Part Nine

As the party raged on upstairs Heimdall was still stuck in Merlin's room. It was dimly lit by candles, cramped, and full of odds and ends; and it smelt funny. It reminded him of home. There was definitely something Asgardian like about the aesthetic.

Heimdall tightly gripped the arms of his chair.

'If Arthur is truly the Arthur, King Arthur, then what is he doing with us?' he asked.

Infuriatingly the wizard seemed to be in no hurry to answer. Heimdall was forced to wait as Merlin waggled a bony finger and a shabby looking footstool obediently scuttled over to prop up his feet. Then he summoned the tea pot and the tea cup and the sugar bowl and biscuit barrel. He offered it to the Watchman who declined.

Finally he said, 'There are many in the Otherworld who would happily see the boy dead at their feet. Arthur was always destined to return to the Otherworld when it needed him the most, but it is not safe for him right now. I planted him among your people knowing that he would be protected and hidden from his enemies. A cuckoo in the nest, if you like.'

He slurped noisily at his tea and Heimdall thought hard.

'Please, tell me that you haven't pushed some of our children...' he said slowly, 'out of the nest?'

Merlin's bushy eyebrows almost leapt off his face in disgust. 'No! That's taking the analogy too far. How horrible!'

Heimdall shook his head. 'This is ridiculous! You could have told us. Asked. We've spent months guessing as to who his family were.'

Merlin wriggled in his chair, trying to find a comfy spot and trying to look innocent.

'If I had asked would you have said yes?' he asked in a light tone.

'Probably not.'

'Which is why I did not bother to do so.'

Heimdall grunted in annoyance, it was all he could say.

Eventually he asked, You want him back?'

'Not yet. It's taking longer than I first thought. You don't mind, do you?'

Heimdall shook his head. 'Not my decision. You need to speak to the king.'

The wizard nodded, stroking his beard thoughtfully.

'He, uh, seems a little preoccupied right now.'

Heimdall could not argue with that. He could see that instead of enjoying the party Thor was still hunting around for Hercules and clearly was not going to stop until he had his re-match.

Sigyn felt good. Really, really good. Whatever Dionysus had done for her was working like a charm. Probably because it was a charm. Or an enchantment. Spell. Whatever. And because she now felt so good about herself – wonderful in fact – she had immediately shed her trolley form and transformed into her Krylorian self, albeit with bigger boobs.

Her body had never felt so good. It was slim, it was comfortable, it was powerful, and there was not even a hint of anxiety or stress to ruin the experience. For the first time in her life Sigyn had absolute faith in herself, it was a most freeing experience.

'You look different,' said one of the Asgardian soldiers, bopping his way over the floor. He eyed her up and down. 'More relaxed than usual.'

'Oh, yes, I'm Sanguine Sigyn now.'

The soldier frowned and bopped away into the crowd. Sigyn did not notice.

As she looked across the room she could see Loki – her Loki – dancing with Arthur on her shoulders and the coyote and a leprechaun on her head, and in Sigyn's charmed eyes, had never looked so good, so attractive. It was taking her a considerable amount of self control not to march across the room and sweep Loki off her feet, both literally and metaphorically.

However, first things first. The Krylorian tradition demanded that she give her beloved a gift before attempting to win her heart – which Sigyn had no doubt she would because she was awesome now. But it had to be a specific kind of gift, something that would be difficult to attain in order to prove her sincerity.

She looked around for inspiration and soon saw Hermes flittering about above. A smile spread over her face. She knew what she had to do. It was so easy, so simple, so brilliant, and best of all it would make Loki love her forever.

She was going to steal Hermes' winged sandals.