(SIGYN)
Loki was right when he said the Vanir celebrated a couple before their wedding. Young and old women alike from across the city fawned over me, filling my days with stories and tours through the marketplace to spoil me. Frigga's loyalists were excited to learn that her son had returned to Vanaheim for his nuptials, and I would be part of that family now.
A week after we arrived, I tired of the constant attention and asked Grid for help hiding while we walked through the city after moonrise. She offered me comforts I couldn't describe or ask for otherwise, simply because she didn't treat me any differently than she always had.
"Why do they insist on calling me a princess?" I grumbled, pulling the extra fabric she gave me over my head like a hood. "Loki and I laughed about it, but now it's somewhat bothersome. Makes me uncomfortable."
"We have no royal house. Frigga was a senator here, not a queen. Asgard's culture is so very different from our own. Forgive them—the young ones are excited by the fantasy of it."
"If only they knew the reality of Loki's existence as a prince, perhaps they wouldn't be so quick to presume I want that kind of notoriety." I shuddered to think of what little freedom he really had as a youth—with all his prestige came the weight of endless responsibility. Eyes everywhere. It was why Loki constantly peered over his shoulder and stood up so straight, always certain of someone preparing to strike his weaknesses; therefore, he could have none.
"Then surely you are grateful that this is your home now," Grid said.
"Quite. Now let's hope none of the vendors out tonight are too excitable." I glanced at the note Loki left me that morning, even though I had already memorized it:
Seek what you wish for me to wear as a symbol of our union, and I will do the same. Gather cloth of your choosing for the handfast and meet the jeweler at the far north end—something waits for you.
Being included in this way helped satisfy my discontent, even if he remained somewhat detached from me. I missed his presence. Missed his smile. His scent. His strong hands. My body was more ravenous for him than ever before, and I withheld from giving myself pleasure in his absence so our consummation would feel all the more monumental.
Grid put her hand on my shoulder while I stared at the note for a few moments too long. "Do you know what you're looking for?"
"Somewhat. Loki's predictable enough with what he likes. I suppose I hoped for some of my own family's traditions if I was to ever marry; since they're all gone, I'm afraid I'll feel naked."
"Indeed, you won't be able to trade swords without a father, though he doesn't have one, either, does he? Both of you without a mother, too. Freyr and I aren't substitutes. But be comforted in the fact that you're far from the first couple to bind without generations behind you. It's the generations ahead you should be concerned with."
" Oh, Grid." I reflexively put my hand over my belly, which I did more frequently despite myself.
She simpered a bit. "Come now. No more dawdling."
The marketplace was familiar now that I'd been dragged through more than once. Beyond the brown tunic I was given in the fortress, I now had a whole new wardrobe of iridescent chemises and gowns. They were all lightweight and flattering, and some even had a waistline just below my bust, which would allow for growth when my body could no longer hide what I carried. The shopkeepers were all friendly, nothing like the few I'd met in Asgard's hurried streets, and within a day they all knew my name. Perhaps it was because Vanaheim was so much smaller, but everyone felt like part of a grand family. I was the only stranger, though that wouldn't be the case forever.
Within the ornate tapestries and clothing lining each side of the street, I couldn't help but notice how much Loki's signature green abounded. He must've come across it here as a child—Asgard didn't have anything like this in nature. Seeing it made me heartsick, though; since his cape was taken from me in the fortress months ago, it hadn't been returned. Even if we could replace it now, nothing would compare to the companion I one tucked beneath my robes.
"Aye, Lady Sigyn," a woman called to my right as we passed. She waved frantically and hopped with excitement.
"I thought you said I was disguised well enough," I grumbled.
"I can hide your face, but not your height. Might as well see what she wants," Grid said.
Commanding the irritation on my face to subside, I approached the shopkeep woman. "Hello there. Do I know you?"
"No, 'course not. But we all know what's comin'. Have ye picked a handfast cloth yet, dearie?" Her informal and thick Vanir accent was stronger than most of the people I'd met, so I had to focus more than usual to decipher all she said. Still, it was a stroke of luck.
"I haven't yet, actually. That's what I'm searching for. In Asgard, they're all the same: white with Odin's valknut in gold. For marriage until death."
"Ah, but bindin's for longer than that, aye? Take a look at these for somethin' that suits ye better." She brought out a basket of colored scarves, all bright and gauzy with their light textures. Some had runes in the old language, though most were unmarked.
How could I resist the one that called for me—Loki's green with a border of black. As I lifted it from the basket, my arms erupted in goosebumps. It was exactly what I needed to feel connected to him and our purpose here. The strip was twice the length of my arm, enough to truly tie a knot around the two of us.
"This one," I whispered, not caring if anyone else heard me.
"A fine choice, that," the woman said. "Need an emblem added at all?"
"No...no, it's fine as it is. It's perfect."
Grid paid with a small bottle of tincture from the fortress, which she'd used as currency since we arrived—when I tried to protest initially, she assured me that my task when we returned to the mountain was to learn how to create whatever magic was inside. Unlike the gold that so many people lacked and needed where I came from, the Vanir valued things that could be shared with all in equal measure.
After wrapping my find and tucking it in my pocket, we set out further north where the goods changed, first from clothing and housewares to fresh herbs and meat, finally ending before the court hall with a few select tables of glorious metals and jewels.
Surely they were located strategically so as to discourage theft—one wouldn't dare steal when the watchful eyes of the most powerful people in the realm were so close. I worried whatever Grid was trading wouldn't be enough for what I was searching for, but she assured me with a gentle nod that I could choose whatever was appropriate. In all my life, I'd never seen so many rings.
The man behind the table barely acknowledged me while he rubbed a rough cloth against a band of silver, polishing it. His white hair and beard were tinged with black from his smithwork. More than anything, I noticed his hands—rough and knobby, like every movement caused him pain from overuse, yet he kept working. His craftsmanship was beyond incredible, and I had no doubt he'd lovingly scratched every rough surface off the many choices before me.
"Excuse me," I said, plucking up a bit so he'd know I wasn't wasting his time, "I'm searching for—"
"I know why you're here," he said, not getting up from his stool. "What color?"
"I...excuse me?"
"You seek a band of yellow gold. Perhaps it's marred a bit in black. Three stones, all squares, aligned within its center. All I need to know is what color you prefer."
As he described it, I saw it in my head and my heart pounded. Like the cloth in my pocket, it matched Loki well, save for the last detail that was mine to choose. His prediction, or foreknowledge, was eerie and uncomfortable.
"How did you know?" I asked, almost wanting to deny him my business because of his accuracy.
He narrowed his eyes. "I see many things within you and within him. Trust that I wouldn't steer both of you wrong in this matter."
So he came to you as well. Fitting. I smiled, finally relaxing with the thought of our having a common artist. "Thank you. As for the stones, it must be—"
"Green. Like a fresh blade of grass after the snow melts. Not weathered by the sun, or wind, or living things that need its essence."
I cocked a brow at him. "Why ask at all if you knew the answer?"
"I didn't. You said it in your mind before it came out of your mouth." He shifted his focus from me back to the ring in his hand, continuing to polish as if we hadn't met at all. "It will be ready by Frigga's Day. Collect it before you drink of the river."
"Yes. I...wait, what was that?" I leaned across the table to be closer in case I misheard him. "Did you say, 'before you drink of the river'?"
"Aye. The night before your binding."
Grid touched my arm for my attention. "It's one of the customs here, Sigyn. An honor so you might prepare for your future."
"But didn't you claim in my...state...that I shouldn't do such a thing?"
"Our magic has many purposes, dear. Taken in through the skin or the blood is much more potent than this. It's diluted for a specific aim and will be safe, I assure you." She patted me a few times to reassure me further.
A rush through my belly told me to be cautious. I vaguely recalled Freyr mentioning such a thing weeks ago, but it was a distant and inconsequential detail compared to my declaration of love for Loki that same night. But if Grid said it was safe, I trusted her judgment.
"Thank you," I said to the man. "I shall return in a few days as discussed, and with payment." After curtseying to him slightly—not sure how else to show my gratitude—we headed to the final stall about twenty paces further up the main street.
It was another jeweler, of course, but they weren't offering trinkets as small and delicate as the man we'd just seen. Instead, their tables were covered in ornate crowns which twisted with artificial vines, gems, and small flowers. Most were made of silver, but a few were circles of simple branchwood that was tethered with sinew and twine. The less extravagant, the less expensive, I imagined.
"What are these for?" I asked Grid.
"These crowns represent the transfer out of maidenhood. Would-be heirlooms."
"So if I were Vanir, my mother would've passed it to me?"
"Correct. The piece you select shall be for your daughters someday."
"The Asgardian has no need to choose," the man behind the table said, as eloquent as the jeweler with the rings. His deep voice had a magic of its own, calming me. He grinned with his eyes, holding back an unspoken excitement. "You are she, aren't you?"
"I am Asgardian, yes. Sigyn."
"An honor to have you in Vanaheim," he said, reaching for my hand to peck my knuckle gently. "And a great honor it is to hold that which belongs to you now."
I took back my hand with an anxious snicker. "Which is?"
He held up one finger for me to wait and knelt behind the table, producing a small wooden box when he rose again. Several old language symbols were burned into top, too small for me to read from even a short distance, but it appeared older than I was.
Grid gasped at the sight of it. "Is that...?"
"It was in need of some repair and adjustment for this maiden, but it was my pleasure to have a hand in such an auspicious occasion." He gave Grid a knowing nod before turning to me again, slowly lifting the lid of the box. "I trust you'll find it fits you well."
I peered in, not sure what to expect given their obvious reverence. It was another crown, not too unlike those that surrounded me on the displays above, though this one was distinctly lit from within somehow. Starlight danced across its puckered metal surface, which was split into three strands and twisted together in a plaited configuration. The yellow gold was enhanced with white glass flowers—so delicate, I worried one wrong move would break them off to shatter under my feet.
"It's lovely," said, gingerly putting it over my omnipresent hair bun. It fit well without sliding off in any direction. Another glance into the box, however, and a folded slip of parchment caught my attention. I didn't bother asking if it was meant for my eyes or not, but no one stopped me from opening it.
Mother had no daughters, so Freyr held onto this. Now the most beautiful maiden to ever cross my path will wear it. It pleases me to know she smiles upon us.
"It's...it's Frigga's?" I asked, feeling weight upon my head with its significance.
Grid's eyes said everything I couldn't, shining as if overwhelmed with heart.
"Aye, there can be no greater token than the very blessed crown of Love's Goddess. Wear it and keep it well." The man raised the box for me to put it safely away.
I didn't speak to Grid on our journey back to the tents, still shocked by Loki's gesture and the power it contained. My understanding of Frigga's influence was severely underestimated; in one week's time, I would take a place in her family.
A ring. A cloth. A crown. A husband.