She sees him on her first day at the Healing Houses.
After having hidden her spellbook with Theoric, Sigyn spent days wondering where to go from there. Her parents will not allow her to study magic, but Sigyn cannot ignore it either. She cannot ignore the way it shapes how she sees the world, how she interacts with it, how she feels it pulsing with life around her, from the leaves on the trees to the rocks on the ground.
She has no money for a tutor, and her parents will not approve of one anyway. What, then, is she to do?
Then she looks to the East and realizes the answer lies right in front of her.
It took quite a lot of trickery on her part, and cunning, but Lady Eir finally agrees to take her on as an apprentice. She must learn some way to control her magic; she fears it will drive her mad if she does not. Healing is not quite the sorcery work she was dreaming of, but Sigyn thinks it will be a fine substitute.
Her parents rage at her for days. She cares not. She has what she wished for, and nothing else matters.
Then she sees him.
He is not much older than her, and his clothes immediately mark him as one of the royals. His black hair is pushed back, and everything about him is neat and orderly, his green and gold clothing spotless and straight.
Green and gold, Sigyn wonders. She thinks of her spellbook and wonders if, in some way, it was an omen.
She stares for a second longer and the boy turns around to face another healer, and she gasps softly at the bright green colour of his eyes. He is beautiful, and he will grow up to be handsome, and something draws her to him. She does not know what it is, all she knows is that she wants to reach out and touch him, to have him see her, know her, and say her name.
"Sigyn."
Sigyn jumps and turns away to face Eir, who is standing at the corner with a stern frown.
"Come along. Clear your mind of those daydreams."
"Y-yes, my Lady. Forgive me."
Sigyn looks back once to see the boy, but he is gone. She tries to ignore the sudden loneliness she feels at his absence.
It is not until later that she learns he was Loki Odinson, the second heir to the throne. Sigyn rolls the name on her tongue, tasting it, and shivers despite the warmth of the day.
Loki Odinson. She looks to Gladsheim, and wonders if their paths will ever cross again.
She hopes they do.
The Healing Houses do not feel as welcoming as they had when she was a child.
Sigyn walks through the halls briskly, avoiding making eye contact with anyone who passes her. Once, the sickly sweet smell of the myriad of herbs gathered in the medicine room comforted her. Now it only makes her gag and wonder how she had ever put up with it.
There is also, disconcertingly, a slight hint of blood in the air. Sigyn wonders if that is what she smelled like when she first met Loki, and how he did not recoil from her.
Because that is Loki, she thinks. Because you are you, and he cannot deny you, just as you could not deny him from the very second you saw him. And because blood does not bother him in the least.
She absently rubs a hand over her chest, uneasy with the lack of weight on it. She's carried her boys on her chest for so long, she'd gotten used to it. Now she cannot get comfortable without them right there with her. But she cannot do this with them; this part is solely her own, something she must complete herself.
She steps into the medicine room and looks around at the healers gathered there. Eir is not in, which is a stroke of luck, so Sigyn heads over to the next healer in command, Bára. She sighs, feigning exasperation.
"The prisoner needs another pain potion," she says, lilting her voice a few octaves higher. "He tried to escape. Again."
Bára rolls her eyes and shakes her head. "He's going to drink up all our stores," she says, going over to the shelves. Her hand wanders along the bottles before picking one up and handing it to Sigyn. "Here. This one will put him to sleep for a good long while."
Sigyn nods and thanks Bára, then heads back out, heart thumping wildly that her plan seems to be working. She quickly leaves the Houses before anyone thinks to look at her for too long, to see past her disguise.
And then she heads for Gladsheim.
The palace is quiet. It had been so even when Sigyn was there every day, all the soldiers away at war, the royal family concerned with matters of kingdom and the Nine.
She is thankful for the quietness and the emptiness of the corridors today. It should make her plan that much easier.
Sigyn hurries to the dungeons, keeping her head bowed. At the entrance, the guards stop her and one inquires as to her purpose.
She holds up the bottle. "Medicine for the traitor," she says. "The Queen requested it to ease his sleep. She says he's been having nightmares. It will also keep him quiet for some time."
The guards glance at each other, then nod. They open the door and allow her through, and it takes everything in her not to yell with triumph.
I'm so close, Sigyn thinks. I'm nearly there. Just wait a few more minutes, Loki.
The other prisoners drift to the golden, energized glass cell walls as she walks past. A few leer at her, shout something she can't hear but can easily guess what it may be, and she ignores them all. They are not important. They mean nothing to her.
Only one person does.
They've put Loki in one of the strongest cells, in the lowest level of the dungeons. She expected that. It doesn't matter, either. She will free him, and there is nothing that can stop her.
Her hands shake as she finally makes it to the cell, and she stares into the window, her heart jumping into her throat when she sees him. His back is turned to her as he sits in a chair, his head down as if he is reading, and Sigyn's allowed to drink in the sight of him as much as she pleases.
My beautiful husband, she thinks. My dearest, beloved Loki. How I have missed you.
Sigyn walks up to the steps and the glass wall allows her in. It takes her a second to remember how to walk, to remember how to move her feet so that she can step inside the cage once again and leave herself at Loki's mercy.
The glass wall closes behind her and Sigyn feels as if she could weep, she is so happy.
Loki does not even look up at her. "More medicine, I assume?" he asks blankly. "Put it on the table."
"You're not going to make me force it down your throat?" Sigyn asks teasingly, and Loki pauses. Something in his expression shifts and then is gone, and he still won't look at her.
"Leave me be."
Sigyn bows her head and goes over to the table, waiting for Loki to look up at her, to see her underneath this illusion and know her. She sets the medicine down by his water pail, then stands there.
"I think this was more exciting the last time I did this," Sigyn says lightly.
Again, another pause, and she can hear a page being turned over in Loki's book. "I said leave me be."
What have they done to you, my love? Sigyn wonders. Then she turns and sheds her spell, her blonde hair fading again to black and her pale skin deepening to olive.
"Loki," she says quietly, her voice returning to its normal tones. "Loki, dearest, it's me."
His head snaps up, his green eyes meeting her own brown ones for half a second, and then he is out of his chair and he is on her, kissing her, crushing her, pressing her against the wall. She kisses him back just as fiercely, not minding the pain, relishing how his hands grip her hips so hard they will bruise later. It is a desperate, hungry kiss, nothing at all like the slow ones they shared before, and Sigyn adores it.
"Sigyn," Loki says hoarsely, his breath on her face. "It cannot be you."
"It is," she replies softly, running her hands up his front to his shoulders. "It is me, husband."
"They told me you were dead," Loki says shakily. His eyes are roaming, just as they did when she first met him in the first prison cell, and it breaks her heart to see how far he's regressed. "They said you were dead, you died when the child came. They said the child was born dead as well. They said-"
"Shhh," Sigyn says, rage burning through her at the Allfather's lies. "I am not dead. Our children are not dead. We are all alive. I am here, blood flows through my veins still, my heart beats steadily, and I am not dead."
Loki's eyes finally focus on her face, and then he gives a dry, broken sob and nearly collapses against her. "Sigyn," he whispers into her hair. "Sigyn, Sigyn, Sigyn, my Sigyn."
She allows this to continue for a few minutes, holding him, stroking his hair, before pulling away. "We must go. We haven't much time."
Loki nods, managing to pull himself together. "How do we get out?"
Sigyn smiles slightly, taking his hand and pulling him over to the wall. "I may have learned a thing or two while I was banished." Calling on her magic, she puts a finger to the glass and ignores the pain that radiates up her arm from the contact, drawing runes on it.
The sound of shattering glass follows a few moments later. When the guards come running in, there is only an empty cell to greet them.
Loki stares at his children with blatant awe and love. Sigyn watches, smiling, resting her head on his shoulder as the boys wave their arms up towards Loki, somehow instinctively recognizing him as their Father.
"What did you name them?" Loki asks quietly, never taking his gaze from them.
"Narvi," Sigyn says, brushing a finger against the cheek of her child, "and Vali."
"Vali and Narvi Lokason," Loki whispers, and Sigyn closes her eyes at how perfect it sounds. "You will be Kings one day, my sons."
Admittedly, it ruins the moment somewhat for her. Sigyn sighs, shaking her head. "Oh, Loki. Let us put aside the thoughts of crowns and who will sit on which throne. At least for tonight. Tonight," she says, whispering it in his ear, making him shiver. "Tonight I want you all to myself."
Loki manages to look away from his sons to her, and Sigyn is heartened by the awareness she sees slowly coming back into his expression. He smiles slowly, his eyes lighting up with hunger and desire, and then he sets their children down into the crib. They coo and gurgle, and she has to get them to sleep before she can lead Loki by the hand to the bed that sits in the corner of the small room.
She'd almost forgotten, in her time spent in banishment in that tiny cottage, how his hands felt as they pressed against her skin, exploring her body, coaxing little moans and quiet sighs from her. How he seemed to know just exactly what to do with his tongue and fingers to make her back arch against the mattress as hot, burning pleasure burst through her. How he felt inside of her, how it made him groan and pant and suck on the skin of her neck in his ecstacy. How he would hold her afterwards, eyes closed and a content expression on his face, his fingers threading through her long hair. How he'd murmur softly against her hair, her skin, before pulling her into lazy, loving kisses.
She'd almost forgotten. Loki had no issue giving her a very thorough reminder that night.
It isn't until much later, when she's watching wax slowly slide down a candle, that Loki kisses her shoulder and asks, "What will we do after this?"
Sigyn pauses. She'd prepared for that question, so her hesitation is not a result of having no idea what to do, but rather from the fact that she knows he won't like the answer. She'd hoped to put this off until the morning, but there is nothing to be done for it. Loki's mind will not calm until he knows.
She rolls over onto her side to face him. His arm around her waist tightens slightly, pulling her as close to him as she can get. "There is somewhere we could go. Jotunheim."
Loki stills. Then he pulls away to look down at her. His voice is flat when he answers with a simple, blunt, "No."
"Loki, listen to me," Sigyn says. "It is our only choice. There is nowhere we can hide from Odin and his forces, not in these Realms."
"Jotunheim doesn't exist-I destroyed it-"
She shakes her head. "You didn't. The Realm sustained great damage, yes, it's true, and many dead. But it still exists. And with Laufey dead, you are its King."
Loki jerks away from her as if he'd been slapped. "No, Sigyn."
She waits a second, and then her mouth presses into a thin line and she sits up. "Loki, you listen to me, and you listen to me well. We have no choice. If you truly do not wish for Odin to inflict any further harm on you or us, then we must do this. We must go to Jotunheim, and you must take up the crown and declare the boys your heirs. Then anything Odin does to you afterwards would be risking another war between the Realms, and any hope he has of further peace between Jotunheim and Asgard."
His expression breaks her heart. It's a confusion of anger, despair, hopelessness, and utter fear. "Sigyn, I can't. Do not ask this of me. I am not a monster, I'm not-"
She leans down, putting her hand on his cheek, and gives him a kiss. "You're not a monster," she says softly, her breath warm against his cool lips. "You are my husband. You are the father of my children, our beautiful sons. You will hopefully be the father of many more of our children. You are a King. You are a glorious man, Loki, and you are not, and never have been, a monster."
Loki stares at her and for a second she isn't certain her words have reached him. Then he slowly relaxes against her, his eyes fluttering closed. "My beautiful, brilliant Sigyn," he sighs. "How terrible and fearful a Queen you will make."
She takes that for what it is; his agreement to her plan. Sigyn nuzzles his nose, giving him small kisses. "There will be troubles," she whispers. "They will not accept an Aesir Queen."
"We will make them accept you," Loki whispers back, fingers trailing up her spine, making her skin break out into gooseflesh. "I am their King, and they will not defy me."
She can feel him getting hard again, so she puts her hands on his shoulders and pushes him down on to the bed. He complies, staring up at her lustfully, his hands falling to her hips as she straddles him. "You will not be a cruel King, husband," she says sternly, gently rolling her hips, rubbing his erection against her. He hisses and it takes everything in her not to give in. "We must earn their loyalty through kindness and love, not through fear and hostility."
"D-do they know any other way to be?" Loki manages, and Sigyn feels a burst of pride that she can make him stutter like that. Her, and no one else.
"They will," Sigyn says. "If they do not know of it now, they will learn. You will obey me, Loki," she says, suddenly pulling on his hair on some primal urge. "I am your Queen."
"My Queen," Loki groans, closing his eyes and baring his throat to her. It occurs to her then that he will only ever do this for her, be this vulnerable for her. It takes her breath away, how intimate and trusting that simple movement was.
"My King," she whispers against his neck as she lets the length of him enter her. "My husband."
The rest of their worries and the outside world faded away, if only for a while, as they made up for their lost time. Before the dawn broke the next day, they were gone from the small hunting cottage.
It would be quite a while before anyone heard from them again.