Unlike the last time she had become estranged so unexpectedly from her most frequent companion, Sigyn decided not to spend one moment unaccompanied or idle, instead making sure she always had something with which to keep herself busy, preferably in the company of somebody else. Had she been asked about the reason why, she would have most likely answered with something absurdly delusional about how it was important that she moved on with her life as swiftly as possible, how one needed to be self-reliant regarding one's own happiness rather than let it be affected by somebody else, especially someone who had made sure they were cut off from their lives. In reality, Sigyn did not trust herself to be alone with her own thoughts; her biggest fear remained a potential dependence on the God of Mischief, and deep down, subconsciously perhaps, resided the concern that if she were to allow herself to feel genuinely aggrieved by the fact that they had parted ways, she would eventually succumb and run back to the Prince, imploring that he changed his mind.

Needless to say Einar was more than willing to play the part of supportive friend, ready to provide Sigyn company sometimes even before she had even requested it. The way he saw it, his friend had at last rid herself of the last hurdle holding her back from becoming the absolute best version of herself, and so he was eager to stay by her side as she journeyed into this new stage in life. Therefore at social gatherings, when the guard normally promenaded about the Hall mingling and catching up with the latest rumors and gossip, now Sigyn joined him. One of the reasons why the maiden had but one friend —Loki excluded for obvious reasons— was the fact that, to the surprise of most people who had ever met her, she was incredibly shy; constantly worried she might say or do something that could forever cost her other people's favour, she usually tried to remain as neutral as possible, rendered terrified whenever she was spoken to directly or put in the spotlight for the first time, which most people misinterpreted as general unfriendliness. Soon enough, with Einar's assistance, she had the chance to slowly but surely overcome her timidity, and as people got to know her better at last, her social life —while still modest in comparison to most inhabitants of the Palace— became more active than it had ever been.

Another person whom she began seeing much more often was Theoric. Sigyn was, in fact, not very proud of herself on that regard, for she was very much aware that what she liked most about the soldier besides his gentle nature was how much he seemed to esteem her. Every time they interacted, he would shower her with compliments, every time she returned them, he became endearingly flustered— that together with his overall sweet demeanor was enough to have anyone let it go to their head. Admittedly, much to her own objection, that was precisely what Sigyn did, having been in desperate need for validation practically from the moment she and Theoric had become acquainted. Conceited as her intentions could be at times, that did not mean, however, that Sigyn was vain enough to be giving the poor soul false hope, nor to let their conversations be one-sided in which all she did was receive compliments, much like Loki had been accused of having been doing while they were together. Even though they had little to nothing in common with the member of the Einherjar, they did try and take an interest in each other's favorite topics, be that literature or the art of war. While utterly clueless in the beginning as to when Sigyn was being serious or not, in time, Theoric learned to identify —however infrequently— when she was indeed making a joke and sometimes dared to make jokes of his own, much to the maiden's delight.

Eventually, as weeks turned into months, Theoric became a bit of a comfort zone; someone familiar and constant, someone who knew her enough to be decent company and yet not enough to force her to face what she'd rather keep buried deep within her. They never argued; in fact, they had never as much as disagreed with one another. The guard was not one to treasure silence, which Sigyn rather appreciated, particularly since the last thing she wanted was to find herself in a quiet ambiance that could trigger any reflexion, and so they both constantly found something to talk about, even if it was to spend a good portion of an hour instructing each other on the most mundane of tasks, such as the proper way of sharpening a sword or how to properly catalogue an ancient warrior's written accounts of a famous war.

While better, at least from an objective stand point, things never did quite go back to normal for Sigyn, not really. At first glance, all chief aspects of her life remained the same and yet, to her, they didn't feel the same at all. Suddenly, there was a certain quality missing from everything she did; she still worked but not as arduously, she still read but not as often, she still trained but not as keenly. The more time went by, the more concerned she became that it was not a matter of feeling momentarily taciturn over her previous relationship's failure, something she would have eventually learned to overcome. She feared this absence of the fire that afore characterized everything she did was permanent, having been something that the son of Odin alone was able to bring out in her. She dismissed that thought the moment it had formed in her mind, refusing —even if meant being deliberately arrogant— to grant him credit of any kind over anything she had ever done.

As she shook her head in order to punctuate that moment of involuntary disassociation, Sigyn remembered why she detested being on her own now, realizing she had spent most of her time getting lost in her thoughts resulting in her only finishing half the work she would have done under normal circumstances. Hearing the footsteps of her supervisor approaching, she readied herself for a reprimand.

"There is a whole table in the Halls of Valhalla reserved just for you, child," the woman praised her instead as she picked up the stack of writings, descriptions and analysis the younger Asgardian had already put together, classified and drafted so that it would be turned into a volume rather than remaining loose, scattered pages. "However we managed to do things around here before you joined us truly is beyond me and I was there," she went on as she flicked through her work so as to make sure everything was unobjectionable.

"Oh, I doubt that's how you've always felt about me," answered a flushed Sigyn with an appreciative smile. "Surely in the beginning you were dreading to grant me this position, considering..."

The woman lifted her eyes from the pages, surprised to hear her trailing off mid-sentence.

"Considering?"

"Well, how I came about it," was all she dared say, for it was still her greatest shame that the only occupation she was ever known to have had been the result of nepotism rather than hard work.

"Personally recommended by the Queen? I'd say that's a rather impressive way to land a job if you asked me."

"The Queen?" echoed Sigyn confusedly, wondering for a split second if perhaps she could have been referring to somebody else.

Seeing as she seemed genuinely puzzled by such a revelation, her supervisor decided to momentarily extend her her full attention, putting down the work she had up until that moment been inspecting.

"How did you think you had got this job?"

"By order of the Prince, perhaps?" she quietly uttered.

"Well, if I'm to be entirely honest... and overlooking that insult to my integrity... one of the Princes did overhear me saying how urgently we needed a cataloguer and then spent the following months trying to persuade me to let a friend of his have a chance at it. And then the Queen called on me and suggested we gave you a try. I only realized you were the friend the Prince had been recommending all along when he approached to ask me if it could be him who told you the good news."

Sigyn struggled to maintain a neutral facade as she processed this bit of information that, small as it sounded, did in fact shift the lens through which she had been gazing upon a number of significantly substantial matters. Most, however, had lost their relevance, thought she while forcing herself to push them off her mind.

"Why listen to the Queen and not him, then?"

"Because the Queen is known realm-wide for her impeccable judge of character... and the Prince is known realm-wide as the God of Mischief," answered the woman as-a-matter-of-factly before leaving with the volume Sigyn had just finalized.

That would have been a perfectly valid point, mused the maiden, were it not for the fact that Loki's judge of character —at least as far as Sigyn was concerned— had proved to be as impeccable as his mother's.

While his counterpart had spent those months widening her social circle, the Prince in question had done the complete opposite himself. The longer they spent apart, just as he had predicted would occur, the colder Loki's heart became. In the beginning, he felt as though he were an exposed open wound, utterly sensitive, prone to harm by quite literally any comment or remark or question. Soon enough, however, he became downright irritable, to the point that anything at all, never mind how faint, was enough to cause him resentment. Sudden bursts of envy strained his relationship with his older brother, anything Thor's friends spoke —once occasionally entertaining— was now absolutely nerve-wracking, his mother's concern —which he had always welcomed— had become suffocating. Eventually, it was evident to most on the kingdom that the second in line for the throne of Asgard had officially turned into the person he had always been accused of being: a skeptic egotist, quiet and secluded, loyal to absolutely no one, faithful to absolutely nothing. The only thing that brought him solace, nevertheless, was learning that Sigyn was positively flourishing without him, either hearing about it indirectly or else witnessing it from afar, which at least meant his anguish was not in vain but for her benefit.

During all those months, Loki had been left to sulk in peace by everyone who knew him, much to his relish. He should have foreseen it would have been but a matter of time before that tranquility was so barbarically disrupted by none other than the God of Thunder.

"Come now, brother," Thor insisted, surrounding the other's shoulders into an embrace much too tight for his liking. "When was the last time you've joined us in our celebration? Let us rejoice in our latest victory!"

"You are free to celebrate however you see fit, brother," answered Loki as he grabbed a faint hold of the older Prince's wrist in order to remove his arm from around him, although from the way in which he moved and the expression on his face, one would have thought he was riding himself of an off-putting creature— which in a way, he was. "And I'll rejoice however I see fit."

"Locked away in a room."

"Since when is it any of your concern how I choose to spend my time?"

"Since all you do with your time is spend it alone."

Exhaling an audible sigh of annoyance, the youngest son of Odin quickened his pace so he would be the first to enter the armory, where he rapidly surrendered his dagger to be sharpened and his helmet to be polished, so that at last he'd have no further reasons as to stay by Thor's side.

"Always a pleasure you fight by your side, brother," he commented before extending a swift, rather condescending pat on his shoulder on his way out.

"Loki, wait," the elder called him after a few seconds of hesitation. "I don't... think you should be alone tonight, brother, trust me."

"Why ever not?" Loki humored him, though not without a very noticeable roll of his eyes.

Again, Thor doubted, unsure as to whether it should be him who delivered the news to his younger sibling. Feeling pressured into making a quick decision, seeing as Loki had risen his eyebrows expectantly, obviously awaiting a prompt response, the God of Thunder decided to come clean at last.

"Because... there might be some rumors being spread around the Palace on your way to your chambers. And I'd rather you didn't face them alone."

All trace of exasperation suddenly disappeared from Loki's features; comments and gossip about him —about any member of the Royal Family, naturally— had always been common currency within the corridors of Valaskjalf, and so he knew there would have to be something very particular about these rumors if Thor was going as far as to advice he did not face them alone. There was but one way in which said rumors could have concerned him in the least, and that was if they were linked to the one person only Thor knew Loki cherished as fervently as he did.

"What rumors?"

The other did not respond.

"Thor," Loki discreetly, yet ardently, implored. "What rumors?"

Once his older brother had once and for all confessed his secret, Loki paid no mind to any further words of warning coming out of him as he chased him down the corridors he was now briskly journeying across, heading straight for the Throne Room. The God of Thunder tried to tell him he had only heard about it indirectly, that there was a chance it might not be true, that even if it had been true, there was no assurance any event would be taking place. It was, of course, all but futile, for the God of Mischief continued to ignore him. They reached the doors to the Throne Room, and despite Thor's attempts to make him see reason and not place the blame fully upon their father, Loki pushed the doors open, commanding at once that any member of the Einherjar present left. As their king gave his nod of confirmation, they exited promptly.

"You gave him your blessing," spat the Prince with outmost bitterness as soon as they were alone, shaking his head at the All Father. "Why?"

"I am the King of Asgard," Odin reminded him, sitting most at ease upon his throne. "If I am to execute all marriages on the realm, I must first approve of them."

"You are also my Father," Loki reminded him urgently. "You told that witless dog he could marry her. When you, of all people, know how I feel about her."

"And yet, I do not," claimed the monarch. "It is true, as you so say, that I am your Father, and I was nevertheless made to learn of my own son's true feelings from vulgar, boorish gossip rather than from his lips."

"So this is, what, your way of punishing me?" questioned Loki.

"Do you truly love her?"

"I would think vulgar, boorish gossip has already told you everything you needed to know in that regard," retorted his youngest, leaving Odin unable to condemn his impertinence without becoming an utter hypocrite, for he knew perfectly well Loki had learned and incorporated that lawless nature from the All Father himself.

"Is it your wish to marry her?" he rephrased.

The Prince had to pause for just a second as he plucked up the courage to answer with half a lie, since what he wished to do and what he believed was the right thing to do were complete opposites.

"—no," he managed at last, much as he wished he could have answered something else entirely.

"Would you rather she spent her days in solitude to pacify your caprice, with me allowing it while there are perfectly decent men requesting an audience with me who long to make a happy wife out of her for the remainder of their lives?"

"Of course not!"

Odin therefore nodded, believing he had more than made his point. His son, in turn, realized there was hardly any further argument to be made since —much as he despised to admit it— his father was right. He himself had made the conscious decision to remove himself from Sigyn's side so that she would be free to do with her life as she pleased, no longer imprisoned by his impulsive whimsy. Therefore, he should have seen coming the fact that, eventually, she would indeed do exactly that, outgrowing whatever bond had existed between them. In any case, he thought to himself, it was not as if Odin himself had forced the pair together. Accepting surrender and yet declining to announce it, he simply turned on his heel and started heading from the door through which he had stormed in moments before.

"You wonder," the King called out from his throne, making Loki stop in his tracks. "why I gave him my blessing to marry her and not you?" The Prince hesitated, but in the end, he turned his head to look upon his father from over his shoulder, an implicit invitation for him to finish his thought. "It is because he actually asked for it."

After a moment's pause, during which Loki did his best to swallow and process such impactful a statement, containing multitudes of realizations despite only being but a few words long —like practically everything meaningful he had ever heard his father say— he left the room.