Night falls quickly, with the sunʻs bright orange glow giving away to a dark sky devoid of stars. Iʻm relieved. Iʻve had enough of this day only filled with bad news. The guards leave the hall, off to bed or whatever they do when their work here is done. Yet I stay sitting, on this throne that I have waited so long to rule upon. Its rather overrated, being king, though its lovely to be able to do whatever I wish, to have all this power. And even better is the fact that even though Odin did all he could to keep me from getting the throne, he failed. I succeeded, and he, the man I hate, failed.

When the last guard closes the heavy golden doors behind him, I transform back into my true self. Its tiring, pretending to be a man you are not, especially when you hate him. To hide your personality and be regal and dignified and serious, when all you really want to do is laugh, be sarcastic, send someone away to their death.

Sitting back, I think of Thor. I hope he is well, on Midgard. With his mortal lover. I hope they live happily ever after, peacefully. Until the end of her days, merely a heartbeat in the life of my brother. Heʻll be devestated, of course. Yet maybe then heʻll understand. What its like to lose everyone you love. Like I did. I do not want him to feel such heartbreak, but it is better if he does. Heʻll know all I warned him of, then. When he comes rushing home with nothing.

Suddenly, I hear a light footfall. I sit straight up, alert. Is there a trespasser in the castle, or just another guard? Iʻm frozen for a moment, listening for another sound, but, after two minutes, I can conclude that its only my imagination. Hesitantly, I reach under the throne and pick up one of the books I secretively slid beneath it. Moments later, Iʻm too busy reading to listen for anything suspicious. Itʻs getting quite late, but Iʻm too exhausted even to head to bed. Just one more chapter...

Iʻm awoken by something cold and sharp on my throat. I slowly open my eyes to see a hooded figure towering over me, holding a sword in their hand. A sword thatʻs blade is pressed to my throat. My assasin laughs, then says in a voice so husky I cannot tell whether it is a man or a woman, "Iʻm afraid that you might need to improve your security a bit, Asgardian..." I reach frantically for a dagger, finding it hidden inside my sleeve, as usual. I pull it out, using it to push the sword far enough from my throat so that I may stand.

"A dagger? Seriously? Youʻre going to win a fight with me with a goddamn dagger?" the assassin laughs again, and this time, I can conclude it is a woman. She has a good point. I grab the first larger object in sight, which is Odinʻs staff.

Before I make the first move, however, I decide to try a different tactic. "Um, is this really necessary? And first of all... who the hell are you and why do you have a problem with me?"

"Iʻm...well, you donʻt really need to know my name. But many years before, the All-Father gave my mother land on the outer edges of the realm. Yet yesterday, soldiers, of Asgard, came to take it back. Not only that, but I was given the information that Odin no longer rules Asgard. Instead its his adopted son Loki Laufeyson who does so. Even in the far edges of this realm we have heard of you, even if you have never hear my name." So this is the same woman who calls herself Sigyn, who claims she has the right to a puny kingdom. Small as it is, however, Iʻm afraid I canʻt let her have it. If I did, the soldiers, the rebels, they would all know that Loki Laufeyson could be bossed around by a woman. Not only that, but a woman that has little power, no noble blood, just arrogance.

"Iʻm afraid it wonʻt be that easy, my lady Sigyn. I hear that you rule a kingdom, so you must be familiar with how that works. You see, if I let you have part of Asgard, all the world will see that just anybody can boss me around. Iʻve got a deal for you: if I can beat you in a fight, then you shall leave, and I shall never see your face again. Not that Iʻve seen your face, due to your cloak, but thatʻs just a technicality. And if you win, then you shall have your kingdom and you will never have to see my gorgeous face again."

"Fair enough. Though Iʻd like to argue with gorgeous face part. And you do know that I will fight to the death. And I shall have little hesitation killing a liar who has killed many. It would just be a favor to the world," she says.

"You think youʻre so honorable, but youʻre just as bad as I am, my lady. I wonʻt hesitate to kill you either. Are you ready?"

"Always." She springs into action, each move calculated. I fend off each offense, but just barely. Now this is a proper fight!

Sigyn

Spin-duck-slice... then a jump and spin to land facing towards him... lean to side-jab... then spin out of way. Thatʻs my next sequence, I think to myself while almost effortlessly avoiding my opponentʻs poor offensive. To anyone else, this planned technique would be ridiculous. Not to me. Itʻs my secret. A secret that Loki Laufeyson doensʻt no, nor does anyone. Heʻs not bad, really. The fight would be over if I was fighting someone else, most likely. And I would have won. Yet here I am, still dancing, or, as normal people call it, fighting, in a throne room to protect my kingdom. Itʻs a lovely place for a duel, really. Though thatʻs not something you can appreciate if one wrong step could lead to the end of your life.

I stumble briefly. "Damn," I whisper to myself. As I try to regain my footing on the slippery golden steps, the Asgardian takes the chance to make his move. Before I can move, I am suddenly falling, the breath knocked out of me by the side of the spear. The room spins for a moment as I fall, the ceiling now coming closer. I scramble in mid-air to right myself, to try to land on my feet. He was stronger than I expected. Then Iʻm falling again, towards the bottom of the stairs. Sailing through the air, I land with a thud at the bottom of the steps. All of this occurs in only less than five seconds. My head throbs, and I gasp for breath, dizzy. No time, though. I spring to my feet, reaching for my sword. "Damn damn damn damn it!" I mumble to myself. I spy it laying halfway across the room. Loki is running towards me, spear outstretched. Time to act, quickly. Springing to my feet, I ignore the pain, instead focusing on the silver glint. Two feet, one foot from my opponent. At the exact second, I duck, continuing my path towards my weapon. No time to look back to see if it worked. Only time to run. I canʻt be more than ten feet away. It lays beside the throne, which is swiftly approaching. Six feet. Five. At four feet, I feel a sharp pain in my back. I cry out in sudden pain, collapsing to the ground. Heʻs behind me. I know he is without even looking back. Coming closer. Running, ugly green cloak streaming behind him. Is this the way Iʻm going to die? No, not that easily. Inching forward, I reach for my sword with both hands, ignoring the warm blood coating my shirt. Itʻs only inches from my hand. Yet I can feel the spear inches from my throat. If I grab it, heʻll stab me. I could die in seconds. What will I do? My finger reaches the end of the sword. I know heʻs playing games. Heʻs the god of trickery, of course he is. He wants to see what will happen. He wonʻt kill me without giving me a chance. Not because heʻs nice. No, no , not at all. But because this is his effed up entertainment. Killing people. But not this time. He got more than he bargained for messing with me.

The second my right hand wraps around the hilt, I roll to the side. I hear the spear strike the stone instead of my throat, and I know its my cue. I spring to my feet, sword outstretched. Sprinting down the stairs, I aim my sword at his throat. Loki barely jumps out of the way, his face, for the first time, surprised.

"Youʻre not half bad, my lady," he shouts, almost, could it be, playfully.

"I canʻt say the same for you," I shoot back. Itʻs a lie, but a nice one.

He laughs, which is an opportunity for me to make my next strike. Backing up, he avoids it, but again, only barely. Each step he takes is exactly working with my plan. Finally, my sword is at his throat, and heʻs backed against the wall. Yet it passes right through him, and he fizzles out in a display of green light.

"Damn," I whisper, as I turn around to see him smirking, appearing from behind a pillar. "Illusions. Youʻre good."

I quickly spin around, rushing towards him before I finish my sentence. "But youʻre not good enough, Iʻm afraid."

This time, its him who cries out in surprise, narrowly avoiding a blow to the chest. He stumbles backwards and upwards, towards the throne. Each strike, each step, renews my confidence. Moments later, heʻs pinned to the throne, my sword at his throat.

Loki closes his green eyes in apparent defeat. "Youʻre going to kill me, arenʻt you."

"Maybe. Unless you give me a good enough reason not to."

"I wish I had one. At least let me see the face of my killer," he requests. I know this has to be part of a plan, for people like him always have a plan, yet, I, for a strange reason, obey, pulling back my hood.