Chapter 14: Die Happy. (I Can't Undo This)

Closing her eyes and breathing in the scent of pine needles and fresh cold water, Sigyn swung her feet over the edge of the two hundred feet high peak.

"This is and always has been my cliff, Fen," she said, a shiver going down her spine from the wind whipping around them. She hissed through her teeth, strangely reveling in the feel of the cold air.

"It is the most beautiful place in the nine, don't you think? Look at the falls," she whispered, leaning into Fenrir and pointing. "Look at those colors in the mist. Valhalla, don't they just put the rainbow bridge to shame?"

The wolf nudged her shoulder, whining, and she turned a bit to him. "Surely you're not scared of heights, Fen," she said with a smile, rubbing under his chin as he continued to whine and nudge her shoulder.

"Oh you'll be fine, silly boy," she chuckled and gave him a quick kiss on the top of his head and slid her gaze back to the water.

From up here she could still see her childhood dwelling. The house had been full of similar women, heads butting constantly, and thusly it had been as disastrous as the most tumultuous tempest. Freya had been such a terrible mother, inviting man after man into their home, foregoing all her responsibilities to the girls. Sigyn had very nearly been taken against her will on a number of occasions, thanks to her mother's strange bedmates. If it hadn't been for the fire under her skin burning their wandering hands, she wouldn't have been able to fight them off. Poor Nanna hadn't been able to.

Lower lip trembling, she wiped a single tear off her cheek at the memory:

Her blond haired sister, red faced and wide eyed with panic came running into Sigyn's room and silently closed the door and turned the lock. Sigyn watched confused as Nanna, the skirt of her dress torn all the way from the hem to the top of her thigh, slid down the wall and put a shaky finger to her lips before burying her face into her knees that were pulled up against her chest, sobbing silently.

Sigyn's eyes went wide with fear, the book she'd been reading falling from her hands to the floor with a thud. She'd never seen Nanna in such a state of duress. Sigyn hiked up her skirt and ran to her sister, and dropping to her knees, she wrapped her arms around her. Her head then snapped up at the sound of fast approaching heavy footsteps, and soon a heavy fist was pounding on her door, a male voice shouting for the "pretty little girl" to open the door. Nanna clung to Sigyn, shaking her head rapidly, saying "don't let him in" as tears streamed down her cheeks.

When the huge brute of a man kicked the door in, he didn't bother to discern which "little girl" he went after. Thank the Norns it had been Sigyn, because Nanna was far too weak from the man's earlier actions, covered in black and blue finger shaped bruises, to defend herself. Sigyn screamed "let go of me!" over and over until she was nearly blue in the face, and Nanna, screaming at him to leave Sigyn alone and "take me instead!" crawled over to him and latched onto his leg with her teeth through the fabric. He cried out and grabbed Nanna by her hair and kicked her off him before dragging Sigyn to her bed.

It was a memory she might have shut out long ago if the experience hadn't gone from sheer horror to downright wicked glee by the end. She had been sixteen at the time, and that was when she first discovered the fire within her. She'd been terrified for herself, of course (gods, he'd been huge and she'd been a virgin for Hel's sake!), but the rage she'd felt upon seeing her sister being assaulted had been what triggered it. It had started with his hands sizzling when he ripped the straps of Sigyn's dress from her shoulders, and within seconds his entire body had gone up in flames, and she'd pushed him off of her with all her strength.

She remembered gaping at her hands, the smoke billowing out from the tips of her fingers, and standing taller as her eyes slid back up to the burning man in the middle of her room. She'd licked her lips and smiled like a gods damn cheshire cat at the sight. She might have just watched him burn if it hadn't been for Nanna throwing a blanket over him and patting him down. The look on Nanna's face had been a combination of fear and relief. Sigyn's only regret was that he hadn't come to her first and spared Nanna from unbearable trauma. It had been a hundred years before Nanna allowed another man to touch her, before she realized that not every man was a disgusting monster.

Sigyn had practically been raised by her beloved Nanna, who was only one year older than her. Nanna had been raised by the sister older than her, and that sister, by the one older than her and so on five more times. Freya had just popped them out and practically left them to fend for themselves once they were old enough to walk. They'd all been fairly well behaved, so not having Freya involved had probably been for the best.

Sigyn was the youngest though, and Nanna had let her get away with everything. That included not telling anyone about Sigyn's new found magic. No doubt that had something to do with the way they'd discovered her abilities. Sigyn spent many years after that day playing with her fire as often as possible, and often for devious reasons. Burning Freya's tongue with still too hot dinner even after blowing on the bite repeatedly was a favorite.

Sigyn let her eyes fall shut and buried her face in Fenrir's soft fur as she laughed to herself. It wouldn't have taken the sharpest knife in the drawer to guess that she would fall for the god of mischiefーfall hard.

If anyone had told her then that the fire that had first saved her from the malicious touch of a cruel man, would eventually send her to Asgard into the arms of another man, a man whose touch she craved every second of every day, a man who she adored and loved with every ounce of her being, she would have laughed at the absurdity. Vanaheim hadn't been particularly good to her, but when she and Freya had first arrived in Asgard, she'd been so unbelievably homesick. Asgard was so different. So unknown. Well, that hadn't lasted long, had it. Her first magic lesson with Frigga was the last time she recalled missing home.

Sighing, she lifted her head from Fenrir's fur. In truth, the moment she'd laid eyes on Loki and those stunning emerald eyes, she'd all but forgotten that the evergreen realm even existed. Ah Loki. She wondered what he was up to right now. Not that she really cared what he was doing. She hadn't seen him since early that morning, and she'd be fine even if she didn't see him for ...

Hold on.

She frowned, the line between her eyebrows deepening, and she turned around to look at the portal. She didn't miss him. At all. She'd be fine not seeing him again. She didn't even want him. She did want one thing, though. She wanted to stay in this spot, on this cliff …. forever. Actually, that wasn't true. She didn't want to stay in this spot. She wanted to be at the bottom of the falls below it.

Chest heaving in a slight panic, her eyes went wide. What the Hel was wrong with her? She didn't care about Loki, and she wanted to hurl herself over the edge of this cliff? Since when had she become legitimately suicidal? She slid her eyes to Fenrir. He had a death grip on her dress with his teeth, his big brown eyes sad and scared, as if he knew her thoughts.

"Fen?" she asked, voice cracking. He whined in response, and growled a little.

This made no sense. She would never see Loki again. The man that she was supposedly so desperately in love with would be gone from her forever.

And. She. Did. Not. Care.

Like being hit out of nowhere with a ton of apathetic bricks, she felt nothing for Loki. Was that why she felt like tossing herself from this cliff? Was this something to do with the blood bond? She felt nothing for him, so she felt nothing for herself? No, that wasn't how it worked. She was supposed to feel what he felt. And could she even feel that if they were on different realms? If they could …. did that mean he didn't care for her then? Well, now that was just mean, wasn't it. After all they'd been through together? How could he not care for her anymore? Again, not that she cared.

Dear gods, what was happening to her? How could she possibly feel nothing for him? For anything? Wait, she did feel something. She felt love. Extreme love. But not for Loki. She wrinkled her nose, suddenly overwhelmed with love for Vanaheim of all things. The home that she had disowned. The home that had disowned her.

Yet somehow all she could think was that it was the most perfect place in the nine and that she wanted to die in this perfect happy place, never to feel pain again. Loki was pain. So then why continue living with that pain? He'd never even said he loved her. She'd assumed he did, but he'd never expressly said it.

At this point, what the Hel did it matter? He probably wouldn't even miss her. She felt happy here, and she wanted to die happily. She didn't want to be immortal anymore. Living forever meant that time was nonexistent. Age was insignificant. She was nine hundred years old, but she had no less time to live than she had had at her birth.

Loki was pain. Neverending pain. Beautiful, immortal pain. He was ice, and she was fire. He was destined to snuff her out. She wasn't melting the ice encasing his heart. He was just freezing her to death. The fire in her veins wasn't enough to warm her anymore. She'd become a frigid immortal. Just like him. It could all end right now. At this happy moment, she could end it. Her mind seemed to cave in on any rational thoughts and replaced those thoughts with the darkest visions she'd ever seen. But surely they weren't actual visions. She hadn't been given the gift of foresight. These were things that hadn't happened and couldn't happen. They couldn't happen because they were too horrible.

Why was Loki hanging from the Bifrost?! And by the gods, no ... he'd fallen!

Sigyn rubbed her eyes furiously trying to force them to see only her physical surroundings, but it was to no avail.

He was naked and alone in a sterile room with no light. His once beautiful hair was too long and tangled. He was emaciated. Strange alien beings were stripping him, burning him! And then ... was he on Midgard? What was wrong with him? Emerald eyes had turned unnatural blue, and ... was he killing mortals?

She cried into her hands as Fenrir tugged furiously at her skirt. One final image flashed across the backs of her eyelids.

Asgard was on fire.

That was it.

She really would jump now. It was too much. She may not have loved him anymore, but she didn't want to see Loki fall or die or burn. She didn't want to live to see any of it. She was happy here. Her home, her cliff, her waterfall.

Loki is pain. Loki is killing you. Loki doesn't love you. You are happy here. Just get on with it. Don't go back to him. It'll be over soon.

She stood to her feet, Fenrir barking and looking around, searching for something or someone. Peering over the falls, she hesitated. The pressure at the bottom would most likely rip her apart. Cringing she turned her back to the edge. She didn't want to see it.

Fenrir began howling then, and just as she was about to fall back, she saw Loki come charging through the portal on Sinir. The sight of him gave her pause. Her eyes caught his as he rode full speed up the mountain, the roar of the falls drowning out the sound of Sinir's hooves. With his raven hair whipping behind him and his intense green gaze focused on her, he looked almost like a beautiful dream. She tilted her head sideways, feeling a pang in her heart as he neared.

Huh, maybe she did feel something for him.

She considered taking a small step forward, thinking maybe she might stay a while longer, but she looked away from him and down at her feet. Whatever small desire had begun to grow within her, the desire to hold him, to feel his arms coming around her, it faded the moment she dropped her eyes. She stepped back instead. Vaguely hearing Loki's panicked cry of "NO! SIG", Fenrir growled and caught her wrist in his teeth painfully as she fell feet first from the cliff.

"FEN!" she screamed, tortured by his fangs ripping through her flesh and digging into the bone.

Blood pouring down her arm, her legs dangling beneath her, she looked down. As though she'd been lifted from a trance, she realized she'd just jumped off a cliff and was about to end her life, in a most brutal way. She grabbed at the rocky face of the cliff with her free hand, wishing she'd tried harder in the rock climbing courses during her academy years. She tried to swing her legs to propel herself forward, but Fen only bit down harder on her wrist, his paws sliding further toward the edge as he growled and whined around her skin. She could actually hear her wrist bone cracking under his sharp fangs, and she cried in agony, trying to reach the rocks, to stretch just that much further. The tips of her fingers only barely grazed the stone, not enough to get a good grip.

Gods dammit!

She could hear Loki then. She could feel him again. The bond glowed brighter within her core as he appeared on Sinir, out of breath and panting, at the top of the cliff behind his wolf. Seeing him so close, only an arms length away from her, she felt every inch of her body, even the parts that were now bloodied and broken, burn with love for him. And by Hel did he love her back. She could hear him screaming it in his thoughts.

She knew it now. And it was too late to do anything about it. He wasn't pain. He wasn't death. He was just Loki, and he was the only thing in the entire universe that she wanted. And now she was going to lose him. The tears streaming down her face were no longer from the pain in her wrist, from the pain of her shoulder dislocating, or her fingernails that were blood covered from scratching at the rocks. No, it was the agony of knowing this was the last time she would ever see Loki.

"Hold on!" he called down to her, his voice cracking as he dismounted.

"Loki, I can't," she rasped, watching through blurred vision as he dropped to his knees then to his chest and reached his long arm to her.

"I've got you, Sig, come here," he said through his teeth, his forehead beading with sweat.

Tears fell down his cheeks, and he gasped, trying to push himself far enough down to grab her without falling over himself and killing them both. Gods...oh gods no, he couldn't stretch far enough. One more inch. Just one more. Come on. Come on! Please!

PLEASE!

"Reach, love!" he shouted, his heart pounding as he glanced with wide eyes at her wrist in the wolf's powerful jaws.

Norns, her arm was shredded, tearing apart like a rope with too much weight, and he watched in horror as Fenrir lost his death grip, her wrist whittling away with nothing for him to bite into.

As though time, nonexistent as it was, had slowed to complete stillness, where only she and Loki existed in all their tragedy, she stared, absolutely shattered as his face became lost in the freezing mist that was quickly enveloping her body.

I can't undo this.

The fall was far enough that she had enough dreadful time to remember that he'd called her love. He'd actually voiced it. At least she knew for certain that he really did love her, and it made everything so much worse. Crying out in sheer agony, the falls tumbled over her.

Eyes blown wide, Loki screamed after her. "SIGYN!"

Without a moment's hesitation, he dove after her. If she was going to fall, then by Hel, he would be there to catch her.

Frigid Playlist:

14. "Rush Over Me" by Seven Lions & Illenium ft. HALIENE

**Author's Notes**

I have a love/hate relationship with cliffhangers. The love won out in this case. How else am I supposed to encourage you to read part 2? Anyway, Sigyn's memory of the sexual assault of her sister is a new addition since the original 2014 version. Please don't think I added that just to make this story more brutal without cause-thematic elements later on rely on the reader's knowledge of this scene.

Thank you so much for reading! Please favorite/follow/bookmark/subscribe/whatever if you enjoyed it. Don't stop now-honestly, we've really only just begun. Story continues in "Fallen Immortals" part 2 of this series.