**Author's Note**
Full version (slightly more language and suggestive content) on Archive.
Chapter 13: For the Love of Sigyn.
Ominous and deep, Heimdall's voice bounced off the golden interlocking gears of the Bifrost observatory as Sif approached him early the next day, before dawn even.
"Lady Sif," he greeted her.
She felt the floor vibrate under her boots. "Good Heimdall," she said, bowing her head to him as she around him to peer out the opening of the observatory.
Stars, comets, moons, planets, all distant lovely shapes, shone in the deep dark of space. Beneath the observatory, the Eternal Sea roared, falling over the edge of the realm, disappearing into that deep dark. Approaching the gatekeeper, seeing the glow of his golden eyes, she straightened her shoulders, intimidated. It wasn't often that she went to Heimdall with a request for his sight, but after Sigyn had informed her of Thor's banishment, and worse, that his location was unknown, Sif couldn't help herself. Despite being incredibly exhausted from the battle in Jotunheim, she hadn't slept even a wink last night. She'd tossed and turned, wondering where Thor was, if he was injured, and if he would ever come home.
"He is well," Heimdall responded to her unspoken question, eyes forward, unmoving from his post.
Sif sighed and hung her head. Of course he was. She should have known. Thor had always adapted quickly to any environment he was in. Rocking from one foot to another, she nervously rubbed a smudge from her vambrance.
"I am glad to hear it," she said, turning to face him. "If I may be so bold, I should very much appreciate knowing where he is doing well."
Heimdall glanced at her from his periphery before returning his eyes to the cosmos. He'd cast his all-seeing gaze on Thor daily since the Allfather had banished him. Painful as it had been to hear Thor screaming when he'd first gained consciousness after his fall to the mortal realm (Heimdall?! I know you can hear me! Open the Bifrost!) the gatekeeper had kept Odin's command, refusing passage back to Asgard for the prince.
And so Heimdall had watched. Watched every moment Thor had spent with the humans, for it was all he could do.
Leaving out the details of a blossoming relationship between the prince and a mortal woman, Heimdall spoke finally. "He is on Midgard."
Cringing, Sif scoffed. "Of all the realms within Yggdrasil the Allfather could banish him to, he chose the mortal realm?"
Heimdall turned to face her then. "Lady Sif, there is always purpose behind the king's actions. You know this. Would you have preferred him sent to Muspelheim?"
Turning away from him, she rolled her eyes. Well obviously fire demons were worse than humans. Technicalities.
"Must his exile continue if the Allfather sleeps?" she argued, stopping herself from stomping her foot like a frustrated child. "I know he has fallen into the Odinsleep. I saw it myself. Thor must return. Asgard needs a king."
Looking away from her, Heimdall refocused his attention on the nine realms. "Asgard is now under the protection of King Loki," he stated directly.
Sif's jaw droppedーSay what?
She brought her hand to her mouth. A frost giant was now the king of Asgard? The ruler of the nine realms? How could the queen allow it? Despite her empathy for Loki in his current situation, Sif still only trusted him as far as she could throw him. He'd always been jealous of Thor and his status. Not to mention that he'd stabbed her and broken her back without a care for her life in a moment of rage and was still consorting with the woman who had set Sif ablaze!
Sif rolled her eyes at her own adolescent refusal to just let it go. They'd paid the price for their actions, and Loki had battled alongside her in Jotunheim. He'd no doubt saved her life and her friends over and over again. She didn't always see him throwing daggers, but she never failed to hear the sound of his knives piercing enemies she hadn't known were behind her. Still, she couldn't shake the feeling that Loki shouldn't be trusted with the throne. Scowling at Loki's new title, which she knew he'd been vying for his entire life, she jumped on her horse and rode back to the palace, shouting "Thank you, Heimdall!" over her shoulder.
Loki rolled over and rubbed his eyes as the first light of the day streamed through the thin opening between the dark green drapes drawn across his balcony. Stretching his long body beneath the black sheets, he grimaced as a sharp pain shot through his core. Not only was the the bruising from the battle causing the pain, but after what he'd done with Sigyn the night before, his hip flexors were positively screaming. He might have gotten a bit carried away, but how could he not? She'd called him "my king" for Hel's sake.
He slid his eyes over to her. Her back was to him, her bare shoulder peeking out from under the sheet. Biting his lip, he reached over and ran his first finger down her shoulder, dragging the sheet that much lower. She shivered in her sleep, and he scooted up behind her. He moved her hair aside and leaned in to kiss her neck, stopping himself when he remembered that the servants would be arriving shortly.
Groaning quietly in frustration, he kissed her shoulder and pushed up from the bed, pulling on his pants. He plucked her underthings from the floor and pushed the sheets off her.
Waking with a start at the cold air, she curled into a ball, trying to warm herself. "Loki!" she cried out, reaching down, ferociously grasping the covers. "What are you doing?"
Shooing her hands away from the blankets, he pulled her up. "My quarters are sure to be overrun with servants soon. Obviously, I can't have anyone else seeing you in this state. It is a sight for my eyes alone." Smirking, he pulled the thin garment over her head and finger combed her hair.
"There," he said and kissed her nose. "You may now curl back up under the covers if you wish."
Grinning, she yawned and fell back, yanking the sheets up. "Thank you, my king," she whispered with a grin.
Eyes narrowing, he leaned over her. "You must stop calling me that, Sig. Unless you wish to be ravished immediately," he rasped and caught her lips with his before walking to the drapes to pull the aside.
"As if you would be able to perform such a task," she said around a yawn and rolled over. "It's obvious in your gait. You are just as sore as I am."
Her mumbling was nearly lost in the pillow, but he heard it nonetheless and laughed quietly. She had a point. Strolling to the ledge, Loki gazed at what was now his realm to command. Snow covering every surface still, Asgard shimmered white. Its usual golden luster was still lost under the frozen blanket. He snorted at the irony of the situation he'd fallen into. The coldest days in the history of the golden realm had come under the ruling of a frost giant. Well, half frost giant, he hoped.
It was not how he'd wanted to acquire the crown, if he were to have acquired it at all. An official coronation ceremony would have been nice. And perhaps a celebratory feast worthy of Volstagg's stomach. It had been enough, though, and he couldn't deny the joy it had brought, no matter how small and private the passing of the crown had been, to have the spear handed to him by none other than Theoric himself. The poor thing had looked positively devastated. He would put him out of his misery soon enough.
Out of his periphery, Loki saw Sif astride her stallion, Þori, galloping down the Bifrost. Sighing, he frowned at the time consuming responsibilities of the crown. He returned to the room, which was, as he'd foretold, now bustling with servants. The throne could not be empty when Sif and the warriors arrived. It was obvious she'd spoken of Thor with Heimdall. No doubt, they would ask him to bring his brother out of exile.
They would not like his answer.
Sitting on the throne, Loki was already bored (nearly to tears), and it was only morning. He ran his finger over his bottom lip and listened, uninterested, as the director of mead production discussed the honey shortage due to the freeze. Loki considered saying 'who cares? let them drink rum!' but that probably wouldn't go over well. Not exactly the best way to foster good relationships with his citizens. But really, just put the damn beehives in warming units. Was that not an obvious solution? Why would anyone bother the king of Asgard with this nonsense? He turned his head away from the director at the sound of steps approaching the throne, watching with narrowed eyes as Lieutenant Gylfi, second in command of the Hawks, came to a stop at the base of the dais and knelt, right fist over his heart.
"My king," Gylfi said humbly, "Freya of Vanaheim requests audience with you."
Bringing his hand to his forehead, Loki hid the roll of his eyes. Of all the people in the nine, Freya was his least favorite. More so, even than Theoric. At least the hawk had never harmed Sigyn. When Sigyn had relayed to Loki the story of her visit to her home realm during Odin's 'no touching' probation, he'd heard two things: Freya had denied Sigyn access to her own home despite it being dark, freezing and raining, and had lied about providing the silver for Sif's hair. Perhaps it had been an overreaction on his part (he wasn't exactly known for honesty himself) but he'd been ready to Bifrost his way to Vanaheim and chop off Freya's golden hair and slice up her face so badly that none would even recognize her.
Loki took a moment to phrase his answer to the request in his head. Hmm. He couldn't just tell Gylfi to drag that whore back to the Bifrost and throw her off it, could he. After a beat, he leaned forward. Elbows on his knees, knuckles under his chin, Loki pursed his lips.
"I have far more urgent affairs that require my attention. Have a guard escort her back to the Bifrost. Tell her King Loki sends his regards."
Valhalla, nothing was more urgent than a honey shortage. The merriment of their people was in grave danger. He chuckled at the thought. Despite his humor (and boredom), it was a bit overwhelming. The amount of requested council bemused him.
Annoyed from being pulled in every direction, he set his jaw. If he was to meet with the director of every single industry in the realm every single day, he feared he would resort to throwing himself off the Bifrost.
Gylfi bowed and took his leave, exiting the throne room. Freya stood just outside the door, tapping her foot impatiently. Scowling, she crossed her arms over her chest.
"Well?" she asked when Gylfi did not immediately usher her in to see the king.
Glaring at her, Gylfi spoke curtly, hiding how much he enjoyed the opportunity to refuse her. "I regret to inform you, Mistress Freya, that King Loki is unavailable for council but sends his regards," he informed her. "You are to return to Vanaheim at once."
Hands on her hips, she fumed. This was unconscionable! She'd come all this way only to be refused entry? Odin had never held any great affinity for her, she knew that, but since when did he just downright-
Waitーher eyes went wide when it dawned on her what the soldier had said.
"Did you say King Loki?" she asked, and the soldier nodded in confirmation. What sort of evil was this?
"I will see Frigga immediately!" she shouted, pushing past the guard. She stormed into the throne room, and seeing a green caped raven haired man seated, legs splayed wide, on the throne, her hand went to her mouth.
"So it is true..." she whispered, trailing off.
She had to be seeing things! Sigyn would never escape from him now. Not that Freya had believed for a second that her darkest daughter wanted to escape. She'd fallen head over heels in love with that damn prince, or king, as it was now. This was a nightmare.
Seeing Sigyn's abusive mother barging into his throne room like she owned the place, Loki had to stop himself from sending a lethal burst of magic right into her chest.
"Lieutenant," he growled, standing to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?"
Rushing to the throne, Gylfi, who Freya had plowed through, bowed humbly. "Your majesty, I beg your pardon."
Rubbing his jaw, Loki waved his hand, disgusted by Freya's mere presence. Good gods, he despised her.
"Just get that woman out of my sight," he sneered.
Suddenly desperate, Freya rushed forward, bowing at the base of the dais, nervous after her serious misstep. She'd never been scared of Odin. But Loki? She was terrified of him.
"Your majesty," she said, her voice shaking as she clasped her hands together, "I understand that you have many other duties, but I've traveled such a great distance. If it is possible, I should like to speak with my sister since you are quite overrun."
Narrowing his eyes, he gripped Gungnir more tightly, his fingers itching to make that woman howl in pain.
"Have you gone deaf, Freya? You will return to Vanaheim at once. And the queen, who I would hardly refer to as your 'sister,' is not accepting visitors in her state of grief."
Lip trembling, she bowed lower. "May I see my daughter, at least?" she stammered, eyes filling with tears.
He inclined his head, looking at her from over his nose as he considered her request. In all likelihood, Sigyn would burn the woman alive, pissed off as she was with her pathetic excuse for a mother, relieving him of the task. He smiled wide at the thought.
"You may," he said, nodding his head. "She is in the training arena." As Freya stood to her feet, he continued, his words now venomous. "However, if any harm should come to her," he said through his teeth, "I will scatter your parts throughout the nine."
He turned to Gylfi then. "Take her to Sigyn," Loki commanded him with a smirk. "Freya is then to be promptly returned to Heimdall."
Gylfi bowed. "Yes, my king."
Sigyn smiled gleefully, the satisfying thwack of her arrow hitting the bullseye of her burlap enemy from a distance of fifty yards.
"Did you see that, Fenrir? Nailed it. Like Mjölnir," she joked, looking at the wolf sitting at her right expectantly. When he only laid his head on his paws, she raised her eyebrows.
"Nothing? Oh but that was by far one of my best puns! Come now, show me your version of a laugh." He offered a quiet bark and licked her fingers as she tickled his chin.
"Good enough, I suppose," she said with a shrug.
Setting another arrow to her bow, her eyes narrowed and the hair on the back of her neck stood up at the smell of fresh evergreen and sage. Vanir evergreen and sage. Only one person smelled like that. And Sigyn would have been content to never get a whiff of the scent again. Anger building in her chest, she turned to see her mother gingerly descending the stone steps at the edge of the grounds.
"Now that is a real target, Fen," she said, her voice low as she pulled the arrow taut and aimed it at Freya.
Without hesitation, she released the the arrow. Fenrir took off after it, catching it in his teeth right before it planted itself in Freya's shoulder. Slipping on the ice at the sight of the giant wolf leaping at her, Freya screamed and fell, twisting her ankle in the process.
She watched in horror, one hand clutching her throat, the other holding her hurt ankle, as Sigyn and her accompanying black smoke stalked toward her. Freya scrambled to her feet despite the pain and put her hands out in front of her, palms out, genuinely terrified that her daughter might kill her.
"Sigyn! Please, Sigyn!"
Sigyn took the arrow that Fenrir offered her, and checked that the tip was still sharp.
"You have some nerve coming to Asgard, Freya. It is not often that one truly considers matricide," she said coolly, returning the arrow to her quiver.
"Imagine the desperation it took to send me here," she said, her voice trembling and her body shaking from both the cold and her fear of Sigyn.
Staring daggers, Sigyn's fire burned hotter. "Oh dear. Are you in need of some monetary assistance?" she said, her tone laced with sarcasm. "After all, your daughter is bedding the king of Asgard. Perhaps she has sway over his pocketbook? Will two hundred gold pieces do? Oh, but that is too much. How about silver? Will that do? Or perhaps you should like a warm bed within the golden halls of the palace? Mine is quite comfortable, and it remains empty due to my use of the king's bed. Hot food? And now that you've gone and slipped on the ice, you poor thing, maybe a change of clothes? A trip to the healing rooms?"
Wringing her hands, Freya's golden hair whipped about her face as a cold gust blew across the field. "You have every right to be angry, but I have reason to fear for your life," she said, her voice raising a pitch from fear.
"Shut up, Freya," Sigyn said, fighting the urge to kick her mother in the stomach.
Freya looked nervously across the empty field. "Why are there no other soldiers here?" she asked, wishing there were witnesses.
Sigyn sighed, very tired suddenly. Any amount of time with Freya was exhausting.
"The king has decreed a grief holiday for the Allfather," Sigyn explained, rubbing her eyes. "I am not of Asgard, therefore I am able to train." When Freya only continued to stare at her, Sigyn shrugged and threw up her hands. "Why are you here, Freya?"
"Please, Sigyn, I am your mother. Call me as such," Freya pleaded, hands clasped in front of her.
Turning on her heel, Sigyn started walking back to her archery post and shouted over her shoulder. "I am not worthy of the name Freya, if you will kindly recall!"
Freya shook her head at her daughter's stubbornness. "I am here because I've had terrible dreams of your death," she called after her. "I wake screaming, Sigyn!"
She wasn't making it up. The nightmares haunted Freya, and despite her distaste for her darkest daughter, she didn't wish her dead. Nervous, she approached the dangerous younger woman.
"You do not have the gift of foresight," Sigyn said, rolling her eyes as she readied her bow, "and I don't give a damn about your dreams."
Crossing her arms, Freya huffed. She knew一she knew it would be a pointless journey to Asgard, but when she'd told Nanna of her dreams, the girl had insisted that she bring Sigyn home. And since she actually liked her other daughter, she hadn't wanted to ignore her request. Angry, the faint lines in Freya's forehead deepened into a hard scowl as she thrust her finger at her daughter.
"To think I came all this way because your sister wanted to protect my most pathetic, dark, and evil daughter! You aren't worth the trouble!" Freya yelled. "You can rot here with your bastard king!"
Sigyn's eyes blew wideーBASTARD?
That was it. Freya was welcome to insult her youngest all she wanted, but Sigyn refused to allow such an awful word to be said about Loki. Especially after Jotunheim. She gave in to her instincts and unsheathed the dagger at her thigh and lunged at her mother. Freya screamed, grasping at the small hand gripping the black blade that was now seated in her shoulder, blood pouring out of it.
"I knew you would never come of your own volition!" Sigyn hissed through her teeth as Freya sobbed and fell to the ground. "Of course Nanna sent you! You couldn't give a damn about me!" she continued, lowering her voice. "And if you ever speak ill of Loki again, I'll cut out your tongue."
Tears continued to stream down Freya's face, not only from the agonizing pain in her shoulder, but in hopes that the sight of the tears would grant her mercy.
"Are you so far gone in your obsession with the dark son that you've gone blind? He is killing you, Sigyn! Slowly, bit by bit. And you are letting him!"
Sigyn's eyes slid from Freya's face to the dagger in her shoulder and back to her face. She sighed and dropped her head. There it was again. Empathy. She was disgusted with her own weakness at the sight of her mother's tears. Freya didn't deserve her pity in the slightest. But Sigyn was giving it anyway.
Damn it.
Sigyn wrenched her blade from Freya's shoulder and placed her palm on the wound. Her mother screamed as scorching heat traveled from Sigyn's hand through her skin and into her muscle. Trying to pull away, Freya sobbed, trapped suddenly within a wall of burning, poisonous smoke. Sigyn dropped her hand, eyeing the now cauterized wound and inspected her work. Satisfied, she let the smoke cage dissipate. At her mother's awed expression, Sigyn raised an eyebrow. Freya had had no idea of the power that flowed through Sigyn's veins.
"I couldn't have you flying back to Vanaheim with a gaping wound now could I?" she said and stood, Fenrir joining her once again now that the smoke was gone. "We're done, Freya. Come, Fen!" Loki's wolf at her feet, desiring nothing more than solitude after this horrible run in with her cruel mother, Sigyn ran for the forest.
Freya tested her shoulder, and finding it quite healed, returned to the waiting Gylfi at the base of the steps, and headed for the Bifrost. She knew that when Sigyn had said "we're done", it was final. She would never see her daughter again.
Marching in to the throne room behind Lieutenant Gylfi, Sif leaned over to Fandral who was holding a hand over his still healing shoulder.
"What did I tell you?" she whispered harshly in Fandral's ear. "Now do you believe me?"
"I never said I didn't," Fandral whispered back through his teeth, grimacing when he twisted the wrong way and pain shot through his shoulder.
"Well, it's only natural that the next in line to the throne should now sit on it," Volstagg offered, keeping his voice low as he came closer to them from behind.
Sif glared back at him. Volstagg had no clue just how unnatural it was in actuality.
The warriors plastered smiles on their faces as they came to the base of the throne, kneeling before Loki who was smirking at them (mostly at Sif). He kept his eyes on them as he dismissed the director of such-and-such or something-or-other and motioned Thor's friends forward with two fingers.
"I wondered when I might see my friends. You'll have to forgive me for not visiting the healing room. I've been rather," he paused and gestured to the throne, "ah...busy."
Fandral opened his mouth to speak, but Sif cut him off. "My king," she said, a bit of disgust seeping into her tone, "Do accept our condolences for your father and brother."
Volstagg spoke quickly after, his words spilling nervously from his bearded lips at the sight of the tension in Loki's jaw. "And our congratulations, naturally, of course, on your well deserved rise to the throne, Your Majesty."
Loki rolled his eyes at VolstaggーKiss ass.
He tilted his head sideways, looking back at Sif through narrow slits of eyes. Lips pursed, he stood slowly.
"I thank you for your kind words," he said, not remotely thankful, "but you know that neither Thor nor the Allfather are dead, so condolences are quite premature at this point. Tell me, Sif, what is your purpose for this meeting?"
As though he didn't already know. Even if he couldn't read her mind (which he hadn't been), it was written all over her face what she wanted.
Swallowing loudly, suddenly nervous, she shifted her eyes between the warriors. "We come humbly asking you to pardon Thor and bring him home."
Taking a deep breath to ease the surge of anger rising up within him, Loki descended the steps. "I thought as much. I'm sorry to say that my brother will stay on Midgard until the Allfather says otherwise."
Without thinking, Sif rose to her feet, stepping toe to toe with Loki. "You can't-"
Her words stopped short when the sharp end of Gungnir made contact with her chest. Loki stared daggers. Here he stood, as the rightful king of the nine, and she dared to question his authority. He'd never hated her more. He knew what Sif was thinking. That he was just jealous. That he'd been trying to get his brother banished all along. That he didn't want Thor to come home because he'd lose the throne. That this had nothing to do with the fact that Loki truly couldn't just undo Odin's last command. She couldn't be further from the truth, and he wanted to strangle her for it.
After all the trouble he'd gone through with Sigyn to restore something as insignificant as her godsdamn hair? After all the trouble he went through on Jotunheim to save her neck, to save all their necks? Gods, if Loki hadn't bothered to stop that Jotun from killing Thor before they departed, Laufey never would have grabbed him and ruined everything. He'd gone through that agony for Thor. After all that, Sif still didn't have an ounce of gratitude.
Fandral quickly grabbed Sif, pulling her back down to a penitent position. "Of course, your majesty," he said, angry with Sif for putting them in this situation. "We understand."
Sif yanked her arm away from her blond comrade. "If I may be so bold, my king-"
"You may NOT," Loki growled, feeling his magic pooling in his chest, willing it to settle down. "Thor is mortal now and has no place in Asgard amidst the gods."
Loki couldn't believe he had to explain this to her as though she were an uncomprehending child. Well, if the shoe fits.
"He has no title, no power, and not even his hammer," he continued, staring pointedly at her. "I will not undo the Allfather's last command. Understood?"
Slowly rising, the warriors three nodded and took their leave, while Sif remained in place. She watched Loki carefully, her blue eyes shining with unshed tears.
"But he is your brother," she pleaded, much to her own detriment.
Loki dropped his head, frustrated beyond belief at her incessant whining. Why did his brother like this infuriating woman? Looking back up at her, he squatted down to her level.
"You worry so over a man who has given his heart to another. Thor has found a new woman. A mortal named Jane Foster," he said, raising an eyebrow.
Sif squelched the desire to crumple to the ground and sob. She hadn't even considered the possibility of a new lover, and it gutted her to hear it. Holding her head high, despite her heart breaking, she squared her shoulders.
"I worry more that a frost giant sits in the Allfather's stead," she whispered just loud enough for Loki to hear it, immediately regretting it when his eyes went wide.
Grabbing her by the throat, he yanked her to her feet and dragged her to the hidden space behind the dais.
"How the Hel do you know that?" he whispered angrily through clenched teeth, his body shaking with barely contained rage.
"I saw your skin. In Jotunheim," she willed her voice to hold steady, refusing to cry like a little child.
Slamming his fist into the pillar at her back, he snarled, "Have you spoken of this to anyone?"
Shaking her head fiercely, she swallowed back the bile that has risen to her throat. "No! I swear it!"
She was positively terrified of him. Ever since that day, when she'd nearly been killed by the man who stood before her and his dark sorceress lover, she'd felt weak in his presence. She felt damn near paralyzed right now. He wielded more strength and power than she and the warriors wanted to admit. She struggled to pull his fingers off her neck.
Eyeing her carefully, he looked into her mind, and when he found no hint of deceit in her answer, he loosened his grip.
"Good," he said quietly, checking his periphery for onlookers. "If that information becomes privy to another soul, I swear I will finish what was started in the arena that day. I assure you that I would not require Sigyn's assistance, and you would lose a great deal more than your hair."
Ashamed at her cowardice, her eyes brimmed with tears. "I will go, if I am still free to do so."
Eyes narrowing, he hesitated before nodding. "You may."
He watched as she retreated down the aisle to the exit, not turning her back to him. Once she had disappeared from his sight, he announced his retirement for the day, barking at the soldiers to keep their posts and change guards at the usual hours.
Pacing across his balcony in his informal leather leggings and tunic, Loki ran a nervous hand through his hair. Sif knew of his true parentage, but he knew she wouldn't dare tell anyone. He'd made sure of that. Of all the sentient beings in the nine, she knew he didn't make empty threats. More than ever, he needed to prove his allegiance to Asgard. He couldn't have his citizens suspicious of him like Sif. It wasn't as if he'd stolen the throne, but she believed he had done just that.
Wracking his brain for a praiseworthy act to gain their trust, he ran his hand along the ledge as he walked, painfully aware of the guards below who were casting nervous glances at him. Inspiring fear was not his goal, but he did need to show strength and courage since the peace treaty with Laufey had been shattered. He needed to rebuild that peace, somehow, because sending thousands of soldiers to their deaths was a terrible way to start one's reign. But how?
His musings ceased when he realized the moons had been shining for an hour at least, and Sigyn was still gone. Brow furrowing, he looked over the ledge to see her room. Not that she would have been there, seeing as how she'd moved most of her things to his chambers. As he suspected, her room was dark.
He returned to his chambers, nervously looking around the empty space, calling for her in the washroom, dressing room, bedchamber, and antechamber to no avail. He opened his mind to her then, tapping into their bond. Sifting through the garbage of the day, he drained his memory of industry directors and idiotic warriors and Thor.
Finally, he found her deep in the heart of Asgard's forest. The bond working its magic, he felt her desire to return home. To return to Vanaheim, despite her having renounced it, claiming that Asgard was her home nowーthat he was her home. There was only one thing that could possibly make her think like that, and he knew exactly what it was.
And it would kill her.
Panicking silently (oh dear gods, Sig!), the fear of losing her becoming a very real possibility, he grabbed his long leather jacket and yanked his boots on, yelling for the guards.
"Muster the Hawks and prepare Sinir!"
Throwing his chamber doors open, he ran for the stables.
Sigyn cursed her mother silently for the rotten mood that had befallen her. She'd been having a really good day, too. Waking from the best sleep of her life. Spending the morning reading, practicing spells, laughing at Loki's annoyance with his new subjects. The silent snide comments he'd made had had her turning blue in the face from laughing so hard. Then she'd had the arena all to herself, shooting arrows, laying waste to her targets, and all the while her new ever present protector, Fenrir, had been with her. She'd thought it odd at first, that Loki wanted his wolf to watch over her in his stead due to his new schedule, as though she couldn't take care of herself, but his concern had been flattering, and she'd found the animal's company comforting and had bonded rather quickly with him.
Petting his head as they trudged through the snow laden forest, she peered up, blinking at the cold frozen drops falling through the trees. She loved Asgard's moons. They were so much more brilliant than Vanaheim's. Or maybe they weren't, and she'd just fallen under the dark spell of the realm eternal that went by the name Loki. No. There was no spell. She'd genuinely fallen for him. No magic necessary.
Thinking of her childhood home had always made her homesick, but she was so far gone in her obsession with him, just as Freya had said, that the thought of having the vast expanse of space between them had her on her knees, overwhelmed by waves of nausea. Fenrir nuzzled her neck, and she looked up, furrowing her brow at a strange sight straight ahead.
A hole in a boulder, perhaps ten feet across and ten feet tall, had been frozen over. Not the entire rock, just the hole. She knew it was the Jotunheim portal. She'd seen it in Loki's mind. Walking to it, she peered into the ice, seeing nothing. Smoke billowing from the tip of her finger, she touched it. The ice melted under her touch, and she put her eye to the opening. Jotunheim shimmered on the other end of a prismatic cave, bending and unbending with the strange physics of the portal. Shivering as the tiny hole iced back over, she stepped back.
"You know that's where your daddy's from, Fen?" she teased, continuing her trek through the trees. "Foliage in Asgard dies every Sólstöður, doesn't it? The trees are barren, unlike Vanaheim. Trees are always green there, Fen."
She paused then in her walk, eyes widening upon seeing an actual evergreen. In Asgard. Well, that was odd. It stood proud, though smaller than the huge two hundred foot leafless ash trees surrounding it, and it was a magnet, pulling her closer and closer to its healthy reddish brown bark, the dark green needles whistling in the frozen wind. Watching as it altered itself, she continued, hypnotized by its beauty. This was not a tree. No. This was another portal.
To Vanaheim.
Fenrir anxiously bounded to the trunk that pulsed against the air molecules surrounding it. Reaching forward, the illusion shattered under her hand and before her, within the tree, was another prismatic path akin to the frozen rock portal. Smile playing at the corners of her mouth, she cautiously put a foot in. Fenrir barked, biting her dress, trying to pull her back.
"It's my home, Fen. Stop that. Come on. I'll show you. It's so beautiful."
All thoughts of Asgard faded in an instant, the enchanting tree seemingly casting a spell over her. There was nothing she wanted more in the nine (not even Loki) than to sit on her high perch and hear the roar of the great waterfall tumbling down the cliff. Without another word, paying no attention to the sound of hooves pounding through the maze of trees behind her, she pushed through the tree's strange substance. With no choice, since Loki had ordered him to protect her at all costs, Fenrir ran after her, his howl echoing through the forest.
Hearing his wolf's scared cry, Loki kicked Sinir into a full gallop, knowing for certain where he would find her. After the great Æsir-Vanir War, now seven hundred years past, when Odin had defeated King Sveigðir's army, they'd signed a peace treaty and had formed an alliance. In response to what the Vanir thought was an absolute travesty, a thousand strong militia had formed and had either discovered or created the portal (he knew not which or how) and had charged into Asgard. Not even Heimdall with his all-sight had seen where they'd come from. Loki had seen it, though.
He'd been only two hundred years old at the time, practicing magic in the solitude of the trees when the Vanir had stormed into the forest. Hiding in the shadows, he'd watched the Crimson Hawks defeat the Vanir militia and, to that day, they remained imprisoned in the dungeons of Asgard. Full of rage over the attack on his home, Loki had gone to his chambers, prepared a death enchantment, and had returned to the tree.
If a Vanir should venture through it, he would see a Valhalla worthy illusion of his home realm through the portal, and the spell would set him in a death trance. He would long to return and give his life for his beloved home, and give it painfully. Loki, having been a very young Seiður at the time, had been careless with the spell. He'd meant for it to hold any future Vanir threats at bay, pulling them back immediately if they'd found their way through. Unfortunately, the spell worked on both sides of the tree as well as on any Vanir, non-threatening ones as well, who came near the tree. He'd not considered the possibility that he might one day fall in love with a Vanir woman nor that she might discover the portal.
Fenrir knew the tree well. Loki had shown it to him once. The wolf's warning howl had pierced his heart as surely as Sigyn's black dagger would. Speeding to the deadly Vanaheim portal he'd found long ago, he looked through the pulsing tree. He could clearly see Fenrir and Sigyn on the other side, climbing a cliff.
"SIGYN!" he called after her, though he knew she wouldn't hear him in her trance.
Tears filled his eyes, and his chest burned the higher she climbed. She was going to jump. Oh gods, she was going to jump off that cliff, and he had maybe twenty seconds to stop her. Sinir grunted and neighed underneath Loki's tightening grip on the reins, pacing back and forth anxiously, while his master panicked at the sight of the love of his life nearing the high peak. Loki couldn't lose her. Setting his jaw, he kicked Sinir back into a full gallop through the portal. He couldn't rule Asgard without her. He'd meant to make her his queen. And he would bring her back alive. Even if he had to go through Hel first.
Frigid Playist:
13. "Tornado Warning" by Hammock