Once, a girl was born to a common seamstress and a low ranking Einherji. They are not noble born; they do not feast every night with the other nobles and royals in Gladsheim. The girl does not wear fine silks and have a servant to help her with her hair each night, nor does she go to feasts and gatherings at other halls, stay up far into the night and sleep until late in the day. (And when she does, it's when she's older and because she stayed up all night reading a book, not dancing with fine men and laughing with the other ladies on the sidelines of a dancefloor.)
The Asgard she knows, the Asgard Sigyn Iwaldadottir grows up with, is tight corridors filled to the brim with people animals and shopkeepers yelling their about wares into the air. It's the scent of herbs and plants from the outlying fields and gardens to the East, being sold by the farmers not lucky enough to be patroned by the royals or nobility. It's smaller living places, not quite as grand as the royalty closer to Gladsheim, nor the great halls lining the edge of Asgard by its ocean. They sit squarely in the middle of both.
Her Asgard is a bustle of noise and busyness and working day in and day out. She is, quite simply, a peasant, and she is content with that.
Her mother is not.
"One day, Sigyn," her mother says as she pulls a brush through her daughter's black, curly hair, "one day you will marry a great lord, or a warrior, or even the Prince. And then we can regain our lands, our titles. All our hopes lie with you, child."
Sigyn stays silent during these moments, eyes smarting at the pain her mother's brushing causes, and does not say that she is fine where she is. Asgard treats their lower classes better than some other Realms, and if she is honest, even if she wants to attend feasts and wear beautiful dresses and jewels, she feels a little below all that.
As her mother is fond of saying as the centuries pass and Sigyn does not advance in life, she feels she does not really deserve them.
Sigyn wakes with a start. Every muscle in her body tenses as suddenly she's alert, eyes roaming the dark forest around her to find what has awoken her, what has set off this feeling of something being not quite right. Her twins sleep peacefully in their sling against her chest, making no noise, so she knows it was not them that woke her.
Which leaves the question of what did.
She takes up her walking stick and wishes she could light a fire with her magic to illuminate the darkness. The small fire she'd made for herself when she set up camp has long since gone out, leaving only a few burning embers left. Her heart beats so hard she can hear it in her ears and she wishes she couldn't, wishes she could calm it down so that she might hear a rustle in the bushes or a growl of a wolf, something, something that will let her know what's stalking her just now.
She casts a quick glance over to her bag of food, the last few bits she has left. She's been walking for so long now, and the food has not lasted as long as she'd hoped it would. And Sigyn knows she's barely over halfway through with her journey.
A rustling catches her attention and she tenses again, an arm settling over her babies protectively. The bush to her side rustles again, then she's vaguely aware of something moving in between two bushes to come into the clearing where she's been resting, and-
Sigyn jumps as the goat bleats loudly at her, then lets her shoulders drop in utter relief. She leans against the tree she's been sitting by and closes her eyes, trying to calm her pounding heart.
"That was not kind of you," she says to the goat sternly, who only blinks back at her. It comes over and she realizes it's a domesticated goat, not like the ones found roaming the mountains that would sooner push you off a cliff than nuzzle your hand for food. Sigyn also realizes a second later that the goat is a female and it's pregnant.
Instantly her hands twitch and she wishes she had a pail with her so she could milk the goat. Goat's milk would be a welcome treat. Still, she has no such supplies to do that, so Sigyn simply pets her. "Are you far from home, sweet mother?" Sigyn asks, feeling burrs and a good layer of dirt in her coat. "You shouldn't have left. You're close to giving birth to your baby, and this forest is no such place for a kid or a doe such as yourself."
The goat merely bleats at her again before eating more grass. Sigyn sighs, watching as the sun slowly rises and begins streaming through the trees. Her boys soon wake up and cry to be fed, so she slips off her cloak and the top of her dress, holding them to her breasts. Once they're finished she gets them out of their sling and changes their clothes, letting them wave their hands and legs to stretch out before placing them back.
The goat seems content to provide Sigyn company, so she doesn't shoo the animal away. In truth, she likes having something other than herself and her children to talk to, even if the goat can only bleat back and chew at her cloak. It gives her the illusion of not being so alone. Even if she is.
"You know," she says after she's done with her breakfast, preparing for yet another day of walking, "I wouldn't have minded living in that cottage they banished me to, if I had some animals of my own. A nice goat like you, maybe a cow. Some dogs and cats. I could have set up my own little farm. I like gardening; I had a garden back in the city where I grew all my own herbs. I used them in my healing and then sold my products in the marketplace by my house."
Sigyn stops, tilting her head to the side as she considers the idea. Then she shrugs. "But they didn't give me a very big house, and they took my husband from me. I require a house that's big enough to hold all my books, and my husband to help me occupy it." She looks back to the goat. "It's still an idea worth thinking about, though, isn't it?"
"Gylla!"
Sigyn jumps up to her feet at the sound of a man's voice, her stick back in her hand, her twins protesting at the sudden, harsh movement. The goat's ears flick, then she turns and begins walking towards the sound of the voice. Sigyn swallows thickly as the man yells again, and she can see an old man wandering through the forest not too far from her. She quickly puts the pieces together; obviously the goat belongs to this man, who is a farmer, and now the goat will be able to go back home in time to have her kid.
Sigyn glances down at her twins, then to the bag that holds the remains of her food. She glances back up to the man as he's reunited with the goat-Gylla-and her hands tremble. Is it worth the risk? If he's a farmer, he would have food. He would have water.
But he would also have weapons strong enough to kill Jotuns.
You can protect them, she thinks. You can outrun him, old as he is. You need food. You won't make it to Loki if you don't find more food now.
Shaking, Sigyn takes a step forward, then another, and another, until she breaks through the clearing and finds herself upon the old farmer and his goat. The man blinks, then stumbles back a little in surprise before cracking a smile and laughing. She decides she likes his smile immediately; it's heavily lined around the mouth and his eyes, as if he smiles often. It's a kindly look.
Please be kindly to me and my children, she thinks desperately. Please. Spare me some kindness and give me some hope.
"I didn't think there was anyone else here," he says, petting Gylla fondly as he stares at Sigyn. "Especially not a young one like you, and..." His eyes stray to the sling and then back up. He hasn't seen her twins yet, but he knows she's carrying children. "What in the Nine are you doing out here, little lady?"
"I-I'm traveling," Sigyn says, her voice cracking. She swallows hard and clears her throat. "I need to get to the city. I'm going to my family there. My horse is lame, so I've been reduced to walking these past... ten days."
"Ah," the farmer says with a knowing nod. "The forest is hard on horses sometimes." He squints at her. "Why are you traveling alone?"
Sigyn glances down to the ground. "My husband is dead, sir," she says. "'Tis only me and my children now. That's why I must get to the city, so I may live with my family again until I'm able to regain my footing."
He looks at her sympathetically, then pauses and squints harder. Unease trickles down her spine, but then he shakes his head. "Well, thank you for keeping Gylla company," he says. "She's always wandering off somehow. I thought I fixed the borders so she couldn't escape anymore, but I suppose she's proved me wrong on that count."
"So she has," Sigyn says. She shifts uncomfortably, then blurts out, "May I come with you? I-I'd hate to be an inconvenience, but I'm running out of food, and I need a place to rest that isn't outside. I will be able to pay you, once I'm in the city."
"No need to pay me, girl," the farmer says. "I'd be happy to help."
The farmer's name is Breidr, and he tells Sigyn all about himself and his life as she sits in his house, eating a large breakfast. He still hasn't seen the twins yet, as when she sat down, she set a thin cloth over them under the pretense of shielding them from the light so they could sleep. He simply nodded and bought her lie, then went about feeding her.
"... So then Fasta died, and now it's just been me these last few decades. Our sons are all grown and left a while ago, to start their own farms or become Einherji."
Sigyn swallows her large bite of food and inclines her head respectfully. "I'm sorry for that, sir."
"Eh, it is what it is. They're all successful with families of their own now. Maybe when I'm too old to handle this place by myself, I'll go join them in the city." He's silent for a long moment, his gaze distant, then he focuses on her again and frowns. "What did you say your name was again?"
She pauses. "I didn't. I'm sorry, that was horribly rude of me. I'm... Sigyn."
Something clears in his expression and Breidr smiles broadly. "I thought you had a familiar look about you! Sigyn Iwaldadottir, isn't it?" Before she can respond, he laughs. "I met you when you were just a small thing, barely up to my waist. You were one of Lady Eir's apprentices."
She shifts uncomfortably. She had been enjoying listening to this man talk, enjoyed being here in his home. It was separate from everything that existed in the city. Breidr barely even knew about the events during Thor's coronation, or that Jotunheim was barely holding on to its existence as a Realm. He hadn't known about Loki and what he tried to do.
It had been nice, pretending for a time that it didn't exist. That it didn't affect her in some way.
"I'm sorry, sir," she says sincerely, "I don't remember you, or your wife."
Breidr shakes his head. "It's been so long ago now, I didn't think you would. You've grown up into a right pretty girl, m'lady. And your husband..." He grins and the sinking feeling returns to her stomach. "That one boy who always followed you around. What was his name? Tomas?"
"Theoric," she answers quietly.
"Theoric, yes! Though I'm sorry to hear he's dead now."
Sigyn fingers the cloth of the sling, keeping her gaze down. "He died serving his King. It was an honourable death, sir, nothing to be sorry about."
Breidr reaches over and pats her hand gently, knowingly. "It gets easier as time goes on. The pain will always be with you, and you'll always find yourself looking to your side to smile at them only to realize they're gone again. But it does get easier."
Does it? Sigyn wonders. Does it truly? What if they aren't dead, merely imprisoned and out of your reach seemingly forever? Does it get easier then? Loki's soul throbs behind her heart and she knows that, perhaps for some people, it might get easier. But it will never get easier for her. She needs Loki like she needs air; he's a vital part of her world, and without him, nothing is as it should be.
She can't go on without him. She simply can't.
"And your children? What are they called?"
"Vali and Narvi," she says, putting an arm around them again. "Forgive me, I don't want to wake them."
Breidr nods with a kind smile. "I understand. Once you get them to sleep, you feel like you can't breathe without risking waking them up again."
She smiles and nods, then pauses and stands. "I should go," she says. "Thank you so much for breakfast, and for filling my bags again. But truly, it's time to keep going."
"Wait," Breidr says, standing with her. "Wait here." He leaves and Sigyn resists the urge to sneak out while he's away. When he returns, he simply motions for her to follow him, so she does. Outside is a beautiful brown mare with a saddle and bridle on, clearly ready for travel.
Sigyn stares at the horse, then at Breidr. "I couldn't..."
"Nonsense," he says, taking her bags from her. She shies away from him when his hands get too close to her children, but he doesn't notice as he goes to put the bags on the horse. "It'll still take you another week to get to the city, but she'll get you there faster than you would on foot. The saddle sores might not beat blistered feet, but at least it'll only be a few more days of pain instead of quite a lot more."
She blinks back tears and lets him prepare the horse for her. "Thank you," Sigyn says quietly, wondering if he knows he's helping the wife of Loki, mother to half-blood sons. Would he be so kind and helpful if he knew what she was?
Sigyn decides not to find out. With some difficulty she climbs onto the horse, wondering if now is a bad time to mention that she's never rode a horse before. Far be it from her to say no, though. Anything that gets her to Loki faster, the better.
"There," Breidr says. "You're all set." He pauses, then says uneasily, "You'll want to stay on the widest path through the forest, from my house. And avoid the East. There are things in that part of the forest that no woman and child should find."
Sigyn stares at him for a long moment, then smiles easily. "Thank you for the warning, sir," she says. "And for everything else. I don't know how I'll ever repay you."
"Repay me by getting home safe and sound," Breidr says, then slaps the rump of the horse. "Farewell, m'lady."
"Farewell." She rides on down the path, letting the horse keep her slow pace. Once she's far enough away, she glances behind her to make certain Breidr can no longer see her. Then she pulls the reins to the right, breaking off from the path and heading to the East.
I do not fear monsters, Sigyn thinks as the horse makes her way through the brush. Why should I, when I am one myself?