Chapter Three

Sigyn

The darkness settled down on the Hero's Hall where Sif leaned on the balcony.

"Lady Sif," Volstagg was standing behind her with the other two of the Warrior's Three, "You are troubled, no doubt. But do not keep us out of it!" He accused her. They had snuck up on her and accused her of having a secret.

"Asgard is troubled, Volstagg," Sif reminded him. She gazed down at their beloved kingdom with torchlights mimicking the never-ending starlight above. Asgard nights held a dim indigo as smooth as velvet over their heads. Nothing would ever truly darken the kingdom.

"He's slimming our legionnaire," Sif went on, "And with the loss of Thor, he underestimates the use of men and women who would die for Asgard."

"Him?" Hogun asked. Sif, reluctant as she was, turned to face the stern warrior.

"Father Odin," she clarified. The Three of them didn't seem terribly surprised.

"The loss of wife and son has troubled him," Hogun reminded her, "We can expect change, good or bad. Understandable or not, Odin has his reasons."

"Coming from the face of reason," she snapped at him, "I don't think you have much left if that's all you have to say."

"Nay, my Lady," Hogun inclined his head, "Odin's reason is not sound reason. But it is predictable."

"What Hogun is leaving you to perceive, m'lady," Fandral leaned forward with two hands on his belt, "Thor isn't exactly a loss. He left by choice, and I don't think there's room for making requests unless our task would be dire."

"And it is," Hogun mentioned. They all looked at him. He stood there for a moment, looking them over, and shrugged. For once, his rock-hard expression dropped a little. "I just thought we were babysitting a king this whole time. No?"

Volstagg's brows rose and he looked to Sif. "He has a point," Volstagg told her, "I got the same impression."

"Oh, and he would be greatly offended," Fandral said matter-of-factly, but then slid in another point, "But only if he knew."

"Sif?" Volstagg caught her eyes again. "Are we going or what?"

"Where?" she asked.

"To get Thor, of course," Fandral laughed, "Where else?"

"And do you have a bribe?" her brow rose. They looked at each other. They had forgotten that being king wasn't enough to lure Thor anywhere these days.

"Something in mind?" Hogun asked.

"Maybe," she admitted and thought for a moment. Then she said, "But I think it will be enough…. The weakness of a human heart might change his mind about his father's rule. If we can get Maiden Jane to sympathize with a cause of ours or someone familiar… she might be able to talk Thor into returning home."

The three looked at each other. Fandral had a queer smile and Volstagg seemed utterly enthused. Hogun looked very doubtful.

"I have a plan," Sif said, dropping the coy charade she decided to try just once and for the last time. They leaned in to hear.

/

Four figures, hooded but dress in unquestionable hierarchy if you looked closely at the slit in their cloaks, were strolling through the Kyrie province on the southwestern side of Asgard. Sif could see this province from the Warrior's Hall and the coliseums that littered it. Sif hadn't ventured here in its darkest corners since she was young, but upon inquiry at a pub she was able to locate the residence of the youthful blonde and green-eyed maiden known as Sigyn.

Her father's palace was noble and charming. Full of tapestry proved him to be the loyal guardian trusted by Odin before his reluctant retirement due to injury. He was not completely out of work yet. He was an advisory of Odin's own private escorts and, once in a while, served on the legion's council. Sigyn had undoubtedly returned to her father after immediate dismissal from the coliseum.

A quick stroll through the garden put Fandral at her doorstep. Her private quarters were across the courtyard in her father's home. They were careful to tread lightly on the rooftops. Sif admired that the old gent had a thing for nature, for a fountain stood in its center that was wrapped in tendrils of vines littered with white flowers.

Fandral knocked carefully at the door, appearing to be alone while the other three hid. Sif was aware of Sigyn's many quirks. One she owned made her notorious for being absolutely cautious and jumpy. She didn't want to overwhelm her with many warriors intruding in her father's miniature palace.

He gulped when the beauty came to the door.

Sigyn was carefully draped in green silk with a golden sash falling over her midsection and hitting the floor. Regrettably, Fandral thought of a cunning magician who was equally wrapped in those colors… and hell-bent on destroying his brother. If Thor was in the right loving his brother, then Fandral was genuinely sad for Loki… but still more relieved than anything that the cynical prince was dead.

Besides, those colors were popular among spellbook-worms. It was a part of her family's crest as much as the endearment to any skilled magician… and Fandral would hold no prejudice against Loki's favored trend amongst symbolic attire.

"What do you want, my lord?" Sigyn asked when Fandral had been gaping. He was a little distracted by a slit in her dress that rose as high as her thigh.

Tucking his foremost lock behind his ear, he bowed slightly in respect.

"A-a great many apologies for the time of evening," he straightened, "I am an officer of the legion, but you may know me as Fandral, a member of the Warriors Three! Fair maiden, no mead has passed between my lips this night, albeit your beauty has stricken me into a familiar stupor. May a man of arms, and friend, of thy once-master Sif, accompany thee to an arrangement prepared by my trusted legionnaire in regards to thy future wedlock?"

She bent her head low, and looked at him with a grin. She pushed open the door.

"Please," she said, "Do join me in my quarters for a swift moment, my Lord Fandral."

Practically entranced, he stepped in as she brushed to the side. He couldn't help but notice the foliage that had leaked in from the courtyard. It made peculiar latticework over her ceiling and dropped over nearby thresholds to form a curtain. Even a few butterflies fluttered above their heads.

Distracted for the moment, Fandral had little time to escape the monstrous book that whacked his nose. He clasped his hand over his face and was jarred in the gut by a fierce little elbow. With his stumble, he tripped over a foot and fell outside the door.

"I will marry no one assigned by the council or anyone else for that matter!" she spat at him, "And I would never marry you! Go and brag about how you failed to acquire me, master Fandral!" She slammed the door. She had to have used magic, for she was too small for such a quick and fierce retaliation! Sif slid down from the roof and peered down at Fandral. He rolled on the ground cradling his nose.

"Why, what a flattering accusation!" he noted while holding his nose, "And quite vividly implied!"

"Get off the ground, you buffoon," Sif offered her hand and helped him up.

"Buffoon?!" he griped, offended.

"What are you doing, Volstagg?" Sif asked over her shoulder as Volstagg struggled to climb over a wall extending from the threshold. On the other side was a sheer drop into the next descent that led to the next province. Volstagg pulled himself to the other side and remained balanced on a little extension lining the next floor of the building. Moving a few feet along the wall he found himself looking into Sigyn's open bedroom window. He hung onto the sill.

Upon stepping in, she shrieked.

The grin on Volstagg's face turned into shock. "Sh! SH!" he motioned, "We only want to talk."

"Snoop!" she accused, "Get out of my window!"

"He's certainly not a snoop," Hogun was sitting inside her room at her vanity. He looked horribly out of place with the highlight of its white wood and a beige cushion under his hide, "He gets caught too often."

Volstagg blushed. "Don't say things like that, Hogun!" he nearly shrilled and looked at Sigyn. "He's a liar, that one." Hogun looked hurt.

Sigyn didn't say a word, but looked at both of them.

"So," Volstagg looked about the room, "You have a lovely place and all but… we have a proposition for you that might just get you out of your predicament."

"The Warrior's Three," Sigyn murmured,

"… and Sif." Fandral said.

"I am here, Sigyn," Sif called from behind the wall, resting her hand on the stone, "You are safe."

"Well, this is quite an entry, m'lady," Sigyn said. Sif couldn't deny that.

"But…" Sigyn was calling to Sif, "What concern has the Warriors Three with me?"

"Sif made it clear," Volstagg replied, "That you aren't keen to finishing this task set upon you by the council?"

"This is no trial, correct," she asked him, "A matter of home invasion trial?"

Oh, this doesn't look good at all, Sif thought.

"Nothing like that," Fandral came in through the door. Wrinkling his nose and stepping behind her, he said, "Only to hear your truth… and separate you from the obligation if you wish."

She glanced at each of them. "Why?"

"Lady Sif sees the promise in you, young Sigyn," Volstagg said, "And as friends of Sif, we will ensure your return to the legion."

"And," Fandral included, "the greatest hope you have… is Thor." He dropped that last bit like a rock and surprised her.

"Thor?" her eyes widened, "I am meant to go to Midgard?"

"Thor," Hogun said, "is great man who helps those most in need. Follow the rules of Midgard, and you will find him. And he will help you."

"Allow us to be of assistance and servitude to you, my fair maiden," Fandral laid a hand over his heart, "And I may forgive you for past events." Sigyn put a sly smile on at that.

"You did feign to marry me off, sir," she pointed out.

"Yes, well," Fandral cleared his throat, "We had to be sure the possibility really was of no interest to you." He wrinkled his nose again.

"No," Sigyn said, her smile dropping off, "Not really."

After a moment, Fandral exclaimed, "Then we'll leave straight away," he chimed, "You have as long as you need!"

"Well, you have good timing, friends of Lady Sif," she knelt below her white-framed bed lined with organdy tapestry. She pulled out a satchel, a belt with two pouches housing her axes, a flask, and another axe that belonged to her father. It was double-headed and bigger than the length of her torso from shoulder to shoulder. She held it as though it were a feather.

She stood and looked at Fandral over her shoulder. "I was just about tor leave."