, Loki wouldn't kill him," Sigyn said sweetly and wrinkled her nose. "He'd just, you know," she waved a hand, "rough you up a bit."

"That makes me feel so much better," Fandral said, clearing his throat and putting a bit more distance between himself and Sigyn.

Across the room, Volstagg grimaced, rubbing a warm salve into the blackened flesh of his arm and shot Fandral a look. "Eir seems to have repaired you quite well. Would've been nice if she'd saved some of her healing powers for the rest of us," he mumbled.

"Trust me, Volstagg," Sigyn said, raising her voice enough for him to hear and shaking her head, "if you could see his shoulder, you wouldn't feel bad about your arm."

Seated in front of the roaring fire in the middle of the room, Sif glared at Sigyn. "Why are you even here, Sigyn?" she asked coldly. "I saw you and Loki in the observatory. He had a death grip on you as though he should never let go. Shouldn't you be with him?"

It may have been an accident, but ever since Sigyn had burnt Sif to a crisp, she had only tolerated her. It mattered not that Sigyn had gone to great lengths to repair the damage she had done. Sigyn could have been upset over Sif's tone, but she had far more important matters to occupy her mind. Namely, Loki.

"I was with him, but I am here now," she said, shrugging. "He just needed a bit of solitude after a day such as this." She dropped her eyes and chewed on her lip, thinking back to the previous few hours she'd spent with him.

~Earlier that same evening~

Loki sighed heavily, trying to steady his breathing, and stared at the ceiling above his bed as Eir personally checked him over for any extensive injuries. He didn't want her here. He wanted to be left alone. He was fine. But Odin had insisted Loki visit the healing rooms, and when Loki had refused, Eir had showed up at the doors of his chambers not ten minutes later. Well, it was better than having to do this examination in public, he supposed. He wasn't ashamed of his body, but that didn't mean he particularly enjoyed lying around shirtless in front of ten healers.

At least Sigyn was there with him. She sat on the opposite side of the bed from Eir, attempting to make conversation with him, talking about the weather of all things. She wasn't usually this chatty, and he knew she was just trying to distract him from the incredibly uncomfortable situation that involved a stranger's hands running over every inch of his body. Every inch. Yes, he was very uncomfortable indeed.

"Well, Your Highness," Eir said plainly, standing up from Loki's bed, "you have some rather deep bruises."

Loki looked sideways at Sigyn and rolled his eyesーWell, obviously.

He hardly needed a healer to figure that out.

"But no breaks, fractures, sprains or bleeding," Eir said, brow furrowed as she shook her head. "Have you any idea why the Allfather was adamant you specifically be seen by a healer?"

Loki swallowed and plastered his most innocent expression on his face. Yes, he had an idea, but he wasn't going to voice it, now was he.

"I can only assume that he is simply a bit overprotective of his son."

Much to his relief, Eir did not question him further. She nodded and gathered her healing vials and tools. Loki sat up and pulled on his robe, not bothering to tie the sash. Eir was halfway to the door when she stopped short and turned to face him.

"Would you like a pain ender, Your Highness?"

Eyes sliding to Sigyn, Loki stood and nodded. "Yes, thank you," he said quietly and ran a hand through his hair as Eir pulled out a small vial of clear liquid and handed it to him.

"You should only need the one dose," she said with a small smile and then after bowing

respectfully, she left without another word.

Once she had closed the door behind her, Loki walked to the sprawling balcony. He wanted nothing more than to forget every single moment of what had become the worst day of his life, and that pain ender would be helpful in doing just that. Staring blankly into the cosmos, he rubbed an ache in his shoulder.

Sigyn remained seated on his bed, questioning whether or not to follow him. He'd barely said a word to her since returning from Jotunheim about an hour ago. She still had no idea what had happened, and he still wasn't letting her see it, whatever it was. Maybe he just wanted to be alone? It didn't seem like that though, considering he'd practically dragged her to his chambers, refusing to let her go to her own room.

Pressing her lips together, she stood from the bed, and walking to the fireplace, she stared into the green flames. She didn't know what to do. She didn't want to press him for information that he wanted to keep private, but she also wanted to help him get through it, again, whatever it was, and how could she do that if she had no idea what had happened on Jotunheim? With a heavy sigh, she leaned her forehead against the stone of the mantle.

"How can I help?" she whispered, knowing he could hear her. "Say the word. I'll do anything. I can't stand seeing you like this. Is there anything you want?"

She really hoped he didn't want solitude. She would have complied to his wishes, of course, but she desperately wanted to at least hold him. At most, she wanted him to trust her enough to talk to her. Turning away from the flames, she looked at him out on his balcony. He was facing away from her, so all she could do was stare at his back.

Loki didn't answer her whispered question immediately. He could feel her desperation, her desire to know the truth, and to some extent he did want to tell her, but he just wasn't ready. What if she saw the blue of his skin through the bond and became scared of him? For Hel's sake, he was scared of himself. He wanted to run from himself. What would he do if she ran from him? If she left him? He didn't think she would, but still. It was a possibility. A possibility that would absolutely wreck him. Setting his jaw, he exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the cold air. He looked down at the vial in his hand and sucked in his cheeks.

Screw it.

He tossed back the pain ender, letting his eyelids slide shut as the warmth went down his throat and filled his stomach. It would be an escape for only a short while, but it would be an escape nonetheless. Licking his lips, he let his head fall back as a feeling of pure contentment settled deep within his abdomen. Shit, he was going to regret this, wasn't he. He was going to sail off toward Happy Land for about an hour then his ship was going to crash right back into the jagged rocks of Despair Island. That's how these enders worked. He knew them well. Not that he could be bothered to care when he felt like he was glowing from the inside out. Frowning, he brought his head back up. Sig had asked him a question, and he'd clean forgotten what it was.

Oh right.

What could she do to help. Was there anything he wanted.

Raising his eyebrows, he pursed his lips. There was one thing he wanted, and it sure as Hel wasn't a gods damn conversation about his lovely tour of Jotunheim. Turning to face her finally, he descended the balcony stairs, taking slow steps in her direction, an eerie calmness surrounding him. As he came toe to toe with her, she tilted her head back to accompany their height difference.

Sliding his hand into her hair, he kept his voice low. "I want you."

Sigyn couldn't help the excitement coiling in her stomach from the tone of his voice and the intensity of his gaze, but she was also a bit concerned. He seemed so emotionally detached, and if there was one thing Loki was not, it was detached. Especially from her. Loki was always so giving. Well, there had been that one time she'd had finger shaped bruises on her hips for days, but even then, he certainly hadn't been detached. If anything, he'd been too a-ttached.

But now? Breathing heavily as his thumb stroked her jaw, she continued to just stare up at him. This was really what he wanted? She was almost afraid to say no. She didn't know this version of Loki. It was while she searched his eyes that it dawned on her.

She felt incredible.

Her insides felt like ... like they were floating lazily in the gently rolling waves of a perfectly warm sea on a perfectly warm day with a perfectly warm breeze. Oh. He'd looked at her carefully before accepting that vial from Eir ten minutes past, hadn't he. He hadn't needed it for the pain, had he. His pupils weren't even dilated despite the dim light, or his supposed desire for her. They were as emerald as ever. Frowning, she dropped her head, trying to ignore the good feeling in her stomach.

Gods, this felt amazing. And she hated that it was a complete and total lie. She never wanted to feel it again.

"Loki, I don't know-"

He put his finger on her lips, shaking his head slowly. With hooded eyes, he lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger and just looked at her. He didn't kiss her, only blinking his too bright eyes a few times. There was no hint of muscle tension in his jaw, as though he was in a trance. He pulled her toward the bed and pinned her beneath him, running his fingers along the planes of her face.

She sincerely hoped he would remember this in the morning. She hoped she would. Because his fingers on her skin, his hips between her thighs, his hair between her fingers, it all felt too good to stop. Unable to help herself, she turned her head and caught his first and middle fingers with her lips. His breathing picked up, and the eerie calm left him then.

"Sig," he whispered and dropped his head to kiss her neck.

Here was the Loki she knew. She allowed herself to shamelessly drown in him, just as he allowed himself to drown in her. He'd been doing a grand job of guarding the truth until the moment she pulled his mouth down on hers. Then his veil dropped completely, and she saw it.

Just as she'd seen in the nightmare after they'd first slept together. Fair skin turned blue, green eyes turned red. She didn't understand completely what it meant, only that it was causing a complete emotional breakdown within him.

Oh Loki.

She wanted to cry, her heart aching beneath her chest from his pain. She loved him so much more than she would ever be able to express. He trembled above her when it was over, and she wanted nothing more than to hold him there forever, his body wrapped up in hers. But she couldn't hold him. Not forever. Not even for two more seconds.

He pushed off of her quickly and pulled his pants back on. Walking to the fireplace, he settled into the hearth sofa, staring into the fire blankly. Save for the rising and falling of his chest with each steady breath, he was motionless.

Feeling positively empty, she crawled off his bed, went to his washroom to clean herself up, got dressed, and cast one more glance in his direction. When he only continued his quiet study of the green flames, she left for the healing rooms to see the warriors three and Sif.

~The Private Healing Room, Presently~

Sigyn blew out a breath and refocused her thoughts on the present. Her memories of Loki during the last hour were making her too emotional, and she didn't particularly want to fall apart in front of present company. Especially Sif, who was still looking at Sigyn with poorly veiled annoyance after her 'why are you even here' question. It really seemed unfair that Sif was still holding a grudge against her. Good grief, after all she and Loki went through to repair the damage they'd done! Not to mention that Sif had started that fight with Loki. It was her own damn fault any of it had happened at all. Sigyn rolled her eyes and ran her hand down her face. Had she not just told herself to not be upset about Sif's behavior? And here she was ruminating over it, practically in tears. For the love, she might as well just start thinking about Loki again if she was just going to cry anyway.

She peeked up at Sif again. The war goddess was now helping Volstagg with the healing salve for his arm. Must be nice having friends to help you. She wasn't sure she could call them her friends, despite caring for them. Well, maybe they were her friends, in a way, and she just didn't feel part of the group because of how they'd treated Loki in the past. Sigyn dropped her eyes and swallowed as her eyes began to fill with awful tears again. Loki. Her mind drifted back to him, and the tears were just about to fall when thankfully Sif addressed her from across the room, distracting her from how depressed she felt.

"Did you see Thor in the observatory earlier? Do you know where he went? I checked his chambers, but he wasn't there. I thought he would've come to find us by now," Sif asked, standing up and crossing her arms as a deep frown creased her brow.

Sigyn's jaw dropped, and she looked from warrior to warrior. They didn't know? Oh Hel, she did not want to be the one to pass on the news of Thor's exile. How did they not know that? Had no one seen the bifrost roar to life?

"Um," she began, clearing her throat, giving herself a few seconds to prepare her words. "Yes, I saw him."

She chewed her lip and let out a heavy sigh. Might as well just get it over with.

"The king banished him. I know not where to," she said with a shrug.

They stared at her, eyes wide, mouths agape.

"What did you say?" Sif choked on the words, hands fisting at her sides.

"I'm sorry. I thought you knew," Sigyn replied, wincing at the anger evident in Sif's voice. "He took Thor's power, his title, even Mjölnir."

They gaped at her, as though she was a figment of their imaginations. It was awful. She couldn't have imagined the hurt expressions on their faces. Warriors just looked wrong when they were on the verge of tears. She refused to face them one more second and pushed up from her seat. She was done with this sadness. It was everywhere. Maybe she could go to the library and lose herself in a book. Yes. That's what she would do.

Rushing after Sigyn, Sif grabbed her arm before she reached the doors. "And what of Loki?" she whispered heatedly.

"What of him?" Sigyn said, pressing her lips together. "I left him in his chambers, as I said."

Swallowing thickly, she looked at her feet. Had Sif seen his transformation on Jotunheim? Had they all?

"I saw something I did not understand," Sif said, lowering her voice further as she led Sigyn outside the door. "I thought maybe I had imagined it. Loki … changed."

Furrowing her brow, Sigyn pinched the bridge of her nose, absorbed in the mental image of Loki's Jotun appearance. She didn't find the change ugly, just different. It simply wasn't what she was used to. It was kind of amazing, honestly. Even with blue skin, he wasn't ugly...or scary, for that matter. As the thought crossed her mind, she hoped that through the many halls and walls between them, Loki had heard it.

Æsir had been taught, nearly from birth, to fear frost giants. That they were a race of monsters. The question of why his skin had changed remained unanswered. Though she'd never seen a family resemblance between Loki and his parents or Thor, he was still too small to be Jotun, was he not? He may have towered over her, but the frost giants were at least twelve feet tall!

She went still suddenly, the color draining from her face. What was it she had said to Loki earlier in his mother's chambers? She'd screamed at him stupidly, something about idiotic Asgardians.

"You're not like them! Sometimes I think you don't even have the same genetic makeup!"

Covering her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut, stifling a cry. What painfully wretched and true words. Why couldn't she go back in time and erase them from his memory? From hers? She was a fool, a fool with a tongue too loose for her own good.

Feeling Sif staring at her still, she opened her eyes, mulling over whether or not to admit her knowledge on the matter. She sighed heavily, deciding honesty was the best route, and spoke in a hushed tone.

"I saw it, too. Loki and I have a special," she hesitated, watching the war goddess carefully before continuing, "bond. Did the others see it?"

Looking around the open corridor and finding it empty, Sif kept her voice low. "I think not. None of them mentioned it. Laufey grabbed him. His armor broke beneath the grip. Every point of contact between his skin and Laufey's became Jotun in appearance. If I'd not seen Volstagg's arm turn black when one had grabbed him during the battle, I would have thought the change of Loki's skin was a normal reaction to their touch. Never before had I seen him terrified. Loki is always ten steps ahead of everyone, but this? The look on his face was proof that he was miles behind this. Worst of all was the Allfather's reaction. I saw regret. Guilt even. I think he and the queen have been hiding something from Loki. Something very grave indeed."

Clutching her stomach, holding back a sob, Sigyn nodded. She was done here. "If you have need of me, I will be in the library."

Willing back tears, Sif watched as Sigyn rushed down the hall. Sif could only imagine the torture it must have been for Loki to discover that he'd been lied to his entire life. She doubted he was still in his chambers. As a man of unequaled intellect, Loki would seek out answers. He wouldn't accept ignorance. But he wouldn't go directly to Odin. It was most likely that he would visit the casket. Turning on her heel, she fled from the healing chambers and hurried to the weapons vault.

It seemed like a lifetime ago that he'd looked upon the casket. And, to a very real degree, it had been. That morning, viewing the dead guards and listening to his now banished brother talk of war (glorious war!) had been part of a different life. A life when he knew where he came from, who his parents were, what his name was. Now, looking at the frost giants' most powerful weapon, Loki questioned if he wanted to know the truth. His existence may have been a lie, but it had been a fantastic lie. He was a prince of Asgard. His name was Loki Odinson. The God of Mischief. Brother to Thor, son of Frigga. His eyes were green, his skin fair. Hanging his head, he scoffed quietly. How ironic that the god of lies desired the truth. Shaking his head, hands fisted at his sides, he approached the casket.

Standing before the ancient blue box, he whispered, "Just do it."

Slowly, carefully, he wrapped his fingers around it. Cold rushed through his veins, power along with it. He felt alive, and beginning at his hands, Jotun blue spread up and across his body. Salty tears pooled in his eyes, no longer the green hue he knew and loved. Feeling a presence behind him, he turned to see the man he'd called father standing at the top of the stairs. He desperately wanted Odin to reassure him. He wanted Odin to tell him that he had an unknown congenital disease or that he was cursed. Either would be preferable answers over 'you're a frost giant'. The blue of his skin faded away as he set the casket back on its pedestal, and he looked at the older man questioningly, desperately.

Odin hung his head. Despite so often being at odds with the second prince, he did love him. In his own way. He'd almost forgotten that he did.

"You are my son, Loki," he answered his son's silent question. "I raised you. You are my own."

Loki took a deep breath, his eyes closing. The answer wasn't good enough.

"Am I born of Frigga?"

Silence.

Odin shook his head slowly before answering a small eternity later. "No."

And that was that. One word and Loki's world came crashing down. It took every ounce of his willpower not to just fall to the stone floor and weep. He had wanted to know why for years, decades, centuries, why the king had treated him as second. Not only as a second son, but as a lesser son.

A disappointment.

Loki had always received harsher discipline, greater judgment, less kindness, less understanding and empathy. Now here he stood, looking at the man he'd called father, finally with the answers to all those whys.

Odin steadied himself. He had no choice but to tell his youngest the rest of the story. And so he did. The whole story. Finally, after all these years, he told Loki the truth.

Loki stared blankly, unable to believe, more likely unwilling to believe the words.

Laufey, of all those monsters, was his true father. The Jotun king had left him to die in the cold after the great war with Jotunheim. Perhaps because he'd been too small. Because he'd been a disappointment even as a baby. Before he'd been able to take his first step, speak his first word, he'd been a disappointment. The frost giants had been defeated, and Odin took pity on Loki and brought him back to Asgard.

"So when you said that I was 'born to be a king'," Loki said through his teeth, his jaw clenched, "you meant something else entirely. Such cryptic words. Have you any idea what those words meant to a young boy? To me as a young boy?! Was I supposed to sit on the throne of Jotunheim?! In what realm exactly was your head when you made that decision?!"

Hanging his head, looking more weary than Loki had ever seen him, Odin fell back on the steps unconscious. Eyes wide, Loki ascended the stairs three at a time and bent over the king's body, splayed across the steps. Looking upon the older man's now sleeping form, suddenly fearful that he would not wake, Loki called for the guards.

Running up the stairs after the guards and the man he could no longer call father, Loki did not see the warrior hidden from sight within the shadows of the vault.

Swiping at the tears on her cheeks (she couldn't believe she was crying for Loki), Sif waited until they had disappeared to take her leave and find Sigyn.

Sigyn rubbed her eyes and groaned. She was really starting to hate this blood bond. She felt ragged, utterly spent from Loki's emotional chaos. It was wonderful when Loki felt anything good, but mostly she felt his brooding. Of course, after all this Jotun business, how could anyone blame him? He had every right to feel awful. Wherever Loki was, he was wrecked, and she was going to lose her mind if she didn't at least try to ignore it, so she willed her thoughts to focus instead on the image from the book in her hands as she sat atop Loki's rafter in the library.

A little girl was passing through a mirror and meeting a red queen.

That was as far as she got before she heard the sound of heavy boots approaching.

Oh for pity's sakeーsetting her jaw, she rolled her eyes, knowing full well who had come to pay her a visit.

"You must really desire the feel of razor sharp metal against your throat," she snapped, closing the leather book sharply, its pages slamming together with an audible crack. Glaring down at her stalker, the torches throughout the massive hall of books burned brighter, sparks landing on the floor below.

Eyeing the dangerous torches, Theoric spoke calmly. "I only wish to explain myself further. I feel that our conversation on the Bifrost was left unfinished."

She snorted, completely humorless. "No." She hopped down and replaced the book on the shelf. "I made myself perfectly clear."

Taking a seat on a settee by the main fireplace, Theoric offered a smile, undeterred by her curt tone. "You told me not to come within a foot of you, which if you will note, I've not breached," he said, gesturing to the space between them.

Sigyn sighed as she sat in the armchair across from him. "That may be the case, but the point remains. I have nothing to say to you," she said, waving her hand as though a pesky fly was buzzing around her head.

Her anger toward him had waned significantly since Loki had returned alive and uninjured, however, if that had not been the case, Theoric would be roasting right now.

Leaning forward, Theoric held out his hands. "I would give anything, do anything, for you, dearest Sigyn-"

"I most certainly am not your dearest," she hissed, cutting him off, her grey green eyes flashing in the flickering light of the fire.

Breathing heavily, exasperated, he rubbed both hands down his face. "Well to me, you are. Do not think to tell me what I feel. My parents are both dead, and I've no siblings. My soldiers look up to me, but they do not desire my friendship. Sigyn, I assure you that you are the dearest person in the world to me. It may seem rash. Perhaps premature. But I know how I feel."

She gaped at him. He sounded positively mad. She momentarily wondered if there was an institution in Asgard for such headcases.

"All you could possibly know is that you find my appearance pleasing," she said, throwing up her hands. "You know nothing of who I truly am, Theoric. If you did, I would wager that you'd find me far less appealing. Valhalla, you are nearly Odin's highest ranking officer, commander of his finest soldiers. You have fought many battles in the name of Asgard and come home victorious. Your principles are solid. You and I are nothing alike, Theoric. I am truly sorry that you've no family," and she meant it, "but if you continue in your pursuit of me, you will never have one. I would follow Loki into Hel."

She rose, tired of the conversation and retrieved the book she'd been reading before climbing back up to the rafter. She wanted him to go. Just leave her be.

Theoric stood and spoke with more authority, the authority of a commanding officer. "I do know some things, Sigyn," he said, his voice raising in volume as he stood to follow her. "I know you are a fearless warrior, brave enough to go to Jotunheim, outnumbered. I know that when you love, you love passionately. I know that you are fiercely loyal. One such as you belongs in the company of the finest soldiers of Asgard. I've seen your magic. It is truly powerful. That power could be used for good, Sigyn. You are not bound to whatever darkness you think resides within you."

He'd desperately wanted her to concede to the truth (it was indeed truth that she could rise from darkness) in his words, but when she merely sighed and shook her head, he felt his stomach drop. She was refusing him again. He hung his head. What had he expected? He kicked himself mentally. For the sake of his own sanity, he had to cease his pursuit. This had been his last ditch effort. And as much as he didn't want to believe her, it was clear that she truly would stay with Loki to the bitter end. The dark prince had his talons in her, and she wasn't even attempting escape.

Theoric didn't know it, but his words hit Sigyn like a ton of bricks, and tears filled her eyes. She could be good? What did that even mean? What was good? Was love good? Was dying for love good? If not, then she was far from anything resembling good. She looked up from the book.

"It wasn't bravery that lit Sif's body on fire," she said, her voice shaking with emotion much to her embarrassment. "It wasn't bravery that set me on the path to Jotunheim. It was love. But it was love only for Loki. You don't seem to understand. Why can you not believe me when I say that I would protect him with my life?"

She was saddened by the look on his face. Gods, why did she have to be cursed with so much empathy? It was making it impossible for her to hate him.

"Theoric," she continued before he could respond, "I am more sorceress than warrior, and I've no desire to fight in the name of Asgard. I am not good, Theoric. Please, do not let this unfounded infatuation destroy you."

Squaring his shoulders, Theoric nodded stiffly. "He will be the death of you," he said, eyeing her from under his brow, "and I will not stand by to watch. I bid you farewell. You shall not hear from me again concerning this matter."

Bowing quickly, he walked to the doors where Sif had apparently been waiting. Ignoring protocol, he didn't bother with a proper salute and brushed past her.

Sigyn stared off into space, taken aback by his words. He'd said goodbye. He wouldn't bother her again. She'd fully expected him to continue to pester her, and now she wasn't sure how she felt. Well, she knew she didn't want Theoric to pursue her, to love her. She cringed at the thought. Perhaps it was the reason he was done with her.

"He will be the death of you."

She feared Theoric was right. And at the same time, she didn't give a damn. She'd said she would follow Loki into Hel. And by the Norns had she meant it. Deciding it best not to continue thinking on that, she returned to reading the story. Honestly, it might have been written about her for all its similarities. She had once been a little girl passing through a dreamworld turned nightmare too. She thought back to her life before Loki. That Sigyn, the playful girl who had enjoyed swimming, climbing, playing chess, exploring Vanir delicacies at the market, flirting with suitors just to see them blush, casting small spells...that Sigyn was no more. Playing with fire had died the moment she first saw Loki.

There was no more playing with fire, was there.

In truth, however, the transformation had really begun when she'd first dreamt of him. Along with the dreams, her magic had grown, and it had been the key to her exit...to Loki. She was a darker version of herself now. The true version. And like that little girl in the story, she felt there would be nothing worse than going back to normal, even if it was the practical and safe choice. Freya had always said that Sigyn was her darkest daughter. At the time, she'd not understood her unkind mother's words. Sigyn understood now. She hadn't noticed Sif approaching the rafter from below.

"You must be deep in thought," Sif said, her voice somehow deeper, more foreboding, since their previous conversation. "My armor is, after all, very loud."

A smile that did not reach Sigyn's eyes stretched across her face. "Yes, I suppose I was," she said, a bit nervous as to why Sif was there. "Why do you still wear it? You are returned from battle, are you not?"

Jumping up, Sif grabbed the rafter with both hands and swung over it, gracefully positioning herself across from the Vanir. "I could ask you the same," Sif said, slightly defensive.

"Mine is pliable wool and leather," Sigyn explained with a shrug. "Yours is uncomfortable metal." Rubbing the back of her neck, she yawned. It had been an exhausting twenty-four hours.

"What do you want, Sif?" she asked, fully aware of the petulant tone of her voice.

Sif stared at the spine of Sigyn's book. "Nothing is more fitting for your prince than that story in your hands. Loki is not who he was this morning."

"I know that, Sif," Sigyn snapped unintentionally. "Do you not remember our conversation outside the healing chamber?"

"No," Sif said, shaking her head. "You knew that his skin changed, but you do not know what I just witnessed in the vault."

Hesitantly, Sigyn leaned forward, concern creasing her forehead. "Tell me."

Frigga kneeled by her husband's bed, holding his hand, though her eyes were trained on her son. Loki sat across from her on the other side of the bed, his jaw set painfully tight. He'd come running into Odin's bedchamber a few minutes prior, shouting at the guards to be careful with the unconscious king. Working up the courage to say his name, Frigga took a deep breath.

"Loki?"

She wanted to drop Odin's hand and just run to her son and hug him. He was her baby boy, for heaven's sake, and if she could just hold him and keep him safe forever, she would. Fear kept her where she was, though. She was afraid. No, she was terrified that he would just push her away, and she wouldn't know what to do with herself if that happened. She'd already lost one son today. Losing Loki would absolutely devastate her.

Loki didn't answer her, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly as he stared blankly at the man who was not his father. Trembling with anxiety, Frigga's voice raised a pitch.

"Loki, please? You must speak to me. I do not have your talent for reading minds."

He finally raised his eyes to meet hers, emerald to azure. "I do not even know how to address you properly anymore," he whispered, eyes shining.

Her face crumpled as she choked back a sob. "I am your mother, Loki," she managed between painful breaths. "I have been since the day he brought you back, the day I first loved you."

Her words cut him. He looked at his chest, searching for the gaping wound, to no avail.

"Then why did you lie to me?" he asked, eyebrows knitted. "Did you or Odin honestly think it better for me to find out like this?"

She frowned, words failing her, tears filling her eyes. She had never wanted to lie to him. That had been Odin's decision. Odin's awful decision.

"Loki..."

"I always knew that I was different," Loki muttered, running a hand through his hair.

"At the basest level, one could not, upon looking at us, see even a slight family resemblance," he said, his voice raising just as surely as his anger. "And the heat. I know now why Asgard has always been so gods damn hot for me."

He ripped off his outer jacket. What purpose did the heavy princely garb serve anymore? Was he even still technically a prince? He'd never felt like this before. This was true pain. True sorrow. An actual knife to the back would have hurt less. Sliding off the bed to sit on the floor, he held his head in his hands.

Desperate to ease his suffering (was that even possible now after what they'd done to him?!) Frigga clambered to her feet and ran to him, no longer caring that he would probably push her away. He swatted at her hands, just as she'd thought he would, but gave up quickly when she refused to let go. Protective arms holding him against her chest, she sobbed into his hair.

"We made a mistake, dearest."

He looked up at her, astonished by such a simple excuse. "Mistake?! That's a fucking huge mistake!" he scoffed, wishing he didn't love her at all, wishing he could hate her for this.

Frigga didn't think for a moment to correct his language. She didn't care. She rather felt like swearing herself. Shaking her head, she opened and closed her mouth. What could she possibly say? Staring at him, she came up with nothing, settling for just stroking his hair instead.

He held her gaze as his tears overflowed and ran down his cheeks. "Loki Laufeyson."

The name tasted horrible on his tongue. His entire life was a sham.

"How could you? How could you?" He choked on his own words.

Not letting loose her hold on her son, Frigga pulled him further into her embrace. Never before had she been unable to comfort him. Any time something had upset him, whether it being children mocking him at the academy, or Odin scolding him for something absolutely ridiculous, or any other number of things, Loki had always come to her first. Now here she was. A mother who couldn't provide a safe haven for her beloved child. She'd never felt more useless, more guilty, more of a failure in her long life. If she couldn't help him, who could?

Closing her eyes, she bit her lip and sobbed into his hair, realizing that there was someone who could help him, and it was like being stabbed in the heart knowing it wasn't her anymore. Finally lifting her head, she shouted to the guards at the door.

"Fetch the Lady Sigyn. Now."

She continued to cry into his raven locks and tightened her hold on him. Hopefully, Sigyn could do what she could not.

Still seated on the rafter in the library, Sigyn was mulling over Loki's true name, rolling it around on her tongue, her taste buds finding it bitter. Laufeyson.

She shook her head. No, he was an Odinson. Through and through. He was and always would be Loki Odinson. She didn't give a damn about his true parentage. Sif had relayed the entire scene from the weapons vault before announcing that she was exhausted and had left for her chambers. Sigyn at once both loved and hated Odin. On one hand, if it hadn't been for him, Loki would have died without having had the chance to live more than a few days. But, on the other hand, the king had lied to him. And it had been no little lie.

Loki was the son of his mortal enemy. Had he really meant to one day just announce to Loki that he was taking the throne of Jotunheim? Was Loki that dispensable to him? Had he really intended to just send him away to live on a frozen rock and rule a race he'd been raised to despise? After believing, throughout his entire life, that he was an Asgardian prince?

She couldn't tell if it was her overwhelming sadness or his, but she jumped from the rafter, needing to find him. Her hand was on the door when it swung open suddenly, several guards bursting through, and she stumbled back. They seemed out of breath, and surprisingly upset for such typically stoic soldiers.

"Lady Sigyn," one of them said, his eyes wide with concern, "your urgent presence is needed in the king's chambers."

She needed no further explanation. Nodding, she ran past them and bolted for the east wing of the royal corridor, the sounds of their hurried footsteps attempting to catch up to her echoing through the hall.

Frigga heard the clatter of fast boots out in the corridor becoming steadily louder, and she sighed. She'd thought it might be upsetting to see Sigyn, that it might be the epitome of 'you've been replaced'. Instead she only felt relief wash over her at the sight of the petite raven haired woman turning the corner, running down the hall straight for them. Two guards, posted at Odin's doors, spears crossed as a barrier, stepped aside for her.

Loki looked up at the sound. As soon as he saw her, he pushed to his feet, just in time for her to throw her arms around his waist.

"Sig, I-"

"Don't speak," she said, clamping one hand over his mouth. "I already know. You don't have to say anything, love."

Removing her hand from his mouth, she slid both arms up around his neck and pulled him as close as possible. His breath had hitched in his chest when she called him 'love', and he almost said it back, but she released her hold on him, and the urge faded at the shocked look on her face. He followed her eyeline to Odin.

She gaped, horrified at the corpse-like king lying on his bed. "Dear gods, is he dead?"

Loki shook his head and ran his thumbs under his eyes to remove the evidence of his crying. "It is the Odinsleep," he explained, running a hand through his hair. "It is a preservation method of sorts. That's the best way to describe it, I think."

Sigyn's eyes slid from Odin back to Loki. "How long does he need to be... refreshed?" She'd never heard of such a thing.

Frigga rose from the floor then. She hadn't bothered to get up when Sigyn had arrived, only letting lose her hold on Loki.

"We do not know," she answered, sighing heavily. "Days, months, years, it is unknown."

"Years?" Sigyn shrieked, hating the sound of her own voice.

She grabbed Odin's hand, shaking it a bit, willing him to awaken. Despite her distaste for the old man, he had kept peace throughout the realms for millennia, and she was none too happy that he was lying down on the job, so to speak.

"But Asgard cannot hold its place within the realms without its king," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Frigga placed a hand on her shoulder, and Sigyn looked up at her. "Asgard is not without their king," the queen said, nodding to Loki.

Rhythmic steps sounded from the hall then, and Loki, brows raised, mouth agape, turned to see the entire Hawk guard, all two hundred of them marching toward him. Leading the charge, Theoric held Gungnir out horizontal before him. Loki turned to Frigga as the Hawks came to an abrupt halt at the door and dropped to their knees in front of him. Bringing their fists over their chests, they bowed their heads to him.

Solemnly, like the guards, Frigga bowed her head, gesturing for Sigyn to do the same.

"Odin sleeps," Frigga said, her voice strong. "Thor is banished. You are the rightful king of Asgard, my son."

Loki couldn't believe his ears. He was a king now? After this awful, dreadful day, he was now suddenly supposed to take the throne of Asgard? He didn't remotely know how to process this, but that didn't matter now. Closing his mouth and squaring his soldiers, he composed himself quickly. He nodded to the woman he would continue to call 'mother' and then turned to face the Hawks. Theoric presented him with Gungnir, and pursing his lips, Loki closed his hands around the spear.

All he had ever wanted was to be Thor's equal. Being king had always been an impossible dream, one that he had been abruptly roused from earlier in the vault. He'd never considered what actually sitting on the throne entailed because it was never to be his. It was perhaps why, at least in part, he had played so many tricks, why he'd been so mischievous all these years. But now, holding Gungnir, feeling its weight, its power, which was as potent as the magic that flowed through his veins, he was determined to do right by his parents. The two people who he wanted to, once again, claim as his own. He reveled in the energy pulsing within his hands, and tongue sliding across his bottom lip, he turned slowly back to face his mother and Sigyn. Sigyn's eyes met his, and moving the spear to one hand, he held the other out, palm up, beckoning her to come to him.

Smiling, relieved to see him taking on this responsibility despite knowing the painful truth now, Frigga went to Loki and hugged him. "I trust that Asgard, under your rule, is in good hands, my son. If you have need of me, I will be here at your father's side."

Loki nodded at her and said goodbye. With a wave of his hand, the guards parted for him, and he pulled Sigyn through the two long rows of soldiers, Gungnir at his side.

Frigid Playlist:

12. "Satellite(Metamorphic Downtempo Remix)" by Tritonal feat. Jonathan Mendelsohn