Lift the Veil

by jarethsdragon

I know what you seek. You want to know if Loki ever has a happy ending...

6. The Fall

A few hours later, a maid arrived, timidly knocking at the great oaken door. "My lord! My lord!" she called.

Loki pulled himself from the garish red sheets and pulled on his pants and a shirt. This door was much more massive—a great carved affair with black iron bands—than the one that lately had been on his chambers and it took some effort to pull it open.

A plainly dressed maid curtseyed deeply and whispered, "Y-your Highness," she croaked in a cracking voice. "The Queen has a message for you and desires to see you in the Allfather's chamber before you begin your evening."

Loki nodded absently. It somehow just figured that she would want to say things to him first. "Is there anything else?"

The girl curtseyed again, careful to keep her eyes on the floor. "I was also instructed to invite the Princess, if she was available. If not, then I am to stay with her and show her the new apartments for her approval when she rises."

Loki nodded again. "I see," was all he said. "If that is all, then stay with the...princess until she awakens. If she has not risen by supper, then send for me."

The maid nodded and practically slammed against the wall in her haste to let him go past. Just to scare her, he summoned his armor around him, the great green cape billowing out of nothingness and the armor shimmering into being. She ducked into the chamber quickly and shut the door with no amount of stealth.

Frigga sat beside the prone form of Odin as he lay in his Odinsleep. Loki knocked to please her and she softly bade him enter. But she could not smile as she looked at her husband. In fact, she barely looked up at the son who approached her so timidly.

"Mother," Loki said as he looked at the Allfather.

"You know the truth," she said softly. She closed her eyes and for a moment looked almost angry. "There should be no secrets in a family."

"Then why did he lie?" Loki asked sadly. Of course—why would anyone lie? And why would anyone feel the slightest compunction about lying to the on called Lie-smith, the Master of Trickery and Shifter of Truth? The peppery, coppery flavor of truth filled his mouth—it tasted vile like bile.

"He kept the truth from you so that you would never feel different. You are our son, Loki, and we, your family. You must know that." She tried again to smile at him.

Loki swore softly. His ears heard the heavy sounds of stomping—like guards. His face broke into a smile—perhaps Sigyn had awoken from her grief and was ready to join him. Then he frowned, tears gathering in his throat and twisting his stomach. He was Jotun—not just half or a part—but a full-blooded, true-blue, bloody, icy nightmare. With his foul luck, Sigyn was being told his every dark secret as guards gathered to lead him to the dungeons.

It all made a twisted kind of sense now—all the little slights and favoritism that he had simply stewed over. In a terrifying way, it explained the ease that the Jotun—the other Jotun—had come and gone because such sorcery needed an anchor and what better anchor than one of their blood? And it could hardly be termed a wonder that Odin had favored Thor over him—he wasn't even of Asgard!

With a heavy heart, he waited as the door opened. Guards lined the hallway. He couldn't contemplate spending the rest of existence locked in a dungeon somewhere, waiting for the inevitable day when either Odin decided to kill him or Thor ascended to the throne.

The heavily robed chancellor stood with Gungir in his hands and, without much more than a sniff, bowed and offered it to him. Loki tensed, frowning as he tried to discern the trap. He looked up at his mother.

"Thor is banished. The line of succession falls to you," she explained sadly. "Until Odin awakens," she added archly.

Loki gingerly took the staff. He would not have been at all amazed to have it rise out of his hands and begin to beat him as Odin had done trying to teach him warrior ways. Or perhaps it was more Gungir's style to burn him to cinders as soon as he tried to wield the thing.

The chancellor backed up a few steps, eyes trained on the ground. Frigga took up the call, "My King."

The others murmured it, almost like a prayer for mercy.

Gungir, of course, did not burn him. At least, not in the accepted definition of the terms. Instead, it simply waited—like a faithful hound or good, old friend who waited for the right one to take it up. Instead, he felt a rush of magical power—seeking power—as though Gungir was merely seeing who wielded the power of the throne of Asgard. Once it flushed through him, the feeling of waiting ceased and Gungir became inert again.

Loki stared at the staff in perplexed wonder. With an absent bluff, he tried to wave the guards and assembled folk away. Surprisingly, they retreated and shut the door softly behind them.

"What do I do now?" Loki said softly, wonderingly.

Frigga choked back a soft cry. This—this had never been meant to happen. It had never been anticipated that their adopted child would hold the mighty Gungir and sit on the throne. Somehow, she had ignored that—pushed it away like a noisome puppy. Thor had been meant to rise to the throne from the first and, even when she had first held Loki in her arms, she had known that.

Of course, they had encouraged his ambitions, hadn't they? They had called him "prince" and made him equal to Thor. She swallowed heavily. They had loved him, reared him, celebrated him. She had even shared her powers with him when he first came to Asgard, to give him a place in the sun and out of the shadows of his brother and father.

She gathered her breath and her courage. "You will rule over Asgard. You will follow the wisdom of your father-"

"He's not my father," Loki whispered. One hand trailed over Gungir like a mischievous child—an aura of magic clinging between his fingers and the staff like a spiderweb.

"No—but he is the one who raised you, who took you on your first hunt and taught you warrior's ways." She tried to smile and gestured to her husband. "He is the one who listens to you now—even in the Odinsleep." She took another breath. "You must now show him that you are his son—that you can rule with justice and fairness."

Loki's eyes closed wearily. "Does Sigyn know?"

Frigga looked at him in bewilderment, but then figured out his meaning. "If you have told her of the Odinsleep, then she does. If you have spoken to her of Thor's banishment, then she knows of that too. None but the three of us know of...the other." She shook her golden head. "I will not speak of it."

"I will...leave you to your duties," Loki said, straightening his spine. "And I will see to my own."

Frigga nodded. "I will not leave him. He pressed himself so hard to see you wed and...everything. I fear that should I even blink, he will leave me."

"I will see that your privacy is respected," Loki nodded. "But Sigyn will worry."

"Sigyn...," Frigga said softly. Finally, she nodded. "I should enjoy her company from time to time. But none know how long this will last and she should be at your side."

Loki paused for a moment. "Am I king then? Truly?"

Frigga frowned. "You are king-in-waiting. If Odin awakens, then he will resume his rule. If he...passes, then the power of the Odinforce will flow from him into you and you will be king in truth." She frowned. "It would help the people to know you as their king if there was a proper coronation—if Odin could bless you and crown you himself. But I cannot arrange a proper coronation for you right now."

"You are needed...here," Loki decided.

Loki wandered out the door and down the hallway. Many who saw him at first simply scurried out of his way, but those who paused and saw Gungir knew that the horrid whispers were true and that Loki was now the overlord over them all. No few whispered prayers that night, praying for a swift end to the Odinsleep. A few remembered the Princess Sigyn and prayed that she would recover and come forward as the Queen they needed her to be in the absence of Frigga's gentle touch.

Late the next day, Sif and the Warriors Three paced and argued in the hall. Once the word "traitor" was thought, it seemed to linger in the air like the stench of illness. Sif sniffed haughtily and Volstagg ate and ate and ate. In theory, the eating soothed his mind from the scalding frozen burn on his arm. Fandral and Hogun—two halves of the same coin—lounged and considered the situation as Sif fussed at Volstagg.

None considered the silent ears listening to their talk. Sigyn stood in the shadows of the doorway. A maid had said that Loki might have been seen here and she had been drawn to the voices. Now that the words had been spoken, they could not be undone—could not be drawn out of her ears and mind.

Had Loki done these evil things?

She might have laughed at the thought had she not been so miserably tired and in such pain. The healers had come and plied her with potions and massage and ensured that she was able to walk and stand with the aid of a steady cane. Now she wandered to see if she could find Loki. Despair crept around her—if they truly thought him a traitor, would she find him in the dungeons?

She crept to a chair in the hallway and sat down heavily. Another voice had joined in the discussion in the nearby room—an angry, almost anxious tenor surrounded by four rougher voices. Sigyn swallowed heavily, simply waiting patiently and listening.

Lightly soled boots thudded out of the room and into her hallway. Sigyn cocked her head and listened, but it was the first breath of dragon's blood scent that called to her first. "Loki?" she croaked out.

Loki spun around and finally saw her as she sat with a carved cane in the hallway. "M-my dear?" he whispered. Then, more angrily, he hissed, "You are supposed to be resting. Not wandering the palace."

Sigyn snorted. "I have been checked out and been told that it is fine for me to walk a bit."

Loki snorted back. "All the way here?" He picked her up in his arms. "I think not."

Sigyn could not find the energy to fight his strong arms. "As you say," she whispered.

Loki conjured them back to hall of the family apartments. Then he considered the ruined wreck of his own doorway in frustration. "Have they given us new apartments?"

Sigyn nodded. "Up the stairs and the first door on the right."

Loki sighed and went up the stairs. A maid was mopping the hallways and dropped into a low curtsey without meeting his eyes. But the door was open to a light filled and airy apartment. Done in brilliant shades of gold and cream and purple, it looked regal with a nicely appointed sitting room, a study, two bedrooms and a small, communal bath. The windows looked out over the streets rather than the gardens and had only sheer cream colored drapes, but aside from that, it was moderately acceptable until his own apartments could be rebuilt.

Loki sat Sigyn down on the closest chair. "You, miss, need to rest and recover."

Sigyn sighed. "As you wish," she whispered. She frowned for a moment and finally whispered, "Is it true that you cannot undo the banishment?"

Loki stiffened angrily. "It is!" he snapped.

Sigyn nodded thoughtfully, then asked, "Why?"

Loki blinked a few times in confusion. "Well...well, because it was the Allfather's wish."

Sigyn chortled with a sad sigh. "I know your voice as well as my own and know when there is more to the story. What is the real reason? I'll not tell a soul."

Loki looked at her with pained eyes. "I'm not truly king," he whispered, shame scalding his cheeks. "Not unless Odin dies or unless he crowns me." His hands gripped her tightly. "And he will never crown me."

"So Thor is gone until Odin bids him back," Sigyn whispered uncomfortably. She gently pulled out of Loki's grasp. "Then it is only logical that things will fall to you."

"Fall?" he queried crossly.

"Flow? Follow? What is the word that would be right?" Sigyn asked lightly. "You have succeeded Odin—is that better?"

Loki laughed darkly. "I suppose." He tried to shrug. "And you have not said what everyone else is saying, so I suppose I am grateful for small mercies."

"Oh? What is it that everyone else is saying that troubles you so?"

"That I do not deserve this. That I betrayed Thor and led the Frost Giants here. That I am a traitor." His words were ground out.

"Then they are fools," Sigyn judged harshly. She shook her head angrily. "Why in Odin's name would you do any of that?" She barked out a harsh laugh herself. "I would rather you be concerned with the Frost Giants than the prattling of ninnies."

Loki looked at Sigyn carefully, circling her in her chair and going to sit in a neighboring one. Sigyn's back was rigid with fury, her brow creased in thought and her hands tightly gripping the cane someone had given her and the upholstered arm of the chair. Every muscle in her face screamed to him of fury—barely contained, deadly fury.

He frowned and studied her silently, wondering if this was the gentle creature he had married. "And why-" he asked silkily. "-would I need to worry with Frost Giants?"

"They killed Narvi," she hissed, almost shaking with grief and fury. "They have broken the treaty with Asgard and deserve nothing better than to die in fire and fury."

Loki could not hide his astonishment. Where was the gentle princess that all of Asgard adored? Where was the lighthearted wench who had brought Thor and Odin to her side? He scowled, glad not one other soul could see his surprise. "You are grieving," Loki surmised. "You do not know what you are saying..."

"I know what I am saying," she insisted sharply. "I am saying they should pay for what they did." She waved her hand stiffly. "If Thor could not do the job, then it falls to someone who can." She swallowed heavily. "I am grieving, yes. But I know that Gwyll and Boyar and Jonathan grieve as well. I know that Royce grieved the loss of his brother at their hands. Others grieve."

Loki sighed deeply, his head beginning to pound strangely. "I agree that they are a threat, but I also know that I should not start a war that cannot be finished. It would not serve any of you if they win."

Sigyn thoughtfully considered his words, then nodded stiffly. "As you say." She gripped the chair and cane tightly. "If it will not grieve you, then I will visit with Frigga today and then rest."

"As you wish," Loki nodded with his head still aching.

"Then, if I am able, I will resume the audiences on the morrow."

Loki looked at her with surprise. "Are you sure that is a wise thing? Remember what happened last time..."

Sigyn sagged into her chair with a shuddering sigh. "Indeed I do remember. I'm not mad." Then she straightened again. "But they win if I cannot face them. If I do not appear, then every word becomes closer and closer to real to them without respect to the actual truth." She shrugged. "And I will not let such vicious things grow in Asgard." She smiled at him, though it was a carefully polished smile rather than a genuine warm one. "Nor will I let anyone say that I am moving against you."

Loki laughed then. His daft, lovely Sigyn was still in that womanly frame somewhere, even if she was so wrapped up in her grief she couldn't think straight. The thought that anyone would say that she would move against him was so darkly amusing. Didn't she realize that everyone would ask 'what took her so long' instead?

"So you will make your rulings without me?" he queried in a silky voice.

"Hardly," she replied in a tart, angry voice. "That is your job." She shrugged a little. "I don't know what I'll do. I don't even know what I'm supposed to be doing. You're king—or as close as you can be right now—and Frigga is Queen. So where does that leave me?" she questioned softly.

Loki reached out to her hand. "It leaves you with me." He tried to shrug. "The one-who-should-not-ever-have-been-king."

Sigyn did laugh at that—warmly and long. "And what fool said that?"

Loki chuckled softly. With a heavy sigh, he grimaced. "You should be resting."

"Then you will need to stay and make sure," she smiled serenely. "I am prone to wandering. From time to time."

"Sigyn!" he said, his voice sharp with warning and yet warm with dark humor.

"In my sleep, of course," she pouted. Still, her hands wrapped tightly around the cane—knuckles white with her fury. "I will not disobey..."

Loki rolled his eyes. "I will stay for a bit, but there is much to be done."

She nodded, her shoulders slumping sadly. "Lead me on."

It was scarcely an hour later when a timid knock sounded on the door. Loki blinked in confusion—he had meant to stay only as long as Sigyn was awake and leave when she finally slept, but the bed had been so comfortable he had dozed off. At least, he thought he had dozed off—his mind had been alive with voices and faces, all praying for aid and assistance. Some he recognized as Asgardian, one or two were Vanheimers, but others were weirdly dressed folk that reminded him of Midgard in their peculiar speech and dress.

Shrugging out of the blankets and Sigyn's embrace, he sauntered to the door. The maid looked up at him in shock—her little mouth gaping. "My...oh...I mean, Your Majesty," she curtseyed. "I was told to fetch the princess for supper."

Loki scowled and only vaguely remembered giving the order. "Yes—we will come down. Give us some time and we will be there." The maid curtseyed again and raced down the hall, her skirts flapping. Loki closed the door softly, grimacing as a slight headache began to form again.

Sigyn stirred and whispered, "Locca...who was there?"

"Locca?" he smirked.

Sigyn yawned widely and sat up. "I was having a pleasant dream of being on the island again until someone knocked on the door and someone else got up to answer it."

"We must go to supper," he said softly.

She sighed and pursed her lips. "I believe that everything has been moved here, but if you could help me find a dress and shoes, I would be grateful."

Together, they limped through the apartment and got dressed. Each ached in heart and mind and body and they leaned often on each other for help. With only the most necessary words, they got ready and Loki led Sigyn down to the dining hall.

The steward stopped them and led them round to the entrance that Odin had favored as his own. With nervous little tics in his face and twitches of his hands, he signaled the guards and footmen to introduce them. Loki whispered softly to Sigyn, and she nodded but said nothing as they were led in as King and Queen.

Unlike every other time, everyone stood, waiting on him to come and sit to start the meal. Loki's mind boggled—most every other time he had used the smaller entrance with Thor and no one stood—waiting on his every move. At worst, he had to listen to everyone cheer Thor for only a few moments before moving to his place. His head ached more and he tried to remember what Odin had done to get everyone moving and to quit staring at him.

Finally, he remembered. He waved his free hand and said, "Let us sit."

Gratefully, the entire assembled court sat. Maids and servants began filling cups and breaking bread and setting out salt cellars. The nervous, skinny cook came forward with a bow and four stout men holding a huge wooden platter with a suckling pig on it.

Loki stared at him, impatient to simply be served and get it over with already. At least Sigyn had moved with him and now sat patiently as well. Damn, sometimes it was hard enough to keep track of her without keeping track of the zillion other things in the empire.

"Y-y-your Majesty," the cook said. "And Your Highness...that is to say...I mean, Your..."

"Yes?" Loki interrupted.

"Will you open the feast?" he bit out.

Loki sighed deeply and tried to sort his thoughts out. As the closest thing to King present, he was required to start the feast by welcoming the guests with a short speech and then a toast to their health. He would then be served the first portions of each dish and everyone would watch to see his satisfaction before serving it to the rest of the guests.

Truthfully, he was more concerned with who knew precisely what of the day's events. And, if he were completely honest with himself, he didn't remember exactly who had been invited and had attended.

Drat and double drat. Plus a few more foul words.

Finally, he took up his cup. "Friends and allies of Asgard," he said. "I welcome you all and thank your for your presence on what was supposed to be a most joyous day." Thankfully, no one seemed willing to denounce him or name him traitor to his face at his own feast. Everyone dutifully picked up their goblets and waited and watched him. "I hope that you will all still enjoy the hospitality we can offer." He raised his glass. "A toast to each of you—good health, long life and safe travels."

He took a deep swallow of the wine, gratified as everyone drank in response.

The nervous cook smiled stiffly. "Will...Her Majesty...I mean, the Queen Mother, attend as well?" It would have been a tremendous insult to her if they had not waited for Frigga and she was attending.

Loki shook his head. "She will need a platter taken to her apartments."

"V-very good, Sire," he said bowing again. He took out an immense knife and sliced a bit of the pork. "This is roasted suckling pig with rosemary, sage and apples and served with a pink garlic sauce and fresh greens."

A tiny portion was put on Loki's plate and he sampled it. It tasted like sawdust and made his stomach churn—or was it this damnable headache causing it? It was only hearing Sigyn's stomach churn as well that pricked his humor enough to allow him to continue. "It is...acceptable," he nodded.

The little cook smiled broadly. Thor had been easily pleased with the feasting menu—course upon course of roasted meats with potatoes, bread, and cheeses and then two courses of sweets. Mead, beer and ale were to be served throughout. That Thor was not there—some had said he was banished—and Loki was now the apparent ruler, he had fumbled to make the feast acceptable.

The servants had taken one whole course—a huge roasted ram with mint and garlic and rosemary—and substituted the lighter course of artichoke, spinach, egg and cheese pies. Wines had been hurriedly paired with the courses and they had raced to prepare cherry pastries, rather than the thick custards originally planned. It was the entire kitchen staff's job to make the feast a delight for the senses and to please and tempt the King of Asgard—a sign of their respect and loyalty. There were all manner of stories of rulers—lords and dames and princes—who had punished the kitchen staff for improperly prepared meals. There were equal number of stories of cooks and chefs being richly rewarded for their good work.

Sigyn shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Shouldn't Frigga be here?" she whispered.

"She is with Odin," Loki said in a low voice, frowning.

"I see," she nodded. "I had not thought of that." She fidgeted again. "How long will I be required? I find that I am very sore and would like nothing more than to eat and to bathe and to return to my bed."

"It is late," Loki nodded, his voice still low. "I...think it will be understandable if you wish to leave after a few courses. But this is actually supposed to be Thor's feast—so it is probably going to go on for quite some time."

She nodded and sipped the water someone had put at her place. "I think that I will." She sighed. "It seems...strange, somehow, doesn't it?"

Loki swallowed and smiled at her. "And here I was thinking how well this suited us..."

She laughed a little. "As you say."

The courses were presented, one after the other, and even Loki began to weary of them all. He was granted a small portion—thankfully only a small portion—of each and as King—even if it was king-in-waiting—he had to at least taste each one. Sigyn was able to wave some of the food away—her stomach still sore and testy. The little cherry pastries were delightful, though—and he enjoyed signaling for a second portion of them. Surprisingly, even Sigyn tasted and enjoyed them—despite giving up eating another bite some three courses ago.

Sigyn yawned behind her hand. "When will we escape?"

"Out the window and down to the walkway?" Loki offered a little breathlessly.

"Change us into birds and we can be gone," she parried lightly.

"That would give all of Asgard something to talk about," he chuckled.

Another voice intruded. "Your Majesty," said one of the visitors from Vanheim. "We would like a word with you regarding the taxes and tariffs."

Loki grimaced and patted Sigyn's hand. "To be continued, my dear," he smirked. Then, in a slightly louder voice, he added, "My wife has...lost our first child and I would excuse her first." The visitors smiled and bowed as Sigyn rose and Loki summoned someone to help her to their temporary apartments. In a slow and stately pace, she kissed his cheek and left.

Then all eyes turned to him. For a moment, it reminded him of Midgard piranhas or some kind of dread pack of wild dogs with all of their attention on their prey. He nodded and stood and began to mill around, addressing concerns and speaking with them.

Just as Odin had expected him to do.

Duty was an evil thing, though. He had not been allowed to even approach the family hallways—there was always one more petition. He was thankful to have found some previously unknown reserve or wellspring of energy to address everyone—it seemed that kings had full dockets of duties to perform. Then it was breakfast again and the whole, pointless ceremony continued—opening the feast, welcoming the guests and so on.

Yet—still, despite being awake for better than a day, he could not rest. He could not sleep. And he could not get away from the people. People wanting this or that. Some few managed to offer congratulations (sycophants) or condolences. The healers that had been at the palace after the attack were welcomed and had to be paid. Heimdall managed to briefly appear and only nod his acceptance of Loki's rule. Loki felt his skin crawl as another group crowded around him—yet more people trying to get a piece of him. Thankfully, Sigyn had begun addressing the peasantry's concerns at the tenth bell and the crowd had thinned out somewhat, but there still seemed to be more.

And still he could not sleep.

Sigyn spent her entire morning, listening to the needs and complaints of many during her audiences. Loki had not been back to their apartments and she missed him. At least Sif had appeared and now sat with her as she listened and offered help and judgments that she could. Many were concerned and sought reassurance—having heard of the little baby's loss. Others were calling for retribution—demanding that the King gather troops and start preparing for war. At least some were asking after Odin and Frigga and for news of Thor—of which there wasn't much.

At mid-afternoon, she and Sif stood stiffly and dismissed the audiences.

"You should be resting," Sif observed.

"I suppose," Sigyn shrugged. "But I would visit with Frigga first." She raised her hand. "Then I will make you and Loki happy and rest."

Sif chuckled dryly. If she were not married to Loki of all people—Sigyn would be curiously and completely likeable. Taking Sigyn's hand, she led the way through to the family wing.

The guards smiled at them as they approached. Sif smiled back, and then remembered that Sigyn could not see their welcoming faces. Duty demanded that they stand at their posts—on their guard. Pulling on her hand, Sif guided her around the larger one on the left and to the door.

Sigyn tensed as she felt the doorway brush the fingertips. Straightening, she asked, "Are we there?"

"Her Majesty is expecting you," said one guard. "Please go in." He turned enough to push open the door.

Sif chuckled a bit. "She could not see you, Bjorn," she explained.

Sigyn smirked—remembering the long ago pretend with Loki. Strangely, this big fellow was not at all smelly or anything—just big, if his voice was any indication. "I will be only a few minutes," she said to Sif.

"Will you require aid when you leave?"Bjorn asked Sigyn seriously.

"I think that I know the way from here," she said softly. "But I am thankful for your kindness."

Sif led Sigyn into the great, golden room. It was unsettling to have the room so devoid of people and to be so silent. She could not remember ever having seen either the King or the Queen without a gaggle of maids, servants, toadies, lackeys, knights, guards or petitioners surrounding them. Truthfully, it clenched her stomach to see Odin laid out on his bier, deep in the Odinsleep. It was said—whispered—that he could still see all and hear all, but simply could not respond. That was Sif's worst nightmare—the stillness as the world moved in and out and her unable to respond.

Still, Frigga sat with him, talking and reading to him. Judging from the book in her lap, she was reading epic poems of his father, Bor, and the battles with the dark elves.

"Sif, Sigyn—how lovely to see you," Frigga smiled at them.

Sif bowed in respect, though if she were honest with herself, it was more to allow her eyes to dart away from the prone form of the Allfather. "I was asked to stay with the princess during the audiences today and she asked me to escort her here before she rested."

Sigyn smiled, listening to the stillness in the room. After the noise of the feasts and meals and the audiences, the silence was truly deafening. "If you do not mind, I should like to keep you company for a while."

"I would not mind the company," Frigga smiled. "We were just reading of Bor's final battle against Malekith." She gestured to a nearby collection of chairs. "Sif, could you please bring a chair over for Sigyn?"

Sif brought the heavy chair over to the golden bed and guided Sigyn into it. Sigyn muttered her thanks as she settled into the deeply padded seat. With a glorious smile, she sighed in relief at the deep cushions.

"Would you care to sit with us Sif?" Frigga asked, paging through her book.

"I need to go to the training yards," Sif replied evenly.

"Of course," Frigga nodded. "Perhaps you will visit some other time..."

"Lady Sif," Sigyn called. "I should like to extend my thanks for all that you've done today."

"It was nothing," Sif said modestly.

"It did not feel like nothing to me," Sigyn protested with a smile. "I was glad to have a friend on hand." She shook her head slightly with a smile. "If nothing else, you helped me to avoid dropping things."

Frigga's eyes brightened with curiosity. "Oh?"

"Several merchants from Vanheim gave Sigyn flowers and gifts," Sif explained.

"And I almost fell over—what was that again?"

"A clarion." Sif answered.

Frigga nodded in understanding. "It was most likely Tre-iem's—the head of the weaver's guild on Vanheim. He takes it with him everywhere he goes and it almost invariably gets into trouble." She stuck a finger into her book and closed it. "It looks something like a cross between a weasel and a cat but it has two bushy tails like a fox."

"For some reason," Sigyn sniffed. "It found my shoes very interesting and was determined to get under my skirts."

Frigga sighed in mock exasperation. "Yes—that would be Loaa. He's an all black
clarion with a penchant for laces."

Sif chuckled. "And trouble." She bowed to the royalty. "However, if I am to train, I must hurry."

"Of course, Sif," Frigga nodded. "My thanks."

"Thank you again," Sigyn added.

Sif turned to leave, almost running into a hurried maid with a platter for the Queen. Dodging the platter, she left to return to her chambers and make ready for her trip to the training yards where she would meet her friends.

Frigga nodded at the servant and picked up the cup to take a grateful sip of water. "So you are attending the audiences?"

Sigyn nodded. "It is an exhausting thing, though."

"We have always been glad to have two sons so that they could share the audience duties," Frigga said thoughtfully.

"I went through only a half day today," Sigyn said thoughtfully. "I'm afraid that I have let Loki down as I could not stand more."

Frigga snorted—a most unladylike sound. "That you dared do it at all astounds me. I rested a full week after Thor was born before returning to my duties and I didn't have to handle the audiences for a full month afterwards." Sigyn made a soft, sad sound. "Oh, I'm sorry, my dear. I did not mean to distress you."

"I...I had meant to get my mind off of it all. To forget for a time." She shuddered. "I am...furious and I cannot get away from it."

Frigga frowned and thought for a moment, uncertain of what Loki had revealed to her. Had he dared to raise her hopes that Narvi might yet live—that Laughey might be sparing him as they had spared Loki? "What does Loki propose to do?"

"I don't know," Sigyn admitted in gritty voice. "I have not seen him all day." She shrugged. "I believe that he has already tried to go there to try reasoning with them..."

Frigga raised an eyebrow. "Indeed?" She frowned, deep in thought. She could see Loki trying to flatter or cajole and Thor trying to fight, but somehow she thought that Odin might have been the one to try reasoning. Instead of trying to explain, she changed the subject. "Have you tried the throne room? 'Tis where Odin was most often..."

Sigyn sighed. "I will try there next." She stood and sighed. "I regret that I am not better company today. I am still aching and I miss Loki. Did you know that he did not even come to bed last night?"

Frigga smirked a little. "That is the price of the throne, I think. There have been many days that Odin did not make it to our chambers here before the next day dawned." She stood and reached out to the other woman. "It is not personal, I think. Nor is it a matter of Loki wandering-"

"Never!" Sigyn hissed.

Frigga smiled. "As you say—never," she nodded. "I think he is simply trying to step into his brother's and father's shoes."

Sigyn thought for a moment. "I will try the throne room, I suppose. If I can get close to it."

"If not, I can send a message summoning him here," Frigga offered impishly. "It would not go ignored if I did it."

"Perhaps I will," Sigyn nodded. "But I think that I will rest a bit first. My mind is a muddle... Good day, Mother."

Sigyn felt her way out of the chambers and exited with a calm she did not feel. Sliding down the hallway, she pondered her choices and options. There was so little time and so much to do here. Yet, how was she to raise an attack to get Narvi back? She felt that he was still alive—somehow she just knew in her gut it was so.

She climbed the stairs, wondering what to do. Frigga might have been helpful, but she was rightfully concerned with Odin and his welfare. Thor was banished. Loki was apparently busy. Truthfully, there was no one else that she could name that she could go to and speak freely.

"Your Highness, may we have a word?" Fandral's voice was smooth like cream.

Sigyn stopped, listening. There were several salons and sitting chambers on the second floor in this wing—even a gaming room with dice and cards and such—and a mix of heavy and light footsteps approached her in the empty hallway.

"Yes?" she asked archly.

"My lady," Fandral continued with a bow. Even if she could not precisely see the bow, it seemed the gentlemanly thing to do to show respect for her rank. Even if her rank came from a marriage to Loki. "We would like a word with you..."

"We?" she queried.

"My companions and I." Fandral flushed and explained. "We met some time ago—on the island. I am Fandral. My friends are Volstagg and Hogun—who you know. And the Lady Sif."

"I see," Sigyn said. She sighed for a moment, wanting to only be in her bed. With Loki. "So what can I do for you?"

"We would like for you to ask Loki to help us," Fandral answered with a grin. "Lovely, lady—can we count on your aid?"

Sigyn frowned, her hands gripping the cane fiercely. "Why cannot you ask for yourselves?"

"He will not receive us," Fandral replied with a softly plaintive note in his voice.

"Oh? Why not?"

Fandral swallowed—the why's and wherefore's being the sticky part of this business. "We would like Loki to rescind Odin's order and bring Thor back." He looked at his friends for inspiration. "We have asked for him to help us and he dismissed us saying that he could not undo what the Allfather had done."

"Then I am supposed to convince him otherwise?" Sigyn guessed.

"My lady—I believe that you could convince the stars to move did it please you," Fandral flattered as Sif rolled her eyes.

"I-I do not think that you understand fully the position Loki is in," Sigyn said carefully.

"At least ask him to open the Bifrost," Volstagg protested. "We will fetch Thor ourselves..."

"You want to openly rebel against the throne?" Sigyn asked softly, her brow furrowing.

Hogun grunted. "No—only the one on it."

Sigyn chuckled angrily. "You want me to convince Loki that he should either try to go against the orders of the Allfather and bring back Thor. Failing that, you want me to get him to open the Bifrost to you so that you can bring back Thor. And then once Thor is here—you want him to supplant Loki's position?" She shook her head. "Is that about right?"

Sif snapped, "Thor is the one the Allfather chose. Surely you can see the justice of that?" She ran a hand through her hair and flicked it angrily. "You are the one who said it was neither right nor just that the brothers should be separated—weren't you?"

Sigyn flushed. "Indeed," she nodded. "However—have any of you asked why the Allfather wanted them to separate like this?"

The Warriors Three and Sif looked at each other. Sif tried to explain, "We...we did not ask as there was not time before the Odinsleep befell him. We were tending Volstagg's wounds when Thor was banished."

"And the Allfather collapsed on the spot?" Sigyn asked.

"No...," Fandral answered. "Some time later, he was with Loki in the weapon's vault and it was there that he collapsed."

"So no one has asked, why? Asked if there was some grand scheme afoot?" Sigyn's hands looked like they were throttling her cane.

"We went to Jotenheim to bring back Narvi!" Sif all but shouted. "It was for you that Thor even ventured there."

"Was it?" Sigyn snapped back. "Or was it that he wanted vengeance on the attack during his coronation?" No one answered. Sigyn shook her head. "And tell me—have any of you asked whether or not Thor wants to come back?"

"Of course he wants to come back," Fandral protested, but his voice faltered for a moment of indecision. "He is the crown prince..." Fandral looked at his friends. "We're his friends—and we miss him."

"I miss him too," Sigyn whispered. "However, I find that rebellion is a poor way to show one's affection. Would Thor truly want his friends to rebel against the throne or would he want them to help his brother in any way that they could—especially against the Frost Giants?"

"Will you help us?" Sif asked softly.

"I cannot," Sigyn replied evenly. "However, it is not because I would not like Thor back. It is because I cannot find Loki to begin with." She shrugged. "I have not seen him in over a day—not since the feast."

"Will you at least ask him?" Volstagg pressed.

"I will tell him of your concerns when I see him," Sigyn said. "However, I will not go against his will—nor will I try to force him to do what he does not believe is right."

Sif pouted, glaring at the other woman. "At least—the Bifrost..."

Sigyn nodded. "I do not believe that if the Bifrost is closed now, it will be for long. The damage to trade and negotiations would be unthinkable. Loki knows that."

"We will...try to be patient then," Sif said. Hogun looked at her with surprise and Fandral looked ready to speak but she waved to shush them. It seemed obvious that they would garner no support from here. But she was willing to bet that Sigyn's sense of truth and duty would eventually force her to see things their way.

"One thing that I would ask you to think about," Sigyn said in a small voice. "If Loki weren't here and on the throne—which of you would you each choose to handle things while the Allfather sleeps?"

None of the Warriors Three had an answer. Even Sif looked surprised and then thoughtful. Finally, Sif said softly, "There is Baldur. Perhaps Tyr..." She frowned, considering the god of war. "Or...perhaps not."

"But no one you like as much as Thor?" Sigyn asked innocently.

"No...of course not anyone like Thor," Sif admitted without thinking.

Sigyn smiled. "And would you plot so against...Baldur? Tyr?" She smirked almost angrily. "Should I speak of this conversation to anyone else? After all, they might be angry to know that should the worst happen..." Her voice trailed off malevolently.

Volstagg glared at her angrily. Sif glanced at Fandral and saw his high cheeks flush with an angry hue. Even Hogun seemed furious.

Sigyn sighed and shook her head sadly. "I grieve for you all. You have lost a friend and a brother at arms—someone near and dear to you. You have lost a boyhood companion to rumors and speech of treachery. We have all lost a much loved King and Queen." She shook herself. "We have had...many losses. Perhaps we are overwhelmed and each unable to think clearly..." She made a sad gesture with her hands. "I am at a loss as well—my son is lost to me, my husband has not been seen, my King is in the Odinsleep and my Queen and closest friend is grieving all these things and we cannot ask more of her.

"I had hoped that we were each...if not friends, then at least friendly. I had hoped that I was not alone here and hoped, despite everything, that I would be counted among your allies." She sighed heavily. "If this is not so, I appreciate knowing now, I suppose, rather than wondering for years upon years.

"I regret that I cannot aid you—that I have no way to help you. Without Loki, I have nothing more than the clothes on my back and precious little that I am able to do to help myself or others.

"But I think that you are forgetting that Thor is likely finding his way back even as we speak here. This is Thor we speak of—not a lost soul wandering the realms, not a helpless babe, and not one to give up. If he truly desires to return, then I believe that he will find the will and the way to do so. And I believe that the Allfather has left a path for him to return—a way for Thor to come back to us—because the Allfather does not abandon even the lowest of his people to the whims of the winds of fate, much less his own favored son."

Sif looked at the other woman curiously. "Do you truly believe that?" Sigyn nodded, swallowing heavily. "Do you think...he will forget about us?"

Sigyn smiled softly. "I do not think that he would forget all that he loved and held so dear. This is Thor, after all." She shrugged and seemed to think deeply for a moment. "I should like to rest for an hour or two and then go on a walkabout."

Sif patted Volstagg's great shoulders as he puffed angrily. "Where are you going?"

"I should like to learn more about the Frost Giants," Sigyn said simply.

"We could tell you much," Fandral grinned, giving his friends a wink. "If you could spare the time."

Sigyn nodded. "I have nothing else to do." She frowned. "But the information that I want is...specialized."

Hogun only arched an eyebrow. "Let us go into the gaming room."

Everyone sat in the gaming room. Sigyn sat uneasily at the chessboard and gingerly reached out to feel the carved pieces. With a sad sigh, she picked up the white knight and cradled it in her palm.

"What do you want to know about Frost Giants?" Sif said, softly closing the door behind them.

"How they die," Sigyn said with an amazingly soft, even voice.

Everyone sucked in a breath, amazed at the cold-blooded remark. Hogun recovered first and nodded. "Narvi."

"Yes," Sigyn replied. "Narvi."

"He...he may yet live," Fandral offered lamely. "Thor said that he had not gone after Narvi immediately because Odin had said that Laughey would not kill him."

"He may live," Sigyn agreed amiably. "But in what condition, we do not know. Would he be better dead and go safely to Hel?" She shrugged. "I do not know, but I do want them to pay dearly for their attacks."

"You are desperate," Sif snorted.

"I have lost my friends, my child, my animals, and my home. They have made me very desperate."

"What do you propose?" Hogun grunted. "We can't march in without Thor and Loki has closed the Bifrost."

Sigyn seemed to think for a moment. "Tell me...what is the Bifrost?"

"It is a gateway between the realms," Fandral said.

"How?"

The Warriors Three shrugged lamely and Fandral answered, "We don't know all of the mechanics, but once Heimdall sets the sword down and thinks the destination for the beam, it draws energy, collects it and then shoots it to the destination. The energy takes the objects and people with it—turning them into energy for a brief time before restoring them on the other side."

"An explosion then?"

"Yes, there is an explosion—there can be tremendous damage... But Heimdall prevents anyone from misusing the Bifrost."

"Heimdall?"

"Sif's brother. He guards the Bifrost and makes sure that he lets no danger into the realm." Fandral explained wearily. "He sees everything."

"Everything?" Sigyn smirked a little, her cheeks unknowingly flushing. "I wonder..." She thought deeply for some time. "I should like to meet this paragon..."

"You are going to open the Bifrost yourself?" Volstagg gaped.

"No—I cannot. Or, at least, I don't think that I can—I don't know. I only go to meet the guardian of the realm. Perhaps he can see if Narvi still lives." She shrugged. "I suppose it does not hurt anyone to ask the questions..."

"Of course," Fandral smiled. "He would—if anyone could." He swept up to his feet. "Allow us to escort you, dear lady."

The group moved through the palace, speaking of nothing worthwhile. Several times, they had to pause for Sigyn to rest—despite the healing salves and potions, she still ached and was weary—but they still made their way.

"Loki has been a bad influence on you, Highness." Heimdall greeted them at the doorway. "You seek to do mischief, princess."

"I do not," she protested with a teasing smile.

"I see all," he said with his deep voice, answering her unspoken question. "I saw Narvi on Jotenheim. I see Neoth there now—a Jotun baby."

Sigyn frowned, puzzling this over—Narvi...Noeth? "How did you not see the Giants as they came to Asgard?" she gritted out.

"I do not know save that magic could hide them from my sight." He shifted slightly. "I sent word as soon as I did see them, but by then the...giants had destroyed in the weapons vault and Narvi already taken."

"Do you see Thor now?"

Heimdall looked meaningfully at Sif—almost sadly. "I do see him. I see that he misses his friends. I see that...he has found some new ones."

"Do you see him returning?" Sif blurted.

"I do see the prince of Asgard returning," he nodded.

Sif opened her mouth to speak—the words on her tongue when a sudden thought occurred to her. "Loki," she whispered softly. Heimdall only smiled at her. "Where has he been?"

"He has ways of making himself invisible to my sight," Heimdall said.

"But you can hear him, can't you?" Sigyn whispered.

"I can hear much, my lady."

"Can you hear Jotenheim?"

"I hear a child crying on Jotenheim. I hear a grieving father whispering to Laughey, though I cannot see him." He cocked his head slightly, regarding them. "I think the princess may want to go to the throne room."

"What do we do now?" Volstagg asked. "We cannot be in two places at once and someone must keep an eye on Loki."

Sigyn sniffed delicately. "I need to return to the palace if Loki is there. Perhaps I can soothe him..."

Sif snorted as guards appeared—rather too conveniently—to escort the princess back to the palace. Carefully, they guided her to a waiting craft and onto a soft cushion. Without much fanfare, they whisked her back to the palace, pressing her with refreshments. "You did that."

"Of course. I saw you coming."

Sif snorted again, walking to the door as she saw the craft fleeing down the rainbow bridge. "Can you see the future?"

"I can see much, Sister," he answered carefully.

"What is this that has been wrought?"

Heimdall seemed to think for a moment, and then replied evenly, "Even if I could and would see it and tell you, it would do nothing but confuse matters. For if what I predicted came to pass, would it be because my very words forced you down a path? If I predicted some ill tiding, and you changed some slight choice, some slight step, would you curse me if the ill tiding came to pass?"

"Do you see ill tidings?" Fandral asked slowly, watching as the craft down the rainbow bridge veered upward to the palace.

"I see much," Heimdall repeated. "I see joy and sorrow. I see friends leaving and friends returning—and new friendships blossoming."

"What of his 'new friends' on Midgard?" Sif asked quickly.

"He will not forget about you," Heimdall murmured softly. "This is Thor, after all."

Volstagg and Fandral chuckled softly. "It seems that we have heard those words before."

"Indeed," Heimdall said. "And she was wise to remind you. You would be wise to remember all that she has told you before."

"Why?" Hogun grunted.

"We are never guaranteed forever," Heimdall said. "We are not even the next day. The next hour. The next breath."

"Is she in danger?" Volstagg glared.

Heimdall sighed—almost sadly. "Not from among you. But her path is not smoothly paved and easily walked."

Sif rolled her eyes. Vexing creature her brother was—knowing so much and saying just enough to make one think so deeply that one could get lost in the shades of meaning. "Who is coming that would put her in danger?"

Heimdall only smiled. "I do not think that of all the possibilities that I see..." He paused dramatically. Vexing man. "You want the answer to that."

Sigyn was hurried through the palace with her escort. Grimacing, she sat gingerly down on a the first chair she was led to—and be damned the protocols and endless rules of precedence. The majority of the guards melted away from her, with only two still in close attendance as she waited. One of them—a younger lad who had brought her a horn of cool water and a package of honey cakes—tilted slightly closer to her and whispered, "He'll be back soon."

"Oh?" Sigyn asked. "Where are we?"

"The antechamber to the throne room," the other one replied. "If he does not use his sorcery, then he will have to come through here."

"Oh." Sigyn swallowed heavily.

"Sigyn!" greeted Loki as he came through the room. "Where have you been?"

"I have been visiting Heimdall and touring," she answered with a smile as his hand gingerly helped her up.

"Oh dear," Loki mocked gently, though through gritted teeth. "Should I be worried?"

"Not at all," Sigyn smiled and shrugged. "Sif was speaking of him and since you were...busy, I thought only to pass a few hours before seeking you out. Again."

Loki had the grace to blush. He cleared his throat and said, "You should still be resting. You surely cannot have healed after such...agony."

Sigyn sighed. "I suppose—but I was too restless." She cuddled close to him. "So am I to share you again with Asgard, or will I have you all to myself for a time?"

"Ahh, my little dove," he smirked, leading her down a hallway and waving dismissal to the guards. "You are tempting..."

"Is that a yes?"

"It is a regrettable—delay," Loki clarified. "I have an...important guest coming and must be ready to receive him."

"Oh." Sigyn sighed deeply. "Could I go with you?"

"I would not ask it of you," he explained hesitantly as he led them down the hall and up the stairs to the apartment they shared. "You did the audiences today and have been all over Asgard. I must have you rest and then at supper, I will make excuses and come to see you."

"All night?" Sigyn smiled.

"If all goes well, then, yes, it will be all night." He giggled. "Although if it goes very well, I might be insufferably...attentive." He frowned. "However, you must rest and I would not have you stir from here until supper."

"But Loki-" she protested.

Loki waved his hand in an arcane fashion and the windows each locked. "There has been too much chaos, my love. I would not risk you or your health."

"Loki," she frowned. "I should tell you something..."

"Oh?" he smirked.

"I asked Heimdall about...about Narvi." She wrung her hands. "He kept saying that there was a babe on Jotenheim—a baby named Noeth."

Loki gritted his teeth. "And what do I care about a Joten baby?"

"Could they have spared Narvi? Is there magic to make him Joten to hide him from you?"

Loki almost growled. "You should sleep." He jerked down the covers to the immense bed and pushed her down on the mattress. "Heimdall likes riddles."

"Then it is true," Sigyn whispered in amazement. "My son..." She sat up and wrapped her arms quickly around him. "You can save him."

"I cannot," Loki snapped angrily. His head had begun pounding again and the voices he swore he heard begging him for favors and assistance were louder. "I will not bring a Joten here—no matter what."

He gestured sharply and Sigyn felt the force of his magic press her down on the mattress. Another jolting gesture, and he forced her into a magical sleep.

What of his next child? A child that would be nurtured and carefully tended in her womb and then be killed by the "well-meaning" souls who feared the Joten even though they had walked side-by-side with him, fought with him, prospered under his direction and sought his wisdom and advice.

"Never again, my love."He made his vow silently, and watched the night sky from her small balcony. "As long as I am king—or king to be—no one will dare to take my child, nor harm you."

The rainbow bridge glittered like a thin thread of starlight. He spoke to her, even though he doubted that she would hear him. "I will not let them take another child." He saw the thin line of the Bifrost shoot across the sky. Distantly, he wondered what had taken them so long to plot their treason. Whirling, he turned towards her. "Tonight it will end forever and no one will stand in my way."

As he passed her on the bed and turn to teleport to the weapons vault, he swore he felt some tickle—as though prickles of magic were swirling elsewhere.

Sigyn woke swiftly, feeling dazed and confused. Loki was—of course—not around her. Damn the man. She staggered to the doorway where a guard looked at her in shock. "Take me to Heimdall. I need to speak with him about Loki."

"But...the king said-"

"I need to speak with Heimdall." She turned up her face and would have been glaring down her nose at him had she eyes. "Take me immediately."

"Y-yes, my lady," he stammered.

She frowned. "And, if at all possible, not over the bridge. It is too—exposed." Her voice dripped venom.

"Of course, my lady," he said. "There is a transport just at the end of the hallway."

Thank the good stars. Sigyn thought, realizing it could only be the transport she had just taken. Belatedly, she realized that her wild magic had somehow protected her from whatever spell Loki had cast to force her to sleep. She should really learn more about it—if there was time.

Loki stopped in the weapons vault to take the Casket with him and hide it under his cloak. It responded to him—the top glowing and opening a fraction—and spilling out a blue light. He wrapped it in a secret pocket in his cloak to hide the light. Undoubtedly Heimdall would try to stop him. Perhaps he should get help?

No. He reconsidered quickly as he glanced at the huge grating hiding the Destroyer. Thor would destroy him as a Joten. Thor would destroy his son—if this Noeth was, in fact, his son—and any child Sigyn bore from him. If Thor managed to scrape together enough pity, he might spare Sigyn—but not likely.

After all, if the positions were reversed, he'd do the same.

Loki stood in front of the dark black grate with Gungir in hand. He almost smiled sadly. He told himself he had only been having a lark—he had wanted to see what it was to have Father and Mother's approval. To see what it was to be Thor. And it was good—very good—to be Thor. People approved of you. People toasted to your health and smiled and nodded at you and—damnable headaches and voices aside—people looked to you for wisdom and guidance.

Thor returning—and he was on his way if his friends were already on the Bifrost and traveling to Midgard—would wreck everything. Oh, Odin would eventually forgive him his folly—maybe even allow him to stay, though there would be a period of punishments. But Thor—Thor would never let him forget it and would never let the people of Asgard forget that he was not even the son of Odin.

So it became an easy decision to release the Destroyer. "Destroy everything," he commanded. The great monster had no voice—didn't even nod—but some feeling, some slight flicker seemed to say that he was understood and to be obeyed.

Now, all he needed was the Bifrost. Then he could sit easily on the throne, and await the Joten as they marched directly into his plans and to their own doom.

Sigyn grew frustrated as they made their way down to the craft—having to stop and wait and wind around hallways to go to the craft. She sat, wrapped in a hastily borrowed guard's cloak with the hood pulled over her head, waiting for it to be refueled. Then there was some gathering—she honestly didn't care about what—and she chaffed at the delays as the guard had to herd them away. Some few threw flowers and called her name though they did not know she was there among them, toasting to her health in parties at homes or in taverns. It made her head ache as she heard the tavern keeper shouting his good wishes to no one in particular.

This was the street she had begged on. This is where she had tumbled into Loki's life. It felt—ominous and strange—as though she were remembering a different life. Her stomach rumbled uncertainly as though it was remembering being empty and she grew lightheaded for a moment.

Loki heard his brother's voice—above all the voices and demands in his head. He heard his brother beg for forgiveness. For mercy and to let his friends go.

It was good to be Thor. Odin would have crumpled then and let his son come back. Loki's mouth thinned. But then—Odin wasn't here. And the Joten were now waiting—as though they had ever known they would be led by him.

She didn't know what she intended to do. All right—that was a lie. She knew that she wanted to blow Laughey and his minions to whatever fate Hel had for them. Loki would not bring back her son—if he even lived—so he was as good as dead to them. Odin would not bring him back—especially if he were Jotun now. Thor would likely laugh at her. She had no power—no weapons. Sif and the rest of them were likely doing something else and in any case, what could a handful of Asgardians do against those brutes? They had already been all but killed once.

The Bifrost was immense power, though. She had only to beguile Heimdall away. Send him to sleep. Something to get it started. One of them had said something about setting the sword and thinking of the destination—that seemed simple enough. And the room had seemed entirely flat except for a dais she had brushed as she had been led inside.

Going around the back in the craft with her guard was so slow. She grit her teeth as they finally began the ascent to the glittering bridge to the little room.

She had been helped up to the rainbow bridge and the craft moored when she heard the guard gasp, staggering in alarm. "What is it?!" she demanded testily.

"Heimdall—he is frozen!" The guard hustled her back to the craft. "We must return to the palace!" He sat her down unceremoniously. "We will return the way we came to avoid anyone seeing us."

Sigyn was about to protest. Some word or something, but they were already beneath the bridge and darting starting to wind back when they heard a crack above them and a great battle cry. Ice shards rained down around them.

"Wait," Sigyn commanded the guard, who obeyed her without question.

The Bifrost opened again above them and then closed. The guard gaped from his place in the craft.

"Who has come?" Sigyn whispered.

"I don't know—" he admitted.

They waited, waited to see if friend or foe crossed the bridge.

"It's Thor! He is flying back to the palace above us even now." the guard cheered above the sound of the surf. "He's returned! And the Warriors Three and Sif have Heimdall." He heaved a sound of relief. "He has survived!"

"Blessed be," Sigyn said. "Hurry. Rise up and we will assist them."

The four were trying to get Heimdall's form down the road when Sigyn rose to the level of the bridge.

"My lady!" Fandral smiled. "You are well come!"

"Take the craft," Sigyn ordered. "We saw much from below and you need it more than I to get Heimdall to the healers."

"There is not room for all of us," Sif protested even as she shifted and began trudging to the craft.

"Of course not," Sigyn agreed placidly. "But I will stay behind." She heard the angry gasps. "We are under attack and the warriors need to be at the palace."

Sif flushed angrily and seemed about to say something, when Heimdall raised his head blearily. He coughed slightly and said to the others, "We will take the craft because it is Odin himself that is in danger." He smiled at the Sigyn, though she could not see it, and simply said, "I wish you a good journey, Princess."

That silenced any other protests and they all trudged to the craft, leaving Sigyn behind. She waved at them and said, "I will pull the sword so that none may follow you."

Sif smiled at her uncertainly and waved as the craft shot off down the rainbow bridge. The little form seemed to get smaller and smaller as though she was falling away from them. Heimdall coughed and the sound rattled in his chest and for a moment, she looked at him curiously. He only smiled softly and nodded to her.

"Hurry," she told the guard. "We must hurry."

Loki felt—elated.

There was smoke where before their most hated enemy had been. Mother was distraught, but gripping him as though he were the savior of the world. For a moment, his magic sought the comfort of knowing where Sigyn was.

And she was not there.

He frowned, trying to soothe his mother and find Sigyn. Surprisingly, she was calmly gripping the sword in the Bifrost and, with a slight frown—biting her lip as she did when she concentrated on something—she pulled down with all her might.

Then he heard Thor's boots coming down the hall—coming for him.

If Thor saw what Sigyn had done—he would slaughter her for treason. Loki—the Master of Lies and the Father of Mischief at once divined Sigyn's purpose. If she had spoken to him—trusted him, he would have worked her into his plans.

As it was, she would be considered a traitor and executed.

Thor was close now—even as he held his mother and comforted her.

With a split second of thought, he knew what must be done. He would take it all—make it seem as though Sigyn were innocent of deceit and treachery. And everyone would believe it. He smiled at his mother sadly—mysteriously—and waited for his brother to round the corner.

Sigyn gasped as the power flowed around her. She staggered back against the wall and crumpled there. It was Wild Magic that flowed through this thing—as though it was a tsunami pushed aside by the power that charged the room. She fancied she could hear the screams on Jotenheim.

She had no notion of time, but then Loki appeared in front of her. "Little love," he sighed. "My brother has returned and will not rest against me. You must flee before you are discovered and accused."

"Bother," she cursed, adding a few select words she had not said in some time.

Thor was hurtling through the air—hanging on to Mjolnir—when the first wave hit him. It was like a huge wave appeared in the air, forcing him to the side like ripples in a pond force a leaf to shore. But his brother must be stopped. For Sigyn's sake, if nothing else. There had to be a way to make him see reason...

"Go hide," Loki whispered, watching Thor get diverted slightly, then correct. "I will make it seem like I am alone here."

"I will be with you," she choked out fiercely. "No matter what comes."

"Hide!" he commanded and he flung his hands around.

Thor arrived, landing in the doorway. No one else seemed to be there and he felt some whit better. Loki began taunting him—like always—but he felt distant to it. Battered and worn.

"You can't stop it," Loki snapped. "The Bifrost will build until it rips Jotenheim apart."

"Why have you done this?" Thor demanded. It didn't matter—it was playing for time to figure out what to do next. Destroying the Bifrost was unthinkable—surely Loki knew that.

"To prove to Father that I am a worthy son!" Loki said. Loki seemed to shake a bit and then continued. "When he awakes, I will have saved his life."

Loki let the simulacrum speak, and continue taunting Thor. There was a vicarious pleasure in his voice speaking his words—even if it wasn't him. The things that he had buried—the feelings that had burned through him—they were venting out and there was no going back.

Only Sigyn stirred him, crouched against the wall was going forward. It was easy enough to become invisible, with his simulacrum taking his place, and then to pull her past Thor and down the bridge. At a safe distance, he left her there with a kiss on her invisible brow, to return to the battle.

Distantly, Sigyn heard Thor say "You can't kill an entire race." She frowned and tried to say something, but her voice was stolen in Loki's enchantment. She heard them arguing as she tried to speak, tried to signal them. But the bridge trembled beneath the battle and—it had no barriers. No way to avoid simply dropping off into oblivion.

"I should tell Odin to fix that," she thought distantly.

The explosions and battle cries were deafening as she crept down the road. Suddenly, a large thing flew past her and skittered off the edge. She heard Loki's cry and for a moment, felt helpless.

Then the heavy steps of Thor came up close to turn towards the other edge of the bridge. She shivered, feeling the tremors of the bridge beneath his feet. He still could not hear her, nor see her since he passed by so swiftly.

Loki said some small thing that she couldn't hear over the whipping winds and pounding surf beneath the bridge. Then, Thor was thrown back and a hundred voices of Loki surrounded them. It was impossible to tell which one was real.

"Enough!" Thor shouted and pounded the bridge.

Sigyn was thrust backward, one foot suddenly dangling off the edge of the bridge and the heavy sound of a body and a—staff or some metal thing—ringing. She tried to scream again and if any sound came out, it was buried in the rage around her.

She heard Loki's angry grunts and screams. Whatever happened, he could not rise. She crept closer. His hand smacked against her thigh, pushing her briefly away even as her hand reached for his chest.

There was the hammer. It was unmistakable—the short handle wrapped in braided leather and simply sitting on Loki's chest. Could he even breathe? It was hopeless—she could not move it.

Thor's heavy steps walked towards—unbelievably towards—the roar of the Bifrost. Then there was sliding. Sigyn dithered—should she go to him or shout or what?

"Go down the bridge and away!" Loki's voice angrily whispered.

She shook her head and tried again to move the hammer. "If Thor is lost, you'll never get out of here," she tried to whisper back.

Perhaps Loki heard her. Perhaps not.

"Look at you!" he shouted. "The Mighty Thor. With all your strength—and what good's it do you now, huh?!" Sigyn pulled on his belt and he cried out in pain. "Do you hear me now, brother? There's nothing you can do."

Suddenly, the hammer moved, flying towards Thor with a hum. Loki took in a deep breath and Sigyn backed up slightly to give him room. The Bifrost churned angrily—what had she done?-and it's roar and the roar of its machines were only getting louder.

Then there was the terrible sound of the crack.

The bridge shook.

Again—another crack against the bridge.

Sigyn lost what little blind footing she had. She gingerly stood, trying to get her bearings.

Then another crack and her knees buckled.

Three more times Thor pounded on the bridge to the Bifrost room.

"What are you doing?!" Loki demanded, shoving her down the bridge towards the castle. Sigyn was still so close and the bridge was brittle. He fumbled for a way to get his brother to think of what he was doing—just a few minutes more for Sigyn to get further down the bridge. "If you destroy the bridge, you'll never see her again!"

Loki drew the staff closer to himself and charged down the bridge. He jumped and poised to attack. Sigyn must never be found out-he must do his duty and play his part and she would be safe. Thor would watch over her, ensure her safety and health—his own oaths would see to that.

Then Thor struck the final time and the entire bridge shattered.

Sigyn dropped to her belly and clung to the bridge with scraping fingertips as she was thrown backwards and then pulled forwards, inch by painful inch. There was a roar behind her and the whining and straining machine was silenced in a scraping, crushing crash.

And other footsteps strode past her—heavy, metal booted ones that seemed to fly down the bridge. The scent of vetiver flew past—like the smell of well loved and well worn leather and old trees in fall. The spell must have worn off, for the Allfather's hand brushed her brow as he passed.

Loki's voice broke over the howling winds. "I could have done it, Father!" He seemed desperately far and Sigyn crept closer to the sounds, counting on luck. "I could have done it—for you!"

Loki could see little but the form of his brother dangling upside down above him. His father's immense form was on the bridge—strong and unmoving like a mountain. Sigyn was visible again, shaking at the edge. Too close! Too close to the edge and still she crept closer. Loki swallowed heavily. His lies were her only cover now. "For all of us."

For an impossibly long moment, Odin only stared at the man he had called his younger son. What Sigyn was doing here was unknown to him—but Loki's bitterness had apparently drawn her in too and his heart broke to consider it. Thor would protect her, keep her, but what Loki had done was unforgivable.

"No, Loki," he said gently.

Sigyn sobbed, uncaring of who saw or heard her. She knew his purpose—he was taking her sins on himself. Her bitterness and hatred and anger was forever shielded because he had lied to make it so. It would die with him for he surely had only seconds left to hold on.

"Loki, NO!" Thor warned. One breath later, he was screaming... "Nooooo!"

Odin was pulling Thor up. "Sigyn," was all he said.

"Sigyn?!" Thor gasped as scrabbled to get to the top of the bridge. Sigyn was there at the edge, suddenly visible. "When...? What?"

Then it broke his heart as Sigyn smirked at him—that devil-may-care, mischievous smirk his brother had given him so often when he had been about to spring some monstrous trick and reveal his plans. She somehow was smirking at him, looking like she was cheering him and for a moment he wanted to believe it was another disguise of his brother's to buy time for some other piece to fall into place. Was it not another trick as Loki scrambled to his own safety?

Then she jumped.

There was no hope. There was no time for reaction. Just the soft sigh as she fluttered past like a broken kite, over the edge and into the oblivion. Then she