Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know, I can't let you go, can't let you go, I just want it to be perfect, to believe it's all been worth the fight…Lies, don't wanna know, don't wanna know …- Marina and the Diamonds, "Lies"

The golden aura surrounding Odin's bed was hypnotizing, the magic swirling and shifting into myriad patterns as it worked to protect and heal. Loki wanted to trace his fingers through it, to feel it course through his skin as he had as a child, but he stayed back. You shouldn't be here. You are a blight on this family.

Frigga sat across from him, reaching through the aura to grasp Odin's hand in hers. Not really his mother after all, but he couldn't bring himself to harbor any resentment toward her. Her love had never been less than unconditional; it was what had sustained him for so long in the shadow of his brother – until Sigyn came into his life. Sigyn. Her words from only hours before – You can't possibly reason with those vile creatures! – rang sharp in his head. She would never accept him for what he truly was – nothing more than a jotun runt, raised to believe himself Aesir.

He had dreamed of a life with her, marrying her, happily watching her grow fat with as many babies as he could get on her – but those dreams were now gone, frozen forever on Jotunheim. It was ironic really – his powers of sorcery were unequaled, and yet the greatest illusion in his life was not one of his own making, but one that had been conjured upon him. He would have laughed, had it not been so painful.

Loki looked at Odin once more. "I never get used to seeing him like this."

"He's put it off for so long now, and I fear…" She left the rest unspoken.

"How long will it last?"

"I don't know. This time it's different. We were unprepared."

Unprepared – much like me. "So why did he lie?" asked Loki, tired of avoiding the topic. He hoped Odin could hear him, hear the anger and resentment in his voice.

"He kept the truth from you so you would never feel different," she said, the kindness in her eyes nearly more than Loki could bear. "You are our son, Loki, and we your family. You must know that."

A choice you made for me long ago. "Thor? Does he know I'm jo-" He stopped, still unable to say it aloud. "Does he know we're not truly brothers?"

"No. But family is more than blood, Loki. You will always be brothers; the truth will not break the bond you have together."

"How can you speak with such certainty?" Loki thought of Thor's actions on Jotunheim, the clear hatred he had for the jotuns – a hatred he himself shared. Loki could barely stomach the truth, and he was by far the more level headed of the two of them. For all he knew, Thor would as soon bash in Loki's head than acknowledge a jotun brother.

"I speak with the certainty of a mother who knows her sons."

He sighed. "What does it matter anyway if he is banished? If he never awakens," he said, nodding at Odin, "Thor may be lost to us forever."

"We mustn't lose hope that your father will return to us…and your brother."

"What hope is there for Thor?"

"There's always a purpose to everything your father does."

But that doesn't always make him right. He stood to leave, weary of the company. He needed to contemplate the new future that had been laid out for him, one he was going to face alone.

He loved Sigyn beyond reason, but she would never willingly choose to be with him once she knew the truth. The thought of her rejecting him for something beyond his control was more than he could stomach. No – he would never allow it to come to that. Better to retain some shred of dignity while he still could.

He had just reached the end of Odin's bed when the bedchamber doors were thrown open, a contingent of guards lined up outside.

Loki's first thought was that they had discovered his part in everything and were ready to drag him away to face punishment for his misdeeds, but then the palace steward stepped forward, Gungnir in his hands. He stopped before Loki, kneeling to the ground and holding the spear out before him like an offering.

Unsure of what to do, Loki looked to his mother.

"Thor is banished," she said. "The line of succession falls to you. Until Odin awakens…Asgard is yours."

Slowly, Loki turned back to the steward, reaching out to take Gungnir in his hands. He had always imagined it to be quite heavy, holding the weight of the Nine Realms, but it was surprisingly light in his grasp. Still, Loki could feel its power as it coursed through it and into him, and a plan began to form in his mind – one that would take care of all his problems for good. Damn anyone who tries to stop me, he thought, the merest trace of a smile on his face. Anyone at all.

Sigyn ran through the vast halls of the palace, trying to get to the throne room as quickly as possible.

After leaving Loki's friends, she had looked everywhere for him – his chambers, the library, even his mother's rooms – with no success. After hours of searching, her hunger had finally been too great to ignore, and she had gone to the kitchens for something to eat, finding Edmund there visiting with Ingrid.

She had questioned him, hoping he had information about Loki, and for once it seemed luck was on her side. He informed her that Loki had been seen leaving Odin's chambers a short time before, heading for the throne room.

Her food forgotten, she had left them immediately and went straight there, hoping to catch Loki before he disappeared yet again. She arrived to find him standing before the throne, dressed in his full regalia and talking to a few of the guards.

"Loki! Oh, I was so afraid you were hurt…" Sigyn sprinted across the room, throwing her arms around his neck. "The others told me what happened. I'm so sorry, love."

"Your Majesty."

Sigyn went stiff at the coldness in his voice, noticing too late that he hadn't made any attempt to return her embrace. She lowered her arms and stepped back. "Pardon?"

"I think you meant to say…Your Majesty." His pupils were no more than pinpricks, his eyes flat and emotionless.

She looked him over, truly noticing for the first time Gungnir grasped in his hand. "Your father-"

"Has fallen into Odinsleep. With Thor banished, the rule of Asgard has fallen to me until he awakens."

"So, you are king?" Saying it out loud didn't make it feel any less strange.

"Yes," he said, his eyes flickering to the guards on either side of them. "And as such, I must insist on formality."

"Even with me?" This isn't real. I've fallen asleep again, and when I wake this will be nothing more than an unpleasant dream.

"Even with you. We are not married Sigyn, not even promised to one another."

She thought of her packed bag, still sitting on the sofa at the end of Loki's bed."I suppose our plans are on hold then?"

"Yes. For the foreseeable future."

She had only been referring to their planned time away, but the way he looked at her spoke of a deeper meaning, one more permanent. He wasn't just dismissing her for now; he was letting her go forever.

She bit her bottom lip, hard enough that she could taste blood, but she could barely feel it. Her entire face felt numb – she had been so relieved to find Loki safe and unharmed, but his frigid demeanor toward her was bewildering. It was as if an entirely different man had returned from Jotunheim. Being witness to his brother's banishment would have affected him deeply, but this was beyond that. It felt as though Loki was angry at her, and Sigyn couldn't for the life of her determine why.

"Have I…have I done something wrong?" she asked, her hands splayed across her chest in an effort to calm her suddenly pounding heart.

"No, I have," he said, leading her down the stairs and away from the guards. "I've led you on for far too long. But it stops today. With my changed circumstances, I will likely be expected to marry. Soon, and someone of…" He paused, searching for the right words. "…equal station."

"But…but I love you. And you said you love me." Sigyn furrowed her brow, certain she was misunderstanding his words.

"To keep you in my bed. An unkindness, perhaps…but effective."

She dropped her gaze from his and stared at the floor; a slap across the face would have been less shocking – and far less humiliating. She grasped at the skirt of her dress, crumpling it in her fists to help disguise their trembling, wishing the floor would crack open beneath her feet and swallow her up.

"I see," she said, but she didn't, not really. She had given Loki everything: her body, her mind, her spirit; yet to him, she had been nothing more than a warm body to keep him company at night. She couldn't believe it – what they'd had felt too real to be a deception. His capacity for cruelty was clearly far greater than she would have thought possible.

"I can give you the rest of the day, but you will need to remove your things from my chambers by this evening."

Raising her eyes to his once more, she hoped to see him smiling, reassuring her that this was all just one ill-timed joke, but his expression held no joy. "Is there nothing I can say?" she asked. "Can we not discuss this?"

"Let's not make this more difficult than it needs to be, Sigyn."

"Of course, Lo-" She stopped herself, swallowing a bitter laugh. "Your Majesty." To her mortification, she could feel tears pricking the corners of her eyes, her skin flushed in shame. She was determined he wouldn't see her cry. "If there is nothing else, I would take my leave."

"You may go."

Sigyn curtsied to him, perhaps a little more harshly than was proper, and then spun on her feet, desperate to get distance between them. She allowed herself to look back only once, finding him sitting on the throne, power and arrogance radiating from him even across the room. He was a stranger to her, nothing at all like the man she had fallen in love with, and she wondered if this was the true Loki, kept skillfully hidden from her for so long.

She turned away, her head high and her strides even. She would keep what remained of her pride as long as she could, lest he think she was running from him.

She had just stepped into the corridor when she saw the Warriors Three and Sif approaching, heading to the throne room. Sigyn's control over her emotions was tenuous at best; before they could spot her, she ducked behind a column to avoid them, not trusting herself to be able to handle any sort of conversation with composure. As they passed, she briefly considered warning them of what they would find on the throne, but she stayed hidden. They would find out soon enough.

She waited a few moments to be sure she was alone before she stepped back into the corridor, making her way to Loki's chambers as swiftly as her feet could carry her.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Sigyn repeated the words in her head as she walked, her mind spinning with questions she couldn't answer. I just need to make it to his chambers. Her hands flexed involuntarily, the effort of keeping her tears at bay making her breaths shallow and sporadic. She stopped frequently, willing herself to keep it together long enough to get her things and leave the palace; once she was home, truly home and alone, she would allow her heartbreak to consume her. Just a little farther.

The doors to Loki's chambers finally appeared, and what had once been warm and welcoming was now nothing more than a cruel reminder of just how worthless she felt. She had allowed herself to believe that Loki wanted to make this their home together, that he wanted to spend his life with her – yet he had cast her aside with such ease. Good enough to fuck and use, but not to truly love - and certainly not good enough to marry, especially as king. In all the Nine Realms, there was never a bigger fool than you, Sigyn.

She would have plenty of time to think on everything in the coming week. Her bag was packed, and the queen was already prepared for her absence, since she was meant to be going away with...him. Even if that was no longer an option, she wasn't going to waste the opportunity; first thing in the morning, she would ask the queen for some time away, far away from the new king's court. Perhaps she could even go to Vanaheim as she had wanted, that very day if possible.

As she hurried through the room gathering her things, it seemed she hadn't reached the limits of her humiliation. She had brought her belongings to his chambers over months, little by little, and they had accumulated into more than she could easily carry in one trip. She had no more than the single packed bag to transport everything. In frustration, she decided to just pile what she could and then search for a suitable container.

Her clothing, books, toiletries – things that were obviously hers – were thrown in a heap on the floor as quickly as she could find them. It only took a few moments, but finally she stood over the remains of her time with Loki, hoping she hadn't missed anything. She held her hands to her cheeks, glancing around the room before stopping on Loki's wardrobe, still cracked open from before he left for Jotunheim.

The edge of her coronation dress peeked out as it hung there, the pale green fabric shimmering in the dim light. Sigyn crossed the room in a daze, yanking it from the hook and putting her finger through the delicate lace in her haste.

She stared at where her finger had torn through, blinking in disbelief. At once, her body began to tremble, all of the shame, frustration, disappointment, and rage she had so valiantly held in rushing to the surface in an instant. She bent her finger and tugged it down through the fabric, watching it split apart with ease.

The last of her control gave way, and she grasped the dress in both hands, hooking her fingers and wrenching them through the material, every torn thread and snapped seam a perfect counterpoint to her frayed emotions. She didn't even recognize that she'd been screaming until the dress was nothing more than ruined shreds of pale green and gold sparkles at her feet, the endless tears on her cheeks burning her skin.

She stared down at the mess she had made, dizzy and out of breath, and noticed a few drops of blood. She could feel a stinging in her hands, and she turned them over to see that in her rush to destroy the dress, the fabric had cut into her palms. With a sigh, she reached down and rifled through the material, pulling out two long strips to use as makeshift bandages. She would better tend her wounds – both external and internal – when she finally got back to her apartment, but for now she would use what she had.

After she was finished wrapping up her hands, she gathered the rest of the dress in her arms. She considered what to do with it, whether to trash it or burn it, when a more appealing option came to mind. She strode back across the room to Loki's bed. It occurred to her that – even after the countless nights she'd spent in it – she still thought of it as his bed and his alone. With the last of her strength, she threw the dress across the surface, certain he would find it easily when he returned. It gave her a tiny sliver of satisfaction to think that even a heart as cold as his might be moved to see it destroyed as he had destroyed her.

Many hours later, with his courtly business finished up, Loki made his way to his chambers.

It was going to be a long night spent alone. He had grown accustomed to having Sigyn there with him, but there was no chance that she would be waiting for him this night – he had made sure of that. He thought of the look on her face when he had dismissed her, the horror and devastation she had tried so hard to keep hidden, and for one moment he felt regret before pushing it aside. It wouldn't do to let his feelings get in the way. Any sort of reconciliation now would only delay the inevitable. As much as it pained him, it was better this way; rejecting her before she could reject him.

After his meeting with Sigyn, the looks on the faces of the Warriors Three and Sif when they arrived in the throne room to find him sitting there had cheered him up considerably, though he'd had to disguise his amusement. They had always been Thor's greatest supporters, even to their detriment, and Thor's banishment hadn't changed that. They would be trouble in the coming days; Loki would need to make sure and keep a watchful eye on them.

He had briefly considered setting guards outside his door, as a show of protection, but decided against it. This was no time to appear weak; anyone wishing to do him harm could be easily dissuaded by setting powerful spells on his chambers instead.

The atmosphere in his rooms was cold and uninviting as he stepped in. Sigyn had clearly gone straight there after their conversation and cleared his chambers of everything that belonged to her, just as he'd asked her to. He glanced around. She had been quite thorough; not a trace of her presence remained. It was almost as though he had imagined her very existence.

He conjured a fire in the fireplace, undressing in its glow, needing to rest more than he ever had in his life. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten anything, and he barely had the energy to prepare for bed.

He hoped sleep – deep, dreamless sleep – would take him quickly, but when he saw what awaited him on his bed, he realized he would be lucky to get any rest at all.

He was confused at first, not grasping what he was looking at, before recognizing the fabric. Sigyn's coronation dress – or what remained of it – was scattered across the surface, taunting him with its presence. It was an obvious message of pain and loss, and any remaining hope he may have harbored of being able to reconcile with her evaporated in an instant.

The ruined bodice of the dress lay across his pillow, and he reached over to it, lifting it up to breathe in her scent, burning it into his memory. Her belongings were gone but her essence remained, absorbed into every surface of his chambers, into his very being, and he realized belatedly that he would never be rid of her. When she left, she had taken more than just her things; she had taken his heart as well, with no hope of it being returned.

He could already feel the emptiness inside of him beginning to harden. It had been a mistake, letting her get close – one he was determined to never make again.

Looking back to the bed, Loki put his hands out before him, twisting them until they were palm up. Every last scrap of the dress rose from the bed, spinning into a tangle of fabric. He watched it for a moment before balling his hands into fists with a grimace. Flames erupted in the air around the dress, consuming it completely and cauterizing what was left of the wound where his heart had once been.

A/N: Thank you so much for all of the kind words/reviews/favorites/follows - I appreciate all of them more than you know. :)