Anyone else enjoying the LOKI series? I am incorporating it into the story as it goes!
Anyway, here's another 10K+ word chapter! CW for alcoholism.
Please read, review, and enjoy!
Prophecy
Tormented by the news her daughter had brought her just hours earlier, Walentyna is unable to sleep. She has been lying in bed for hours, ruminating over what had been said after Sigyn's return home.
Covered in dirt and smeared with blood of varying colors, Sigyn had shouldered past her into the house before explaining that which she had learned on Midgard. By some strange coincidence that she did not fully understand, it turned out that Sigyn was just as much a goddess as was her sister, and that her reputation as such spelled her death. A prophet had warned her of a prophecy that foretold her final interaction with an evil, cosmic being, the same one who had persuaded Loki to attack Midgard in the first place.
The prophecy, which Sigyn had relayed to Walentyna, made little sense, but one thing was certain: the Destroyer of Worlds sought her daughter's demise. Walentyna had been none too pleased with this eventuality, and she had berated Sigyn on the authenticity of the prophet's prediction. Sigyn seemed to wholeheartedly believe it, mentioning how unlikely it was for everyone to otherwise know of her existence. Furthermore, she had claimed to have met this Destroyer of Worlds, Thanos, who had seemed fairly confident that Sigyn would soon be dead at his feet.
Most disturbing of all was something Sigyn had said towards the end of their conversation, late into the night. It consumes Walentyna's thoughts now, leaving her with nothing more to do than stare aimlessly up at the ceiling of her room.
"I must admit, I feel unprepared for death," Sigyn had said, wringing her hands atop the kitchen table, where they had been sitting for some time. "When I was younger, I had no hopes of getting married or starting a family, and I had no career goals of which to speak. All I did was trod along, happy with where the wind took me. I thought I had time. Now, death looms so close, and I cannot help but feel as though my life is unprepared for it. I have not yet lived enough to die."
Walentyna, too, feels unprepared for the fate the prophecy spells. It is unnatural, she thinks, for a parent to live beyond their child, and she is repelled at the thought of such a future awaiting her.
Near dawn, all pretense of sleep flies out the window when a scream travels down the hall from Sigyn's room. Without a second thought, Walentyna throws off her covers, leaps from her bed, and quickly makes her way to her daughter's room. Upon wrenching open the door, she is horrified at the sight before her.
That wretched boy, Loki, stands over Sigyn's bed, leering down at her. Unlike Sigyn, he is without a scratch on him, appearing completely unperturbed by the battle she knows them to have had just hours earlier. Some part of her understands that he is an apparition and not truly here, but driven by fear and distressed by the night before, Walentyna approaches him as she would a true intruder.
She picks up Sigyn's shortsword, which had been resting along the doorframe, and holds it in front of her with the end of the blade pointed outward. With her elbows locked, she addresses Loki, ordering, "You, get out of my house."
As far as she is concerned, he is at fault for all of Sigyn's misfortunes. If it had not been for them meeting, she firmly believes, Sigyn would not be in the situation she is now. Never would everyone in Asgard have learned of her predilection for women, never would she nearly have been murdered by a terrorist, and certainly never would she have a prophecy forecasting her premature death.
Much to Walentyna's chagrin, he is utterly unmoved by her threat, brow raised as though he finds it ridiculous.
Sigyn, who had been sitting up in bed looking both exhausted and irritated beyond belief, springs into action upon seeing Walentyna wielding her sword. Clad in only her nightgown, she gets out of bed and strides over to Walentyna, wresting the blade from her as soon as she is near. "Mother, please let go. You will only hurt yourself."
Reluctantly, Walentyna loosens her grip on the sword's hilt, allowing it to be pulled from her grasp. Sigyn sets it back against the doorframe, magically summoning a sheath to cover its blade as she does so. When she turns back around, she and Loki lock eyes, looking as though they are engaged in silent conversation. Belatedly, Walentyna realizes that may very well be the case.
"Listen," he says aloud, holding out his hands as though making a peace offering. "I understand that you're angry with me."
Sigyn approaches Loki's manifested specter, taking slow, measured steps. When at last she comes to stand only a few feet from him, she crosses her arms and replies, "If that isn't the understatement of the millennium."
Smiling without any humor in his eyes, he replies, "Very funny."
"I'm fucking hilarious," she snipes back, her teeth clacking as her face arranges itself into in a vicious scowl. "Though not in the mood to entertain, I'm afraid. You see, I have just returned from a lengthy battle led by a raving lunatic, and I am simply exhausted."
Lips twisted downward, he gives her a long, hard stare, as though determining as to how short her temper is at present. He must come to the conclusion that it is much too short for any cheekiness on his part, finally acquiescing, "Very well. I shall return in the morning."
"No, don't—Son of a bitch," shouts Sigyn, her sentiment changing course as Loki disappears in the middle of her statement. Jaw clenched, she turns to face Walentyna again. She seems to resign herself to the situation quickly, however, her shoulders slumping as she sighs. "Well, problem temporarily solved."
Alarmed, Walentyna protests, "What about when he comes back tomorrow?" In the short time he had been here, he had not made it clear what it was he wanted. It could be something awful, she reasons, something for which they need prepare.
Climbing back into bed, Sigyn casts her a haphazard, backwards glance. Her eyelids already weighed down, she looks far too tired to do much more than sleep. "I shall deal with him then," she answers, smushing her face into her pillow and closing her eyes, leaving no room for further discussion.
Feeling dispossessed at the lethal antics of her daughter's life and how little Sigyn seems to care about them herself, Walentyna trudges back to her room, only to stand at the edge of her unmade bed, unwilling to sink back into it. She is not entirely convinced that she would be able to fall back asleep, though she is certain that if she could, the dreams that would await her would be shaped like terrors. With the intention of keeping herself preoccupied until she has the excuse to run off to work and let healing consume her mind, she heads downstairs to the kitchen. She gets started on an elaborate breakfast for when Sigyn wakes up in a few hours, baking the bread from scratch and slow-roasting the meat.
In the morning, there is no immediate sign of Loki's return. Nonetheless, Walentyna finds it difficult to relax. She spends the first few hours of daylight nervously checking on Sigyn every few minutes, worried that at any moment she will see Loki's conjured image looming over her, or worse, that she will come upon her daughter dead too soon.
Sigyn, on the other hand, appears entirely unconcerned with the previous day's events. She sits at the kitchen table before the start of her shift, leisurely eating her breakfast as though she hasn't a thing about which to worry, much less a mad ex-lover or an impending death.
Before long, a knock sounds at the door. Terribly on edge, Walentyna grapples with the irrational fear of opening it. Logically, she knows it cannot be Loki who has knocked. Apparitions cannot touch physical objects, she understands. Far besides, she knows the boy rude enough to appear without any notice, much as he did last night. She turns to Sigyn, asking who stands on the door's other side.
"It's Quimby," Sigyn answers without looking up. With a flick of her wrist, the door swings open. Sure enough, Quimby stands beyond it, his hand poised to knock again. Walentyna lets out a sigh of relief upon seeing him, though she tries to hide it in a yawn.
He walks over to greet her with a kiss on the cheek before going to sit beside Sigyn, who he nudges in greeting before taking a bite of her food without asking. As she glares at him, he grins and asks with his mouth full, "How was Midgard?"
"Fine," she answers glumly, shrugging with a single shoulder. Still glaring, she moves her plate behind her arm so as to safeguard it from him.
Little good it does her, though, as he leans over to steal another morsel. "Was it odd seeing the Prince Loki again? I still can hardly believe he's alive." After Sigyn had departed for Midgard, Quimby had stopped by to ask for her, hoping that she would be available to watch his children after work. Walentyna had informed him of her mission to the lesser realm, and he had shared her worries about the Prince Thor and Sigyn returning with Loki in tow.
Sigyn shrugs again, pointing her fork ahead of her and replying, "You tell me."
Instantly on alert, Walentyna whips her head to the side. Just as she had feared, in the space at which Sigyn indicates stands Loki. He appears the same as he did the night before, right down to the infuriatingly self-assured smirk across his face and the evil glint in his eyes. He stares at Sigyn in much the same way as he did earlier, as well, looking as though he wants to devour her, though not before he gets something from her first. Quimby is slower to look and chokes when he does, hunched over and with his eyes practically bugging out of his head as he sputters.
Clapping him on the back hard enough to dislodge the piece of food from his windpipe, which he spits onto the table, Sigyn tells him, "That is your penance for stealing my breakfast." Quimby shakes his head at her, perhaps to deny that he had stolen anything or deserved any punishment. She gives him a wry grin, though it drops from her face when she turns to regard their unwanted guest. "What do you want, Loki?"
Unperturbed by the sullen greeting, Loki gives her a charitable smile. "Good morning to you, too."
"With this start to the day? Not fucking likely," she grumbles to herself, though everyone hears her. Louder, she repeats, "What do you want?"
Loki readjusts himself, his feet shifting along the floor as he moves to clasp his hands behind his back. As though he had not heard her, he finally proceeds with the reasoning behind his unwelcome visits. "I come to you with a simple, easily-fulfilled request: that you forgive me."
Sigyn blinks wide, bewildered at his appeal. She must be willing to hear him out, nonetheless, as she leans back in her chair and waves for him to continue. When he makes no move to apologize, she says, "Well?"
Eyes narrowed, he asks, "'Well,' what?"
Brow furrowed in apparent confusion, she explains as though to a small child, "You need apologize before I can think to forgive you."
Not looking especially happy at her demand, he shifts on his feet again before supplying her with a spectacularly lackluster, "I'm sorry."
She prompts him again. "For?"
"For whatever upsets you so," he answers airily, waving an arm in front of him.
Sigyn, riled by his response, stands abruptly. Her chair clatters backward from the force she had exerted when getting to her feet. Thankfully, she does not move from behind the table, though Walentyna is unsure of how much protection it could provide her from Loki's noncorporeal form. "For whatever upsets me so," she barks, her face set in an angry grimace. "You betrayed me."
With a challenging edge to his voice, Loki stalks forward. "How do you imagine I did that?"
"Where shall I begin," she asks, hand held up as she begins to tick off her fingers. "You lied to me, you iced me to a wall, tried to kill Haldana, lost me my job, tried to brainwash me—"
Walentyna listens to her daughter's rant, disturbed at the details she has not yet heard. When had he tried to brainwash her, and by what means? Did this happen on Midgard? She imagines it had, though it is possible that Sigyn could have left out some rather significant details when regaling Walentyna with the full story of Loki's attempted coup in the months after it had occurred.
Loki objects to her recountal of their history. "I did what was necessary—"
"Spare me your self-indulgent excuses," she shouts, drawing an arc through the air with her hand. A glass clatters from the table as she returns her hand to her side. It crashes against the floor, breaking into large pieces that slide apart from one another. Quimby lifts his feet to avoid being struck by any sharp ends, but neither Sigyn nor Loki seem to take any notice of the glass breaking at all.
He tries to stave her off again. "I will not apologize for—"
"Why apologize, then," she interrupts, effectively silencing him. "Why seek my forgiveness when you feel no remorse for your actions?"
It is a good question, one that even Loki takes a moment to contemplate. When he has finished, he gives a cryptic answer. "So that we may move on from this."
Latching onto his words, she astutely wonders, "Move onto what?"
"Our marriage," he replies, and Walentyna's breath leaves her.
She knows of the proposal he had given Sigyn years ago—the one he had not been able to get all the way through before Sigyn had wisely stopped him—and she had hoped the matter settled, never to be broached again. Clearly, she had been a fool to think so, Loki still maddeningly fixated on Sigyn no matter how much she wishes he would forget her and move on with his miserable life.
Sigyn sounds tired of his fixation, as well, exasperatedly griping, "Not this shit again."
"What is he talking about," Walentyna asks, directing her question to Sigyn. From the way he speaks, it is as though their marriage—she shudders at the mere thought—is a sure thing, possibly one that has already come to pass. She needs assurance that this is not so, and she begs her daughter to give it to her.
Closing her eyes and sighing, Sigyn waves her arm as though casting the idea to the side. "Nothing, Mother, just that the humans think us married."
"And why on Asgard would they think that," she presses.
Shaking her head, Sigyn looks up at the ceiling. She appears at a loss for a good answer. "I don't know, but not to worry. I set them straight."
"Which you should not have done," Loki interjects, sounding all too pleased with himself. "Now, you will have to recant your statement."
"Shut up. No, I will not," she barks at him. Loki shrugs, wearing a slight smirk. Further incensed, she goes on, "Why are you so insistent on marrying me, anyway? I would be a dreadful wife. I would never do what you ask of me, I would never shit out a kid for you, I would never—" She trails off, grasping for something else to add to her statement, though nothing comes. "I cannot even think of a third obligation," she shouts, clenching her fist as she stares him down.
Loki opens his mouth to respond, but Quimby beats him to it. "For the record, as the only person here who has ever actually been married," he pauses, sending Walentyna an apologetic glance. "Marriage is not about wives listening to their husbands or having children, necessarily."
"Whose fucking side are you on," Sigyn seethes, bending down to glower at him at point-blank range.
Leaning backward with his hand raised between them, he assures her, "I'm on your side—"
"You are on my side," she confirms, teeth gritted. Satisfied when he makes no other attempt to speak, she returns to her full height and refocuses her glare onto Loki. "I will not be marrying you. Not now, not ever."
Loki runs his tongue over the front of his teeth, looking to the side. He is ostensibly irritated with Sigyn's stubbornness, but he chuckles as though he is not. "It's funny, you believing you have a choice."
It is Sigyn's turn to smile as though she is not halfway between livid and murderous, tilting her head to one side. "Excuse me?"
"The illusion of freedom of choice that you have is holding you back," he elaborates, though what he means by that is hardly clear. Still, it sends a shiver down Walentyna's back. "Holding us back."
"That is enough," Walentyna interjects before Sigyn has time to respond, having heard all she can bear. Loki turns his head to regard her slowly, trying to intimidate her with a cutting glance, his eyes sparkling with malice. She does not back down, having dealt with plenty of brats throughout her three-thousand-year lifespan. "It is well past time for you to leave."
Turning on her fully, he ferociously snaps, "Silence, woman! You could no more make me do anything than you could—"
Before she can think to back away from him—the kitchen island, though it stands between them, could not stop him from attacking her as he could likely walk right through it in his current state—he is wrenched to the side, Sigyn gripping him by the chin. Briefly, she wonders how it is that Sigyn can touch him, only to look to the side and see Sigyn's body slumped at the table. "You'll not yell at my mother," she hisses at him, their noses a hair's breadth apart.
Rather dishearteningly, Loki hardly seems displeased to have her so angry with him. "Finally," he crows, gripping onto her shoulders and spinning her beneath him. The two of them fall towards the floor, grappling with each other. It looks as though their struggle is about to collapse into an all-out wrestling match on the floor. However, when Sigyn's shoulder meets the slate surface, it sinks through it, quickly followed by the rest of her form and Loki's.
"What just happened," Walentyna blurts out, alarmed. She rushes to the other side of the island to examine the spot in which they had disappeared. The floor is completely without aberration, giving no indication that two people had descended beyond it mere seconds beforehand. "Where did they go?"
Quimby, looking far too relaxed, gives her a painfully lacking answer. "They went into the astral world." He pulls Sigyn's food over to him before taking pause, thoughtfully pondering something. "Astral plane? Realm? Something to that effect."
Minutes pass without any sign of return from either of them. Walentyna goes over to Sigyn's body to check on her, checking her pulse and attempting to shake her into wakefulness at one point. She does not react, too embroiled in whatever she is doing. At one point, Walentyna thinks she sees Sigyn's eyelids flutter, but before she can check for it again, Sigyn is jolting upward in her seat.
"Hello, Mother," she says drowsily, stretching out her neck. As she does so, her head turns over to Quimby, and she asks him, "Why are you here again?"
Standing up, Quimby takes large bites to finish Sigyn's breakfast in between talking. "Kids heard you had returned." He chews loudly with his mouth open. "Wanted to see you." Perfectly agreeable, she stands with him, sparing Walentyna a kiss good-bye before following him out the door. Having appreciated the kiss, she does not protest, though she knows she would have far preferred an explanation for the madness that had just occurred.
Loki behaves like a bad scab, coming back day after day, regardless of how many times Sigyn tears through him. Walentyna is quick to realize that he has become a reoccurring nuisance the second day after Sigyn's return from Midgard, spotting him following Sigyn down the stairs in the morning. The two of them are arguing about some detail of their time on Midgard, completely oblivious to Walentyna's presence.
"—one of the eighty people you killed in the first two days you were there," Sigyn shouts back at him as her feet meet the kitchen floor. Along with her uniform and armor, she wears a scowl, frowning down at the floor as she stomps over to the kitchen island to grab some fruit for breakfast.
From behind her, Loki rolls his eyes. Meanwhile, Walentyna is appalled to learn that he murdered dozens of people. He seems entirely unbothered at having caused so much loss of life. She suddenly, fervently wishes for him to not be standing so close to her daughter. "That was not me," he objects, though Walentyna is hardly convinced by his apathetic tone. "The Tesseract caused the shield facility to implode as a side-effect of my using it."
Lips pursed, Sigyn turns around to squint up at him, appraising him for any dishonesty. When she seemingly finds none, she inquires, "Really?"
He shrugs in answer before elaborating. "Do you really believe that I would waste my time chasing after those miserable people just so I could cut their lives a little shorter than they would have otherwise been?"
Heaving a tired sigh, Sigyn shakes her head as her shoulders slump. She had been hoping for a kinder answer, Walentyna thinks, and she is disappointed to have not gotten one. When at last she looks back up, she drawls, "I am headed to work. Do not follow me."
Loki smiles magnanimously, giving a short, quiet laugh. "Why would I do that? I will be there waiting for you, after all."
She returns his grin. "Unfortunately for you, I am not on prison-duty today." At this, his smile drops, though she takes no notice, having already turned away and made for the door. She passes through it without looking back, locking it once she is on its other side. The sound of the bolt sliding into place reverberates throughout the room, now occupied only by Loki's projected image and Walentyna.
Alone with him now, she takes the opportunity to inspect him. He still dons the fine leather and pristine armor she had seen him in the day before, though she is almost certain now that it is not what he truly wears. She had heard from Sigyn last night that he had been placed in a cell in the prisons beneath the palace, and she sincerely doubts that prisoners get to wear armor. His appearance is a conscious choice on his part, she surmises, from a desire to convey a sense of power and mobility that he no longer has.
Just as she starts to wonder why he is still standing in her kitchen, having not yet dropped his illusion, his gaze darts over to her, pinning her in the corner in which she had been standing throughout the last bit of his confrontation with Sigyn. His eyes narrow as they meet hers, prompting her to take an involuntary step back. At the sight of her trepidation, he gives another irritated roll of his eyes and vanishes on the spot. She takes a few minutes to calm herself down before going about her day. After his outburst at her the day before, she is entirely unnerved by his presence, convinced that he is a threat not only to Sigyn but to everyone around him.
A few days after that, she catches Loki shadowing Sigyn again. This time, they occupy her room, which has its door ajar enough for Walentyna to peek through. Their current argument concerns Sigyn's newfound godhood. Despite herself, Walentyna ducks behind the door to listen, anxious to learn more about her daughter's godship as for whatever reason, Sigyn has been reluctant to share any information herself.
"I simply do not see why the humans thinking me a goddess matters," Sigyn is saying, gesticulating to the side with her palm facing upward. Ever since her return, she has been conspicuously nonchalant about her tenure as the Goddess of Victory. This worries Walentyna as she has always known Sigyn to be proud of her accolades, making this behavior rather uncharacteristic of her.
"Of course, you don't," Loki replies, walking around her in a circle. He is scowling, though his gaze is focused not on Sigyn but off to the side, as though he is displeased by some other matter rather than her. "You have always been so short-sighted, never living up to your full potential."
"What a delightful, back-handed compliment," she snarls back at him.
"Only for you, my dear," he not-so-graciously replies.
Stone-faced, she stares off into the space in front of her until he occupies it again, at which point she broaches, "Look, Loki, answer me this, and I may consider forgiving you." He gestures for her to continue, his expression conveying an eagerness to hear her next words. "If you had succeeded in using the scepter on me, what would you have had me done?"
Contrary to what Walentyna had been expecting, he does not miss a beat in responding. Almost without a second thought, he hammers out, "See, this is exactly what I mean." He leans in, his expression deathly serious. "Sigyn, they are mortals. We are gods. They are—all of them—beneath us, their lives meaningless. I could have had you kill every last human in Midgard, and it wouldn't have meant a damned thing."
She pushes out a gruff breath, shaking her head as her lip curls in displeasure. "That is where you're wrong. Have you ever considered that their lives are perhaps more meaningful than ours? For they are so much shorter?"
"Like I said," he taunts. "So short-sighted."
Overtly pissed, Sigyn jabs her arm through his chest, dispelling his illusion. She plops herself onto her bed thereafter, out of Walentyna's line of sight. When Walentyna does not hear crying or any other sounds of distress, she forces herself to continue down the hall.
One evening, Walentyna comes home to find them bickering in the living room as Sigyn sorts through their bills, though they do not currently hold her attention. They sit forgotten and strewn across the floor, likely having been tossed there earlier by Sigyn in a fit of frustration.
"Tell me you do not honestly believe that," she is in the middle of pleading with Loki, earnestly gazing up at him. Her hands are twitching as she gestures in the space between them, and it is clear that they have been at this for some time. "I saw you that first day on Earth. You were haggard and beaten down. Your eyes were sunken and a different fucking color. Do not lie to me."
"As I have said," Loki coolly replies, much to the apparent frustration of Sigyn, who growls. "You are mistaken."
Practically jabbing her index finger up his nose, she objects, "I am not mistaken, and you are full of shit—Oh!" She sputters in umbrage as Loki suddenly decides to leave, disappearing in a shimmer of green. Miffed, she starts picking up the bills from the floor whilst muttering to herself, "When he wants to talk, I can't get rid of him, but Borr forbid I want to talk about something."
"Don't let his illusion rile you up, dear," Walentyna says, and Sigyn jumps, clutching their bills to her chest.
She waits until her breathing slows down before summoning the rest of papers littering the floor to her hands. "It is not an illusion, Mother. Not exactly." She breezes past her and into the kitchen. Walentyna looks after her, confused as to what she means, though she does not ask for clarification. Magic has always been hideously confusing to her, growing only more convoluted as Sigyn had gotten to know Loki.
After two weeks, Walentyna overhears the most disturbing conversation yet. Though she only hears the very tail-end of it, it is enough to spur her into action. Sigyn is in the midst of a denial when Walentyna walks past her door, loud enough for her to hear. "—and I mean it."
Loki's voice is deep and crooning when he gives his response. "Trust me when I say that I mean it, too, lovely. You will bear me a son."
Feeling her stomach drop, Walentyna swallows the urge to hurl. Never has she heard anything so unsettling from him before, though she cannot imagine it is actually the worst thing he has ever said. She grapples with the impulse to burst into the room, kept in check only by Sigyn's lack of response as of yet.
"Do not speak to me in such a way," she mandates at long last, her voice coming out thin and flimsy. "It frightens me."
Losing her patience, Walentyna barges in to find Sigyn standing alone in the center of her room, Loki having already gone. Sigyn raises one of her eyebrows, curious as to why she has burst into her room unannounced. Reluctant to admit she had been eavesdropping and unsure of what to say, she asks Sigyn what she would like for dinner.
Walentyna knocks on the door of Andor's grand house, feeling monstrously out of place and horribly guilty. It is not the first time she has been here, though she hopes it will be the last. She has only come here on one other occasion. She had hoped that the need for a second visit would never arise, but Sigyn has gotten herself into a quite a mess, and it is a mother's job to look out for her child. With the way Loki is behaving, Sigyn is reaching a breaking point, and Walentyna is worried she might turn to the drink again soon if no one puts a stop to the infernal boy.
She explains as much to Andor after finally being allowed in. They stand in the foyer as she regales him of the last two weeks' worth of arguments between their daughter and Loki. Andor is quietly contemplating all she has said when his wife walks by, spots Walentyna, and starts over, looking none too pleased.
"Look what the bilgesnipe dragged in," she says when she is close enough, immediately moving to wind her arms around one of Andor's. She greets Walentyna with a glare, a nod, and the wrong name, "Valentina."
Walentyna gives her a tight smile and does not bother to correct her. She is hardly the person for whom she is here. "Lady Magnhildr."
"What brings you to our humble abode," she asks, and Walentyna has to refrain from rolling her eyes at the other woman's deliberate choice of words.
As soon as she has regained her composure, she tells Andor, "I want to speak with the king."
"The king," Magnhildr echoes, incredulous.
Andor ignores his wife. His eyes bore into Walentyna's. "This matter is not important enough to bring to Odin."
On her last visit to Andor's house, it had been at his request, one that had brought them before the king. Andor had wanted to make certain that Sigyn did not end up Loki's bride, and Walentyna had agreed with his aims, though for different reasons—his borne of resentment, and hers of concern. Odin, too, had been on board, and the three of them had devised a plan of which she was scarcely proud that included the subtle derogation of the relationship between Sigyn and Loki. They had spoken to each of their children, trying to instill the perversity that the match would cause. Haldana had been an unwitting accomplice, but even her fragmented help had proven useful. Not a month later, Sigyn had rejected Loki's proposal. However foolishly, they had all thought their plot successful, the topic of marriage not brought up for another twenty years. Now, it is all that of which Loki seems to speak, and Walentyna sees no end in sight.
"I disagree," she says simply.
Haldana takes this moment to turn up, stealing everyone's attention. Magnhildr lights up significantly, whereas Andor's shoulders only droop a little bit from where they had been hiked up by his ears. Haldana looks surprised to see Walentyna, and she says so as she gives her mother a one-armed embrace, asking what has brought her over.
She dives into yet another explanation of Loki's most recent streak of terrorization, only making it a few words in when Haldana stops her, her expression round with understanding. "I'm coming back from speaking with him on the matter, actually."
Interest piqued, Walentyna sends Andor a quick glance as though to say, See? I told you it was important. "What happened," she asks, turning back to Haldana.
With a regretful twist to her lips, she relays, "He said that if I do not keep my nose out of his business, he will gut me like a fish." Over-dramatic, Magnhildr nearly stumbles backward, though Haldana is quick to assuage her concerns. "Not to worry, Mother. When he does not think up the threat himself, he does not mean it. Generally speaking."
"And how is it you know he did not think up this one himself," inquires Andor, sounding only slightly worried.
"It is far too crass and gory for him," she explains, shrugging. Pointing a gleaming smile at Walentyna, she adds, "It positively screams Sigyn." Walentyna has the decency to appear embarrassed at the mention of her daughter's tendency for vulgar language.
A long moment of tense, awkward silence commences, ending only when Magnhildr draws Haldana away, making mention of tea and sweets. Andor continues to stare down at the floor, deep in contemplation. Finally, he looks back at up at Walentyna, gesturing for her to follow him. Pleased at having been taken seriously, she keeps pace with him throughout the brief journey to the palace. After they make it inside, she looks around, caught up by the unique, golden visage of the palace, having been there only once before.
It is not long before they reach the king's private study, having gone past the throne room and up several flights of stairs. They have to wait outside in the hall for several minutes before the guards let them in. She notices that one of them dons a blue kerchief around one of his biceps, and that is the only forewarning she gets to expect the Queen Frigga to be present for their impromptu meeting.
Frigga stands beside the King Odin, who sits behind his desk at the far end of the room. The last time she had been here, he had been sitting in one of the armchairs that takes up the space off the side of the door, having anticipated their arrival. This meeting, far more spontaneous, inspires Walentyna's nerves to heighten their distress.
"Andor, my friend," Odin greets, his eyes briefly sliding over Walentyna. He gives no indication that he recognizes her. "What is it that brings you here so unexpectedly?"
Andor, glancing at Walentyna, as well, appears reluctant to admit his reason behind disturbing the king. "There appears to be an urgent matter concerning the Prince Loki and my—" he takes a beat, as though debating whether to continue, "—eldest child."
Suddenly, Frigga beams at Walentyna, having realized who she is. "Oh, you must be Sigyn's mother. She's darling. We just adore her." Walentyna thanks her politely before looking to Odin, who does not look as though he agrees with his wife. She sees now why Frigga had not been involved in their previous intervention into their children's lives.
"What is it," Odin gruffly demands of Andor.
Andor discloses, "He won't leave her be, it seems."
"Loki is in prison," Odin tells them, speaking as though that simple fact solves their problem.
Walentyna takes this moment to jump in given how poorly Andor is explaining the situation, likely due to his lack of interest. "He is using an illusion to follow her around and pester her."
"His astral form, you mean," Frigga asks, sounding confused at her explanation. Walentyna merely frowns, unsure as to what the difference is. Turning around, Frigga seemingly decides to show her. She walks up to raised platform in the corner of the room. It is big enough for a single person to stand upon, though when she raises her arms in front of it, both Sigyn and Loki materialize atop it, albeit smaller than they would be were they physically in the room with them.
Walentyna takes a step closer, fascinated by the device. The image of Sigyn looks exactly as it does during those times when she sends a quick message to Walentyna while she is away from home. The only difference is that while Sigyn's magic provides a pink aura around her person, Frigga's appears to create a blue one. She also notes that Loki looks different than usual, his hair slightly longer and his clothing more casual.
As she and everyone else continue to watch the projected image of their children—who appear to be quibbling whilst walking somewhere, Loki trailing after Sigyn like usual—Sigyn stops abruptly, looking down and to the side as though trying to sense something.
Loki waves his hand in front of her face, breaking her concentration. "Hello?"
Peeved, she places her hands on her hips and gives him a dirty look. "Excuse you, I thought I felt something."
"I don't feel anything," he tells her, leaning back on his heels and shrugging.
One side of Sigyn's mouth quirks up, though her overall expression remains stern. "Of course, you don't feel anything, you emotionless brute."
He grins, not looking offended in the slightest. "For an emotionless brute, I love you well enough."
Outrage and shock painted over her face, Sigyn nearly stumbles backward. If she had still been walking, Walentyna thinks, she might have fallen. "Did you just tell me you love me for the first time in the middle of a sporadic, two-week fight?"
Loki's face scrunches up in a confused grimace. "I told you on Midgard."
"You did not," she counters, the sentence coming out in one irate breath.
"Fine," he says quickly, as though he is trying to get ahead of her before she can get any angrier. "You know I love you. Why act surprised?"
Sigyn does not say anything, but Walentyna reads her loud and clear. She has that look on her face that usually means she is about to cry: a slight frown, a twitching nose, and a wobbly chin. She holds herself ramrod straight, likely afraid that she will crumble in on herself at a moment's notice.
"Hey," Loki quietly calls out, taking a step closer. Walentyna wants to curse him. "I know you love me, too."
Having hardly moved, Sigyn takes a moment to compose herself before shakily asserting, "I do not—"
"Don't lie to me," he bellows, cutting her off.
Sigyn flinches only to come rearing up at him half a second later, her expression colored with rage. The entire image of them disintegrates before they can see anything else, getting eaten up by pink sparks that burn it from the outside in. Frigga makes a noise of surprise as the projection she had put up disappears, though she hardly looks confused as to how it happened.
At any other time, Walentyna might have asked why that is, but she has come here for another purpose. "You see my plight," she says, gesturing at the empty space where Sigyn and Loki had been. "He is endlessly antagonizing her to some fruitless end, driving her to despair."
Odin nods in understanding. "I sympathize with you, but I am afraid there is nothing to be done." Walentyna makes to object, but not before he speaks up again. "The boy is already being punished for crimes far worse than this. Soon enough, he will tire of her, and your problem will have solved itself."
She sincerely doubts that, as it had been much of their plan before. They had discouraged Loki from pursuing Sigyn, Odin asserting that after a little time apart, he would forget all about her. Little good they have to show for that idea now, she thinks spitefully.
Odin dismisses her and Andor, and after a stilted curtsy, she follows her former lover out into the hall. She trails slowly after him, not in the mood to make conversation. She knows he would only gloat over having been right. Their trip to see the king had been fruitless, after all.
They are about to turn the corner toward the staircase when Frigga calls her name. She stops, head bowed as she waits for Frigga to catch up with her. Andor stops, too, but remains some distance away after exchanging a courteous nod with Frigga.
Frigga gives her a kind smile. "I apologize for my husband's disposition. Loki has been difficult to handle as of late, and he has never quite learned that discouraging is not the same as parenting."
"Oh, well," Walentyna flounders over her words, not having expected such candor from the queen. "There is a learning curve for everyone."
Frigga nods. "I will speak to Loki and persuade him to give Sigyn some respite."
"Thank you," Walentyna says, sincerity shining through her voice. Without thinking, she grasps Frigga's hand in gratitude, realizing only after she has done it that it might have been a taboo act. Frigga does not seem to notice her apprehension, squeezing her hand before letting go and returning to her husband's study.
Walentyna rejoins Andor, waiting until they are outside of the palace before she breaks the silence between them. "Well, that was not how I expected things to go, but at least, we've something to show for our efforts."
"I still think it was not serious enough to bring before the king," he is quick to remind her, sparing her a glance out of the corner of his eye. He must take notice of the miffed, resentful look on her face because he stops before they can make it too far into the plaza right outside the palace. "Listen, you needn't be so upset about Sigyn's little predicament. It is temporary, and far besides, she deserves it."
She balks. "Excuse me?"
Andor explains himself further. "I only mean to say that she is more devious and conniving than everyone seems to think. As far as I am concerned, she is no better than Loki."
Walentyna, while certainly outraged by his words, finds it somewhat difficult to be shocked. She has always known how much he resents Sigyn—not only for existing, but for having extraordinary powers where her half-sister has none. Still, he has never outwardly voiced such thoughts to Walentyna. To hear them so brazen and unapologetic is jarring, to say the least. "How dare you," is all she can think to say in response.
He tries to rationalize what he has said. "She tried to blackmail me, you know." She raises her brow, disbelieving, and he adds, "She wanted to own your house."
"But we do not own the house," she reminds him, tone vitriolic.
His smile is smug and self-satisfied. "She may be conniving, but she is hardly as clever as am I." When she does not appear similarly amused at her daughter's misfortunes, he drops his grin, choosing to give her an awkward pat on the shoulder. It is the first time they have touched in over thirteen-hundred years. "Try not to waste your energy worrying about her."
She presents no reply, waiting until she sees the back of him to whisper, "One of us has to." Not for the first time, she finds herself wishing she had listened to her friend Brunnhilde when she had warned her to steer clear of Andor.
She heads home herself, pleasantly surprised to see Sigyn cooking something at the stove when she walks in. Sigyn's demeanor gives no indication that she had been crying not too long ago, and Walentyna hopes it is not due to the work of an illusion. After the day they have both had, they deserve a moment of peace.
"Good afternoon, Mother," greets Sigyn, her tone cheerful enough. She is stirring something into a large pot. From the smell, Walentyna gleans that it is onion soup. "I thought I would make supper tonight."
Spying a large, uncooked lamb's leg on the kitchen island, Walentyna commends her. "That sounds excellent, my dear."
Sigyn goes on cooking for some time, not saying anything else. She seems concentrated on the task at hand, so Walentyna decides it best not to disturb her. They partake in companionable silence for nearly an hour, Walentyna taking up the time by writing out their budget for the upcoming month.
The silence is broken as Sigyn pipes up with an abrupt question. "Mother, can I ask when you got over Andor?"
Startled at the sudden, odd query, Walentyna is unsure of how to respond at first. Sigyn has not asked after her relationship with Andor since she was a small child and still had the naïve desire to get to know the man, though she had not yet known who he was. Not yet looking up from the table, she haltingly divulges, "When you were six months old." When at last she does look up, it is to see Sigyn scratching the skin of her neck.
She hums idly. "I wonder if I've enough time left to get over Loki," she comments. After a moment, during which Walentyna is utterly disquieted by Sigyn's audible stream of consciousness, she continues, "I wonder how he is to get over me when I die. Is he just going to forget about me? Is that what I had planned to do when I had thought him dead?"
"Sigyn," Walentyna cuts in, trying to keep her voice light and sweet as the pays her daughter a reminder. "You are not in love with Loki. There is nothing to get over."
Sigyn moves slowly, setting down the kitchen utensils with care and stepping back from the counter. She turns to face Walentyna at that same pace, a wide-eyed, closed-off expression weighing down her features. "Right, how could I forget," she mumbles, looking down at her hands. When she looks back up, she tells Walentyna that she needs to grab something from her room. Walentyna waits for her for fifteen minutes before taking over dinner preparations, eating alone when Sigyn does not return for the remainder of the night.
As she falls asleep that night, she thinks back to what Frigga had said to her earlier about Odin's tendency towards discouragement. It had not struck her as out of place at the time, but she realizes now that it might have been directed at her, as well. Does Frigga think discouraging Loki and Sigyn from being together such a poisonous idea? Is she right? She very well may be, Walentyna thinks, considering that all they have thrown at their children has only further intertwined their lives.
The next day, Walentyna arrives home from work only to be greeted by a heated argument between Sigyn and Loki. Regretful, she mourns Frigga's apparent failure in persuading Loki against continuing to harass Sigyn.
"You are the love of my life," he is screaming, hands up in the air for emphasis.
"Please," Sigyn scoffs. "I know the love of your life, and it is not me."
Incredulous, Loki squeezes his eyes shut, asking, "Who else could possibly—?"
"Power. You lust after it like no other." Loki twists his head away in derision, but she does not back down. "It is what drove you to attempt to usurp the throne from your own brother, to destroy Jotunheim, to conquer an entire fucking planet—"
He tries to interrupt, "Sigyn—"
She barrels on, teeth gnashing as she finishes up her furious diatribe. "—and no matter how much you claim to love me, you never would have let an illegitimate peasant woman keep you from the throne of Asgard!"
Something of what she says must give him pause. His face shuts down entirely, betraying no emotion as he contemplates his next move. Walentyna takes this moment to move farther into the house. This garners both their attentions, though they each spare her only a brief glance.
Finally, having turned back to regard Sigyn, he decides on saying, "Asgard's throne is out of my reach." Sigyn, after snorting in disbelief, mumbles something about how she doubts that he truly believes that. He presses on as though he had not heard her. "But I am certain that you are not."
Looking utterly worn out, she pinches the skin between her eyes. "Loki, you do not love me. That with which you are grappling is obsession, and yes, I get it. I am effortlessly beautiful and endlessly brilliant—"
"You are," he confirms.
"—but you are endlessly annoying," she concludes, the look on her face oddly droll. "Stop entreating yourself to delusion and leave me be." With that, she swipes through him, not waiting for any added reaction from him.
At this point, she turns to face Walentyna fully, greeting her with a labored smile. Disbelieving, Walentyna finds it difficult to return the gesture. "You're flirting with him."
Taken off guard, she scoffs. "I am not."
"I just watched you," Walentyna contends. Sigyn merely scoffs anew, shaking her head. "Are you thinking of forgiving him," she forces herself to ask.
"What? No," she answers, as though the suggestion is ludicrous. "Still, he has neither apologized nor explained himself."
"What about when he does?" As much as she hates to admit it, Loki does not seem incapable of learning. From what she has gleaned through the bits and pieces of their conversations that she has overheard, Sigyn has been able to gain some ground with him. An apology may soon be on the horizon. "I just worry because he seems utterly convinced that as soon as you forgive him, you will suddenly be together."
Sigyn chuckles lowly. "What has you so afraid, the notion that I am going to break him out of prison and run off with him?"
"Now, it does," Walentyna responds, her eyes wide at the tone her daughter has taken with her.
"Why," she asks angrily, throwing a hand out to the side. "Because now that my life has completely fallen apart, it may not be such a horrid idea?"
In a chastising tone, Walentyna berates her, "Sigyn, your life has not—"
"Please! My friends have all but abandoned me." When Walentyna gives her a dubious look, she continues. "Elshe and Quimby are always busy with the triplets, for which, of course, I do not resent them, but it still smarts, being brushed off. Meanwhile, Pontus barely fucking speaks to me for some reason, and Haldana, well, we have never been as close as we would like to otherwise pretend."
Walentyna does not say anything, too shocked to object to Sigyn's claims again. She had no idea that Sigyn felt so defeated, so out of touch with her own life.
Sigyn shows no sign of slowing down. "And let us not forget, my career has gone to shit, too. Let go from the Queen's Guard, promoted to major, but to what end? Probably nothing given how much Odin fucking hates me. And I'll probably never have a girlfriend again because I was outed to the entire realm, and I am notorious for being involved with the traitor, Jotun prince!"
Finally, she musters up the courage to say, "I am only worried because considering what the prophet told you—"
"I told you, he was not a prophet," Sigyn interjects.
"—you may feel as though there are no real consequences to your actions," she finishes, her lips twisting in anguish. Because you may soon die, she does not add, though they both know what her point had been.
Sigyn smiles, but the gesture looks pained. "You've convinced me." She turns away to march up the stairs, stomping on every step.
The day after that, Walentyna overhears them downstairs while Sigyn is preparing lunch. She stops at the top of the stairs so as to go unnoticed. Alongside the sound of Sigyn chopping vegetables, Loki prattles on about his would-have-been victory on Midgard. "—so staunchly opposed. Why would you not have wanted to rule an entire realm alongside the love of your life?"
Completely ignoring the bit about him supposedly being the love of her life, Sigyn stops slicing along the cutting board to inform him, "Unlike you, I have no desire to subjugate people."
"Don't you," he counters, and Walentyna wonders just how manic the look in his eyes is. "You are the Goddess of Victory, after all, and I know how much you love to best people."
Walentyna hears a clunk and assumes that Sigyn has put down the knife she had been using. "It is not about being better than some people, not that I am—"
"Oh, but you are," he interrupts. "And tell me you took no glory in being so vastly superior to the oafs with whom you were forced comply for the sake of your conscience."
"Very well," she agrees. "I took no glory in being slightly more equipped to handle you and your exploits for dictatorship than my human comrades."
He echoes, "'Slightly more equipped?' Are you suggesting that they could have handled me without help from you and Thor?"
She resumes chopping. It sounds as though she is chewing when she speaks up again. "Probably."
Loki laughs bitterly. "If only I could go back in time and tell myself so, perhaps I would have worked harder to kill the lot of them before you had all had a chance to acquaint yourselves with one another."
This seems to be a breaking point for Sigyn. "You see, Loki, this is why I'll not forgive you. If you could go back in time, you would not stop yourself from trying to take over Asgard or Earth. No, you would merely warn yourself of some tiny thing you missed—whatever it was that fucked you over the first time—all so you could do more harm."
Walentyna takes this moment to come downstairs, decidedly unhappy to see Loki all but leaning against Sigyn's side as she skins a squash. The both of them look up at her as she enters, Walentyna aiming a glare at Loki.
Loki, looking amused, hums in Sigyn's ear. "I think your mother wants me to leave."
"I want you to leave," she grumbles, but Loki ignores her.
He smiles wider, leaning in farther to whisper something in her ear. She glances up at Walentyna, as though trying to gauge as to whether she can hear him, and her face reddens. "Stop it," she says, swatting at him, and he disappears.
The next conversation she overhears is comparably innocuous to those that have preceded it. They are in Sigyn's room again, and it is late at night, so the door is closed. Walentyna can hear only muffled snippets of what they are saying.
"—you honestly do not care that I am a Frost Giant," Loki is asking, his voice sounding ashamed and hesitant.
"I only care that you kept it from me," Sigyn confesses, her voice warm and comforting.
"I had only found out two days before—" he starts, his voice too quiet for Walentyna to hear the rest of his statement.
Sigyn wonders, "Really?" There is a lapse in the conversation, during which Walentyna is not sure if Loki says anything. She hears Sigyn again. "I suppose, I am not mad at all, then. About that."
They are quiet for some time before Sigyn speaks again. She wonders if Loki had spoken at all. "Reluctant though you may be to believe it, Jotuns are people with feelings, and hopes, and dreams, just like you and me. Especially like you. Were that not true, never would I have—" Her voice gets too quiet, or perhaps she had simply stopped speaking, Walentyna thinks.
"I love you," he declares, and it sounds so genuine that Walentyna has to force herself not to gasp.
"Goodnight, Loki," Sigyn whispers wistfully.
Walentyna gets sent home early from work one night on account of her being too tired to finish out her shift. She has been getting poor sleep lately, and she is embarrassed to admit that it is affecting her job performance. She has a week off ahead of her now to get herself back into shape, though she is not happy about it in the least. Work has been her distraction as of late, a way to put to the back of her mind the struggles Sigyn cannot help but bring home. She is hardly pleased at the thought of being home with Sigyn as she fruitlessly grapples with them.
She is almost home when she spots Quimby leaving his own house. He spots her in turn, moving to stride alongside her as she continues on her path. "Hello, dear," she greets, trying to keep the weariness out of her voice. "Is there something you need?"
"I need to speak with Sigyn," he tells her, looking rather put out. "We're trying to get the children to sleep, and she has been screaming at the Prince Loki for nearly an hour now."
Copiously apologetic, she rushes over to the door, eager to help Quimby so that he can put his sons and himself to bed. She unlocks the door, and she and Quimby step into the house to witness Sigyn and Loki standing nearly chest-to-chest, the both of them snarling about one thing or another. As soon as Sigyn realizes they have company, she whips around and steps to the side to block their view of the kitchen table, though not quickly enough for them to have not seen the tall bottle sitting atop it.
Quimby starts forward, pushing her to the side. While her body no longer obscures their view, it seems to have taken with it the alcohol that had been there seconds before. It has vanished as though it was a mirage, but Walentyna had seen it, she knows she had. A pit of despair settles into her stomach. She had been worried that Sigyn would go back to drinking, so much so that she had tried to interfere in her daughter's life to stop such a thing from happening, but it was no use.
Quimby, angry where Walentyna is resigned, grips Sigyn by the shoulders. Teeth bared, he asks, "Was that ale? Are you drinking again?" From behind them, Loki looks on with confusion, bewildered at the turn the atmosphere of the room has taken. Distantly, Walentyna wonders if he knows of Sigyn's trouble with alcohol.
Sigyn peels his fingers off of her with her own and tries in vain to put some space between them. He follows closely after her as she steps backward. "Of course not, don't be absurd," she assures him, but the platitude falls flat. Her tone is perfectly convincing, her expression equally so, yet they had all seen the proof of his accusation.
"You filthy fucking liar," he shouts, going red in the face. He lowers his brow and sets his jaw, mirrored by Sigyn a moment later as the two of them square up for a fight. Fretfully, Walentyna hopes it does not come to blows as it had when they were children. He sticks a finger in Sigyn's face. "You always do this. Every two-hundred years, you fuck up."
"Sorry we're not all perfect like you," she snarls back, placing one of her palms flat on his chest and shoving him back.
When they were younger, too young for liquor, Sigyn and Quimby had found themselves drinking everything they could get their hands on. They had pulled stunt after stunt as they stayed out late most nights, often leaving Walentyna or Sherica, Quimby's mother, to go out and find them in the early hours of the morning at a local pub. One night, they had ended up in jail after picking a fight with a group of burly men three times their age. Quimby had nearly lost an eye, and the both of them had promised to never have another sip of alcohol for as long as they lived. As far as she knows, Quimby never has.
"I'm sorry," Loki interrupts, and Quimby turns his furious glower to him. "What's going on here?"
"Shut up," Quimby snaps. "This is all your fault anyhow."
"I beg your pardon," asks Loki, looking as though he can scarcely believe Quimby is speaking to him in such a manner.
Quimby waves a dismissive hand. "Can you get rid of him," he asks of Sigyn, who complies by flicking her fingers in Loki's direction. Loki dematerializes with a cut-off protest. As soon as the air is clear of him, it chills with Quimby's all-consuming, icy temperament. He crosses his arms, inquiring in a pernicious whisper, "What were you thinking?"
Her irritated expression slowly melting away, she looks to the side, not making eye contact with him. "I drink when I'm stressed, that is how it has always been. You know that."
"So, what," he exclaims, throwing up his hands in exasperation. "You couldn't handle a little misbegotten attention, so you decided to drown yourself in—"
"Hey, fuck you," she shouts back, her drunken anger returning in full force. She steps into his space, their chests not too far apart. "That is not all this is—"
"Oh, no," he asks, returning the shove she had given him earlier. "This isn't yet another stunt—"
"Alright, that is enough, you two," Walentyna interjects, deciding it has come time for her to intervene. The next time one of them touches the other, she realizes, they may very well draw their swords. "Quimby, dear, why don't you go home and put the boys to bed? I will help Sigyn sober up."
Lips twisted, he runs an agitated hand over the top of his head before ceding to her request, stomping from their house without another word. Walentyna knows he will likely be back the next day with an apology for her and a slightly calmer, stern talking-to for Sigyn. She goes to lock the door behind him. When she turns back, she finds Sigyn bringing back the bottle of ale to her hand, immediately going to uncork it. Startled, Walentyna tries to wrench it from her, but it is no easy feat to pull it from Sigyn's strong grasp.
"Sigyn, no," she protests.
"This is the last time, okay," Sigyn says, her voice tinged with desperation. "I promise."
Walentyna objects, "You always promise as much. It is always the last time."
"Perhaps this time it will be! It's all coming to an end soon, so who knows," she shouts, finally managing to yank the bottle free as Walentyna's grip slackens. She ambles over to the kitchen table, sinking into the closest chair. "Honestly, what does it matter what harm I bring to myself? I can't drink myself into an early grave! I've already one waiting for me!"
Her words cutting deep, Walentyna cannot help but let collapse the dam that has been holding at bay weeks' worth of tears. A sob rips from her throat, and it is all downhill from there. She manages to keep herself upright, her chest heaving as she puts all her strength in her legs.
"I'm sorry, Mother," Sigyn admits, her tone remorseful. She sets down the bottle. "I shouldn't have said that, and I never should have told you about the prophecy. Please stop crying."
"No," she says on instinct, suppressing the next sob that comes up. "No, I am glad you told me. I could not bear if you kept this from me, shouldering it alone. I am happy you trust me enough to still confide in me, even at your age."
Sigyn, head quirked to the side as though she finds Walentyna's choice of words odd, leans forward. Earnestly, she tells her, "Of course, I trust you. You have never done anything untoward or underhanded towards me, not like Pontus with his parents, or Haldana with hers. You've always my best interests at heart."
"Yes," Walentyna agrees lamely, swallowing with her tears the guilt of her meetings with Andor and Loki's parents. How could she have so carelessly meddled in her daughter's life? She'd had Sigyn's best interests at heart, that much was true, but had her vision of Sigyn's future been distorted by fear or an unwillingness to let go? She had always imagined that Sigyn would be with her forever, never legally marrying and leaving the nest, but was that the only scenario in which Sigyn could have grown older and happier?
Still, she thinks blindly, I cannot have been misguided in trying to protect her from Loki.
"Go up to bed, Mother," Sigyn urges, pulling Walentyna from her thoughts of contrition. She picks up the bottle again and lifts it to her lips, taking a swig before Walentyna can react to her doing so. When she pulls it away, smacking her lips softly, she adds, "Come the morning, I'll be a good little girl again."
Walentyna does not make it to the morning, however, deciding to return downstairs to coax Sigyn to bed. It is sometime past midnight, and she has not yet heard Sigyn's footsteps passing her room. Stopping at the top of the stairs, she hears murmured voices coming from the kitchen for the second time this week.
She appears to have stumbled upon them just as Loki had arrived, Sigyn slurring her words as she greets him. She must be almost all the way through the bottle now. "Oh, hello, Loki. Drunk myself into tomorrow, have I?"
"It has only been a few hours," he informs her, voice low and somber. He sounds more upset than Walentyna has ever heard him, topping even his shrill screams from the worst fight he has had with Sigyn.
Sigyn hums in acknowledgement. "Right, well, as I am sure you've noticed by now, I've a bit of a problem with—" She stops speaking, and Walentyna can envision her gesturing to the bottle of ale she had been nursing earlier, or quite possibly some other drink onto which she has moved. "But not to worry," she continues, hiccuping. "Soon, everything'll be over."
"Right," he agrees, though not as though they are of the same mind.
"You know, we're quite the volatile pair, you and I," she barrels on, almost as though she has taken no notice of his wariness. Walentyna doubts that much is true, however. Sigyn's perceptiveness shines through even the worst of her drunken hazes. "I drink because of you, and you commit treason because of me."
A moment of silence passes, during which Walentyna wonders if Loki had left. He speaks up, negating that thought. "That is not entirely true." Sigyn does not say anything, and he presses on. "I had grown to resent my station in life, and truthfully, I had been planning my treason for years. And then," he pauses, and Walentyna hears him take a deep breath. "I met you."
Both of them are silent for a moment. Walentyna imagines Sigyn sitting patiently at the table, waiting for him to continue. He does, his voice sounding just as sincere as it had when they were discussing his heritage. "I thought you were incredible, and I had never had a friend like you before. You were like a breath of fresh air."
"So, when you tried to propose," she speaks up, trying to guess at what he had been about to say next. "And I wouldn't so much as let you finish—"
"It was devastating, to say the least," he confirms. "I wasn't quite sure what I was waiting around for anymore, so—"
She finishes his sentence. "You tried to win everything you wanted in one fell swoop."
"Yes," he concurs. He sighs, and Walentyna pictures him rubbing his forehead. "I am sorry. Not only for implying that you were the only reason for my treason, but for pushing you to this extreme. And for the record," he persists, his apology going on longer than anyone might have expected. "You were right about me not wanting to make a tiny mistake. I'm still watching out for that mistake, in fact, and I am terribly afraid that I have already made it. If I have, you know not what I lose, and I could not bear it if I did. So, I'm sorry. Truly."
After a beat of heavy silence, Sigyn speaks up again. "Thank you." From the sound of her voice—clearer than it had been before—Walentyna can tell that she is smiling. "And I forgive you."
Walentyna appears to be just as surprised as is Loki. He instigates an objection, uttering her name, but she talks over him. "No, I mean it. I may not be happy with the things you've done, but I can't go on resenting you like this, so I forgive you."
"Thank you," Loki says in turn, smiling, too.
One of the kitchen chairs creaks, and a second later, Sigyn comes into sight at the bottom of the stairs. She makes it almost all the way up to the second-floor landing before noticing Walentyna, not stopping when she does. She spares her a soft smile as she passes her, continuing onto her room. In the back of her mind, Walentyna wonders if Loki is still in the kitchen, much as he had been after Sigyn had left on the second day after they had come back from Midgard. Curiosity pushes her down the stairs.
Sure enough, he stands near the dining table, staring down at an open, empty bottle. He startles when he hears her approach, but he does not move when she steps over to grab the bottle and throw it away. As she sets the lid back onto the trashcan, he asks her, "What did Sigyn mean when she said everything will be over soon?"
"Someone is going to kill her," she takes no pleasure in telling him. "So says a prophet from Midgard."
He hardly looks concerned, giving her a confident smirk. "I can assure you that won't happen, Walentyna."
She bristles at the sound of her name from him. "Oh? Are you going to protect her? From prison?"
His confidence does not waver. "I won't be in prison forever."
Feeling especially vindictive, she tells him, "I hope you are." Without another word, she heads back upstairs, uncaring as to whether he leaves now or after stewing alone until daybreak.
Thanos comes the year after next. True to his title as the Destroyer of Worlds, he razes Asgard to the ground. Sigyn stands with the rest of the army against him and his forces, but it is of no use. They are vastly outnumbered, Thanos accompanied by countless monsters and mindless mercenaries to do his bidding. The forests and mountains beyond the city are lit up in flames, a great plume of black smoke rising above them to obscure the sun. Wildlife tries to seek refuge on the streets, but they only stampede over the meagre surviving population in the process. There is not a single structure that survives, including the palace. It is melted to the ground, hot, molten gold spilling outward and burning its way through the city. Thanos affixes the heads of the king's family on pikes, save for the traitorous younger son.
Loki wrangles Sigyn free from the raging battle himself, dragging her by the hair before Thanos. He forces her onto her knees, pushing her head down. Blindly, she thrusts her hands behind herself, clawing at his face and neck in a desperate attempt to free herself. He holds fast, growling something down at her that Walentyna cannot hear from the distance at which she watches a mother's worst nightmare come to life. For the life of her, she cannot seem to move, struck dumb by the horror.
Thanos steps forward, grabbing Sigyn by the back of the neck and thumbing at her throat with his clawed hand as he turns her head up to face him. Sneering at her from above, his purple, scaly skin glints in the light of the burning city. Sharp teeth rattle in his wide mouth as he growls, "Goddess of Victory, I told you I'd come to kill you."
"Please," she begs him, hands coming up to grip at his wrist. "I do not deserve this."
"It's about not what you deserve," he rumbles, smiling in a most sickening manner. "But what I want." With that final sentiment, he buries a long, sharpened talon in her chest. It comes out the other side of her torso as she howls in pain and terror, drenched in blood. At last, Loki releases her, leaving to her slump forward farther into Thanos, who in turn draws back his hand and allows her to slump to the ground. Walentyna screams something across the distance, but they are deaf to her cries.
Loki and Thanos move on, leaving Sigyn to die slowly in their wake. She twitches along the ground, flopping hopelessly like a fish out of water. Finally, Walentyna finds it within herself to move, and she rushes forward, collapsing at Sigyn's side and turning her onto her back.
Gasping for breath, Sigyn peers up at her through teary lashes. She barely has the strength to move, let alone speak. "Mama," she murmurs, her voice weak.
"Shh, it's alright, dear," Walentyna croons, smiling softly despite all the joy in her soul having left her. Hand shaking, she pets at her daughter's hair, steadfastly avoiding looking at the gaping hole in her chest. "Mama will fix you up."
Sigyn tries to shake her head, but it merely lolls to the side. "I'm sorry."
"No, don't be sorry, dear," insists Walentyna, pushing Sigyn's chin back to right her head again. Sigyn closes her eyes, the minute motion seeming to sap the last bit of energy from her. She stops moving, her mouth left slightly ajar as she slowly turns white. Alarmed, Walentyna orders, "Sigyn, dear, wake up."
Unstirring, Sigyn continues to lay limp in Walentyna's arms, her skin growing paler and clammier as time passes by them.
"Sigyn," she more urgently repeats, resisting the urge to shake her daughter. "Wake up."
"Mother, wake up."
Sigyn does not respond, the only thing forthcoming from her being the ever-growing pool of blood emanating from her torso.
Walentyna begs, "Wake up." Not for the first time, she curses the gods of old for giving her a soldier for a child. Why, she wonders, could not she have had a healer like herself, or a homebody like her own mother?
"Please," she cries, pressing her tear-soaked face into Sigyn's neck, which is still bruised from Thanos's grip. As she sobs into the cold skin of her daughter's throat, she becomes acutely aware that she neither feels nor hears a pulse, prompting her to heave harder. "Wake up, please."
"Mother, wake up, please," Sigyn calls, shaking her from sleep.
Walentyna jolts up in bed, her sheets sticking to her with sweat. It is the fifth time she has awoken so abruptly this week, only three days out from Sigyn's last visit from Loki. It is the first time that Sigyn has had to wake her up, however.
"You were having a night terror, it seemed," Sigyn informs her, voice thick and heavy with tiredness. Sitting on the side of Walentyna's bed, she wears a short nightgown and has her hair hanging about her face, untied. With dark circles under eyes and a light sheen of sweat covering her own skin, she appears as disturbed as Walentyna feels, though it is clear that these are only symptoms of the early stages of Sigyn's withdrawal. Unfortunately, it is nothing that Walentyna has not seen before, though strangely enough, this bit of familiarity—proof that her daughter is still alive—calms her slightly.
Manifestly satisfied by the reemergence of Walentyna's composure, Sigyn gives a small nod and makes to rise from the bed. Before she can stand fully upright, however, Walentyna whips her arm out, grasping at Sigyn's wrist and holding her fast. Perplexed, Sigyn looks back down at her and raises an eyebrow in question.
Breath still coming out a tad fast, Walentyna makes to explain her outburst. "That man on Midgard, the prophet."
Sigyn interrupts, "I really don't think he was a prophet—"
Ignoring her, Walentyna carries on, "He told you to let yourself be killed by that monster. Do not." Sigyn had fought in her dream, but she is hardly a prophet herself. She cannot be sure that Sigyn would behave in much the same way as she had in Walentyna's nightmare, not that she would want such a gory outcome to come to pass.
Sigyn is quiet, watching her with a careful eye. Despite her nonchalant look, Walentyna knows her to be hiding a great intellect behind her eyes, capable of considering a slew of different factors at once and allowing her to make just the right call in deceiving anyone with her words. It is not a skill Sigyn often uses, but it is what makes her a good trickster, Walentyna knows and laments.
"Worry not, Mother," Sigyn finally allows, smiling briefly. Extracting her arm, she gives off a sense of serenity that Walentyna has not known for weeks. "You know I am always fighting when I should not be. What should make this any different?"
As Sigyn strides from the room, bidding her goodnight, Walentyna wishes she still knew how to tell when her daughter was lying to her. Once more, she curses the old gods for giving her a new one.
Next up: Thor: The Dark World!