Her mother finds the spellbook shortly after Sigyn brings it home. Sigyn comes home from the marketplace again to find her Mother in her bedroom, the book lying accusingly on her small bed.

Her heart drops immediately. She knows this is goodbye for the spellbook that has brought her such comfort these past few weeks.

"I want it gone," her Mother declares, refusing to even touch it, as if the spells might hurt her in some way. Sigyn wonders if that's why her Mother never really touches her anymore, either. "Burn it. Sell it. I care not. Take it out of this house. That is final."

"Yes, Mother."

When her Mother leaves, slamming the bedroom door behind her, Sigyn takes a few minutes to weep. Then she wipes her tears and thinks of a plan. She refuses to part with the book. She paid for it with her own money, so it is hers, and as the owner of her own property she will not let go of it.

But what to do? Her Mother will tear her room apart if she believes it's still here. She cannot hide it here, nor anywhere in the house.

Then she realizes. It's a risky plan, and if it doesn't work, she truly will have to give the book away. But she knows she can make it work; she can feel it in her bones, that certainty, running right along with her magic.

Sigyn snatches up the book and heads for Theoric's house.

Even at night, the golden city of Asgard glows. It's never truly dark there; Gladsheim emits enough light to illuminate the whole city, and there are always enough fires burning to keep the streets lit.

Yet somehow, they never lose sight of the stars. No matter how brightly Asgard burns, they can always see every single star in the night sky. It brings Sigyn comfort, in some strange way. Asgard cannot swallow everything up and hide it away, though the Allfather may try.

As she pulls up to the wall protecting the city, she begins to get jittery. She's so close she can almost reach out and touch Loki. Her fingers twitch, wanting to do just that, to thread themselves into his hair and pull him close. Sigyn closes her eyes and takes a few deep breaths, calming herself. It wouldn't do anyone any good if she messes up from anxiety and excitement.

She changes out of her dirtied and torn dress, taking a quick moment to pour water over her arms, legs, and wash her face and hair as best she can. When she's dry she slips on a nicer dress that she's saved for this particular moment. There's nothing to be done about the worn out brown boots she's worn this entire time; she has no embroidered slippers to wear, so she'll simply have to hope no one catches a glimpse of them underneath her skirts.

Then, last but not least, she casts a spell over herself and the twins. They coo and gurgle at the feeling of her familiar magic as their skin turns from blue to pale pink, their eyes turning white and blue.

It makes her sick to do this to her beloved boys. To do what Odin did to Loki, so many centuries ago. But it is not for very long, and it'll keep them alive to see their Father.

At least she can take comfort in the fact that they don't find her magic strange; she had worried about it at first, how they might react. But when they seemed to be comforted by it she realized that they had grown in her womb, feeling her magic the entire time. It was as natural to them as the air they breathed.

"I want you to know your Father's magic, as well," she says quietly, putting the sling back on. They blink up at her in the dim light, trying to understand who this strange woman with the blonde hair is, why she has their Mother's voice but not her face. She smiles and runs a hand over their soft hair, then takes the horse's reins and sets off for the gates into the lower part of the city. Her home.

It had been surprisingly easy, getting past the guards. Sigyn supposes she has the twins to thank for that; a lone woman out on her own likely would have gotten jostled, pinched, and felt up, but a single woman with babes at her breast was to be left alone. They still cast her odd looks, but assumed her only to be a farmer's wife coming into the city for business, nothing more.

She's grateful for that. It was not the first time she had worked her sex to her advantage, and Sigyn doubts it will be the last.

She has to leave the horse outside, but that's fine. She no longer needs her. Once she's in the city, Sigyn immediately sets out for her destination. She remembers each street, each alley perfectly, and she navigates them easily. She deftly avoids her parent's house and soon winds up at a small, darkened house at the top of a hill.

Please let him be here, Sigyn thinks. Please, please let him be here and let him be willing to help me.

Sigyn casts another look around, then knocks on the door. It takes a few more tries before light appears in the window and she hears heavy footsteps on the wood floor inside. She has only a second to take a deep breath before the door opens and Theoric peers out.

He stares at her for a long moment, clearly not recognizing her. "Do you need help?" he finally asks, ever polite and chivalrous. Sigyn had always liked that about him, in a way.

"It's me," she says quietly, and Theoric's eyes widen. "May I come in?"

"Good Norns," he says softly, then steps back. "Please, Sig-yes. Come in."

"Thank you." She looks about the street one last time before stepping in, relaxing only when the door closes behind her and the warm light of Theoric's house washes over her. She sighs, closing her eyes and finally realizing just how exhausted and sore she truly is.

"Sit down," Theoric says, motioning to a chair. She does, sinking into it gratefully, her feet almost crying out in relief. "Sigyn, how are you-where were you-what are you doing here?"

Sigyn rocks in the chair slightly, putting her arms around her boys. "I assume you heard from the other Einherjar about me. And Loki."

Theoric flinches back slightly and frowns. "I heard rumours, nothing more. The Allfather forbade anyone from speaking of it."

Of course he did, Sigyn thinks tiredly. She doesn't even have the energy to get irritated about it. "I am married to Loki, yes. And these," she says, angling her arms slightly so that Theoric can see her two sons, "are our children."

There's a tense silence and Sigyn waits, on edge. Her plan will succeed or fail depending on how Theoric reacts to the children. He stares at them for a long moment, his expression unreadable, his eyes dark from the candlelight. Then he gently reaches over and sticks a finger out near Vali's hand.

Vali squirms, then grabs hold of the finger and babbles something. Theoric's expression softens and he smiles, and Sigyn knows she is one step closer to Loki.

"That's Vali," she says softly, "and his brother is Narvi."

"They're beautiful," Theoric says. "They take after you." She says nothing to that. Theoric glances up at her, then winces again. "Can you not return to your usual looks? It's strange, hearing your voice coming out of that face, with that hair."

Sigyn laughs lightly. "My Mother always did bemoan the fact that I wasn't born a blonde. Black hair isn't attractive, apparently," she says. "But no, I cannot turn back. I'm not safe in this city anymore, Theoric. The Allfather banished me to live in the country. He says my marriage to Loki was not lawful, because he fears that my sons could have a legitimate claim to the throne."

"You've come back for him," Theoric says plainly, leaning back into his chair.

"I have."

He glances away, rubbing his mouth and shaking his head. "Was I so terrible an option, Sigyn? Could you not have been content, waking up to me every morning?"

This was the part of the conversation she'd wished to avoid. Sigyn looks away, then back to him. "It wasn't that," she says weakly. "I could have been content with you, in a way. It's just..." She trails off uncertainly. "I wouldn't have ever loved you. You know that. You may wish for me to, but you knew in your heart that I could not return your feelings. And you deserve someone who will love you, absolutely and completely, as Loki and I love each other."

And you were far too good a person for me, Theoric, she thinks. I did not deserve you. You did not need me enough. I need to be needed. Loki needs me; without him, I am nothing. Without me, he is nothing. You can stand on your own. You do not need me.

She does not say that. She knows Theoric would not understand it.

Theoric is hurt by her words, she can see that, but he accepts them with some reluctance. "What do you need from me?"

"A place to stay for the night," Sigyn says. "Food to eat. Safety. I need your friendship again, Theoric, and I have always treasured your friendship more than anything. I need you to stay with my sons and keep watch over them while I go to Gladsheim and see Loki."

Theoric hesitates. "Sigyn... what do you intend to do?"

"I plan to free him, and then we will all disappear," Sigyn says simply. "We will leave Asgard and go to live somewhere else. Somewhere in peace, where we will not be separated again and under the constant shadow of Odin's threats against our family." She swallows hard, tears in her eyes. "That is all I want, Theoric. I want peace. I want my family. I do not want the throne."

"You don't," Theoric says, "but Loki does."

"I can persuade him otherwise."

"Can you?" Theoric asks, staring hard at her. "Can you command such a man, Sigyn? He destroyed Jotunheim. He would have done the same to Midgard. He bows to no one and still claims he is a King. Who are you, to think such a man will bow to you and follow your every whim?"

"I am his Queen," Sigyn says after a long pause of thinking. "I am the one who was made for him, and he for me. I may not wear a crown, but I am a Queen, and he is my King, and he will kill everyone in the Nine if I so wish it, and he would save everyone in it if I simply asked him to."

Theoric suddenly looks frightened, ill at ease, and he flinches away from her when she reaches out and places her hand on his. "I know I can take him away from Asgard, my friend," Sigyn says. "All I need is your help and your faith, and Asgard will never have to worry about us again."

"He holds too much power over you," Theoric says, a note of horror in his tone.

"No," Sigyn says, shaking her head. "No one holds any power over me. Not anymore."

"Sigyn, this is madness. How are you going to let him out? How are you going to escape? The Allfather will follow you wherever you go, and you will never know peace again after this."

"Oh, my dearest Theoric," she sighs, "I have never known peace except for when I laid with Loki and felt his heart under my fingertips. I will never know peace again unless he can hold me in his arms, kiss my hair, and fall asleep with me. I will not know peace until he is there to see the first steps of our boys, their first words, and everything else that will come later.

"Please, Theoric," she says, getting on her knees before him, gazing up to him. "I am not too proud to beg, and beg I will. Please help me. Help Loki. Help our sons. Help us get away. For your love of me and my happiness, if nothing else."

Theoric is quiet for a long moment before he nods. "I will do as you ask, Sigyn," he says. Then he smiles faintly and shakes his head. "I was wrong to question you. You are the only person Loki will ever listen to, I think, and I should have known. Because you are you, Sigyn, and there are none other like you."

"There are," Sigyn says, standing up. "I simply had the great fortune of being the one to walk into Loki's cage one day. Thank you, Theoric. I will not forget this, I swear it."

"Do not forget me," Theoric requests gently, putting a hand on her cheek. "That will be thanks enough, that you look on me kindly after this and remember me always."

"I shall."