She drifts, vision swimming, muffled sounds filtering through haze as she bobs in a deep sea of quiet nothing, surfacing for a moment only to be dragged back down by heavy lids and heavier limbs, caught in a riptide of harried dreams.

And then, all at once, the world around her stays, solid and real. She hears, she feels, fingers caught in bed linens, catching glimpses of an unfamiliar ceiling, and too-bright light. It takes her a long moment to piece together why it's so hard to open her eyes, or why Volstagg is standing over her when she does.

Sigyn blinks, the wide smile floating in her vision with the spots of afterimages, growing even brighter as her sight finally resolves to focus.

Volstagg is standing over her, and he's turned, ducked out of her sight, and calls out. She hears Fandral answer, and then footsteps, and Hogun, and friends come into view, but where—

It comes back to her all at once. Sif. She tries to sit up, frantic, as she remembers Haldor's panic when he'd come to her, that something was terribly wrong, that Sif needed her at once. The words catch, a jumbled mess as she tries to call out to them, her body clumsy and so, so heavy as she tries to lurch to a sit. Strong, broad hands press her gently back to the bed as she fights to free herself, to form words, to get them to understand that Sif needs their help, they need to find her, they need to go to her—

Over the ringing in her ears and her own pounding heartbeat she finally understands the noises Volstagg has been making at her as he tries to keep her still. "Sif is fine. She's alright. It's alright."

She stops, her mouth dry and sticking as she swallows, her breath heaving, shoulders straining against Volstagg's gentle grasp. Sigyn finally blinks the nightmares from her eyes and looks around.

She's in Eir's infirmary. Volstagg is still watching her carefully to be certain she doesn't try and rise from the bed. To her other side is Fandral, hands hovered just above her other side, poised to jump in if she starts thrashing again.

"What happened?"

Her two friends sigh in relief, and Volstagg releases her.

"Welcome back." Fandral's crooked grin is reassuring for a moment before it fades. "Sige…" He begins, cautiously, "what's the last thing you remember?"

She tells them how she had been fetching a mid-day tea for the Queen and her Ladies when Haldor had burst into the kitchens and insisted, with a look of urgency she'd never seen in him, that Sif was in trouble and needed her at once. After that… Her head throbs, and she squeezes her eyes shut against the pressure. The biscuits, Haldor, and then…. This, the time between them vanished like the memory of a dream.

It's Fandral's turn to rest his head in his hand at this, a worrying look of fatigue set in his features as he massages his temples and collects his thoughts to begin explaining what had happened. He tries to speak gently, and at once that sets a cold chill in her stomach. No one couches good news in such delicately chosen words.

She listens in stunned silence as he tells her, the reality of it not quite sunk in when Hogun returns with Lady Eir, who promptly shoos the men from the curtained enclave and sets to work checking her over.

Sigyn does her best to be attentive to the healer but it's impossible to tear her thoughts away from the dread spinning circles at the back of her mind.

Lorelei tried to take Thor.

She knows her name, she knows where she is, and she knows the year, though she comes up a few days short.

Sif and Frigga were able to wrest him from her control, but—

She's able to follow a spark of witchlight with her eyes, and her pupils, she's told, behave as they're meant to.

Lorelei bewitched Haldor, who lured her to the fight then plunged a knife into her back.

There's a deep ache settled all through her, and she feels oddly stiff as she tries to move, her limbs heavy and uncooperative, but no, no terrible pain.

Lorelei escaped by throwing her at Sif's feet and forcing her to abandon the chase.

Her stomach turns as the thought of food, but she would very much like some water, thank you.

Lorelei is gone. She still has Haldor.

She is so very, very tired.

It's another day before the healers let her return to her own quarters, when it's clear her condition is improving, and she can manage a few short, clumsy walks down the hallway under her own power.

She has visitors in the meantime. Frigga appears to her to check in every so often, and Volstagg and Hildegund drop by at suppertime. They pull chairs up to her bedside and share a basket Hilde has packed to overflowing.

Sigyn eats slowly and little, but she manages to keep it down, and she's grateful for the company. It's obvious, though, as Hildegund does most of the talking, that Volstagg is trying to avoid mentioning the incident, and she finally can't stop herself from asking.

"No news yet from Sif and Loki," is all he says, and returns to his food with a nervous haste.

OF course— her highness, she corrects herself internally, of course her highness would have still been in Alfheim when Lorelei had struck. It's a relief to know Sif has help, but her stomach twists as she can't help but imagine the worst that might be happening there at this moment and, to Hilde's dismay, leaves the rest of her meal unfinished.

She trusts Hilde to go through her room, and she promises to drop off some fresh clothing in the morning. Sure enough, Sigyn wakes when Alfgerd, one of the healers-in-training, sets something down on her bedside table with a heavy thump.

"Ah! Sorry to wake you," she cringes when she sees Sigyn's eyes are open, but then she smiles and hands her a bundle of cloth from atop the stack of books she must have been carrying. "You should be fine to go home now, provided you promise to take it easy for a while. Lady Eir's orders, and her Majesty's, for that matter."

Sigyn fumbles with the twine, and it finally falls away to reveal one of her favourite dresses peeking through, warm and soft and comfortable, perfect for curling up and resting. Everything else she'll need to feel decent making her way through the palace carefully folded beneath, and swallows down an unexpected lump in her throat.

"And these arrived for you from the library," Alfgerd indicates the books, and plucks a note from between the pages of the topmost volume. It's from the head librarian, Mimir, passing along his well-wishes and the books Frigga had requested on her behalf. She has to sit quietly for a moment; it takes a few slow breaths before that choking feeling abates again.

Alfgerd pulls the curtains closed behind her, and Sigyn dresses, relieved to peel off the faded linen shift the healers had put her in. She spots her boots waiting dutifully beneath the table, and though her joints creak in protest, she stoops to scoop them up and drags them back to the bed to sit and pull them on. She's relieved to see her knife tucked into its sheath, and its presence is reassuring against her calf as she pulls the laces taught. Something catches her eye, then, and her heart sinks as she recognizes the stains still splashed across the leather as dried blood. Hers, she imagines.

It's so strange, to hold the evidence of a misfortune she can't remember. She studies the rusty splotches, focuses, but nothing returns to her.

The stains aren't visible enough to cause alarm until she can give them a good scrubbing, and with a sigh, gathers the stack of books in her aching arms, eager for home.

She had been avoiding the main corridor as she took her little walks to avoid pestering anyone else convalescing, but to leave takes her past them now. They're largely empty. She hears the joyful sounds of a newborn burbling and the hushed notes of a lullaby from between one set of drawn curtains. There's another occupied bed, and she tries to pass it quickly so as not to disturb whoever may be inside, but it's at that moment that the curtains part. Sigyn's reflexes are not what they should be, and the petite young woman who emerges crashes into her with a squeak and a clatter of heavy books. A flurry of polite apologies passes between them as at once they kneel and begin to gather the scattered volumes. "Oh." Sigyn finally looks up long enough to really take in the other and finds the Vanir girl studying her with a similar intensity. "It's you," she says, Vanir filtered through the Allspeak. "You must be… ah…what was it…?"

"Sigyn," she replies, a bit baffled before it clicks into place and she remembers the mention of Lorelei's household staff having been brought back from her estate, and some vague reference to the boy-twin's state. Between the open curtains Sigyn can see the bed inside, and the young Vanr staring at them both with dull, unfocused eyes.

"Sister?" he says, blinking between where she is and where she must have been at his bedside. He shifts in his blankets, and moves to stand, and in a flash his sister has hurried to his side, easing him back to rest.

"Yes, Thjálfi, yes, I'm still here," she assures him with a shaky smile. "Look, Thjálfi, this is Sigyn. This is the one Thor was looking for…. Whatever it was, in mistress—" a look of contempt passes across her face, and her brother winces, "—in that enchantress' cellar."

She straightens, books still balanced in her arms, and takes a cautious step closer. "It's very nice to meet you, Thjálfi, and…"

"Röskva," the other adds with that same wobbly smile, a mixture of heartache and profound relief. She hopes the smile she gives in answer is convincing. This, Röskva tells her, is already a great improvement in her brother's condition. Lady Eir has assured her that the longer he is away from Lorelei, the more of himself will return. She's glad for them, of course, but still, the knot in her stomach grows tighter, and tighter.

"So," Röskva begins, with a nervous sort of shuffle of her weight from one foot to the other, "are you a friend of his? Of Thor's? He and that woman were looking for something, for you, I think."

"That woman?"

Röskva nods, her dreamy expression faltering. "Yes, there was a woman with him. She… well, I'm grateful to her as well, of course but, ah… she was…"

"Dark hair? A bit… intense, perhaps?" Röskva nods emphatically. Sigyn can't help a fond little chuckle. Dear, dear Sif. "She can be intimidating," she admits, "but she's lovely, I assure you. Especially when she's focused—" The thought hits her like a blow, and her voice fails her for a moment. From his sickbed, Thjálfi's glassy eyes stay fixed on his sister, afraid to let her out of his sight. She shakes her head, forces a cheery expression. "I'm sorry, you were asking after his highness. I'm a servant of his mother, and his household.

"Oh. Is that all?" She blurts out, then grimaces. "I'm sorry, that sounded awfully rude. It just… seemed more than that, is what I mean. They were very keen on— well, that's an awful lot of trouble to go to, for a—"

"No, no, it's fine. I understand," Sigyn replies. The knot in her chest coils tighter, tighter. "Thor and his companions are Asgard's greatest heroes. The ásynja is a very dear friend of mine, but honestly I think they would do the same for anyone in need." She smiles gently. "I'm sorry that what you've seen of Asgard has been so bleak. It's a wonderful place, but I do understand if you mean to return to Vanaheim."

There's nothing for them in Vanaheim, she tells her, there hadn't been when Lorelei had approached them with the offer of work. It was why they had left with her.

"I was hoping…" she rocks again, back and forth, nervous and giddy. "You said you were a servant for the Prince? If we stay here… is there any way we could do that, too? Could we serve him? I'd love to repay him somehow." She lets out a dreamy sigh. "He saved us." She's positively starry eyed. Thor has that effect on people.

"Yes," she says, with a little laugh, "he does that."

He saved you, too. The knot creaks tighter.

"I'll see what I can do." Röskva is so excited she hugs her.

It's as she's turning to leave that she remembers the stack of books in her hands and offers it to the other girl. Something to read to her brother to pass the time, one of her favourites, something light and cheerful. A tale of valor and daring, a little romance, which she gets the impression Röskva may enjoy. "Ask after me when you're done, I can return it for you, and bring another. Or perhaps, show you to the library, if you're able to come along."

Her new friend thanks her, and immediately sets down with the book, huddled up beside her twin, and Sigyn leaves them to it.

She likes meeting people, she reminds herself. She likes talking to people, but today… she sighs, picks up as brisk a pace as her aches will allow as she skirts the busier hallways, eager for home. Every smile she had managed had been a little bit harder won. Why has this left her so tired? She wants to be alone, wants to hide like a wounded animal where no one can see her. Which is why she's more terrified than relieved when a friendly voice calls after her.

"Sigyn!"

She whirls around to find Fandral loping towards her from the courtyard. Evidently, he had also been seeking out some privacy as well, and she recognizes one of Frigga's ladies standing in the shadow of a column looking quite put out.

"Good to see you up and about," he says with a brilliant grin. He motions for her books. "Here, let me take those for you." He waves off her protests with tuts and eases the books from her hands.

"Fandral, it's fine; I can manage. Are you not… otherwise occupied?" She bobs her head in the other ásynja's direction and finds her glaring daggers. "Hello, Hnossa," she calls out. Hnossa just huffs indignantly.

Fandral doesn't seem to mind and shepherds her back towards the hallway. "Ah, yes, but you see, you'd be doing me such a great favour. This way, the ladies of the court will see how terribly gallant I'm being, carrying your books for you like a gentleman." He waggles his eyebrows, and a laugh squeaks it's way past the lump in her throat. She nods to acquiesce, and he escorts her back to the servant's quarters, all the while keeping up that deliberate, cheerful demeanour, like he isn't thinking what she's thinking, unable to keep from imagining—

She thanks him when they reach the common room, laughs off the expected sly jokes about seeing her to her room, and his implied familiarity with the ladies' quarters. She makes it to the safety of her own chambers with little more than an anxious smile from a few of the other girls in passing, and nudging the door closed behind her with her heel, finally drops the stack of books on her bedside table and collapses into her own sheets with a sigh of relief that becomes a groan of pain.

She'd been eager to sleep in her own bed again but as she stares at the ceiling, she finds it won't come. Daylight pours in through the window, and with no distractions her thoughts grow darker. Healer's orders be damned, she needs to keep herself diverted, or she's going to drive herself mad. She needs to work.

"Sigyn!" Frigga exclaims when she finds her way towards the royal solar, rising from the settee where she sits with her ladies. The queen closes the distance quickly, throwing her arms around Sigyn's shoulders and giving her a welcoming squeeze. She draws back to study her stunned subordinate and rests a motherly hand on her cheek. "Such a relief to see you well again," she says with a warm smile, even as she flicks her wrist to wave her away. "Now, shoo."

"But your grace—"

"Ah ah," she tuts, "no buts. Lady Eir was quite clear. You need rest."

She doesn't. She needs to work, needs to be busy, needs to be useful somehow. But the Queen's eyebrows are raised, and Sigyn knows that look mean there will be no persuading her. From the sitting room the queen's ladies in waiting are watching. Sigyn returns Beyla's wave with a nervous little twiddle of her own fingers, acknowledges the others strained smiles, trying to be polite but with an undercurrent of discomfort. Hnossa is still cross with her, it seems.

She sighs and nods, accepting her lady's dismissal. "There is just one matter I promised I would bring to you," she says, voice low to keep from the others' ears as she relays Röskva's request. Frigga's smile grows wry.

"Honestly, we could use a whole team to clean up after Thor. That sounds fine. This girl, though…"

Sigyn nods, understanding. "I think she's quite infatuated, yes. But she seems harmless, and if we dismissed everyone who fancied Thor, there wouldn't be many staff left, let alone..." she glances in the direction of Frigga's ladies.

Frigga laughs quietly, to the dismay of the girls she knows must be straining to hear the conversation. "I'll take care of it, thank you Sigyn. Now, off with you." She's about to make one last bid for usefulness, but Frigga must see her desperation. "I've called Sif and Loki home, they should be returning any time now, if you'd like to wait."

She thanks her and takes off down the corridor with at least some sense of purpose. There's a balcony along the side of the banquet hall that overlooks the city along the water's edge, the perfect place to watch the Bifrost until Sif was safe home.

It's a grey morning as she approaches balcony, the scent of rain on the air, so she isn't surprised to find she isn't alone.

Thor stands at the edge of the balcony, hands gripping the stone railing, the wind whipping his hair about him as though it were drawn to his presence. She's quite certain it is of him, as it stirs the few errant strands loose of her braid gently, and dies down when he turns to see her.

"Sige!" he says, she might say 'brightly' were it not for the same cautious smile she's been getting all day. She swallows hard, fingers twitching at her side with the sudden desire to start fussing with her hair again.

"Your highness," she replies. It would be ridiculous to turn around now, but she's again overcome by that desire to avoid others' eyes. She swallows it down with the lump in her throat, and moves to join him along the balustrade. "I think we have a common purpose. Might I wait with you?"

"Of course. How are you feeling?"

Like she was run over by a bilgesnipe, who then pushed her off a cliff, then landed on her again at the bottom. "A little… odd, your highness, but I'm managing."

"That's wonderful." He's regarding her pleasantly enough, but there's a sudden sinking feeling that she's misread him. There's an anxious drumming of his fingers against the edge, and she swears she sees the grey of the clouds above deepen.

He doesn't want you here.

No, no, she's being ridiculous. She is.

As she looks out over the golden expanse of the city, the Bifrost faintly iridescent in the distance, she finds she has indeed grabbed hold of her braid over her shoulder. She wrings it lightly and resists the temptation to undo it.

There's an occasional glance in her direction like he might want to speak, but then the prince turns his attention back to the horizon. She sighs and twists her hair a little tighter. If Frigga had called them back, they haven't found Lorelei. She's been trying to remember anything she can beyond what had been relayed, and no one will tell her what's happening now.

"Thank you," she says when she can no longer bear the silence or the weight on her heart. "I owe you a great debt."

Thor looks startled for a moment before he beams and gives her a good-natured clap on the shoulder. "We're just relieved you're alright," he says, "and besides, Sige, you were going to pull through. Eir said so."

She blinks at him in alarm. "Really?"

He nods. "I'm glad it helped get you recover, but you're a tough little thing, Sige."

Oh. Her breath trembles, muscles aching in her chest.

It's then that the streak of light through the sky catches their attention, like a bolt of rainbow lightning that strikes the observatory and surges through the crystalline line of the bridge.

Thor's eyes are alight as he draws Mjolnir from his far side and spins it in his hand. "Meet you at the bottom," he shoots over his shoulder before sailing off the balcony and into the distance. Sigyn has to use the stairs and struggles along, cursing her weakness as she tries to make haste towards her friend.

By the time she reaches the gates of the Bifrost, the princes— from this distance she can't be sure, but she thinks they both are princes at the moment— have already started towards the stables, Thor eagerly following alongside his brother astride Sinir.

Sif is just handing Hófvarpnir off to an attendant when Sigyn arrives. The mare whinnies at the sight of her and Sigyn just has time to stroke the horse's dappled grey neck in passing, and promise her a visit later, as the stable hand leads her away.

She turns to Sif, whose stern expression she barely has time to register before her friend pulls her into a long, crushing hug.

"Sif—"

Her friend releases her, and at the sight of her imploring expression, Sif's own face only hardens as they start towards the city. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Sif—!" she implores but she can't keep up with Sif's determined pace as Sigyn realizes she's striding in the direction of the training rings.

"Later, Sige," her friend replies, restrained fury clear in her voice and her movement. "Right now I need to hit something."

Sif is still in the training ring when she looks down, the book she had retrieved from her room in hand. She'd found the perfect place to try and keep herself occupied while she waits for Sif. The terrace was in view of the courtyard below, with the queen's garden beyond and a little bench by the balustrade to sit and read.

The sun's come out during the afternoon, and though the stone is cool beneath her the sun is warm as she takes her seat and opens her chosen novel. Something light. Something happy. Something to keep her mind off of—

There's a pained cry below as Sif sends another member of the Einhejar crashing to the steps, then she calls for the next to try.

Sigyn shakes her head, tries to make herself comfortable, and then starts to read, trying to focus on the words on the page and not the cold, creeping feeling in her stomach.

After a few pages, another ringing clang of metal on metal shocks her out of her reverie, and she realizes she had been reading the same line over and over again while doing little but staring at the bound sheets of paper.

She takes a deep breath, her back and sides groaning in protest, and tries to shake off the heavy feeling that clings to her. And that's when she feels the familiar sensation of being watched and glances up to look around.

It doesn't take long to find whose eyes are on her. Under the nearest tree, only a few metres away, is a cat, sitting in the sunbeam that falls between two branches. A tomcat, she thinks by the size, slim but well muscled and glossy. Someone's beloved pet, by his condition, or else the most successful stray she's ever encountered.

"Well hello there," she says, as he continues to watch her with huge yellow eyes. "You're not one of Frigga's." Sigyn extends a hand and calls him, but he doesn't move, just sits and watches, tail swishing behind him. She stands, carefully, and takes a step towards him. The cat, in turn, takes a step away. "Alright," she says, backing away to sit again. "Alright, I won't come closer, don't worry."

She tilts her head as she studies the gorgeous creature, and if she didn't know better, she'd say it looked a great deal like—

The cat blinks and Sigyn blinks back. It's eyes are yellow, she sees now, not green, and as it settles back into the pool of sunlight and lies down to groom, there's a white patch on his belly she hadn't noticed before. Oh Norns, she's losing her mind.

A glance over her shoulder finds Sif fighting off two soldiers, her teeth clenched and her force, and she delivers a blow that will likely send the victim to the infirmary with a broken nose, excessive.

Sigyn rests her head in her hands, book open on her lap. Norns, Sif. Poor, dear Sif. She's been trying to keep her mind from dwelling on how Sif must be feeling but the depths of her pain and frustration are laid clear. Lorelei still has Haldor.

Lorelei still has Haldor, and it's all Sigyn's fault.

"Stupid, stupid," she mutters under her breath as she fists her fingers through her hair and tugs at her scalp. She's the one who so willingly walked right into Lorelei's trap, it was for her sake that Sif had had to abandon her chase. She has no doubt that unimpeded, Lorelei would never have escaped from Sif, and Haldor would be home and himself and whole.

She can't get the image of Thjálfi out of her head, his hollow stare, his empty eyes. What Lorelei must be doing to Haldor even now…

She can't get Thor's intended reassurances out of her head. She would have been fine. Sif could have left her and she would have been fine. She had chosen to let Haldor be taken for nothing. If it had been one of the warriors three, would Sif had made the same choice? No, because she knows Sigyn to be weak and helpless and can't protect herself as they could.

Sif had chosen Sigyn's life over Haldors, and Sigyn hadn't even had the decency to be dying, couldn't even remember what had happened.

Teardrops hit the open page in her lap.

She snaps the book shut and lets it fall to her side, face buried in her hands as she finally gives in to the lump in her throat and the weight in her chest, and the tears she's been fighting back all day, not caring how her body screams in protest against her wracking sobs.

There's a trill beside her, a chirping questioning sound. Sigyn looks up to find the cat perched on the bench beside her, as far as he can be, watching her with his head tilted curiously.

"I'm sorry," she says to the cat, choking back a hiccup. "I must be making some very alarming sounds. Something horrible happened, and it's all my fault. And I can't say anything about it, because how do you tell someone they shouldn't have saved you without being ungrateful? So, I'll tell you," she says, her voice thick, wiping at her eyes with the heel of her hand, "because you can't understand me." His tail swishes, and he gives another little chirrup. "And the worst part," she tells him, her breath catching as she devolves back into sobs, "is how kind everyone's being."

She lets herself cry, certain that she's alone and that the clamour of battle below would drown her out. It's selfish and self pitying, crying out her guilt, but that only makes her feel more disgusted with herself and she can't stop. Even the cat can't stand it, evidently, because he's gone when she manages a glance between her fingers.

Breathing feels like tripping, an uncontrollable stumble of one leading into another towards collapse, and it's just as she fears she's about to topple again that something wet and cold drops in her lap.

It's a frog. A live frog, staring up at her indifferently, throat pouch pumping away, and before her, looking terribly pleased with himself, is the cat.

It's so absurd she finds that the sobs come out as a startled laugh. "A gift!" she tells her new feline friend, bewildered and laughing and tearful all at once. "Thank you, how did you know?" And now she really is talking to the cat. She is losing her mind, she's now certain, but carefully cupping her croaking companion in one hand, book tucked under the other, she hastens away to bring it back to the pond in the garden where it must have come from before it hops down into the courtyard and finds itself dry and stranded in the sun. "Thank you," she says again over her shoulder, but the cat has disappeared, quickly away on silent feet.

Thor and his friends have already found a table when Loki makes his way to the tavern where he had promised his brother he would meet them. Volstagg, Fandral, and Hogun sit around Thor, who slides down the bench to make room for him as he approaches. Sif, he notices, is by herself at the counter, and they've chosen a place that keeps her within earshot and view.

"She wants to be alone," Volstagg explains as he slips into the proffered spot. A serving girl leans over Thor's shoulder to set a tankard of mead in front of him, and Loki deftly snatches it away and downs half of it at once, ignoring Thor's protests.

Across the table, Fandral raises wry eyebrows. "It went that badly, eh?"

"It did," he replies as he sets the drink down. "But there's a foul taste I can't seem to get out of my mouth."

Sigyn arrives not long after, and with a quick acknowledgement of their table, sits herself down quietly beside Sif. Loki can just hear them over the din of the tavern.

"I said I didn't want to talk about it," Sif insists, polishing off not her first tankard of the evening.

"I know," Sigyn says as the barkeep sets two more down before them. "We can talk about whatever you want to talk about."

"What if I don't want to talk?"

Sigyn takes a tiny sip of her drink and smiles gently at her friend. "Then we'll be quiet."

Loki keeps an eye on them as they spent the evening together in silence, Sigyn nursing a few drinks as Sif seems determined to break her record from after the battle of Harokin. When the bar closes down for the evening, Sigyn slings Sif's arm over her shoulder, and walks her home.

AN: Aaaand it's done! I hope you've enjoyed this little detour, and now back to our main storyline. I'll be working on the next chapter of Undying Fidelity. I desperately wanted to get this chapter up before leaving for vacation for the weekend uh... right now! So I'll probably add to this later.

Thank you so much for reading and if you want updates, snippets, memes etc, I'm GeminiJackdaw on tumble :)

Thank you all again, and I sincerely hope you've enjoyed 3