While admittedly advantageous in more ways than one, having been raised in a Royal Palace while being far from royal herself came with its drawbacks, Sigyn realized. To her misfortune, the time in which rumors about her association to the God of Mischief spread across the realm the fastest and most enthusiastically had coincided with the time in which she least wished to discuss it or even hear about it. More than anything she longed for isolation, something with which to keep herself distracted and out of sight until she was ready to be approached, and only be approached for she refused to be one who put an end to the distance the pair had implicitly set between them. Those days which she had fully to herself, without speaking to Loki or seeing him or even thinking about him —or at least she made the active effort to keep him off her mind as much as possible— Sigyn came to the realization she had no place in her own home... or the closest thing to a home she had, that was.

The only reason she lived as comfortably and freely as she did within the Palace of Valaskjalf was because the King and Queen of Asgard were kind enough as to allow it. While not necessarily a nuisance, now that she was of age and no longer shielded by her underage status, Sigyn did begin to feel like a burden. Moreover, Thor was already being groomed to become King himself, and she doubted he would extend her the same generosity as had his parents, chiefly because she had given him no reason to do so in the first place. She worked in the palace's library, yes, but little else. That was the thing of having been brought up surrounded by royals; all of them had been assigned a duty at birth and therefore did not have to worry about what to make of themselves once they came of age. In her case, however, she had been educated alongside of them, trained alongside of them, only to come out on the other end with absolutely no purpose to serve— or rather, she had the liberty to choose any purpose in the universe, only the sheer idea of such vast opportunity made her more claustrophobic than a narrow selection ever would have. Anyone else who lacked the privilege of a title of nobility would have to settle for any profession out of necessity or would be otherwise assigned the family trade whether they were fond of it or not, which only made the maiden feel all the guiltier for having wasted away years in idleness when she should have been working towards a vocation.

While the largest structure in all of the realm, the palace became to her more and more suffocating each day, eventually driving her away and towards the citadel where she hoped to pacify her urge to get in touch with reality outside of that golden fortress, to surround herself with people with whom she should have had everything in common had it not been for events that had been beyond her control until very recently, expecting that experience would help guide her towards an aim, some sense of usefulness. No one was by no means rushing her out of the Royal Palace, and while she had no tangible reason to believe anyone ever would, the realization that, if someone ever decided to, she would be left with absolutely no prospects had rendered her utterly terrified.

"If worse should come to worst, darling, you could always marry me," offered Einar one day as they trained.

His friend's sudden absence had not gone unnoticed, yet he had decided to leave her be for a while for he was under the impression that she was owed some time alone with her thoughts. Time went by, however, and the warrior had noticed no improvement in her mood, no lightening in the aura of dispiritedness about her, and so at last came the moment to intervene, inviting her —most insistingly since Sigyn was not one to be easily subdued— to share with him her troubles.

"There's a solution," answered she facetiously, pausing while they blocked the blows of each other's weapons. "I'll fetch the bridal crown out of the family vault, shall I?"

Einar laughed, but waited until the combat had reached a natural pause before answering.

"Now, now, why not? You'd be provided for, you'd be living in the Palace with me... of course, if you were ever planning on bearing children, we'd need to concoct a creative solution but it's nothing that cannot be arranged with a bit of imagination on our part."

Admittedly, her friend's company was proving to be most healing, realized Sigyn as she chuckled, something she hadn't done in who-knew-how-long since she first became anxious about her future, or lack there of. After stopping to rest, they grabbed a seat together and the conversation resumed.

"It's not a matter of living in the palace," she clarified, although she couldn't blame Einar for the confusion, since she herself was still in the process of working out the true source of her trepidation, blaming it on something different each time she spoke of the matter, which if anything proved just how at a loss she truly was. "It's not even about security, it's about... having something to do, something that is just my own."

"Haven't you an occupation already?"

"I wouldn't call it that," she disagreed, staring ahead of herself; even though she kept directing her eyes at possible sources of diversion —people walking by, other warriors training, children playing, the horizon— she couldn't for the life of her give any of those sights her full attention.

Meanwhile, Einar only watched her. "Might that be because it's so closely related to that topic I'm assuming we're still not discussing?"

"It might. And we're not."

The moment the rumors had reached his ears, the member of the Einherjar had dashed off to find his friend for confirmation. All he received, however, was a blunt, firm statement: she did not want to talk about it. For weeks on end, the young man had to pretend he did not hear the comments that concerned Sigyn flying about in the armory, amid training sessions, down the Palace's corridors, and he also had to pretend they did not repeat themselves in his head every time he saw her. While the maiden struggled to identify her own passion, Einar had long ago discovered that, aside from valiantly and honorably serving Asgard, his was gossip. Nonetheless, that specific amusement of his was currently in shambles, for that had been the very first time he had been standing so closely to the very real repercussions of what up until then had seemed like harmless, if only slightly discourteous comments. He had, to his misfortune, heard inaccurate information being thrown about in utter carelessness about one of the people he actually held most dear; he had heard what some claimed were the other party concerned's true thoughts on her, although he had no way of corroborating any of it; all of a sudden, Einar felt the responsibility of thinking twice before throwing a thoughtless observation on something that was none of his business to begin with.

Sigyn, meanwhile, remained blissfully unaware— or perhaps not so blissfully after all since she had to make a very active effort to bury her head in the sand and avoid practically everyone with the exception of Einar that would try to approach her.

"May I be blunt?" ventured Einar after a few seconds of silence, during which they both journeyed down their personal trains of thought.

"Of course."

"Well..." He cleared his throat, still visibly apprehensive about how she might react. "To me, it seems as though you're yearning for an aspect in your life that cannot be traced back to... you know."

Looking back at her own words and phrasing, how she had stated she longed for an occupation just as long as it wasn't her current one, how she longed for something —anything— that was just her own, Sigyn came to the conclusion that he was right. She could also see, for automatically her thoughts had attempted to defensibly deny it, why her friend would have hesitated to share that with her. Almost as if the universe had aligned itself to make sure she was left to mull over that newfound realization, or at least to force her to face it whether she wanted to or not, Einar was called to duty by a fellow guard. Apologizing for having to leave her side so abruptly, he pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek and left.

Encouraged by the fact she had successfully confronted her friend's observation instead of dismissing it, Sigyn dared to continue her reasoning at the one place she had spent quite some time avoiding, for the first time in a while roaming around the corridors towards nowhere in particular, making a little stroll out of that period of critical thinking. It was there, she couldn't have said how long after Einar had left her side exactly, that she came across another familiar face.

"Lady Sigyn—"

She turned around to find Theoric, who, judging from the fact that he was cradling his helmet in his arm, must have been off duty. He seemed so genuinely glad to have run into her despite their casual acquaintance that Sigyn couldn't help finding it quite moving, feeling compelled to approach him and engage in amiable conversation.

"With your permission and all the respect you're due, my Lady, allow me to point out how... lovely you look today."

He spoke in such a rush and with such noticeable bashfulness that Sigyn had to assume he had been practicing those words in his mind for quite a while before he had spoken them, which made her smile even wider.

"You're quite a skillful liar, Theoric," teased she.

So flustered became the warrior that she lacked the heart to tell him she was only being playful and therefore, for his sake, pretended to accept the compliment with silent reluctance. The more they interacted, the clearer the contrast between the man's physique and his mannerism became: With his towering stature and robustly muscular built, he very easily could have given Thor himself a run for his money; the way he spoke and behaved, however, appeared to be worthy of an introvert child who was still learning to socialize— perhaps, on some level, that's precisely what it was.

They exchanged a few more pleasantries, conversed about superficial topics and recent events. After a second failed attempt at sarcasm in a row, Sigyn adjusted her speech, realizing that her own sense of humor simply went over the warrior's head. She was happy to chat with him regardless, for the guard appeared authentically good-natured. As their conversation seemed to be reaching a natural end, Theoric brought up yet another subject, and the heaviness with which he presented it led Sigyn to believe that had been what he had wanted to discuss with her all along.

"My Lady, I wanted to make clear that I thoroughly repudiate the comments being spread about you, which I am sure are nothing but fraudulent."

However little her spirits had risen now that she had allowed herself to interact with other people once again, they had plummeted back down upon that reminder. Nevertheless, she tried her best to conceal it, pretending to roll her eyes with a confident scoff.

"I've heard so many versions of the same story flying about, I couldn't be bothered to keep track of them," she lied, for she thought it more dignified to appear unaffected by whatever those comments might be rather than admitting she had chosen to remain ignorant, like a frightened, gutless child. "I am curious, nonetheless, which of those versions has reached you?" she asked in what she hoped had been an apathetic fashion.

"Oh, no, my Lady, I shan't dignify such falsehoods by repeating them," stated the gentleman.

With an appreciative smile, Sigyn wished him a good rest of his day and went about her own, carrying herself most courtly from that moment on, with her back straight and her head held up high, an attempt to steel herself and face once and for all such infamous gossip from which she had so cowardly been running away.

Perhaps it was for the best that she had stayed away from the Royal Palace, or else she would have been exposed to gossip poisonous in nature, like the one Loki, meanwhile, had been absorbing all along. While no one had the nerve to say anything to his face, most likely fearing retaliation on his part, the God of Mischief had picked up on a few remarks here and there, a few opinions and observations falling out of the mouth of utter morons, blatantly ignorant on the subject they so openly discussed in the first place.

Sometimes, however, especially when there was intake of alcohol involved, a few peculiarly malicious beings would get sloppy, forgetting to run reconnaissance around the room in order to make sure the Prince was not within earshot. Such was the case, for instance, for Isak, a warrior who one evening became too intoxicated or enthusiastic or both to see past the people gathered around him and catch sight of Loki in the background, or else had loosened his inhibitions so that he had indeed seen him perfectly and had simply chosen to pay him no mind.

Isak hadn't been the one to bring up the subject, but he had assigned himself the responsibility of making sure they discussed it meticulously, sharing every scrap of rumor that had reached his ears, every version conceivable as well as his own opinion, not that anyone had even asked in the first place. Einar was the first —and only— member of that conversation to voice his displeasure, condemning his brothers in arms for sinking into such boorish an activity.

"In any case," said Isak at one point, long after Einar had made his leave. "it seems as if we'll be forced to say farewell to such compelling an affair just as quickly as we've welcomed it."

"Meaning?" asked one of his companions.

"Well, my friend, I have heard from the grapevines that lovely Lady Sigyn has been inquiring around town in search for a trade, bless her soul."

Loki remained perfectly still, eyes fixed on the book he pretended to be reading, refusing to even glance in direction to the conversation so as not to give himself away in case his presence just a few tables over had indeed gone unnoticed. He did, nevertheless, make sure he picked up on every last word they spoke; having spent so long without hearing from Sigyn, he was prepared to grasp at sheer gossip and then proceed to try and extract from them some truth himself, wanting to believe he knew her well enough to discern between authentic and fictitious.

"I don't follow," said someone.

"Think now, boys," flaunted Isak, waving about his wooden cup of ale to add to his arrogant demeanor. "A girl who is for all intents and purposes a Princess, who never set foot outside her little palace, is suddenly mingling with plebeians, seeking occupation? She's been given the boot, my friends, no ifs and buts about it."

Several groans and murmurs of agreement and disagreement alike arose and after having sipped from his ale, Isak waved an arm, calling for their attention so he could continue to share his assessment.

"It's the only explanation!"

"It's illogical!" claimed another. "What reason have they to turn her away so abruptly?"

"Since when does Loki need a reason to turn someone away?" wondered Isak with a mirthful smile.

The men surrounding him chuckled as he took yet another sip of his ale; it was one of those moments in which real time did not correspond with the perception of time. It all occurred in a matter of seconds, two at the most, and yet for Isak it had felt like the slowest process of realization. Rather than liquid, it was a solid surface that came in contact with his lips, leathery and slithering in feeling. Lowering his eyes into his drinking vessel he realized, to his horror, that he was in fact suckling on a python. The creature hissed menacingly, the man released a gutural yelp as he let go of the cup, and by the time it hit the ground, the snake had transformed back into its original state —ale—, rendering Isak's companions bewildered by his behavior.

"Seems your disrepute amongst the Einherjar is well-founded, brother," commented Thor, who had entered the tavern right on time to see the consequences of the youngest's practical joke.

"Whatever do you mean," answered Loki, putting absolutely no effort in sounding remotely convincing.

The God of Thunder ordered two cups of mead and the other son of Odin, knowing this meant he expected him to join him in a drink, rolled his eyes in anticipation, inferring his older brother was attempting to ease his way into an earnest conversation.

"Brother..."

"Absolutely not," Loki refused at once.

"... I haven't said anything."

"And yet, you've said enough."

The innkeeper approached the table, setting upon it their beverages. Meanwhile, the two brothers stared at each other in silence as if engaged in a duel, waiting for their opponent to try and strike the first blow. After several, very generous sips of mead from them both, it was Thor who eventually surrendered and spoke up.

"Loki, I know we've never discussed matters of the heart..."

"Let us preserve that tradition."

"I may not know much about such things to begin with," continued the other, completely overlooking his younger brother's comment. "but I do know you."

"How very touching—"

"And the more defensive your retorts, the further I'm convinced there is more truth behind these rumors than you're prepared to admit."

Despite having complained a thousand times about the fact that Thor was as mighty as he was dense, Loki now resented the fact that he had gathered enough emotional intelligence to not only see through him but also have the sensitivity to bring it up. Rolling his eyes with the exasperation that always overcame him whenever forced to face his own emotions —he much preferred inferring others' instead— the younger Prince shut his book and set it aside.

"You'll have to be more specific, brother, there's so many rumors you could have heard— Do you mean the one that suggests I've enchanted her and she's under some sort of love spell? Or, my personal favorite, the one that claims the only reason I'm with her is that she's become with-child and Father is forcing me to marry her?"

While he spoke, Thor switched seats so he was placed closer to his brother in order to have more privacy when discussing information that had been so overly-discussed already by others. Loki paused to sip from his mead, still trying to appear indifferent to the matter at hand.

"I wouldn't know, after I heard it was you and Sigyn of all people who had been seen together such was my shock that I hardly listened to the rest," admitted the God of Thunder, allowing himself to smile amusedly. "So all that arguing between you two, all that antagonizing, it was all a sham?"

"I am a talented liar, brother, though I doubt to that extent."

"And so what's changed?"

"Who says anything's changed?"

"Then I do not understand."

"Shocking."

They exchanged a glare, the both of them too proud to let show the smiles that were trying to force their way across their features; eventually, realizing they shared the same struggle, they allowed themselves a faint chuckle of amusement.

"Come now, brother, be serious," Thor requested in a hushed voice.

Once again bordering on exasperation, Loki sighed; even though his older brother was looking at him, his own eyes were glancing about elsewhere, focusing on nothing in particular, seeking diversion.

"And what would you like me to say?"

"The truth. Although, I understand that to you might be a bit of a tall order."

They smirked amusedly to themselves. Loki's smile, however, lasted the shortest for immediately his expression exteriorized a particular sense of melancholy even Thor had been able to distinguish from his otherwise characteristic solemnity.

"Gullible as I know you to be, I don't think you'd believe me if I told you."

"You two have been in disagreement on... everything from the moment you've met," Thor reminded him, he himself in a rather cheerful spirit, under the impression that —rumors aside— they were discussing a happy subject. "You cannot blame me for finding it hard to believe there was anything romantic to it!"

"What can I say, brother? Love can manifest itself in all sorts of ways..."

"Did you just say 'love'?"

While the God of Thunder cackled triumphantly, his hand landing heavily upon his shoulder, Loki once more rolled his eyes for of course his moronic brother would cling onto the one word he hadn't meant to utter, a slip of the tongue that had caught him off guard and hadn't meant a thing to being with (or so he was claiming to himself).

"It's an expression."

"An expression of love is what that was!"

"By all means, do announce it louder, I don't think they were quite able to hear you all the way in Nilfheim."

Thor, still rejoiced, extended a playful, fraternal punch to the other's arm.

"By Odin's beard, I never thought I'd see the day, brother, I truly am happy for you."

"You've got an odd way of showing it," remarked Loki, momentarily rubbing at the spot on his arm where his brother had most enthusiastically communicated his joy.

"So do you," replied the older. "What's the matter, are you not content?"

Loki remained silent. Unfortunately for the God of Mischief, he happened to be in the company of the yet other person besides Sigyn who could make more of his silence than of any worded reply he could have concocted.

"Ah, Loki," lamented Thor, pausing to process what he had just inferred from his reaction with a generous sip of mead. "What did you do?"

His younger brother glanced at him. "What makes you so sure it was I who did something?"

"Experience, would you like a list?"

"Always comforting to know I can count on my only brother's full support," commented Loki sarcastically, making the elder adopt a more serious demeanor.

"Honestly, brother," he confessed. "perhaps it's for the best."

Now genuinely intrigued, Loki looked at his brother, implicitly inviting him to expand on that statement.

"You seem to genuinely care for her," admitted Thor. "Why subdue her to... insidious gossip, why risk a friendship for something that might be over from one day to the next?" At that moment, the Prince looked away, very evidently speaking —musing, rather— from the heart. Loki's eyes lowered to the table. "True friendships, Loki, those are the rarest. If that's what you feel for her, you shouldn't bargain it."

They said nothing more about it. After the heavy silence that had followed Thor's advice has dissipated at last, Loki's immediate response was to challenge his older brother to a competition, in which the one who finished a cask of ale the fastest; his brother's was to accept that challenge. Needless to say that, later that night, the God of Mischief was knocking on Sigyn's door. It wasn't a matter of unequivocally doing the exact opposite that Thor had suggested— or at least, it wasn't just a matter of unequivocally doing the exact opposite that Thor had suggested. He understood where his brother was coming from and what he had meant by that; he had simply... adjusted the narrative to his personal circumstances: Sigyn was, first and foremost, his friend; according to him directly, perhaps the only one he had. His priority was, therefore, to preserve his link to her regardless of its nature. He had avoided that conversation fearing that he might learn she held no other feelings for him outside of friendship, but Thor had helped him see even friendship would be far more than nothing whatsoever.

Once she had overcome the surprise of finding Loki of all people on the other side of the door, Sigyn made sure to keep a visible hold to it while physically blocking the possibility of his letting himself into her chambers. He needed no more to infer she was determined he was the one to start things off. It took him a few seconds to find a way to put to words the sentiment he was there to express.

"I do care," he eventually reminded her, quoting himself on the last time he had apologized for having made it seem that her perspective, her opinion and her feelings, disinterested him. "I will always care."

"Took you long enough," she promptly responded.

When Loki smiled, she felt relieved, not because she had feared the other wouldn't see she was merely jesting; it was the sort of relief that came with experiencing at last something one hadn't realized they were missing in the first place. Despite his shortcomings, there was something very special about Loki that she hadn't yet experienced with anyone else: She could effortlessly be herself around him. She had to stand on her tiptoes and wrap her arms around his neck in order to pull him in for a hug. When it became his turn to return it, he did so most fervently, enveloping her in a tight embrace.

Several moments later, she felt his head move and from the way in which he was angling his face, she could tell beforehand what he was about to do. She brought a stop to it with just two fingers, which she rapidly pressed to Loki's lips, thus preventing him from kissing her just yet. Shooting him a warning with just her eyes, she removed them, granting him the chance to figure out for himself why she decided to do that to begin with.

"I'm sorry," he explicitly apologized, and only then did she allow their lips to press together.