My heart pounding as though from running, I lean on the marble rail and give up on holding back the tears. They glitter in the slanting sunlight, small pools running into larger ones. My breath rasps in my throat. It's hard to think past the fog of pain clawing my vitals.

"How goes it, sweet sister?" The voice is familiar, as rich and liquid-elegant as Loki's. "Not well, I see."

I turn my head toward Freyr, my erstwhile half-brother, and essay a sad attempt at a smile. "You've been gone a long while," I comment inanely. He claps both hands to my shoulders and squares me before him, examining me closely. One swift fingertip sweeps a teardrop off my cheekbone.

"Trying to imitate my twin, little Synne?" He pulls me into an enveloping hug, stroking my hair. I choke a laugh into his chest.

"I sent him away," I manage at last, wrung dry of tears for the moment, if not of grief.

"Oh, little sister." Freyr rests his chin on the top of my head. "What wilt thee, then? Away from Asgard? A visit home?"

I shake my head, pulling away from his grip. "I won't be driven away by my choices." I give a diffident shrug, uncomfortable. "This is home to me, as much as Vanaheimr." I can't look at him, confessing this. "I know you and Freyja are all but hostages here, to our good faith ... " I trail off.

"But that was long before thy birth, sister mine." My brother tips my face back to his, smiling gently. "Thou art of the two worlds, not just the one. So, wouldst stay. Company, then? Distractions from grief? Long while since we sailed together."

Somehow his kindness just makes me hurt the more. I fling myself on my bed facedown, knowing it's petulant and childish, but unable to help myself. "Just let me alone!"

"As thee wilt, only send if thee wants me." He kisses the back of my head, ever the tolerant elder brother, before leaving me to my own devices.

I don't really pay much attention to the world around for the next little while, any more than I did while I was forcing myself to the decision. By the time I emerge from my rooms, all of Asgard knows that something ill passed between Loki and I, and he has been gone for some days. I know I should be relieved, but the truth is, I miss him. The halls seem emptier without his presence, and my bed seems colder.

These are tricks my heart plays on my mind, and I do my best to put them away from me. I can hardly bear silence for thinking, so I take to spending hours in the great hall, dancing and joking, pouring ale and mead, telling stories and singing. But my heart's not in it.

Wretchedly so, in fact. Many and many of Asgard's warriors and lords indicate their willingness to push Loki out of my mind, but I find half the time I don't even notice their advances. Those who are not rebuffed by past reputation and current distraction become ever bolder, and Freyr visits me again to insist I carry a blade on me. I have to wind him tight in seithr's coils before he leaves off.

I know he is merely looking out for me, though belatedly, but every touch of caring against my raw heart is like the wound anew.

I truly did not think it would be so hard. Am I not Vanr, long reputed to be shallow of heart? In truth, we merely hold lightly to the bonds Asgard holds so high. And even among us are those who cleave quickly and irredeemably to one, never to share.

Though I never thought it, it seems I am one such. And it is to Loki I am bound.

I will not give in, though. I meant what I said to Loki: I will not be possessed. He is jealous, and well I know it, but I'll not be controlled by it.

Some day he'll understand that.

In the meantime, I must find a new way to shape my life. Years I gave mostly to Loki, and I will not regret that. The fighters praise my voice. I'll build on that, for now.