Chapter 6: Time Served.

All eyes were on Sif as though she was a first year warrior. And in truth, the woman descending the steps was, by all accounts, brand new. The Sif they remembered, the golden haired double blade wielding soldier, was no more. She ran a nervous hand through her new raven strands. Her brothers in arms stared at her shamelessly. It was as though the respect that had once shone in their eyes had been replaced by a far more carnal emotion. Maybe she was just reading into things. She hoped so.

Her hair was the obvious change. It was the outward representation of an entirely different Sif. She refused to show it, but her insides were softer. The muscles had healed, the bones had mended, the bleeding had stopped, but her heart felt weak.

She'd been released from the healing rooms with strict instructions to relax, rest inside (apparently the cold weather would delay the healing) and absolutely do not go to the training grounds for a week. Tired and weak as she felt, she'd revisited Eir three times over that week, convinced there was internal bleeding. Endlessly patient, the chief healer assured her each time that everything checked out.

But that didn't make sense! She should have felt better by now, yes? Her week of rest had been anything but. What was she supposed to do, just lay in bed agonizing over what was wrong with her? No, she couldn't do that. If she was going to ruminate, she could at least be up moving while she was doing it, so she'd sent her servant away for the week and taken to cleaning her chambers spotless on her own.

In reality the fire had probably done the most damage, but it was Loki's dagger that plagued her thoughts, and as she alphabetized the books on her bookshelf on day six, she finally came to the conclusion that the dagger had been poisoned. It had to be! It seemed like something Loki would do, right? She'd even gone so far as to confide in Thor about her theory. When Thor had, with less patience than Eir, assured her that she was fine and that Loki's dagger was made of silver and nothing more!, she'd felt like an absolute fool. She hated that she'd been turned into this simpering neurotic mess.

That was why it was imperative that she get back into the arena. Get back to normal. Train. Hard. Show all of them she was still strong. Still a fighter.

She wasn't on the ground more than ten seconds when Álfar came running up to her. He held his hands out to her, a welcoming smile stretched across his hard face, and she grasped them powerfully, hopefully with as much strength as he remembered.

"Lady Sif! It would appear you've made a full recovery, and been graced with a raven mane in the process!"

She set her jaw. Of course the first thing out of his mouth would be about her hair. Unbelievable.

"Just to be safe, though," he continued, "I think perhaps block five is the best place to start. There's no need to push the boundaries."

Her eyes went wide.

Block five?!

The arena was fenced off into five sections, called blocks, and the furthest was for archers. As far as she was concerned, the bow was for little girls. It was for new soldiers who were too scared to put themselves into the fight.

"Fine," she said around a fake smile and made her way around the field.

So that was what they thought of her now. A weak little girl. Blowing out a breath, she seethed. Loki had done this to her. Her reputation was ruined. Everything she'd worked so hard to overcome, the scrutiny she'd faced as a woman warrior, the hard won respect, just ... gone.

His conniving little smirk blazed against the backs of her eyelids every time she closed her eyes. She'd never seen him look more predatory than in that moment when he'd stabbed her. He'd always been intense, but she'd never seen him like that before. He had been hungry for a fight. Or a kill. Maybe.

Gritting her teeth, she shook her head and continued on her path around the arena.

Why had she fought him?! She should have just let Loki battle out his hatred with his brother. Thor was more than capable of taking care of himself! But no, she just had to get in the way. She'd been stabbed, broken, burned, and had lost her stupid hair, which thanks to Loki, yet again, was now black as night and had every man in this place looking at her like she was more woman than warrior.

She heard Thor yell across the field as he knocked out a soldier with a solid right hook. "Sif!"

She sighed. Not slowing her pace, she waved at him. Just what she needed. A man who did make her weak. Well, weak in the knees at least. He caught up to her in a flash of red and blond that made her heart speed up. He was dirt covered and sweating yet devastatingly good looking as always.

Breathing heavily, he smiled. "You're on block five, yes?"

Rolling her eyes, she nodded. "Don't remind me. Álfar wants me to take it slow. It's so frustrating! I don't need any more time than I've already taken. He's treating me like a woman." Her scowl faded, and she gasped a little as he brushed the loose raven locks behind her ear, his hand landing at the nape of her neck, unmoving.

He gave her a good once over and half grinned. "Well, you are a woman."

She found it hard to breath with his large, rough, and utterly masculine hand at her neck. Why was he doing this to her? Here? Now? In front of everyone?! She steadied herself under his aqua gaze.

He furrowed his brow knowing that Sif would hate him in the next moment. "And Álfar isn't to blame. I requested block five."

Her eyes turned black, and she punched him right in the teeth. Okay, he'd expected to see anger, not stars! He blinked rapidly and spit the blood out of his mouth as she whispered angrily at him.

"Thor! You know how much I hate archery! Surely you do not think so little of my skills?!"

She wanted to pound him into the ground or, at least, give it her best shot. Thor was sending her to practice with children.

He placed his hands on her shoulders. "Sif, try to understand! I was only-"

She shrugged his hands off, and with a tight lipped glare, she ran to block five.

One moment's peace. Was it too much to ask?

Turning her head, Sigyn looked behind her shoulder. That Hawk was there. He was always there. She didn't like him one bit. What was his name again? She pinched the bridge of her nose trying to remember. Th-something, or, no, wait, yes, Th-

She searched her brain for the word but came up empty. She didn't appreciate being stalked and gave the soldier a good long glare as she proceeded to walk right into a pillar.

"Dammit!" She was fairly certain it was her pride more than her body that had taken the blow. She rubbed the arm that had collided with the stone, her face burning as laughter echoed through the hall that led to her chambers.

"I'm amused that you can't take your eyes off me, Lady Sigyn! That said, it might be more to your advantage to put your eyes forward whilst walking." Theoric chuckled as he steadied himself.

He'd doubled over laughing when she'd smashed into the pillar. He'd thought to warn her of her impending collision, wanting to spare her pride, but the glare she'd cast in his direction had annoyed him. That vain arrogant dark prince had blinded her to anything but himself, apparently.

Composing herself, Sigyn smoothed her dress and brushed her hair out of her face. She thought to call out an insult, but she choked on the slur when a tall trim dark haired figure appeared at the end of the hall behind what's-his-name. She locked eyes with his, grey on emerald. She couldn't bear it. He was right there. Loki was right there. Not wanting them to see her face crumple, she turned and walked away. Loki watched miserably as she moved further and further down the hall before moving his eyes to the man who had become Sigyn's unwanted shadow.

Theoric, sensing Loki was behind him, turned to face him and had the audacity to set his jaw and glare at the young royal. "Your highness."

Theoric's glare faltered as Loki inched closer. Theoric had a lot of muscle bulk and might have had a chance against Loki in a fist fight, but he was clearly nervous. Loki could see the sheen of sweat on the Hawk's forehead. Loki smirked. Theoric was wise to be nervous. He should be godsdamn terrified. And as Loki came within inches of him, he realized that was the case. Everything about the soldier screamed fear. Rapid breathing, flushed cheeks, neck veins pulsing too quickly, white knuckles. Loki had to give him credit. At least Theoric knew a threat when he saw it.

Loki lowered his chin, looking down at Theoric who stood shorter than him at only six feet. "Tell me. What business does the captain of Odin's hawks have with Lady Sigyn? Do you not have a regiment to command?"

Slowing his breathing, Theoric did not break eye contact with the dark prince. What sort of captain would he be if he ran at the first sign of danger?

"My personal business is my own, Prince Loki."

Eyes narrowing, Loki clasped his hands behind his back to stop himself from sending a painful blast of his magic into Theoric's chest. He was already in enough trouble with his father. No need to anger the old man further. Wait...oh. He'd almost forgotten. No magic flowed through his veins anyhow. He frowned at the thought.

Well, nevermind then.

"That may be, captain," Loki said calmly, "but if your personal business has anything to do with her, then it is my business as well." When Theoric merely glared at him in response, Loki grit his teeth and closed his hand around Theoric's throat.

Eyes widening, his windpipe compressed, Theoric clawed at the hand holding his throat and struggled to grip his sword. But what could he possibly do? He couldn't slay an Odinson! And there was much greater power in Loki's grip than he'd imagined there would be. The warriors of Asgard had been very wrong regarding Loki as somehow lacking in strength. Not sure what to do, he stood, unmoving, hoping Loki would release him.

"Sigyn is mine. Do not forget it." Releasing Theoric, Loki stepped back, glaring as the soldier gasped and gaped at him.

"I do not think the Allfather would take too kindly to having the Hawks' captain murdered, Your Highness," Theoric croaked, his voice hoarse from having the air crushed out of it. He didn't believe for one second that the prince wouldn't off him and wouldn't bat an eyelash in the process. Loki wasn't one to make empty threats.

Gaze narrowed, Loki's tongue ran the length of his teeth. "Careful," he warned, his voice low and menacing, and stepped around the soldier, making his way down the hall as the captain exhaled heavily, silently thanking the Norns that Loki hadn't killed him.

Loki haunted Sigyn's thoughts, both conscious and unconscious, every second of the day. As much as it pained her to think of him since twenty excruciatingly long days stood between her and the younger prince, she couldn't help herself. Even if she could have somehow forgotten him, it was impossible because their paths crossed constantly.

Both she and Loki had, not surprisingly, been banned from using the arena during training hours, so she had to wait until night meal concluded before shooting arrows. Even then, a guard had to escort her. Somehow, Loki was always in the arena at the moment she arrived, with his own personal guard. She looked across the field now as she descended the steps, and yes, there he was.

She was starting to think he was doing this on purposeーthat maybe he just wanted to be able to keep his eyes on her. Even from a distance. Why else would he be out here instead of riding or reading or honing his magic skills? Oh...right. She rolled her eyes. She kept forgetting that neither of them had magic.

She could tell that Loki was avoiding her eyes, slinging dagger after dagger into practice dummies, his blades slashing through the fabric, whirls of sawdust and feathers tossed into the air, until nothing remained but shreds of burlap, his angry grunts and yells ringing in her ears. Doing her best to ignore the bedroom worthy sounds he was making, she set her arrow to the bow string, aimed, and released the arrow.

Oh for Hel's sake.

It didn't hit the target. Not by a long shot. It had embedded itself in the wooden door of the weapons shed twenty feet behind and five feet left of the target. Apparently good marksmanship was a lofty goal for her when the only man in the nine who she desperately wanted to touch but had been barred from doing so was a measly twenty yards away. Letting out a frustrated yell, she threw her bow on the ground. She scowled at the damn thing before bending over to pick it up, wincing at the pain in her back. One of the worst things about losing her magic was the pain it caused. Actual physical pain. Maybe she wasn't hitting the targets because she was weaker...?

She looked once more at Loki, watching as his knives hit the bullseye over and over and over again. Setting her jaw, she scoffed at his perfect aim, despite his lack of magic, too. Everything about him was just unfair. Ridiculous man ... he probably was in pain, but wasn't letting it affect him. Well, it was affecting her. And it was also pissing her off.

The guard who'd escorted her, who was, thankfully, not what's-his-name, gave her a sympathetic look. She wasn't sure if the look was because she was the lousiest archer ever right now, or if it was due to the way she was looking longingly at Loki. Everything about her probably looked pathetic. Clearly there was no point in staying here. Frowning, she crossed archery practice off her list of things to bide her time.

Without his magic, Loki's entire schedule was thrown off. Normally he would have locked himself away in his chambers during the morning hours, lost in his spell books, logging his efforts and recording his conclusions. He rarely broke fast until well into the afternoon. Without his studies to distract him though, he experienced hunger pangs strong enough to drive him to the dining hall for first meal. He understood now why Thor was so grumpy before he'd eaten first meal.

Stomach growling so loudly it was almost comical, he hurried to the spread of fruits, pastries, breakfast meats, various teas and hot mulled cider. His usual fare of half an apple would not suffice. Ignoring the surprised looks of the servants who were not accustomed to seeing the darker prince satiating himself so early, he filled a plate with ripe citrus and sampled the wild boar slices before piling several to the already stuffed plate and poured himself a cup of tea.

This was absurd. Forced separation from his magic and Sigyn was going to make him as fat as Volstagg. Striding to his mother, he sat down heavily onto the seat next to her, giving her hand a loving squeeze. The smile that spread across Frigga's face was as warm as summer, and he returned it with a much smaller version of his own.

"What an unexpected pleasure to see you in the dining hall at the start of the day, my son," she said, patting his leg.

Odin nodded to him from the head of the table. "Perhaps having your magic locked up will put some meat on your ribs," he said, speaking with a mouthful of food, nearly incomprehensible, but the words reached Loki's ears nonetheless.

Loki ignored the comment as he shoved a forkful of the wild boar into his mouth and chased it with a swig of the tea.

"Our son's build is exactly as it should be," Frigga said, incredibly irritated for her son and frowned at her husband. "You wouldn't want him to turn into Volstagg, would you now?"

Odin merely shrugged at the question and continued eating as Loki finished off the meat in several bites and tossed his napkin on the plate.

"I'll take my leave now, if you'll excuse me." He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping loudly on the black marble tiles, and made for the doors.

Putting a hand out, Frigga tried to grab his arm. "Wait, Loki-"

Looking back at her, he mouthed 'it's fine' as he walked backwards toward the exit. Before he could turn back around, he collided with a smaller body. Sighing heavily, he closed his eyes. He knew who it was before he turned, and even before he heard her mumble "sorry" to him. He turned to face her, his eyes raising to meet hers, and his heart dropped in his chest.

Gods ...

She had dark circles under her eyes, and her hair wasn't even brushed, but she was so beautiful. He wanted to snake his arms around her waist and bury his face in her hair. He wanted to kiss her until she was gasping for breath. He wanted to do a great many things, and he even inched toward her for a second, but thought better of it and stopped.

Stepping aside instead, he gave her a wide berth, eyeing his father, hoping that the accidental contact had not just earned them an extra fortnight of separation. Odin hadn't raised his head and Frigga, seeing that her husband had been too focused on his food to notice, waved Loki off. Shaking his head, he gave Sigyn a joyless smile and continued on his way, the smell of leather that trailed behind him giving her shivers.

Sigyn was running out of things to fill her time with. The arena had proven fruitless, the gardens were icy and had been closed off after several drunken courtiers had slipped, and the dining hall had almost been disastrous. If Odin had seen Loki collide with her that morning, their sentence would have been lengthened for sure. All she could do was count the days, which was becoming increasingly difficult due to her sleepless nights. Trapped in a haze of mindless palace wandering, everything was a blur. There was, thankfully, one place left that might lift the haze a little.

Smiling hopefully, she opened the large doors to the library, and her ever present guard set up shop under the door frame, obviously keeping watch for Loki. Walking the aisles, she idly scanned the spines for something entertaining. She always avoided the romance section. The last thing she needed was a reminder of what she was missing. She moved quickly through the fantasy section, having read most of those already. There were books on every trade, technique, animal, race, and realm. She even considered browsing through the Asgardian cookbooks. Maybe she could be of use in the kitchen during the next few weeks. She lovingly ran her fingers over the magic books, spell books, and journals of ancient sorcerers and sorceresses. She adored them, but like romance novels, they would only remind her what she was missing.

Pulling her hand away, she sighed with a shrug and wandered to the history section. She finally settled upon a book from Miðgard. It was a firsthand account of a soldier from the Great War as the humans called it. She wasn't sure why anyone would term a war as being great, but she'd never claimed to understand humans. It seemed all they did was slaughter each other. The way generations after generations of young soldiers needlessly killed each other was heartbreaking. Would they never stop the vicious cycle? Then again, it wasn't only the humans who battled with each other incessantly.

There was a reason she'd trained with weapons. She'd seen plenty of battles herself, and she sincerely hoped that she wouldn't see another one for a very long time. She flipped through the pages quickly, lost in the travesty of it all, when she heard the guard speaking.

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but I've orders to deny you access to the reading hall whilst the Lady Sigyn browses."

She closed the book and peaked around the corner, her breath hitching at the sight of Loki, clad in his formal armor, standing in the doorway. She should have turned away. She should have spared herself from the look but don't touch nightmare she was in. But it was impossible to not look. He looked stunning. She heard him speak sharply to the guard.

"To Hel with your orders," Loki growled.

Sigyn bit her lip. His voice had her stomach twisting in excited knots.

"The queen sent me to retrieve the record of the Alfheim dignitaries who are arriving within the hour," he continued, " and it is absolutely vital that I return with it urgently. Now let me pass!"

Teeth bared, Loki shoved the guard out of his way, and she quickly concealed herself behind the shelves. She'd heard that there was a ceremony for several visiting Alfan nobles that evening, and Loki's attendance was clearly required by the look of it. It was the first time she'd seen him in his formal armor, and she couldn't help but marvel at the gold metal, brown leather, green cape, and the horned helmet that he held at his side. She remained still, silently watching as he turned down the dusty aisle right before hers.

Pulling a heavy blue leather bound book from the shelf, he turned on his heel and walked back down the aisle. Halfway to the end of the aisle, he stopped abruptly and turned, regal cape swirling with the movement, and setting his hand on the shelf, he peered through the books. When he found her eyes, he grinned crookedly at her.

Oh if she couldn't just melt right there. She smiled back, moving some books aside to see him better. If she reached through the bookcase, she could just barely touch his hand. Would that be so bad? Who would even know?

Pushing up on her toes, she looked up and around. She didn't see any ravens, and the guard was busy picking his nails. It didn't matter. As soon as she turned back to him, he was leaving in a flurry of green and gold.

Scowling, she sighed heavily and blew her hair out of her face. She couldn't do this any longer. She was miserable here. And she had been so close to throwing caution to the wind just then and giving in to her desires. Shit, if she had touched him, Odin probably would've just sent her straight back to Vanaheim. Vanaheim certainly wasn't the worst place, but she didn't want to be forced to go back. Wait a minute ...

The thought popped into her head just as she slapped her hand to her forehead. Of course! She could go home for the remainder of her probation! She'd have to be in disguise because...well...reasons, but she would be at liberty to do anything and everything she wanted to! She could catch up with her sister! Go riding with her and train without distraction!

Laughing out loud (probably sounding completely insane to her guard), she immediately shoved the war book back on the shelf and ran right past the guard and straight for her chambers to pack.

The strange frozen state of Asgard had not reached Vanaheim, and Sigyn breathed in the luxuriously crisp but not painfully frigid air. The evergreen forest whispered in the cool wind that ruffled her cloak and loosened the raven strands that she'd taken to pinning back. Low grey clouds moved across the bright stars casting shadows across a sprawling wheat field. A few laborers trudged through the crop, gathering them into stalks as she walked along the dirt path to the brick and stone abode of her childhood.

Billowing clouds of smoke escaped the chimney and light shone from the windows. Thinking of a homemade meal, tea in front of a warm fire, followed by a hot relaxing bath and sleeping in her own bed, her walk turned into a run. She ascended the stone steps of her mother's house and knocked on the door. From the second story window above her head, Sigyn saw Freya stick her head out.

"Sigyn!" She shouted at her youngest daughter before disappearing from the window and reappearing at the door.

Sigyn reached forward to embrace her mother (like a good daughter would, right?), but when two hands pushed her back, she furrowed her brow in confusion.

Freya crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently. "What do you think you are doing? The queen contacted me about your impending arrival. Although I made it perfectly clear that you are not welcome in this house."

Sigyn narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips in sudden anger. "Nice to see you, too, Mother. Why I am I not allowed in my own house?"

A rush of cold air sent a shiver down her spine as sprinkles started to fall, and she looked past Freya into the warm fire lit room longingly. Was her mother truly going to leave her in the freezing rain? Probably.

Freya scoffed. "This is my house, not yours. You are no fool, daughter. At least, I didn't think you were. I'm sure you know why you are not welcome, but I shall tick off the why nots for you anyhow."

Freya raised her hand and counted off. One finger, two fingers, three fingers, four fingers. "One. Falling in love with the dark one, the second son, the evil skinny trickster. If you were going to fall for a prince, you could have at least picked the heir. He's more attractive anyhow. Two. Nearly burning a famed warrior to death. Three. Showing absolutely no self-control with your magic. And four. Forcing me to part with five hundred pieces of silver in order to pay for your idiotic mistake. You've done nothing but embarrass the name of Freya, and you will not enter until you prove yourself worthy of this roof, of being my daughter!"

Before Sigyn could even register her mother's words, the door was slammed in her face. And that was that. She couldn't even find refuge in her home, or not her home, but Freya's. She slung the travel satchels she'd set at her feet once more across her body and trekked back up the dirt path. There was no way in all of Hel that she would return to Asgard. Not yet. So instead of stopping at the sight of the Bifrost, she turned in the direction of her favorite old hiding place. It would be a cold night for sleeping under the sprinkling clouds, but she could always pull out every garment in her bags and hide under them.

She climbed the steep stairs to the cliff's peak. This had been her quiet perch ever since she was a small child. It hummed with memories. It was a haven, a sanctuary amidst the pressures of being one of Freya's daughters. She'd cried herself to sleep many times on this cliff, and never had she shed more tears than when her mother told her that she was the daughter of a black haired dwarf named Iwaldi. She should have expected no less considering her five foot six frame compared with Freya's six feet.

Turned out there had been no need for tears though. Iwaldi had shown her the care that Freya had not. Her mother did not like Iwaldi, and Sigyn assumed that had something to do with the unkindness that Sigyn had been shown growing up.

She sat with her back against her favorite tree and looked across the waterfall, beyond the far mountains at the moons. Her mind wandered to Asgard and therefore to Loki. She'd fallen for him. Fast. Head over heels. And there was no going back now. Her life could be separated into two parts now. Life before Loki, and life after Loki.

Blowing into her hands, she laughed dryly thinking of his words at that first meal together.

"You are no match for me."

Nothing could be further from the truth.

She started at the sound of crunching pine needles, drawing her dagger from her thigh instinctively.

"Easy, Sigyn!" It was the voice of her older sister, Nanna, and it brought fresh tears to Sigyn's eyes. She pulled Nanna into a warm hug, relieving the coldness in her bones instantly.

Nanna rubbed her arms rapidly and blew into her hands. "You must be freezing out here!"

Laughing, Sigyn's teeth chattered in response. "It's not as cold as Asgard is right now."

Nanna picked a few sprigs of grass from their roots and dropped them into Sigyn's hands where they turned into furry caterpillars. Sigyn smiled at their ticklish squirming. What simple, harmless magic her sister had.

"Asgard is usually warm, is it not?" Nanna asked, putting an arm around Sigyn and cuddling with her under her long cloak.

"Well, it's positively frigid there right now," Sigyn said, leaning into her sister. "Everyone's been complaining about it."

Snorting, Nanna rolled her eyes. "Those poor frigid immortals."

Nanna didn't hide her disdain for their sister race. Vanir were immortal as well, just less arrogant. After all, Vanaheim wasn't golden, nor did it house the protector of the nine realms. Having lived in Asgard for the better part of a month, Sigyn understood, though still loathed, the typical Æsir ego.

Nanna whispered then, barely audible. "Iwaldi paid for the hair."

Eyes wide, Sigyn's head shot up. Her father had supplied the silver? Freya had accused Sigyn of robbing her of something that had not even been hers? Shocking.

She shook her head and laughed, a dry humorless sound. "Of course he did."

Nanna placed a kiss on her nose and stood offering her a hand. "He is in town. He would not turn you away, Sigyn. Go see him. Be warm. Eat some hot food and sleep in a comfortable bed. Don't stay here in the cold, alone."

Shrugging, let down once again by her own mother but no longer caring, Sigyn nodded. "Alright."

At the sound of knocking, Iwaldi hurried to his door. "Who should call so late?" he grumbled, a deep frown wrinkling his forehead. Opening the door, he found the daughter he rarely saw soaking wet and shivering. "Sigyn?"

She nodded and offered a watery smile, suddenly aching to hug her father. She hadn't seen him in ages.

"Come in! Come in! Dear girl, come in out of that rain!" Grabbing her shoulders, he pulled her into a hug, grimacing at the feel of cold wet clothes. He pushed her to the fireplace and took her wet cloak and satchels.

Palms facing the fire, the smell of hot bread overwhelmed Sigyn's senses, and her stomach growled in response.

"Bread's freshly made, darling," Iwaldi said over his shoulder as he went to the kitchen. "And I'm warming a pot of tea, too."

She hurried after him and nodded her thanks, grabbing a slice of the bread he offered. Taking a bite, her eyes rolled back, and she moaned.

"This is heavenly," she said as she chewed greedily. "Thank you, Father."

He gestured for her to sit and threw her a wool blanket. "You're most welcome, Raven Girl," he said with a wink.

She'd forgotten that was his nickname for her, and it warmed her heart as much as the glowing fire. Raven Girl. She was his only daughter with black hair.

He brought over the whistling pot and a cup. "What shall it be. Peppermint is your favorite, yes?"

He poured the water over the tea leaves at her nod of approval, sifted the tea into a china cup, and set it on her saucer. Sniffing at the steam, she sighed. Yes, she loved the smell of peppermint.

And woodsmoke.

And leather.

"Your mother kicked you out, did she?" He didn't wait for her to respond. He knew Freya well enough. "Sugar?"

She scooped a spoonful from the bowl he pushed to her. "She had no need to kick me out seeing as how I did not get beyond the threshold."

"Damn that woman's temper," Iwaldi said, lifting his own cup to blow on it. "When she asked for the gold, I said no because I truly had none, but when she said it was you who needed it, I had to do something. How could I not? So I forked over the same amount in silver. It was all I had. I do wish you hadn't gotten yourself into such trouble, though. It seems that prince has affected your judgment."

He looked her straight in the eyes, not a hint of jest in his tone. "That boy is nothing but trouble, Raven Girl."

She stared at him blankly, unsure what to say. She knew he was right. Loki was a great deal of trouble. His mischief had a cruel edge, but how could anyone blame him? After all he'd put up with from Odin? From Thor and his friends? She empathized greatly with him even if no one else would. She didn't care that he was trouble. She didn't care because she was trouble, too.

Sigyn spent the remainder of her sentence in her father's company, and she found that the time went by rather quickly. She liked Iwaldi. She enjoyed watching him fashion iron into beautiful pieces of art, and he even let her try her hand at the forge. He had thousands of books, all of which she'd never read. He was also an incredible cook and threw parties to show off his talent. She loved the parties. After all, getting drunk with friends, even if they weren't her friends, was much more enjoyable than drinking alone.

Before she knew it, she was saying her farewells and departing for the bifrost site. Her heart was pounding with nervous excitement as the beams of light rained down around her. Flying across the realms at near light speed gave her little time to consider what she would do upon seeing Loki. She might not be able to stop herself from jumping on him on the spot. She should probably make sure they weren't in public. The way she and Loki behaved around each other was probably one of the most cringe-worthy things a person could see. Yes, that kiss they'd shared in the throne room had been very public, and in front of his parents no less, but she had no intentions of just kissing him this time around.

It felt like an hour had passed before she reached the gates of the frozen city, and when she did, it felt like home. She had no desire to return to Vanaheim. Not anymore. Asgard was her home now.

People stared at Sigyn like she was completely mad as she ran through the icy bustling streets, but it was far too cold to simply walk. Why had no one brought her horse to the bifrost? She was turning into a bloody icicle. Clearly her body had adjusted to the warmer weather of Vanaheim during her stay there, and it made Asgard feel even more frigid than when she'd left. Oh what she wouldn't give to have her magic right then. Fire beneath her skin would have been blissful.

Soon enough she would. Today, here in the next few minutes or so, she would have that fire again. She felt almost drunk from being so happy. She just might start skipping through the streets. Probably not, though. The two heavy satchels slung across her torso hardly made for easy running, much less skipping. Eventually she arrived at the palace and, surprisingly, did not collapse from exhaustion.

Grinning stupidly, she spotted Frigga on her lofty balcony. She gave Sigyn a knowing smile and raised her arms, suddenly enveloped in black smoke. Sigyn gaped, eyes wide with sheer joy. The dark mist flowed down the stone wall of the palace and slithered along the ground before stopping at the hem of her dress. She reached down and opened her palms to the smoke curling around her fingers, her heart racing as it sank into her pores.

The moan that escaped her was highly inappropriate (there were children nearby!) but damn, it was like heaven had just descended on her as the magic rushed through her veins. Not to mention she was no longer freezing. Now there was only one thing left on her agenda for today. Chest heaving, she stood back to her full height, and strengthened once more with her magic, she headed straight for Loki's chambers.

Loki had seen the Bifrost roar to life. He'd seen her running on foot down the bridge, no doubt freezing her tail off. Why the Hel hadn't he arranged to have her horse waiting for her? He rolled his eyes. His brain was completely worthless after twenty days of sheer boredom. No matter now. He squinted to see her better.

Norns, she could run fast.

Biting his lip, he smiled. Bet he could run faster.

Turning from his balcony, he grabbed his tunic from the back of his desk chair (he couldn't very well go running through the palace shirtless, now could he?), and yanking it on, he hurried to the outer doors and threw them open. Abruptly, he collided with his big brother on the other side of the door. Before he could give his most petulant eye roll, Thor handed him a gold chalice topped with an elaborate gold lid. Thor's eyes shone with tears, and Loki felt relief at the sight of what he knew to be a look of forgiveness.

In all honesty, Loki hadn't been certain that his brother would forgive him for what he and Sigyn had done to Sif. This was just further proof that Thor would forgive him for anything. Tight-lipped, the brothers exchanged nods and grasped forearms before parting, Thor leaving Loki standing in the doorway.

Closing his doors, Loki stepped back slowly into the room and placed the chalice gently on his desk. Carefully, he removed the lid and watched with relief as the green light ran, escaping from its small prison, into Loki's outstretched fingers. The magic filled in every inch of his body, and his eyes slid shut as waves of euphoria rolled over him. He started at the sound of three sharp knocks on his door.

Turning slowly to face the door, he blew out a breath and ran a hand through his hair. He crossed the short distance from his desk to the entryway, and opening those doors, he felt the single most powerful emotion of his life. He didn't want to call it love. Nothing could hurt him more, and he had enough hurt in his life already. But not calling it love didn't matter if that's exactly what it was, did it now?

Sigyn stood on the other side of the door, grinning at him with a raised brow like the cat that got the canary. He smiled back, stepping aside to allow her entry into the room, and closed the doors quietly, twisting the lock. His eyes followed her as she stopped in the center of the room and spun around slowly, wide eyed, taking in her surroundings. It occurred to him then that this was her first time seeing his chambers. He swallowed, realizing he never wanted her to leave his chambers. Gods damn, he was so screwed. This woman mattered to him. Really mattered. He was going to get hurt. Hurt badly. His heart stopped when her eyes finally landed on him, looking him up and down.

Noting that he was clad in his casual clothes, she breathed a little faster. Leather breeches, boots, green tunic. All very easy to remove. Chewing her lip, she wondered if he'd forgone his more complex armor for just that purpose. The fire under her skin started to burn as he approached her with careful steps, gleaming emerald eyes darkening as they locked on hers. Her father's words repeated over and over in her mind as Loki came toe to toe with her, reaching up to pull on the fastenings holding the straps of her dress together.

"That boy is nothing but trouble."

For a second, she considered bolting. It would be her last chance. But then he cupped her face, and she knew she wasn't going anywhere. Not now. Not ever. By Hel did she want him. And here she was, finally able to have him. She'd honestly thought this would never happen. She pressed her hands to Loki's chest, barely covered by the low collar of his tunic, before sliding them up to his throat and around the back of his neck.

Groaning at the sensation (how could her hands feel that good?), he leaned down, his forehead meeting hers. "Let us be true to one another," he said under his breath, his hands sliding from her face to her hair.

"For the world," he continued, pulling her hair out of its side braid, "which seems to lie before us like a land of dreams, so various, so beautiful, so new, hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain."

Oh god he was quoting poetry to her, and she was falling, falling so hard. Valhalla, help her. Once her hair was free and loose, his hands slid down to her neck, over her shoulders, down her arms, and finally took her hands in his.

"Asgard is no longer my home, Sig," he said, bringing her hands to his mouth, kissing each palm.

Her eyebrows raised. Sig?ーHad just given her a pet name? She adored it.

Bringing her hands up behind his neck, he returned his to her hair. "You are."

Without another thought, her eyes slid closed, and she pulled his neck down, bringing their lips together. The fire in the hearth roared, sparks bursting from the bright green flames, and Fenrir, who they'd quite forgotten was in the room with them, jumped from the hearth rug and crawled under Loki's bed.

No going back now.

Loki had crawled into her heart and was laboring away, building his home there.

Frigid Playlist:

6. "Days to Come" Seven Lions

**Poem quoted by Loki is "Dover Beach" by Matthew Arnold.**