A/N: It's been almost a year since I started this story. I'm so sorry I haven't updated, but it was quite a trouble to continue this after the last chapter. It ended so well. But, here's more about Sigyn. I actually got something decent up.
Tapping my feet lightly against the floor, I sit back in my desk chair and clutch my history book and theses. Sigyn sits lithely on the desk in front of me, her doe eyes watching me curiously. She bends down and takes my theses – the same document that my father mocked so boldly – and started scanning the words.
Sigyn comes to our palace or I go to Njord's often and in those times we have become best friends. I have dined with Njord and Freyr before and both accept me, wholly pleased and welcoming of my presence. I've grown to think of them as family. And Sigyn has met my mother and Thor – though I try to keep her away from Thor – and both of them like her quite well. My father, however, has refused to meet her, saying I should be training instead of focusing my energy on an orphaned girl. For this, my mother has apologized several times.
"These are good. Why did Odin reject them?" Sigyn asks me quietly.
"Loki, never question the power of the gods because we're greater than you and you're insignificant," I imitate, exaggerating the words of my father.
"Loki…," Sigyn starts, giving me a frightened glance. She is always so frightened by my speaking ill of the Allfather. She fears him just like everyone else.
"Come on, Sigyn, he never pays attention to me anyway," I object, rolling my eyes.
"But, Loki, he hears everything," she whispers.
"Then let him! The only thing he's listening to is Thor and his friends fighting. I can guarantee that."
"I still don't trust this."
I give an exasperated sigh and, placing the history book down, cross over to the large window next to my dark wood desk. Sigyn hops lightly off the desk and joins me at the window, watching me with wide eyes as I glass over the scene in front of us. In front of us is quite the display, for I have sight of the fighting grounds and part of mother's orchard. And down there, strutting around the grounds is Thor, his head held up high and his posture as straight as can be, the cocky fool. Even though his eyes are closed, he swings his sword out in front of him, scattering the various warriors in front of him. Standing in the shade of some of the trees surrounding the grounds are fawning maidens, watching Thor as though he were some prize.
"Disgusting," I mutter to Sigyn.
"He does like attention," she adds nervously.
"Why are you so quiet?" I ask her.
"Freyja never liked me speaking much."
"But Njord and Freyr always let you have your say," I object, shaking my head.
"But they are not Freyja. They expect me to be like her when I'm older, such a strong voice, but she is not pleased with me," the blonde maiden explains, her voice hollow.
"Like how it is between Odin and me?"
"Yes."
I snatch her hand at that mournful confirmation and stare down at the trees in silence. I knew that even in this silence, her mind was racing, brimming with whatever memories she had of her being rejected. To be abandoned by her original parents and then rejected by her role model must be terrible. I cannot imagine that. And as the hollow silence remains dominant over us, she draws closer to me.
She caught me in surprise then. For, breaking the silence with a frail cry, she burrowed herself into my chest, her shoulders tense as if to ward it all away. My eyebrows furrowing, I wrap my arms around her and raise her chin so that I can see her eyes.
"Sigyn, what's wrong?" I ask, for I have never seen her so upset.
"Loki you should know, you've gone through some of the same things I have. Doesn't it all infect your mind, too?" she hiccups, tears slowly starting to stain her pale face.
"Immensely, I understand," I nod, pulling her closer to me. But what do you say in this situation? You can't just ignore the disappointment in you of those whose approval you most crave, most desire. To ignore such is a defense neither of us was born with.
I just stand here, looking blindly out the window, pondering all of this, but Sigyn has pulled herself together. All of the tear stains have been dried up and, though her wide eyes are still shiny and bright, one would never suspect that she had just been crying. She stands up on her tiptoes and tilts my head forward gently, making eye contact with me. Ever so slightly, she smiles, trying to wake me up from this pale world I have fallen into.
"Come on, Loki, back to the theses. This is why I'm here," she reminds me, cocking her head.
I numbly nod, letting her grasp my hand and pull me back over to the desk. Smirking, she playfully pushes me back into my chair and then hopping back onto the desk, the dress she's wearing settling nicely to her feminine features. Smiling to myself now, I lean back in my chair.
"Tell me, little doe, how do you manage to be so sweet even though you are probably half-Jotunn and Aesir?" I ask, meaning no harm.
"Maybe the combining brutality from both sides contradicts each other and makes someone actually decent to talk to," she shrugs.
"Hm, perhaps," I laugh.
"So, what did your father say to your statement about the mortals again?" she asks, peering down at my neat writing.
"That Loki has no business questioning my actions," someone says from my door way, making both Sigyn and me jump.
"Allfather!" Sigyn cries, jumping off of my desk and bowing like she has been taught to. I grimace at the forced display.
"You? You are the orphan Loki has been seeing?" my father gawks.
"Yes, father, have you never bothered to look from your high seat in Valaskjalf?" I question, regarding him with cold eyes.
"No, I am not interested in what distracts my son and possible heir from honor," he shoots back. Sigyn visibly winces.
"She is a better person than you could ever be. You should be congratulating me for finding such a great person in Asgard," I insult.
"Loki, I hope someday you learn that life will not support you with your frivolous magic tricks and petty friends," Odin sighs.
"But, father, Eir uses magic to heal all of us and—," I start.
"Enough! I should never have come," my father mutters, shaking his head. He sighs once more and leaves us, probably heading off to love Thor more than he could ever love me.
"Loki…," Sigyn trails off.
"Rise, Sigyn, there was never a need to bow in the first place, not to that," I scoff. I offer her a hand and help her up.
"I'm so sorry, Loki!" she cries, throwing her arms around my neck and embracing me tightly.
"Nay, Sigyn, it's for the better. The more distance between those who hate me the better."
"Magic isn't frivolous. Njord uses magic all of the time," she whimpers.
"That just proves how ignorant he is," I point out.
"I'm still sorry." Her brown eyes have taken on the shiny sheen again so I tilt her head up and smile.
"Come, worry not of another person's problems. I want to show you something," I say.
I snatch up her hand and rush her out of my room and down the winding passages of our palace. We exit the wide, cold halls and emerge into the golden sunlight, throwing warmth on us. The light catches her ever so blonde hair and makes it gleam and shine iridescently.
Making sure we are unnoticed, I lead her into the thicker orchards belonging to my mother. The boughs and leaves above us darken the air once more but the crisp scent of the varying trees signal that at one point the golden light had reached here before. I pull her deeper, lithely springing over the thick roots and fallen branches with care. Behind me, Sigyn stumbles to keep up, and though she does not move so swiftly like I do, she retains her ability to tread on the discarded leaves without making a sound.
"Here, this is the best spot," I say as we reach a very small clearing. Thick boughs and shivering leaves still entwine above us, making the space dark, but the trees are just far enough apart to leave us room to sit down and still have more space.
"Why did you bring me here?" Sigyn asks, peering around with her doe eyes.
"I want to show you one of my favorite magic tricks," I say.
I straighten out my hands and have her place hers over mine, palm up. Silently concentrating, I let fire spring into life just above her hands, an ever so small flame. She pales at the sight, obviously not used to fire, and her eyes widen. Her dark eyes reflect the jumping flames as I feed energy to them. I watch her, and not the beautiful display, as I shift the fire into the form of a blooming blossom and a few other pretty sights. But it is not the fancy work of the flames that is most enjoyable here, but the look of awe and amazement in her expression, of joy in seeing such a display.
I try to keep the show going for her as long as I can but when the sun started to set I knew that we must end this day. I release her hands and lead her back out of the orchard, walking her to Noatun. When we are just at the path that leads down to her hall, she turns around and embraces me, thanking me for such a wonderful time. With one last glance at her, I close my green eyes down and kiss her, just briefly. When I open my eyes again she was flushed and I was probably just as red.
She muttered a farewell to me, which I returned, and we went a separate ways.
It's nice how one person can shift such terrible inconveniencies, such as my father's nagging, into merely a minor threat.