**Author's note as of April 2018**

By now, since you are reading a Loki story, I assume you've seen Infinity War. The representation of Nidavellir and Eitri in that film (and maybe in the comics...how the hell would I know...I don't read them) could not have been further from what I described it as when I first wrote this chapter back in 2014. So, for the sake of the story you are reading at this moment, pretend you have no idea what Nidavellir or Eitri look like according to the MCU, and just envision what I describe. Happy reading!

Chapter 5: For the Price of Naught.

Pacing across the balcony, thunder clouds twisting viciously over his head, Thor turned when he heard footsteps approaching him from behind. He was certain it was Eir, the chief healer, coming to deliver him the horrific news of Sif's death, and he turned to face the calm and peaceful woman, her head pulled into a loose and low bun, the lines of time drawn across her features. When she smiled warmly at him, he gaped, hopeful.

"She breathes. And she will live."

His heart not only warmed at her words but set itself on fire with relief. He'd loved Sif far more deeply than he'd realized. Shameless, he let the tears spill over, sobbing openly, and grabbing Eir in a tight hug, he whispered thank you into her hair. He ran into Sif's healing room and stood over her. She was awake, but her body was most certainly still broken. Her skin was still black and bleeding and paper thin from the flames that had engulfed her, but she managed to smile for him, grimacing as her burnt skin stretched across her face.

"I'm so glad, so relieved that you are still with me," he said, swallowing back a sob. The words were only a whisper in her ear as he leaned over her, careful not to put any of his weight on the bed or touch her.

She didn't speak, but her eyes glistened with angry tears. Sif had been in love with the Thor since they were children but had never allowed herself to hope for reciprocation. However, his words, his tone, and the look he was giving her suggested that he might return her love after all. She blinked at him, wishing it didn't hurt so damn much to move her mouth so she could scream at him.

Why now?! I'm practically on my death bed! A near corpse! And now you decide that you love me, you huge brute?!

He stepped back and turned to Eir. "How long will she need?"

"A fortnight, perhaps? It's hard to tell, but she is very strong of both body and will. Such a combination will bring the healing about much sooner. She will be right as rain in no time." Eir's peaceful face turned down a fraction as she continued. "However, I'm afraid that her golden locks will not return. The follicles on her scalp have been damaged beyond repair. I assure you that she will still be most fair."

She turned to Sif. "Take heart, young one."

Sif ignored the pain in her face as it crumpled with the news of her hair. What a stupid thing to be sad about! She was alive and would return to battle, to life, to that gorgeous daft man leaning over her! But never again would she have need of a brush nor braids. Thor's fingers would never graze her cheek to tuck it behind her ear. She may have prided herself for being as strong as a man, but she was still a woman, and her hair had been her crowning glory. She'd loved it. It had been flaxen...stunning! And now it was gone.

At her hacking sobs, Thor reached for her before remembering how badly he would hurt her if he touched her, and looking into her eyes, his own full of love, as though he'd never seen the beautiful blue hue of them before, he spoke assuredly.

"They will pay for what they have done to you, dearest. I swear it. I will return soon. I must go to my father. They are receiving their judgment as I speak."

He smiled at her and left the room as she continued to sob.

"Explain yourself!" Odin growled at Loki who stood at the base of the dais, Sigyn at his side.

Arms out, palms up, Loki opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by Thor's booming voice echoing through the golden hall.

"You coward!" Thor jabbed Loki in the elbow before ascending the stairs. Loki glared at him while rubbing the sore joint furiously. Thor bowed his head, hiding the tears. "Thank Eir, she will live, Father," he said.

Letting out a sigh of relief, Odin's shoulders slumped. "I am greatly relieved to hear-"

"Her body will mend itself," Thor interrupted, and turning to sneer at Loki and Sigyn, he added, "but her hair is forever lost."

Thor's glower turned to a frown, and Loki rolled his eyes, looking away from his brother.

Oh dear, how ever will she go on now.

She'd be as bald as those Midgardian birds. What were they called? Oh, that's right.

Eagles.

Sif would be as bald as an eagle. He would have chuckled at the joke if he wouldn't get clocked in the jaw by his brother's massive fist for doing so. Point was, Loki hadn't killed Sif, and he was still standing here in this useless tribunal as though he had. More importantly, it was Sif who had attacked him! He really didn't see what all the fuss was about. It was just fucking hair. Sif was alive, was she not?

Sigyn's quiet voice interrupted the silence then, saying exactly what he'd been thinking, and he winced even as she said it.

"At least she's alive," she said so low that her words were barely audible. Her eyes blew wide then.

Oh gods, did I say that out loud?

Odin's head snapped up, his eyes aimed sharply at Sigyn, and he stomped Gungnir angrily. "Silence, little witch!"

Jaw clenching, Loki stepped in front of her instinctively. He'd be damned if he let that old prick do anything to Sigyn. His back to her front, he reached behind them and clutched the small of her back, pulling her into him.

She shivered in response. Was Loki using his own body as a living shield for her? It was a good thing he was holding her, because he was making her knees too weak to keep her standing. The only thing that could possibly distract her from the feel of his large hands on her was the look Odin was giving her, and the fact that he'd just called her a little witch. Okay, so witch wasn't that far of a stretch, but little? Just because she wasn't a damn giant like the rest of them? She wanted to scream that she wasn't little...just normal. She rolled her eyes.

Asgardians.

Swallowing back an ill-advised insult at his father for calling Sigyn a witch (he was nearly positive Odin meant bitch), Loki looked back and forth between Odin's face and his grip on the spear, silently willing the old man to just dismiss them to their rooms without dinner or something. Fingers itching, he tightened his hold on her. The magic in his veins was screaming at him, begging to be used to protect her. He inhaled through his nose and out his mouth, trying to keep his emotions under control.

The king shifted his attention back to Loki. "I will have my son explain his actions."

Lips set in a thin line, Loki lifted his eyes to meet Odin's. "Father," he paused, thinking of how to best phrase it, "the only defense I have is that Sif attacked me first, and we all know of her military prowess."

"You lie!" Thor growled and jumped down the steps, ready to punch the living daylights out of his brother.

"Enough!" Odin shouted, stomping the spear again, the gesture halting the blow.

Loki had stepped back to avoid the hit, and Sigyn grabbed his shoulders to avoid tripping over the hem of her skirt. She bit her lip to keep from moaning. He had more muscle tone under that armor than she'd realized.

Righting himself, Loki hissed, "Thor, was there ever a man who fought her and came out with naught but a scratch? I think not, brother. She misinterpreted my intentions, accusing me of trying to kill you! Her sword had been at the ready before I'd even spoken. I only meant to protect myself, to deliver a blow that would end the fight!"

"Oh you ended it alright!" Thor spat, his hands curling into fists at his sides.

With a frustrated sigh, Loki leaned his head back, closed his eyes, and grit his teeth. "Gods damn, Thor, I wasn't trying to kill her! My aim was just off!"

"Oh come off it!" Thor scoffed. "Your aim is impeccable. You are never off."

Loki almost thanked him for the compliment, but thought better of it. Now was not the time for quips. Bringing his head back down, Loki stared daggers at his brother.

"What would you have Father do to me, Thor? What justice is great enough for you?"

His hands were still at Sigyn's waist behind him, his grip tightening. She winced at the movement. Her sides would have finger shaped bruises by morning.

While Thor and Loki had a staring contest, Odin addressed Sigyn. "Stop hiding behind my son, girl. Are you a coward? What have you to say for your actions?"

Glaring, she bit the insides of her cheek.

I'm not HIDING, he's HOLDING me here, you geriatric monster!

She had the good sense not to say that out loud. Stepping around her protector who released her reluctantly, she held her head high.

"I feared Thor would kill Loki and simply lost control of my magic. I would never have willingly done that to Sif."

As shameful and horrific as her actions had been, she didn't think she deserved this kind of treatment. She'd lost control momentarily. Sif. Was. Alive.

Are we done now?

She wanted to leave and get back to that almost kiss. Her eyes glazed over as she imagined Loki's tongue in her mouth, and much to her embarrassment, she moaned at the thought. Loki shifted somewhat, and she wondered if he was responding to the sound. Or maybe he could see the images in her head.

Thor shook his head. He wasn't sure what punishment fit the crime, but it looked as though his father was going to allow Loki to get off with no more than a slap on the wrist. He hadn't seen what had transpired between Loki and Sif in the arena, but he refused to believe that she had provoked Loki. She must have had a reason to fight him, though what it had been, he had yet to find out. Just as he was about to remind his father that Sif was nearly killed at the hands of his brother and that Vanir witch, Odin's staff came to the ground.

"Loki, my son, you nearly killed a woman I love as a daughter. What justice would you have?" His eyebrow rose in question as he looked upon his youngest.

Loki hung his head to hide the roll of his eyes. This was ridiculous. Was this really all because of Sif's stupid hair? Fine, then. If Odin wanted to know how to discipline his own son, then Loki would tell him.

Pursing his lips, he considered the options. Banishment was out of the question. Sif had thrown the first punch, and Loki did not wish to leave Asgard again. He'd already been banished for three weeks earlier that year for positively idiotic reasons. Apparently, Odin had a serious problem with snakes in his food. Loki didn't think that should have warranted three weeks in dull as fuck Alfheim. Honestly, he would have preferred Midgard. So what could he do to return to his father's good graces? Wait, was this punishment for Sigyn, too? What if Odin banished her from Asgard?

Gods, no.

He wracked his brain for something...anything that didn't involve separation from her. Then Thor's words ran through his mind.

"Her hair is forever lost."

Smiling wide, Loki's head snapped up. "I would give her shining new tresses," he said plainly, as though it was that simple.

Thor scoffed. "What sort of justice is that? You restore her hair, and that's it? All forgiven?!"

Odin sighed and hung his head. His sons' incessant bickering would send him back into Odinsleep. At the sound of their father's exasperation, Thor and Loki clamped their mouths shut.

"Eir herself said it could not be done," Odin reminded Loki. "How would my son do what Eir cannot?"

Eyebrows raised, Loki held his hands up. "Who fashioned Gungnir? Who wrought Mjölnir? Can the same hands that crafted such weapons not weave a few locks of hair? The dwarves shall make the hair, and I shall travel to Niðavellir to retrieve it. All will be made right as rain." He ended his explanation with a shrug and a smirk.

Granted, it wouldn't be an easy journey, by any means, if his father agreed. Nomadic rock trolls roamed freely in Niðavellir, and they were fully capable of breaking even a prince of Asgard. That, and he was loathe to beg Eitri, king of the dwarves, for a favor since they did not hold Loki in high regard, but it was his only option. Anything was preferable to banishment. Well, living out his days separated from Sigyn anywhere, even in Asgard, would be Hel. Was it rash to feel that way? Probably. He cared not.

Odin seemed satisfied by the offer and, to Thor's disappointment, nodded at Loki. "You will do this with four conditions." The king set his jaw, and his voice seemed to drop an octave. "You and this girl shall be stripped of your magic."

Never having heard of such a thing, Sigyn gaped at Odin. Her magic? Gone? How? She looked at Loki, hoping for some sort of clarification.

Loki groaned and ran a hand down his face. He hadn't thought of having their magic removed. Cringing, he eyed Sigyn with sympathy, wishing he could spare her from the experience. Having magic removed was like peeling off a layer of skin. Slow and agonizing.

Sigyn frowned back at him, and instinctively shrank into herself. Fear was written all over his face, as though he'd been through this before. Oh this was going to hurt.

Odin snapped his fingers, and a servant came forward, setting down two gold chalices at his feet. The king then thrust his hand forward, and green light oozed from Loki's fingers, his eyes, his mouth, shimmering around him, bathing him in an eerie green glow, resistant to the departure from his body. Nausea twisting his stomach painfully, he retched dryly. Every joint screamed, bone against bone rubbing together without the Seiðr filling the void between. He hitched forward, hands gripping his head, beads of sweat appearing on his brow as his insides writhed in pain. Sigyn, too, dropped to her knees as the black smoke was pulled from her body, dry hacking coughs escaping her throat.

Odin's fingers closed into a tight fist, and wrenching his arm back, the green and black mists shot forward into the two chalices. The servant immediately covered them with lids, and everyone could hear the muffled shrieking under the lids, as though their magic was tortured by the loss of their hosts. Loki and Sigyn gathered their weakened bodies off the floor, and she had to stop herself from swearing at the Allfather. She hated Odin in that moment.

"My second condition is that you shall be unarmed," Odin said.

Loki grit his teeth as a Crimson Hawk stepped forward and removed the dagger from Loki's boot as well as the throwing knives from his waist. Odin groaned. Disciplining his either of his sons was not his favorite task, even if Loki thought it was.

"Thirdly, I will not provide payment for Eitri's services. You shall have to procure resources elsewhere. The final condition," Odin turned his gaze on Sigyn.

Her eyes widened, fearing his next words. What more was he going to do to her? All this for a mistake? It wasn't as though she'd laughed and tossed a lighted torch on Sif's body!

"The final condition," he continued, "is that, since you are so fond of this girl, Loki, she shall accompany you on this quest, also unarmed."

Loki's mouth dropped open as the same soldier removed Sigyn's quiver and bow. She considered keeping her hidden dagger, but the soldier cleared his throat and pointed to her leg. The skirt had unfortunately fallen open again after she'd stood back up after having her magic taken. Grimacing from the pain caused by the lack of her magic, she bent down and unsheathed the knife and set it in his open hand, none too gently. Loki had to hold himself back from choking the soldier for staring at her leg. He settled for just glaring at the Hawk before returning his eyes to his father.

Risking a step forward, now genuinely afraid after seeing Sigyn's weapons seized from her, Loki held his hands out to the king. "Please, Father, with no magic and no weapons, how are we to defend ourselves? How am I to protect her, if need be? What of the rock trolls? We will be outnumbered!"

His insides were positively boiling. Odin was sending them to their deaths! If Sigyn was lost to him, he would destroy everything in the nine.

Odin's voice echoed angrily throughout the room. "Perhaps I should instead send her to Muspelheim! She does seem to love playing with fire!"

Sigyn felt the bile rise in her throat then. Muspelheim was home to fire demons and their king, Surtur. With their scorching fingers, she would know true torture. Fear overcame her, and her vision blurred to black, her eyes rolling back. Loki caught her as she fell, pulling her limp body to him, one hand at her neck, the other wrapping around her waist. He seethed, thankful, for the moment, that his magic had been stripped from him, lest he send out a burst toward the Protector of the Nine Realms. That would have most certainly earned him exile. And the term certainly wouldn't have been as short as it had been previously.

Loki was nearly as frightened of his reaction to Odin's threat to kill her as he was to the threat itself. What hold did this woman have on him that he should think to destroy the nine for her? And indeed, that was his intention as he held her unconscious body against his chest. His instinctive response was that, well, yes, he would. Nothing terrified him more.

Thor's voice broke through the stunned silence. "Father, no!"

His earlier words, laced so with revenge, fled from his mind as he looked upon Loki holding Sigyn desperately, his green eyes glistening with tears. Voice softening, attuned to his brother's pain, Thor spoke carefully, wary of Odin's reaction.

"Surtur would surely kill her. Agonizingly so. Muspelheim is too harsh, Father. Niðavellir and their magic stripped of them and rock trolls are enough."

At Thor's words, Odin relaxed, and Loki looked between them. He envied whatever it was that flowed between the two that allowed Thor to have such an effect on the Allfather. Was there so much love between them that Thor could truly say anything to him and not fear the king's response? It would never be so for him. Pulling himself together, nodding at Thor, he bit back an angry sob. At least he had Frigga. He still had Frigga. His mother loved him.

"Make haste, my son," Odin spoke firmly, "your dwarves await you and your maiden fair." Waving them off, he frowned as Loki bowed slightly, barely lowering his head.

Sweeping Sigyn up, one arm under her knees, the other under her shoulders, Loki turned on his heels making his exit, head held high, the hawks in tow.

Loki growled as he neared the stables. "Prepare Sinir!"

The hawks were still at his heels, watching him for any sudden move. Glaring at them, he set his jaw. As though he was foolish enough to further aggravate his father!

Stripped of his magic. Sigyn stripped of hers. No tangible weapons to aid them in a very likely fight. Genuine fear crept in at the edges of his mind. She still lay limp and unconscious in his arms. He'd placed his ear to her lips several times, relaxing at the feel of her breath.

A young stable hand approached him, the dark chocolate stallion that had been gifted to Loki as a boy followed, pulled by the bit. The boy bowed as the prince caught up to them.

"Sinir, for you, Your Highness."

Loki nodded as he lifted Sigyn, dead weight that she was, onto the saddle and, placing his boot in the stirrup, pulled himself up behind her. He gripped the reins and pulled them, silently commanding his horse to turn in the direction of the Bifrost, and at the click of his master's tongue and the slight kick of his legs, Sinir neighed and took off at a full gallop, not slowing until they were upon Heimdall. Loki jumped down pulling Sigyn with him, placing her feet on the ground but still holding on to her. Would she ever wake?

"Niðavellir."

It was curt and unkind, but he had no time to exchange pleasantries with Asgard's gatekeeper. Loki stood at the eye of the bridge as it spun to life, and as the familiar gravity built quickly, pulling at his body, which was still wrapped around Sigyn, beams of light shot into space, dragging them with it.

Gagging, Sigyn clutched at Loki's neck as they landed in the dark and barren dwarf land. Somewhere along the gut wrenching ride that was the Bifrost, she'd come to, and not pleasantly. Doubling over, she spit out the extra saliva that was flooding her mouth. She hated vomiting (who didn't?) and doing it in front of Loki would be utterly humiliating.

Between retches, she shrieked, "No, no, no!"

Clamping his hand over her mouth, clearly not concerned that she might spew her guts right into it, and holding the back of her neck with the other, Loki, eyes wide, nostrils flared, shushed her. He shook his head, and she nodded in silent understanding. How ironic that she trusted a trickster god with her life. There was not a doubt in her mind that he would not only kill for her but that he would die for her just as easily, no hesitation.

He released her, pushing a hand through his hair nervously. No magic, no daggers, no bow, no arrows. He wracked his brain for the solutions for all the what ifs running through his mind. The rock trolls had most certainly heard the Bifrost and Sigyn's overly dramatic cries (really?...that upset over a little nausea?) and would arrive soon. In other words, they needed to run.

Words were unnecessary, and Sigyn, comprehending their dire situation, grabbed his hand, their feet hitting the ground silent as the grave as they ran across the wild grass field. They'd switched places, him leading her in the direction of King Eitri's dwelling when the earth suddenly quaked beneath them. On all sides trolls appeared, their thick towering bodies thundering toward the pair. Loki cursed as he pushed Sigyn behind him once again, and she spun so that her back was pushed up against his, his large hands gripping her waist, her hands clutching his. The trolls looked as though they would roast her along with Loki on a spittle over an open fire and eat them for supper.

Loki's death grip did not loosen as the biggest of them, their leader, he assumed, circled them. He was caught in a staring contest with the mud colored creature as he turned her slowly so that he continued to face the troll. Cringing at the nausea that was creeping back in at the sight of their revolting appearances, Sigyn turned around, crushing her face in between Loki's shoulder blades. She felt weak and powerless, and it was unbearable.

Showing its teeth, the leader roared. "The dark prince of Asgard! The second son has come to visit us! Oh but he's brought us a gift, a very enticing gift."

They all howled and laughed at his words. Glaring from underneath his brow, Loki sneered at the thing. He had no powers, dammit! What could he do? If he'd had his daggers, they'd all be dead within seconds. Only one option remained: his words. They didn't call him Silvertongue for nothing.

"Don't flatter yourself, troll. I do not holiday in Niðavellir. I desire only to speak with Eitri."

The leader bared sharp pointed teeth at Loki and raised his ax. "I have a name, lesser one!"

Rolling his eyes, Loki scoffed. Lesser one? Really?

Cretins.

Talented actor (it was kind of like lying, right?) that he was, he not even so much as blinked at the threat. He smirked, one eyebrow rising imperceptibly, and bowing his head mockingly, he removed one hand from Sigyn's waist and put it across his heart.

"My apologies." After a beat of silence, he continued. "Perhaps you would like to share it with me. I very much love knowing the names of my victims."

Sigyn shouldn't have been shocked when the creature inched back, shifting his weight from the front foot to the back foot. She shouldn't have been shocked that the thing lowered its weapon just that much. She shouldn't have been, but she was, and she silently marveled at Loki's ability to manipulate and cause fear using only his words. Outnumbered he may have been, but he was hardly outmatched.

"I am called Hallsteinn, and you are trespassing," the leader growled, glaring at Loki before turning its perverse gaze on her, "and I will have that pretty thing behind you as your payment for sparing your life."

Sigyn cringed as Loki, seething, pulled her further into him.

Like Hel you'll have her, filthy mongrel.

Loki gave an impressively convincing laugh and taunted the troll. "Great Hallsteinn, she would not go willingly. And you would most assuredly lose your head if you attempted force for she, too, possesses the magic that flows through my veins. And if she didn't kill you first, the hundred Crimson Hawks cloaked in shadow that surround you surely would."

Sigyn's eyes widened, and she looked behind her for the Hawks. Rolling her eyes, she remembered they were alone. Goodness, he was so convincing. She pushed her face further into his back, reveling in the smell of leather and peppermint and woodsmoke.

Master of Lies, indeed.

If they made it out of that dreadful realm, she was going to show him a great deal more than just her fire magic. She listened, amazed, as the trolls' cautiously retreating steps rumbled the ground.

Not Hallsteinn, but one of its minions spoke. "You lie."

The leader shot an angry glare at it, and the other troll shrank into itself, lowering its head.

Daggers continued to fly from Loki's eyes as the crooked grin played at the corner of his mouth. "Try me."

He raised a finger and looked up and around as though listening for a pin to drop. "Can you not hear them? The Seiðr-laced Asgardian steel of their blades being unsheathed? Can you not feel their steps behind you?"

His words were a knife, dipped in poison, held at the ready, waiting. The trolls looked behind them nervously. They may have been bigger than the famed soldiers, but they had neither the training nor the hawks' magical weapons. Hallsteinn looked questioningly at Loki, desperately wanting the confidence to call his bluff, but Loki merely raised and eyebrow, and the finger that had been raised, he pointed directly at the creature.

"You'll be the first lamb to the slaughter."

"Stand down!" Hallsteinn commanded and they obeyed, lowering their weapons. Without any further words, they backed away until Loki and Sigyn were only specks in their eyes. Trusting no threat remained, the trolls turned their backs and ran to their caves.

Rubbing her temples (a headache was brewing) Sigyn kept her voice low. "I was sure we were done for. They were going to kill you and do the gods only know what with me."

She'd never felt so angry in all her life, not at the trolls, but Odin. He had removed her only weapons and sent her to a land of monsters. Her skin crawled at the memory of Hallsteinn's gaze. She lurched forward, and Loki snaked a hand around her waist as she gagged again. How many times would she feel the urge to throw up in this wretched realm?

"You must think very little of me, Lady Sigyn," he whispered close to her ear, and oh how she wanted to forget their mission and just do things to him.

"Do you think me only capable of protecting you with magic and daggers? They would not have laid a finger on you," he said, pulling her by the hand along the foot trail to King Eitri's mountain home. Her gaze hovered over the length of his neck as he spoke.

He leaned down and whispered, "It's not much further. See that arch at the base of the mountain about a hundred yards hence? That's it. Come. The trolls won't after us now."

They separated and ran at full speed, crossing the distance in five seconds, and halted at the door of the dwarves' home. The dwarves did not care for Loki, they'd been on the receiving end of his tricks before, but the short creatures were his only option, so he had to be on his best behavior. There was no going back now.

Sigyn wished for her cloak as they were escorted down winding stone stairs. Under the mountain was cold, not Jotunheim cold, but most definitely colder than Vanaheim. She wondered how Loki, being Æsir, could breeze through the blustery cavern with not a hint of discomfort. Asgard was so warm. Well, usually it was. Was not the cold unpleasant to him? Leather layers aside, an Asgardian should feel at least a shiver, but he was acting as though he'd been raised on a glacier.

A pair of heavy stone doors opened before them, and Loki grabbed her hand as they were led down a long aisle. Dwarves lined the sides peering eerily at them. King Eitri and his wife Egvanda sat, patiently waiting as the two foreigners came to the base of the thrones. Loki bowed slightly and Sigyn, following his example, gave a shallow curtsy.

"What business does Loki of Asgard have with the dwarves? Has your brother lost Mjölnir? Surely Gungnir is not broken?"

Loki snorted at Eitri's sarcasm. "King Eitri, I've come to ask your craftsmen to fashion an entirely different treasure."

He kept his tone respectful. He needed to get back to Asgard, and Heimdall wouldn't open the Bifrost until that hair was in Loki's hands. Eitri was his only option. He thought it over and over to remind himself to keep the trickster in him at bay.

The king looked from Loki to Sigyn, questioning as to the purpose of her presence. The smile left Loki's face and was replaced by a look of contrition. His pleading soulful green eyes would melt even a frost giant.

"We cannot return to Asgard without it. Lady Sigyn of Vanaheim and I request that you weave a crown of golden tresses for a beloved warrior, for she was badly burnt in a fight, and her hair will not return. The Allfather gave his express command. Either we give her new hair or face banishment."

The king seemed to ponder over it as he stroked his long beard. "Golden tresses. Golden tresses. Hmm."

He looked across his court questioningly and received a multitude of nods. "It shall be done-" Eitri paused, relief flooding Sigyn's body and retracting in an instant at his next words "-for the price of two hundred gold pieces."

Loki turned to Sigyn and whispered, grinning wryly. "Don't suppose you've two hundred gold pieces hidden under those skirts somewhere. I'd gladly search for them."

Her breath caught in her chest at his words, eyes blowing wide.

Didn't. She. Wish.

She blushed, imagining Loki's hands roaming beneath her gown before returning to the moment at hand. They had to use their own means to pay for the locks, and the handsome royal's endlessly deep pockets had been sewn shut temporarily. When the answer came to her, she could have face palmed right there. It was so obvious.

She smiled warmly at the King. "I believe my mother might be of help. Freya is in Vanaheim currently. Is there a way to communicate with her somehow?"

At Sigyn's words, Queen Egvanda stood and turned to a smaller female. "Kindra? Daughter, would you fetch the looking glass, please? I shall have words with this Freya."

The girl nodded, vanished, and returned within half a tick, holding a small piece of jagged cut glass, no bigger than a palm. Sigyn and Loki watched curiously (and impatiently) as the queen spoke inaudibly at the mirror. The queen paced behind the throne, shrugging and un-shrugging her shoulders, shaking and nodding her head. Finally, after a small eternity, Egvanda returned to her throne and sat.

Wondering what Freya had said, that same ridiculous nausea twisted Sigyn's stomach. She and Freya weren't exactly on good terms, and she feared that the woman had refused to pay the price.

"I've spoken with Freya. She will pay."

Loki relaxed the shoulders that had tensed during the mirror conversation and gave a reassuring squeeze to Sigyn's hand.

"In silver," the queen added, glaring at the pair.

Eyes rolling, feet all but stomping the ground as a child throwing a temper tantrum, Loki cursed. Damn that daft fertility goddess! Did she wish to never set eyes on her daughter again?

Sigyn looked confused. "I do not understand. She will pay the same amount, but in silver?" This was not good.

Egvanda nodded. "Yes. What think you, my love?" She turned to her husband who was glaring at the floor, a scowl writ on his face.

Looking up finally, he gave a nod. "Hair you've come for, hair you shall have. But for the price of naught, you shall have strands of naught."

King Eitri waved them off saying, "We require the night sky to craft the tresses. The night sky of a fortnight."

Much to the dismay of Loki and Sigyn, while they waited for the dwarves to work their magic, they were confined to separate guest chambers. That is, if one could call a cavern similar to a dungeon chambers. At some point during their sentence, a guard informed Sigyn that her mother's payment had been received. Since she was underground and had no reference for the time of day, she'd been scratching the days off on the wall with a small rock like some medieval prisoner of war from a history book. It was...depressing. On day fourteen, the door to her guest dungeon opened, and she jumped as Loki walked in.

Long shining raven black tresses were fanned out across his slender fingers. Staring at him dazed, barely noticing the beautiful work of the dwarves in his hands, she fought the urge to run to him and jump in his arms after not seeing him for two weeks. Tying a silver ribbon around the strands, he placed them gently in a black wool satchel that was slung across his body. Looking back up at her, his usually sleek hair disheveled now and hanging in his eyes, he held his hand out to her. They climbed the winding stairs and upon reaching the world outside the mountain, she let out a series of heavy breaths and laughed, relieved.

"It was terribly suffocating down there."

Loki said not a word but only nodded as he led her back to the Bifrost site. It was the long walk she'd remembered, though not fraught with rock trolls this time, thankfully. They came to the intricately burned pattern in the dirt, and showing the black strands, he looked up at the invisible Heimdall. As the rush of wind and light rained down on them, Loki wrapped his arms around her.

He put his chin on her head, and she inhaled the cool scent of his neck before he whispered in her ear. "Hold on to me...and please don't retch on me."

After no more than ten seconds, deposited safely in the observatory, Loki pulled Sigyn to Sinir who stood underneath the arch of the doorway, his chocolate coat shining in the light of the rainbow bridge. Having been out cold during her first ride, she was pleased when Loki lifted her onto the saddle first and then seated himself behind her, his arms reaching under hers to grip the reins.

What. A. Man.

With a click of his tongue and his heels into Sinir's hide, the horse galloped, full-speed, to the palace.

"I assure you, Sif, you are even more beautiful now. The black," Thor paused, breathing heavily, admiring the dark locks in contrast to her fair skin, "it really suits you."

His low whisper combined with the stroke of his hand across his friend's now fully healed face made her head spin. When Loki and Sigyn had returned, Sif had, much to her embarrassment, wept with joy. She would have hair again! And then Loki had pulled the horrid ebony mane from the satchel that hung from his body. Happy tears had been replaced with painful sobs as the locks were placed on her head, rooting themselves magically in the once destroyed follicles. She'd touched the new strands and found them as soft as feathers and just as shiny in appearance, but they looked wrong. However, when Thor had looked upon her, and his eyes had gleamed with desire, she'd concurred that they were, at least, complimentary.

The captain of the hawks and his lieutenant who had escorted Loki and Sigyn in and out of the palace appeared at the door and spoke in unison. "The Allfather will see Prince Loki and Lady Sigyn in the throne room."

Loki rolled his eyes and placed a protective arm around the Sigyn. Sighing heavily, she hung her head. Odin was the last person she wanted to see right then.

Standing from his throne, the Allfather spoke plainly. "Huginn and Muninn have shown me your success in Niðavellir. Your weapons await you in your chambers. However, you were to obtain golden tresses. For the slight that has occurred against the Lady Sif, you will wait two fortnights before regaining your magic."

Jaw dropping, Loki took a deep breath to calm the anger building beneath his skin. Other than a slight eye roll, Sigyn didn't even react. Odin being a complete dick was no surprise to her at this point.

Loki stepped forward. "Father, Sif is far more beautiful than she was before. Thor said it himself."

"As I said," Odin raised a hand, cutting his son's defense off, "you shall regain your magic in two fortnights."

Loki scoffed at the dismissal but said no more. Grabbing Sigyn's hand, he turned to leave, dragging her with him. As Odin looked on them, he wondered if perhaps an extra stipulation should be added. He imagined that they would easily find other ways to occupy themselves without magic. Why, what were two fortnights, when they could spend the time in each others' beds?

"In addition," Odin said, and Loki turned slightly to eye his father over his shoulder.

Good gods, what NOW?

"In order to show your respect for your fellow warrior's loss," Odin continued, "during the remainder of your sentence, you and Lady Sigyn will have no contact with each other. This is the express command of your king. If you hold to these conditions, I will grant you the return of Seiðr after that time. You have my word." Odin's spear made contact with the ground, then he returned to his throne.

Loki exchanged angry glances with Sigyn. Rage taking over his body, he pulled away from her and stepped closer to his father.

"Why? Father, we went to Niðavellir, did we not?! We faced hundreds of rock trolls! We spent a fortnight in the cold dungeons of the dwarf king's home, and, might I add, we were separated from each other the entire time! And we returned with tresses that were-"

He stopped abruptly when Odin pointed Gungnir at him. Would the Allfather, his father, use the fatal weapon against his own flesh and blood? His heart ached within his chest, eyes glistening with fresh tears. Thor would never have found himself in such a position.

"NO!" It was Frigga's voice, ringing out from the pillar she'd concealed herself behind, that dared to scream at the king. Odin spun to see his wife charging toward him and placing herself in front of her son. "How dare you threaten our son with that! Would you make good on it? Has he not done enough? Have they not done enough?!"

Loki suddenly feared for his mother. He'd never seen her speak to Odin in such a manner, and he knew not what the king might do to her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he pulled her into a hug, looking up at Odin accusingly as Frigga buried her face in his neck.

"I am king, and I will not tolerate such insolent words, even if he is my son!" Odin's eyes flashed with anger, but he sat down.

No, he would never strike Loki. Loki was his son, even if he was so unlike him. Odin chided himself for the use of such empty threats.

Loki shook uncontrollably, barely controlled anger humming in his veins. Only Frigga, because of her close proximity, could have known it was there. There was no point in arguing with Odin further. The old man had made up his mind, and there was nothing Loki could do about it. He needed his magic back. And this was the only way to get it back without further conflict. And god was he tired of conflict. Two more fortnights.

Fine.

"Father, we will submit to your ruling," he conceded. "Two fortnights apart, and then our magic shall be our own again." Loki paused, and closing his eyes, he took a deep breath. "Allow me one brief moment with her first?" he asked, eyebrows up, preparing himself to be denied his one request.

Frowning deeply, Odin just glared at him, and Loki set his jaw, nodded once and turned to get the Hel out of there. Then his father spoke.

"One."

Loki's eyes blew wide in shock. He didn't know why Odin was allowing it after all, but it didn't matter. He descended the steps in one bound, and Sigyn crossed the space between them, no longer aware of their audience, or at least, not caring that they had one. His hands were in her hair, pulling at the thick strands as he brought his mouth down on hers. Never had he felt so much heat in one kiss. She pulled on his collar as he encouraged her to part her lips, and following his lead, her mouth opened to him as she moved her hands from his collar to his neck, grasping the hair at his nape by the roots. He dragged one hand down her back and wrapped his arm tightly around her ribs, pulling her flush against him.

She was floating, seeing stars, melting into him, when two hands that were not Loki's gripped her shoulders and yanked her, rather painfully, from him. Loki growled at the captain of the hawks who had pulled her away as she was ushered down the hall, looking back at him, lips swollen and bruised from their kiss.

Tears stung her eyes as the soldier leaned in, too close for comfort, and said, "My lady, he is not the only man in Asgard who is quite taken with you."

She glared as the warrior looked intensely at her. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Theoric, Captain of the Crimson Hawks."

From the front of the throne room, Loki's jaw clenched.

Theoric.

Well, at least now he knew the name of the man. Before he killed him.

Frigid Playlist:

5."Bottom of the Deep Blue Sea" MISSIO

**Did you know that Sif's hair was originally blond? Well, not anymore.**