(SIGYN)

Life in the palace was quick to resume. So quick, I hadn't had time to see my room before I was yanked into chore delegation.

Of course the war's end would call for a banquet, and of course I was present when it was announced to the servantry, trapping me for a shift. As usual. Still, it was better than preparing for another mass funeral or feeding sullen wounded. My foray into combat was short-lived and, evidently, less necessary to the cogs of Asgard than my work behind the kitchen sink.

But now I whizzed through the plates I'd left unfinished at a fast clip while thinking about the soldier. He was so unlike the other men I'd known throughout my life—for starters, I knew nothing about his faction, the Crimson Hawks, or why they were set apart from the rest, but I was willing to put in the work and learn more. Perhaps he was an intellectual like I hoped and would carry on about the many places he had been. Surely someone as breathtaking as him could never be a bore. I invented many things about him in my mind, not the least of which, an ability to keep his word.

A few people whispered in the hall behind me, just out of reach for me to understand; I presumed they were discussing some of the damage left behind by the Chitauri I killed. That is, until I heard his honeyed voice.

"Yes, there she is."

My hair stood on end as my stomach rushed. I spun to make sure he was real.

Theoric took careful steps toward me, plodding in quiet, soft leather boots. His whole outfit reminded me of one worn by the male servants of the house. A loose ivory tunic flowed over his chest and revealed a thick nest of dark hair on his sternum. Unlike Odin's breastplate which gave a false impression of what lied beneath, I got the impression Theoric's armor had been molded to his chest, right down to the slim waist behind his black belt. Tan trousers hugged his thighs, showing off their power, proving his physique was even from top to bottom. The soldier had washed in the time since I saw him and tied his dark hair in a low ponytail, adding to his humble yet impressive appearance.

I tucked the same stubborn hair strand behind my right ear, not sure what else to do with my hands. My friend Thyra stood slightly behind Theoric and gave me several face-fanning gestures of envy.

"Dear Sigyn, I have come to fulfill my promise," he said, presenting a small bundle wrapped in beige cloth. "It was cleaned by Asgard's finest blacksmith, though she assured me it had no need for sharpening!" Theoric tipped his face to the side, hardly able to stand at full height before me. "Forgive the wrapping—it needs a scabbard."

"Yes, I have one in my chamber." I took the bundle with a slight bow. "You came so soon...forgive me for not being more presentable."

"Nonsense. I am sorry for not taking the chance to get to know you the first time I laid eyes on you." Theoric smiled with closed lips. "I can only hope not to make the same mistake again."

I blushed, still fiddling with my hair. What flattery...

"My lady, while you are almost certainly reserved already, I must ask if you are willing to attend this evening's banquet as my companion." He spoke with a gentle, meek tone, yet everything about him screamed dominance. It was a different kind of juxtaposition than what I was used to—and something I welcomed.

But an invitation...that was new, especially to something of such importance. "M-me? You want me to attend banquet with you?"

"Yes, of course," he said, his blue eyes ever brightening like clear afternoon sky.

"Gods...I've only ever seen them from their aftermath when the cleaning happens—"

"Who do you answer to? Surely they can be persuaded to let you celebrate our victory, and certainly your own. Asgard should know your name. I'll speak with your superior at once."

I snickered. "Well, in my position, I don't really answer to anyone. I'm responsible for meeting my own work quotas."

Theoric exhaled from relief. "Thank Valhalla. I thought you reported to Odin himself."

Even now, Loki was an unwelcome visitor. Not in my room—in my mind. If I did still owe him my allegiance, he would surely say no and keep me as far away from the kind soldier as possible. Being relieved from him service did have at least one benefit: I could make my own rules and schedules again, so far as the other servants knew I pulled my weight.

"I...I used to, but no. I don't report to the king anymore."

"Well, what about your quota?"

Somehow my distracted mind couldn't keep track of what we'd already said. "Quota?"

"Your work quota. Have you already met it? If you haven't, put some off until tomorrow. Please say yes." Theoric's persuasion was a spell of words, so earnestly delivered and enough to make the rest of my responsibilities disappear.

"I—"

"Yes, she's met her duty for the day," Thyra said, jumping in behind him. "Sigyn, we all know how much you've done. You'll be thrown out if you come to the kitchens tonight. Might as well accompany this fine young man instead, hmm?"

She added to the burning blush of my cheeks and nose, making even my ears run hot. But it was an opportunity I'd never had, so why let it pass? "Yes, Theoric Ivanson. I will go with you."

He beamed, taking my hand to kiss my knuckle. "Thank you, Sigyn. Where shall I meet you?"

"You can meet me at the entrance to the great hall when the palace opens for guests. Not sure if we'll find seats otherwise."

Theoric laughed. "My lady, mine are long reserved. But more time with you would've been my desire anyway."

"Should I expect to match you like this?"

He gestured over himself. "This? No. I'll be in my armor. It's being cleaned right now, and I must make a few corrections to the inner lining. A soldier's burden."

Again, Loki snuck in. The underarmor. No one's hands but his.

"I understand," I said, wishing I didn't.

"Until tonight." Theoric again gave a small bow and disappeared down the hall.

More than a few other servants came in with squeaking voices, excited in ways I couldn't mimic if I tried. For their sakes, I promised to recall every detail of the night and spend the next day giving them a full report.

The only trouble with banquet was the inevitable presence of False Odin. I set out to dress myself in a way that would disguise as well as enhance me and vowed not to meet his eye.

My black gown was more than appropriate with a plunging neckline and draped sleeves. The skirt reached the floor even with my lifted slippers, which were more of a burden than usual after fighting in bare feet earlier. I swallowed my pain for the sake of appearances—Theoric deserved a reasonable lady at his side. After curling my hair, I painted my eyes with black and gold, which I only ever did for an old lover who made the request. Tonight, I craved the costume feel of it which protected me behind an invisible wall. My ensemble made me altogether a new woman.

He waited by the great hall doors as promised, a beacon in his armor, yet the man inside was nothing like the bloodstained metal suggested. Theoric's bright smile was equally antithetical to other soldiers and their gruff attitudes. Already he impressed me, proving he was more than a mindless brute, and he was public enough with his invitation that I didn't believe he would suddenly vanish without a word once he got what he wanted.

Theoric stood by my side and directed me toward his table at the front of the great hall, where more men dressed as he was waited with their own partners. He barely grazed the small of my back as we walked, sending tingles all over my body. The smile on my lips was involuntary. I'd nearly forgotten what it felt like to genuinely find a man appealing in more ways than what I had in my head.

"Brothers," Theoric announced when we reached the table head, to immediate attention from his soldiers. "May I introduce Lady Sigyn, to whom I owe my life."

They raised their casks and cheered, "To Sigyn!" The common women, and lone man, sitting beside them smiled at me, likely feeling just as awkward as I was to see the uniformity in how the Crimson Hawks dressed and acted.

I curtseyed. "Thank you for your service."

"Come," Theoric said, pulling out a seat for me. He shared some battle stories about the men immediately surrounding us, then asked me to recount my tale of killing the first Chitauri in the kitchen before I went outside. His childlike awe as I mentioned leaving my shoes behind on purpose would've struck me as false if not for the fact that he treated everyone's stories with the same enthusiasm.

I swelled with pride over Theoric, who didn't make the evening about him and his warriors. He was entirely focused on me like I was the only woman in all nine realms. By right, his faction led Asgard to victory, not one lucky servant with a knife, but I wondered if future generations would remember him at all for how humble he was.

A horn played at the back of the hall, silencing everyone but a herald. "King Odin Allfather wishes to address his citizens."

I swallowed hard, trying to convince myself that the jump in my chest was on Theoric's behalf.

False Odin cleared his throat and spoke slowly, projecting to all corners of the hall. "People of Asgard, today we were victorious!"

Cheers ensued from all but me, who hid a scowl.

He raised his hands, lowering them with the volume of the room before speaking again. "Yes, we deserve to be grateful for our lives, our families, and our realm. But tonight we do not celebrate the people in this room, nor do we celebrate me. I ask that tonight, we honor the dead who helped us achieve peace. May they rest well in Valhalla, alongside my Frigga." False Odin tipped his head to say his piece was finished.

Instead of shouting, most of the people simply raised their ales to the ceiling. I did so as well. It would've been improper for me not to. False Odin surprised me with this gesture since I was certain he would revel in claiming credit.

And you said you only wanted glory. I banished the smirk on my lips as soon as it appeared.

"I'm asking anyone present tonight who aided in our triumph, please speak with me to receive proper thanks. You may resume." False Odin waved his hand and sat in a temporary wooden throne to receive his subjects for the thanks he'd pledged.

Thank Valhalla he doesn't know I'm here. I took a larger gulp of wine than I intended, hoping my disguise and distance would be enough.

"Are you ready?" Theoric asked, standing with eager feet.

I prayed he meant dancing. "Ready for...?"

"You must tell the king all you've done. You are owed that, at least."

Panic. Alarms in my head. Tingles in my hands and feet. Room spinning. Please don't put me in front of him on purpose. "No, no, I can't speak with the king. He wouldn't want to see me."

"Of course he will. He said so himself when he found your sword on the battlefield before giving it to me."

He what?

"Quick, we should receive his blessing before the music kicks up in the courtyard. I'd hate to spend the evening standing in line when it could be spent getting to know you." Theoric didn't leave me much choice and pulled my chair out while the other Crimson Hawks and their companions stood as well—after all, soldiers were not exempt from False Odin's offer, and even a few moments of his audience would be enough to sustain them for centuries.

Theoric was so well-known that several people let him move ahead of them. The whole ordeal made me queasy. I fussed with my hair and smiled nicely at the strangers who wondered who I was and whispered once we passed. The line before False Odin snaked behind us through the tables, proving that Theoric was correct and we would've potentially been trapped for hours waiting for a turn if we hadn't gotten up when we did.

I fixated on the soldier who stood at the front, his hand on False Odin's shoulder and vice versa. His companion, a well-decorated woman in blue and white, stepped forward and gave a small curtsey. False Odin kissed her knuckle and nodded to them both before they left. Not even a full minute had passed in their exchange.

"Are you alright?" Theoric asked, bringing me out of my trance.

"What? Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Just nervous, I guess." I flashed a smile at him, but my heart wasn't in it.

"I understand. I've spoken with him many times in council, but with this kind of atmosphere, it adds a bit of pressure, doesn't it?" He nudged me forward by touching my lower back again. More welcome tingles of contact.

"It does."

"You were his attendant at some point, weren't you? I believe that's where I saw you before today—in the judgment hall, correct?"

He had valid reason to ask me such questions, but I wished he wouldn't. I wanted to discuss something else. But we had nowhere to go and nothing to change the subject.

I sighed. "I served the queen before she died because my mother did, and sometime later, I was transferred to Odin's service. That didn't last."

"The queen?" Theoric's face fell with sympathy, like everyone's did when she was mentioned. "Were you—"

"When she died, yes. I was her last. She was like a mother to me."

We shuffled forward, refusing to acknowledge the cloud brought around us. He raked through his long hair over and over again.

I felt obligated to cut the silence. "Anyway...what do you suppose I should say to him? Is there a protocol? Servants aren't really permitted to speak with him at all unless in his service, and even then, it was perfunctory at best."

Theoric shrugged. "Truly I do not know, since I've never greeted King Odin after victory before. We soldiers were prepared for this, though—he mentioned his plans for it long before the final battle."

So he's making new traditions, too. Why this? I bit my tongue and refused to allow myself to believe Loki was capable of kindness without a deeper aim. Surely he sought to learn something from the people who fought. Maybe he looked for allies that might ultimately help him overthrow the real Odin, or perhaps he knew something we didn't, and intended to weed out traitors or doubters. Whatever his reason, I became all the more uneasy.

"Oh...what is your father's name?" he asked.

Of course he'd need it. Can't announce me without it. "Edda. He's gone now, though."

Another pitiful frown at my expense. "May he rest in Valhalla."

"Yes. To Valhalla."

We were close enough now to overhear small bits from False Odin to another soldier. He put his hand on the man's shoulder and seemed to have a canned question prepared.

"Is it true you defended Asgard at the sword and skiff, sacrificed your time and blood, and risked your life for the realm?"

"I did, Allfather. I will continue to protect my home until my last and dying breath." The young man bowed his head before stepping away. He was one of the few in the great hall who did not come with a companion.

Theoric became more antsy by the second and stopped trying to make small talk. For the best, I imagined. He eventually stepped slightly ahead of me, blocking False Odin's view of my face.

"Theoric, son of Ivan, please step forward," False Odin declared in a much more jovial tone than he had with the two preceding men.

I purposely didn't stand at his side, halfway praying they'd chat and forget all about me.

"Allfather, it is an honor to present myself to you as a servant of Asgard's forces. The Crimson Hawks renew our allegiance to you and the people." Theoric had a gentleman's sense of ceremony and puffed up his chest. "Is there anything about my time in battle that requires explanation?"

"No. I believe you have proven yourself, your men, and your right to enjoy yourself." False Odin brought up his hand and repeated the question he gave the man while I was listening, and Theoric answered in the same language.

Do all soldiers repeat the same vow?

"Thank you, my king. We would not be where we are without your keen sense to change tactics."

"I appreciate that." False Odin removed his hand and stood back. "Is there anything else?"

No. Say no. Forget me. Forget—

"Aye. I have someone you need to meet." Theoric turned toward me and beckoned me with his innocent smile, completely unaware of my terror.

How could I resist now? Run away? Feign and illness? I was trapped. With a single step to my left, I came into view.

False Odin chuckled. "Forgive me, Ivanson. Somehow I thought you were bringing—" He stopped, really taking a moment to look at me. His cheeks and eye fell, losing all jest.

With an audience, I couldn't risk defiance, so I curtseyed. "Sire."

He whispered, finishing his thought, "...Sigyn."

Theoric cleared his throat, still too naïve to notice the energy between myself and the king. "May I present Sigyn Eddasdottir, defender of the kitchen, impromptu warrior at the gate, and quite likely the best aim with a throwing sword I've ever had the pleasure to witness firsthand."

I blushed and made eyes at my soldier.

False Odin's tone dropped in volume again. "Why did you fight?"

Not the time for an argument. "The battle came to me. One of the enemies found his way into my kitchen, so I took him down. After that, with the shields inactive, I felt my duty was best served keeping the palace safe."

"And with your father's antique, no less," he said.

Before I could nod, Theoric cut in once more. "She fought barefoot, Allfather. We're fortunate she had a quick mind."

He nodded at Theoric, though I could tell by his expression that he held back an urge to tell the soldier to be quiet.

"My feet could be sacrificed. It was an easy choice."

"Were you injured?" he whispered.

By this point, it was obvious he paid more attention to me than he did on the people before. "Only a few scratches here and there. I'm fine. Thank you for your concern."

If it had been the two of us, the rest of the realm might've disappeared. He was Odin, but I knew who really stood in front of me, and his curiosity and need to question my every move was only held back by the intense need to maintain some sense of propriety in public.

He continued with the ritual I'd seen before, albeit slightly adjusted for my benefit. With a heavy hand on my shoulder, he asked, "Sigyn, daughter of Edda, is it true you defended Asgard by the sword, rescued my greatest soldier, and risked your life for the realm?"

Heat ran through me that Loki couldn't give me. I had to remember that. "I did, Allfather. And...and I will defend my home, all of Asgard, until my last and dying breath."

He smiled with the corner of his lips as if impressed with me. Before letting go, he leaned in to keep things private. "Sigyn, I am sorry to have learned about Peorth. Of all you've lost. Asgard is grateful for your service, and so am I."

Grateful? How dare you speak of gratefulness when you've done nothing but push me aside? Pretend I don't exist? You can't snake back in so easily. Taking a deep breath to paint my face meek again, I tipped my head to the side. "Thank you, Sire."

His eye flashed green. Lightning buzzed through my back at the sight of it. But I took his obvious presence as a cue to move away. "Come, Theoric. Shall we go to the courtyard?"

"Yes. I hear the music starting. Thank you, Allfather." He bowed to False Odin and touched me in that one special place on my lower back—the place that tickled and missed being kissed. The place that now would belong only to him if I had anything to say about it.

Mother wouldn't have wanted me to flaunt a man in front of another on purpose, but all I could think was, I hope you're watching.

Somehow Theoric's cologne grew stronger as the night went on instead of weaker, giving me a slight headache. But he showed me a wonderful time in the square's celebration, drinking strong wine and dancing. He didn't have the best feet, but the more I lost my inhibition, the less I cared about his form and mine. I laughed, free to enjoy myself and stop worrying about being watched since I knew precisely where Loki was.

My soul felt wiser, celebrating not just Asgard's victory, but my own. I hadn't fallen for the trickster's mischief after all.

Theoric pointed up at the sky, where a few distant stars cut through the city's glow. "Do you see that?"

I prayed this would be the moment where a man would teach me something new. "The sky?"

"No, the building." He pointed again. "The bell tower. So high."

"Oh." I squinted, trying to make it focus. "I haven't heard the bell before. Hardly remembered it was up there."

"You know, some say there is no higher point in Asgard." Theoric eyed me with a coy smirk. "Can see anything from up there."

My heart leaped at the thought of a new adventure, even though this wasn't one I expected. "Perhaps someday I'll warrant an invitation."

"Yes. I'd say you're certainly worthy of that." He finished his wine and held out his arm. "Tomorrow is a day for further discussion amongst soldiers. May I walk you to your chamber?"

It was a fine enough note to end on, but now I was warm and soft and malleable. My chamber would do well enough for what I needed next to banish Loki from my system. "Please do, kind soldier." I gripped his elbow and fell into him somewhat, now tripping on my too-high, unsteady slippers.

He finally stopped talking. Let me guide him through the halls of the basement in silence so I could think. Is my room even presentable? Surely he won't care. I'll make sure he's focused on one thing alone. With every step, my plan built, and I couldn't wait to find out if the hair on his chest was as soft as it looked earlier.

We made it. I released his arm and stood before him with my hands nervously clenched together in front. "Thank you for your invitation and a wonderful evening."

He smiled again, more widely than I thought most soldiers would dare ever do since they were conditioned to be stoic. "Goodnight, fair Sigyn."

Here it is. Come closer. Let me—

Theoric took my hands and raised them to his face, where he lightly pecked both of my knuckles without breaking eye contact with me. "May I call on you again?" he whispered.

Admittedly disappointed, I blinked quickly to keep from showing it. "Yes. Please do."

He squeezed my fingers in finality. Before he let me enter my chamber, Theoric reached into the small satchel at his side and produced a single crimson rose, trimmed of thorns and with a short stem so it wouldn't be mutilated in his purse.

I brought it to my nose and blushed again, now appreciative of his proper courting. He disappeared down the end of the hall, through the still raucous celebration that would surely not stop until sunrise.

No more war, no more Loki, and a new prospect on my horizon. With a deep breath, I said a prayer in my heart that whatever opportunity knocked on my door next might well be my destiny.