A/N: My heartfelt thanks to all of you faithful readers - and welcome to my new readers/followers! Your comments and support mean more to me than I can express. It's funny, when I originally outlined this story, I figured it would be 15 chapters, max - and now look. Twenty chapters in and my muse keeps spitting new things at me. 3 Also, you can find more for this story (including a racier version of Chapter Nine and commissioned illustrations) on my Loki-centric blog on Tumblr - asgardianruminations :)

"Sigyn. Sigyn, wake up."

A man's voice and a warm hand on her cheek pulled Sigyn to consciousness. "Loki?" she asked on reflex.

"It's Edmund."

Sigyn turned toward the voice, nearly rolling off her sofa as she did so, and it all came rushing back to her: Loki's dismissal, her hurried removal of her things from his chambers, her impassioned destruction of her coronation gown. In her despair, she had somehow managed to find a large box for her things so she wouldn't need to return for anything, determinedly carrying the heavy parcel home by herself. She hadn't wanted to embarrass herself further by asking anyone for help.

It was quite late by the time she had made it home to find the apartment deserted, Edmund either on duty or spending the night with Ingrid. Sigyn had had no energy to do more than drop the box near the front door and collapse on the sofa. Loki's words – real or imagined, it hardly mattered anymore – had been a hideous lullaby to send her into a restless sleep. You mean less than nothing to me. I never loved you. You are a worthless fool.

"Edmund," she said, blinking the sleep out of her eyes to find her brother sitting on the edge of the sofa, worry on his face. "Is it morning?" There was heaviness in her voice, a reminder of the unending tears from the night before. She reached for his shoulder to pull herself to a sitting position. She had a splitting headache – whether from her complete lack of food or her emotional turmoil, she didn't know – and the moment she was upright, a wave of queasiness washed over her. Her empty stomach was the only thing that kept her from vomiting all over the floor.

"Yes, it's morning. What happened to you? And what's this box of your things?"

"Oh, that? It's nothing really," she said, managing a weak smile. "Loki – sorry, His Majesty - decided that I'm no longer worth his time now that he's king. He did give me some unsupervised time to clear his chambers of my presence. It could have been so much worse, you know. He could have insisted guards accompany me like a common criminal."

She started to laugh - a bitter cackle that rapidly devolved into hitched breaths and renewed sobbing. Edmund pulled her close and she collapsed into him, her tears soaking the front of his shirt. "Edmund, I'm such an idiot."

"No, sweetheart, you're not," he said, patting her back awkwardly, uncomfortable with the role of consoler. "This just doesn't make any sense, Sigyn. I really thought he loved you."

"I honestly thought so, too." She pulled back from him, wiping her cheeks and taking a deep breath to calm herself. "I'm glad you woke me. I can't exactly show up for my duties like this."

"Oh Sigyn, Queen Frigga hasn't left the Allfather's bedside since he went into Odinsleep. I don't suppose she'll need your services until he awakens."

This was terrible news; it was essential that Sigyn speak to the queen about going to Vanaheim. If she was unavailable, Sigyn's only other option would be to go to the acting king himself. At that moment, she would have preferred being ripped apart by a wild bilgesnipe to speaking to him.

"Here," said Edmund, rising up from the sofa. "I'll make us some tea and we can talk."

"You're terrible at making tea."

"Well, I'm even worse at comforting a crying woman. At least let me try, would you?" Without thinking, she reached for his outstretched hand, having completely forgotten about the blood-stained strips of fabric wound around her palms.

He turned her hand over in his with a scowl, ignoring Sigyn's hiss as he pulled the fabric away. "What is this? Did he hurt you?"

"No," she said with a sigh. "Well…not physically, anyway. This was all my doing. In my anger, I might have…uh…destroyed my coronation dress and left it for him." She bit her lip, suddenly all too aware that the new king may have taken serious offense to such an act.

By the look on Edmund's face, it was clear he was thinking much the same thing. "Do you think that was wise?"

"Probably not, but it's a bit late now," said Sigyn. "Besides, if he'd wanted me dragged away for punishment, it would have happened by now. He knows where to find me."

Edmund went to the kitchen to start the kettle boiling, and Sigyn excused herself to freshen up. Her body was aching all over – likely from spending the night on the cramped sofa – and all she really wanted to do was fall into her bed and go back to sleep. Perhaps when she woke again she would be in Loki's bed, curled up in the crook of his arm, safe from all hurt and heartbreak. Right where she thought she had belonged.

Instead, she went into the washroom, wincing as she pulled the rest of the fabric from her hands. The cuts weren't as bad as she'd thought they were the night before, but fresh bandages would be essential to make sure they didn't get infected. She searched through the washroom cabinet, coming up empty. She would just need to sneak into the palace later and get Ingrid's help, have her make some sort of poultice to hasten the healing process. Her familiarity with herbs could be quite useful; Sigyn thought perhaps, if she was lucky, Ingrid would even have knowledge of something to help her sleep.

She splashed a little water on her face to clear her head and ran a brush through her messy hair, trying to improve the reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were still puffy and red, but she felt slightly better, more able to face whatever the day had in store for her.

When she walked back to the kitchen, Edmund was waiting for her at the table. "Edmund, I'm really not sure what to do with myself."

"What do you mean?" he asked, handing her a cup of tea.

Sigyn took a sip; it was stronger than she preferred but warm, and it settled her stomach like a balm. "Well, as much as I love serving the queen, there's really no way I can continue to do so, is there? I can't avoid His Majesty if I'm still serving his mother." It was still difficult to avoid his name.

"I suppose not. Sigyn, I hate to sound selfish, but do you think this might affect my job as well? I can't provide for Ingrid without work."

"Oh, absolutely not, I'll be sure of it. This is between me and…him."

The throne of Asgard was proving to be problematic for its new occupant.

Sleep had not come easily to Loki, and what rest he had been granted was marred by hideous dreams of Sigyn distressed and angry – screaming how much she hated him, how she wished they'd never met, how he was a disgusting monster, deserving of every terrible thing to come his way. Once he'd awakened to find tears on his cheeks, and in his anger he had grabbed a vase – filled with flowers by Sigyn herself not three days past – and shattered it against the far wall of his chambers.

He had needed a distraction – something to take his mind off of her and back to more pressing matters.

Heimdall had been wary of sending him back to Jotunheim, especially alone, but Loki convinced him it was the best course of action. Who better to defuse the rising tension between their realms than the Silvertongue himself? And so, just two days after nearly dying there with his brother and his friends, Loki had once again found himself crossing the wastes of Jotunheim.

Laufey had threatened him the moment he'd laid eyes on him, but Loki's offer of the Casket for Odin's death had caught his attention. Loki almost felt pity for them – so willing to do anything for their source of power, to the point of being blinded by a threat even as he stood before them. It was though he was dealing with children, so easily were they swayed.

He had briefly considered revealing his true nature to Laufey – positioning himself as the lost heir of Jotunheim, returned to his true home – but had decided against it. There was no need for the jotun king to believe he had Loki's allegiance. No one would have his loyalty anymore, no one but Loki himself.

The final arrangements had been made and he had returned to Asgard unharmed – only to be struck by Heimdall's withering gaze immediately upon his arrival back to the Observatory.

"What troubles you, gatekeeper?"

"I turned my gaze upon you in Jotunheim, but could neither see you nor hear you. You were shrouded from me like the Frost Giants that entered this realm."

Loki assured him that nothing was amiss – that perhaps Heimdall's senses had merely weakened after his many ages of service to Asgard – but the gatekeeper remained unconvinced, accusing Loki of trying to hide something from him. True of course, but Loki couldn't admit that. He decided to try a new approach.

"You have great power, Heimdall. Did Odin ever fear you?"

"No."

"And why is that?"

"Because he is my king, and I am sworn to obey him."

"He was your king…and you are sworn to obey me now. Yes?"

Silence stretched out to near discomfort before he answered. "Yes."

"Then you will open the Bifrost to no one – until I have repaired the damage that my brother has done."

Loki could sense Heimdall was watching him carefully as he left the Observatory, waiting for a chance to prove his suspicions correct, but Loki knew he was hamstrung by his overwhelming sense of duty to the realm and its king. Or so he thought.

Not even an hour later, a visibly frightened guard found Loki on his way to his chambers, bearing news he should have been expecting. The Warriors Three and Sif were missing. There was only one place in the Nine Realms they would be heading, and as he stepped onto his private balcony, Loki's suspicions were confirmed. As he watched, the Bifröst opened up once again, transporting his brother's traitorous friends to Midgard.

His fury had consumed him, his actions becoming more and more desperate as the moments passed: releasing the Destroyer from the weapons vault to take care of his brother and his friends once and for all; secreting the Casket away, using it to freeze Heimdall outside the Observatory and then opening up the Bifröst to Jotunheim; escorting Laufey and his men to the palace – sending them to Odin's chambers but staying back himself, under the pretense of collecting the Casket while they held up their end of the bargain. And finally, concealing himself until the moment he could strike the final blow.

Watching Laufey strike Frigga as she fought to protect her husband was the only time he truly felt any fear, and had Laufey not ignored her for the bigger prize, Loki would have revealed himself immediately to ensure her safety. Regrettable as it would be, he could live with Odin's death, but if any harm came to his mother, every soul on Jotunheim would know just how truly monstrous he could be before he was through with them.

Fortunately for her, Laufey's only goal had been the Allfather – lying prone and helpless in his bed. The giant straddled the smaller man, but instead of killing him immediately, Laufey had instead spoken to his ancient nemesis.

"It's said you can still hear and see what transpires around you. I hope it's true…so that you may know your death came at the hand of Laufey."

He raised his hand to strike, an ice dagger conjured into his palm, but before he could bring it down into Odin's chest, a streak of energy from Gungnir knocked him to the ground. Stunned, he looked up to find Loki standing over him.

"And your death came…by the son of Odin."

Without another word, Loki raised Gungnir once again, erasing his true sire from existence to save the only father he had ever known. He hoped it was enough – enough to finally earn the respect he'd so long desired.

Frigga rose from the floor, miraculously uninjured, and ran across the room to embrace him – her son, her savior. "Loki – you saved him."

"I swear to you Mother, that they will pay for what they have done today-"

"Loki!"

They both turned to the open doorway, to find Thor, very much alive and furious. Frigga pulled away from Loki to embrace her eldest son, returned from exile against all hope. Loki had given up everything for this moment of triumph, and still Thor had managed to ruin it.

"Why don't you tell her," said Thor, his body tense with rage. "How you sent the Destroyer to kill our friends? To kill me?"

Loki backed away, putting Odin between the two of them. "Why, it must have been enforcing Father's last command," he said, knowing even Thor wouldn't believe such a blatant lie but hoping to gain a little time.

"You're a talented liar, brother – always have been."

"It's good to have you back," said Loki, as though proving the truth of Thor's words. "Now if you'll excuse me, I have to destroy Jotunheim." Before Thor could react, Loki blasted him squarely in the chest with a burst from Gungnir, sending him straight through the outer wall to fall to the ground far below.

He ran from the room, ignoring his Mother's protests and running as swiftly as he could to the Bifrost. Thor may have been stunned, but Loki held no illusions that he had been seriously injured. He only needed to make it to the Observatory before him.

If he did, there was no way Thor would be able to stop what he had planned – the complete and utter eradication of Jotunheim from Yggdrasil itself.

It had been long day spent moping in her apartment, but Sigyn hadn't dared go back to the palace until late evening, hoping that the new king had already retired to his chambers. She looked forward to the day when she would be able to face him with her head held high, but it was still too soon, and she was weary of crying.

Edmund had assured her that he would get a message to Ingrid, telling her to expect her, and it seemed he had been true to his word. She was waiting for Sigyn in the kitchens, already busy preparing an herbal remedy for her when she arrived.

"There you are!" she said, running to her and gathering her in a warm embrace. "Edmund said you were hurt, but he wouldn't go into detail. He said he'd let you tell me what happened."

Sigyn held her hands out, palm up, grimacing at Ingrid's gasp. "I did something foolish last night. I let my emotions get the best of me, and…well…this happened."

"What in the Nine? How did you do this?" She pulled Sigyn over to the counter, pushing her into a seat while she went back to her preparations.

"Edmund didn't tell you anything at all?"

"No, nothing."

Sigyn shouldn't have been surprised that Edmund would leave any explanation entirely to her. The last thing she wanted was a lengthy description of the events to Ingrid – everything was still too fresh, and despite the pain in her heart, even Sigyn knew that speaking ill of the king to a member of his household staff was a terrible idea. She took a deep breath. "His Majesty released me from the burden of his companionship, and I took it badly."

Ingrid was agape, the herbal concoction she was preparing completely forgotten. "Oh, Sigyn," she said, her eyes wide. "You, uh…you need to talk to him. This must be some sort of misunderstanding."

"I assure you, there was no misunderstanding, Ingrid. He was quite clear about his feelings for me…or lack thereof."

"No. No, no, no – that's not possible. He loves you, I know he does. Everyone knows he does." If Sigyn hadn't known better, she would have said Ingrid almost looked afraid.

"Don't worry," said Sigyn. "This won't impact your employment here, if that's what's worrying you." It came out sounding more irritable than she had intended. She understood Edmund's lack of tact, but Ingrid was the closest she had to a real female friend. A bit more sympathy for her pain would have been nice.

"I'm not worried about that," said Ingrid, grasping Sigyn by the shoulders. "I'm worried about you."

"I'll be fine, really," said Sigyn, bemused by Ingrid's sudden over-investment in her relationship with Loki. "My heart will heal in time; it's my hands that need more urgent attention."

"Right," said Ingrid. She turned back to the cutting board, her hand on her mouth, her eyes flitting about nervously. For a moment, she looked as though she wanted to say more, but she shook her head instead, gathering the chopped herbs and throwing them in a mortar for grinding.

"Ingrid, what is it? If you want to say something, have out with it. It can't possibly be worse than what I've already heard over the past two days."

"Sigyn, I-I…I need to tell you-"

The door to the kitchen slammed open, cutting off whatever she was going to say. Another kitchen maid, one Sigyn didn't recognize, stood in the doorway, her breath ragged.

"Come quickly – something's happening at the Observatory!"