Little did the pair know that what they mistook for the return of things —at least in private— to normality was in the fact just the eye of the storm; far from being officially behind them, the worst was yet to come. Eventually, Asgard grew tired of spreading about the same old rumors; time went on and Sigyn's belly did not swell, proving once and for all there was no truth in the theory that Loki was shackled to her because she was carrying his child. Even though she was still seen wandering about the citadel, the fact that she still shared a roof with the royal family proved she was far from being pushed to indigence any time soon.

There still were some of the comments, however few, that found their way down the corridors of the Royal Palace, and unfortunately, those were the ones that haunted the God of Mischief the most. Time and time again he would come across people who thought neither of the parties pertinent to their conversation were around to hear them, and he would learn about their earnest, ruthless opinion of their union: regardless of its nature, everyone on Asgard —at least according to those gossipers— agreed on the fact that it was cursed, even if it were to last the rest of their days. Loki was many things; he was unpredictable, he was wicked, he was mischievous, little else could be said about him because he would never let anyone learn a thing more about him— except for the fact that he couldn't be trusted. Some people were fonder of him than others, the rest would be thoroughly indifferent... but they all coincided on that opinion. Loki was, first and foremost untrustworthy. Regarding Sigyn, they would say little less other than the fact that she was a poor, clueless fool, stupidly believing she and the Prince shared a true connection when in reality she just was being utilized.

While Odin's son wasted time and energy on worrying about comments like those, the maiden, on the other hand, would dismiss them almost effortlessly and advise him to do the same; more than once had she seen Loki be visibly concerned about overheard criticism like that and each time she would remind him there was absolutely no truth to any of it: no one except for them would ever be sufficiently qualified to accurately describe what was exclusively theirs. There had been multiple occasions also in which they would have been standing intimately close to one another in public and their conversation would be interrupted by people whispering remarks to each other as they looked their way, or else become noticeably secretly. Sometimes, the God of Mischief would turn his head towards them —be that to listen more closely or to glare at them in a way that let them know they were being far from subtle— and Sigyn would immediately grab him by the chin and turn his gaze back on her, the only opinion with which he should concern himself.

There also existed taunting, almost —if not thoroughly— exclusive to Thor and his entourage. Loki could expect, and perhaps even learn to tolerate, such an attitude from his big brother; his chief mission in life was, after all, (or at least it sure seemed to be) to make him feel inadequate, that's what older siblings were for. His friends, on the other hand, even if they meant as well as the God of Thunder did, had no business getting so familiar. One of the reasons people found the younger son of Odin so shifty was how oddly private he appeared to be about personal matters, his bond with Sigyn being no exception. Thor might have known him enough to have earned the privilege of mocking him, but nobody else did. Which was why he eventually approached Sigyn with the request that they lowered their public displays of affection to a minimum —hoping that the mockery would, in turn, diminish as well— and she, of course, accepted. Sometimes, especially in moments when the Prince became upset, the maiden wouldn't be able to help herself, for she alone knew how significant and reassuring gestures of affection were to him and when he needed them the most; she was also the only person who knew the fact that Loki couldn't bring himself to return them, barely acknowledging her whenever she pressed a kiss to his cheek or brought a comforting hand to his back, did not mean that he did not retaliate in sentiment.

She could see why, therefore, third parties would have assumed that the God of Mischief was a cold, distant companion and that she was certainly the most interested half of the pair. Perhaps that comprehension on her part was the secret to never allowing those opinions to bother her— or at least, she was certainly better at hiding the fact that it bothered her than Loki was.

It was the first expedition in which the All Father and both his sons would take part since Vanaheim. Given everything that had transpired both during and after that last military campaign when Loki had become dangerously wounded, there was a palpable, comprehensible tension in the air as the pair said their goodbyes their night before. They still saw each other the following morning just as the King and the Princes readied themselves for the journey; after all, Sigyn was too obstinate to see him off only in secret when she was that concerned for his welfare and Loki knew her too well to expect anything else than to find her right by the gates leading to the Rainbow Bridge.

"Have you an actual plan in mind or are we just improvising in the hopes you'll barely make it out alive like last time?" she teased as she watched the God of Mischief readying his horse.

He exhaled a soft chuckle. "Perhaps the knowledge that I'll have a worried, devoted maiden waiting for me, ready to nurse me back to health should any harm come to me will be enough to get me through any form of peril."

"So you are planning on getting harmed again," she summarized before sipping from a glass of mulled wine.

"No comment against you being my worried, devoted maiden ready to nurse me back to health I see," he replied, pretending to be speaking mostly to himself as he finished adjusting his horse's saddle.

"Oh, I've never said that."

"And yet here you are to see me off."

"See you off?" she scoffed, perhaps with overcompensating derision which rather than fortify her position of contempt, it made her true intentions all the more transparent. "As I recall, it was you who approached me, I was merely enjoying a day of leisure in the outdoors…"

"Naturally, and what better place to do it than the very border of the realm?" commented the Prince as he mockingly nodded his head in false comprehension.

"If you were as skillful in battle as you are with your infamous Silver Tongue, perhaps you'd stand a chance at survival after all."

Despite being seated at a certain distance from him, and even though he had turned his back to her, Sigyn was still able to see his jaw slightly tensing, proof that she had indeed got on his nerves, always in the juvenile, sneering manner that characterized their entire relationship. Please with herself, she smiled around the rim of her goblet triumphantly as she finished what was left of her spiced wine. Loki then turned his head to look at her, visibly curious and on the verge of posing a question. Sigyn lifted her eyebrows as an invitation to proceed.

"What are you to do with yourself the next few days?" he wondered.

"Meaning?"

"Without me."

Her smile began to fade, just as one began to form on Loki's lips now that he seemed to have successfully returned her jiving.

"You really must think I hold you in much higher a regard than I do in reality," she commented with an arched eyebrow.

"So you deny there is a massive void left in your existence when I'm not around?"

She stared in silence, still unamused. Loki, on the other hand was mirthful; he raised his eyebrows, expecting a retort.

"Should I take your silence as confirmation or have I at last rendered you speechless?"

"I was merely waiting until I've wrapped my head around such massive idiocy. It will be a while, you see, it was substantially massive indeed—"

Their playful exchange was put to rest abruptly as the All Father suddenly approached them. After having jumped to her feet in order to properly bow before her king, Sigyn made herself scarce. She was glad to have some time for herself where she could ponder about the Prince's last remark. Despite being perfectly aware that Loki had meant nothing by it besides momentarily rattling her nerves, his bringing up how empty her existence suddenly felt the second the God of Mischief absented himself from it had reminded her of a remark Einar had made as well some time before, coincidentally when Loki's momentary nonappearance on her everyday life had induced an unprecedented identity crisis.

As an orphan with no family, Sigyn wanted to believe she was, first and foremost, independent. For as long as she could remember, she had relied on no one's guidance nor advice besides her own, with the occasional exception in which people who had been endeared enough by her helplessness —the Queen of Asgard, mainly— to direct her towards the most sensible choice. Not only was the possibility of her being dependent on somebody the last quality she would have ever expected to find in herself, it was also her worst fear. The idea that she should need anything from anybody else terrified her.

Such was her fear, as a matter of fact, that she stopped her train of thought abruptly before it led her to any more profound realizations, something she was far from ready to face for the time being. From behind the curtain she had chosen as a corner of privacy in which she could hear herself think, Sigyn had seen Loki walking across the corridor, from which she inferred that he had been commanded to do something —never mind what, it didn't matter— and would therefore soon be walking back on the opposite direction. Sure enough, she heard his steps approaching only moments later; just as he made a turn towards that corridor, Sigyn acted swiftly, pulling by the Prince's armor and forcing him to join her in that secluded corner. She wanted to believe she had taken him by surprise the way she had tugged him in as she pressed her lips upon his, yet the readiness and enthusiasm with which the God of Mischief returned the kiss had her suspecting he had in fact seen it coming, which only served to annoy her even more.

"Don't die," she commanded in all seriousness. When Loki smiled and tried to kiss her again, she pressed two fingers to his lips to stop him. "If you die, I'll kill you."

"I believe you," the Prince replied, still smiling.

Sigyn grabbed him by the chin so she could kiss him a second time. When she pulled away to look him in the eye one more time, she noticed some of her wine that must have still been on her lips had tainted his and she wiped it off with her thumb.

"Hmm," she pondered in a whisper. "What are you to do with yourself the next few days without me?" she cited him. And after having landed one last, feather-light kiss to his lips, she walked away.

Needless to say she left behind but the infatuated shambles of the other, since the only thing strong enough to stimulate him more intensely than playfully irritating her did was Sigyn making it perfectly clear that as flushed as he managed to make her from moment to moment, she would never cease to be in control of the narrative. Her ceaseless necessity to be the one to speak last was not just a quality they shared in common, but also one of the things he adored about her the most. As it turned out, Loki was just as petrified about the idea of having to rely on anyone for absolutely anything as Sigyn was. In his case, it was related to the one abstraction that seemed to be the very root of most —if not all— his shortcomings: trust. It wasn't so much a matter of trusting the other person, for he trusted Sigyn with his life —deep down within him rested the dread that she would abruptly relinquish all affection for him overnight, though at the time he was not aware it even existed—, as much as it was a matter of not trusting himself; behind his characteristic disinterested facade lived the insecurity that there was some truth to such gossip which accused him of being void of true sentiment.

He should have known there were no possibilities of existence for anything remotely similar to apathy from him towards her, especially since lately practically every thought that formed in his head inevitably traced back to the maiden. But alas, such were the drawbacks of insecurities; one could rationalize them to no end, one could hear from other people time and time again that it was all in one's head, and yet find it impossible to silence that constant, gnawing little voice at the back of one's consciousness.

Perhaps it was not all in Loki's head, as a matter of fact. There were plenty of people who deemed him too emotionally irresponsible to be able to make any sort of commitment. Most of them, however, hadn't any influence on the matter -except upon the pair's self-confidence every now and again- but one in particular did; there was one amongst those people who opposed that union entirely, someone who refused to trust a single word the Prince uttered and who deemed him beyond unworthy of someone like Sigyn: Einar.

Einar was, in fact, the first person Theoric approached and with whom he shared a yearning, not because they were in any way close, but because he knew his fellow soldier would be able to provide an accurate report on Sigyn's hypothetical reaction to hearing of said yearning herself.

"It all sounds very honorable, my friend," replied Einar with a hearty chuckle, admittedly moved by the other's childlike infatuation with his best friend. "Honorable, and proper, and... traditional." A little too traditional for his liking, feeling as though that kind of romance Theoric seemed to describe the bold, abrupt, if only slightly superficial romance one read of in sonnets, the kind that for the sake of their plot portrayed a rather unrealistic perception of love. Then again, thought the Asgardian to himself, he was far from being a love expert and could therefore pose no accurate judgement on the other's views. "So why come to me?"

Theoric, looking rather apprehensive, subtly directed his eyes towards a third warrior that had just approached them before distracting himself by sharpening his sword. Even without the exchange of words, Einar knew how to put his mind at ease.

"Birger, my man," he called his fellow guard, who glanced up at them. "Fetch me my shield, why don't you?"

"Are your feet malfunctioning, my Lord?" teased Birger.

"Yours will be if you don't choose your next words carefully, away with you," Einar commanded again.

Exhaling a heavy sigh of annoyance, Birger slowly walked away. The two men were free to continue their conversation without worrying a third party might overhear.

"Well..." said Theoric at last, answering his question. "I know you are a good friend of hers—"

"Her closest friend," Einar confirmed.

"So you would know better than I ever could whether or not she might... reciprocate these sentiments."

Einar chuckled. "You know who would know even better than I, my friend?" Theoric shook his head no; he was endearing, Einar thought to himself. "Sigyn."

"Yes! Yes, of course." From the way in which he stammered, it was evident that he hadn't seen that answer coming in the least. "Only..." The other warrior raised his eyebrows expectantly, which did nothing but enhance his nerves. "Only I fear her heart might be... otherwise engaged."

"Oh..." Sigyn's friend rolled his eyes, having at last understood the real root to Theoric's anxiety. "You and me both, I assure you."

"I don't follow..."

"Well, I doubt that fear of yours is unfounded. By now, the whole realm knows who exactly has been hogging her attentions... Between you and I, though, that whole ordeal will vanish as inexplicably as it originated, there is no true future to it."

"You believe the rumors, then."

"Rumors?" Einar laughed. "Never mind the rumors, man, it is common sense! Loki lacks the emotional capacity to commit to anything, anyone with the gift of sight could see that, and Sigyn is too clever to remain dazzled by his hollow charms. If anything, what you've just shared with me might actually accelerate the process... I'm almost tempted to encourage you to go through with it the moment we return to Asgard..."

He was forced to trail off, for again Birger wandered back into his eye-line.

"Which of you, dimwits, has brought my sword all the way here?"

"Is this some poor attempt at a jest or are you simply that brainless, my man? Where's my shield?" Einar demanded.

"How am I supposed to know? I've been looking for my sword this entire time!" protested the other, to which Einar only rolled his eyes, unaware that his friend was not being forgetful but instead spoke the truth.

In fact, the person with whom he had recently interacted, the man sharpening Birger's sword, the man whom he had asked to fetch him his shield, was concealed out of sight and yet still within earshot. A glow of green swept over Birger's countenance, behind of which stood Loki, now too focused processing what he had purposely overheard to maintain his illusion.

During their time apart, while Sigyn had been open about her resolute search for something to do with herself, Loki had done the complete opposite despite having been experiencing a crisis similar in nature. While she used that time to step outside the palace for a change and explore into new possibilities, Loki had become more reclusive than ever, fearing that anyone with a keen eye would be able to see past the heartless disposition he tried with all his might to exteriorize, realizing instead that he in fact knew not what to make of himself without his companion's guidance. Without Sigyn beside him to challenge him, to make him see reason, to tether him back to reality whenever his thoughts journeyed down a particularly dark path —much as they were doing at that moment—, the God of Mischief easily succumbed to the worst parts of himself, his resentment, his envy, his short-sightedness, indoctrinated by the general belief that was all there was to him to begin with.

There was nothing extraordinary about that realization —it had first occurred to him long before— yet that was the very first time in which he had projected that realization into the future. Could he truly see himself marrying Sigyn in the future, or was he foolishly expecting they would limit themselves to what they had and never outgrow it? Was he afraid she would change her mind and leave him, or was he worried that in a moment of enraged absurdity, he might actually become deranged enough to leave her? Was it better to be alone now and risk being protected and yet utterly lonely or was it perhaps smarter to gain company and risk being abandoned in the future, pushing him back to solitude after having grown unused to it, not to mention with a broken heart? The more he looked back at their relationship, the more he realized he had forced Sigyn into the position in which she needed to make the decision for him, in which she was obligated to push past the boundaries of her boldness for it outweigh the size of his pride. He could subdue her to a lifetime of those moments, which sounded vastly unfair— or else subdue her to one of them just one more time, causing them both a great amount of pain just this once, and spare themselves the trouble of ever experiencing it again.

"Could I have a word?" he therefore requested the moment they had returned home, making sure he dodged any attempt of hers to hold him or to kiss him lest he changed his mind back to let himself be spoiled by an affection and warmth he did not deserve to begin with.

Once shielded in the privacy of his chambers, he uttered the deliverance he had been drafting in his head from the moment he had made such atrocious decision.

"I believe this... affair of ours is beginning to run its course."

That and little else did he have the courage to prepare, for that was all he had the courage to say. Knowing Sigyn the way he did, he had expected retaliation —and indeed there was— to which he answered only with silence. The maiden, therefore, embraced that freedom to speak her mind knowing there would be no reprisals.

"If you insist on doing this, at least have nerve to be honest about it!"

His carefree approach to the subject being but a house of cards, Loki knew he couldn't bring himself to audibly response, especially since at the moment he couldn't even find it in him to look up at her. The maiden walked towards him, placing herself so close to him that his lowered head could no longer keep her off his sight.

"Do you seriously believe that I would be so easily convinced that you don't love me?"

"I've never said that I do," he managed, if only because so much was true.

"Neither have I, and yet I know you've never needed to hear it, or have you really the insolence to say you have doubts as to whether or not I love you?"

Once again, he was rendered speechless, although he had at last gathered the strength to look her in the eye once and for all.

"Unbelievable," she commented with a sad smile, noticing he remained determined to stick to his lie. "Will you even be audacious enough to say it yourself or do I have to keep on doing all the work for you?"

"Enough," he commanded, hardly intimidating her —in fact she had never pitied him more— and yet at last managing to have her take a pause.

"Fine," she sighed. "So you don't love me," she lied on his behalf, yearning to put that torturous interaction to an end.

"I do not," he confirmed.

Again, Sigyn sadly smiled, shaking her head in disbelief. "You know… if you really are so spineless as to not only put an end to this against your own will but also insult my intelligence by lying to my face about it when you promised that you would never lie to me—-"

The Prince felt a genuine, physical, painful jab within his chest, almost as if his heart had actually broken at such a reminder.

"—-if you really are such a coward… then perhaps you are doing me a favor after all."