A/N: A little shorter than I normally post, I realize, but this chapter had to be split into three parts and combed through with the amount of events that began cascading into each other. I can't promise Loki making an appearance in this one or the next chapter, but I can promise he'll be taking a larger role...soon. The next chapter should take about three days to edit, so until then, enjoy!
When she next woke, she was unsurprised to find that the human that had accidently injured her was curled up at the foot of her bed, fast asleep and clutching a cloth in her hand. She sat up and flexed her hands, holding in mind the dream that she had had. Snippets of sensation and emotion floated back to her as she turned to flexing the muscles of her legs. She had held him in memory within the dreams while pain wracked her body. His mind had been clear when she left him and there had been no lingering regret when she realized that he had been…whole. Still stranded in a realm by himself, but whole. It was a step in the right direction, even if she could never help him regain his original form.
Memory of the last spell she had cast over the dying girl made her heart ache. One so young should not have been torn from a mortal world where life was lived but once. Taking the girl's pain and giving her dreams had been worth her own pain, in more ways than one since it had drained her own power to defend herself against Odin's spell binding her to her son.
Even as she felt the stirring of her magic, the sliding of sustained spells slipping against her skin, she felt the siphon lock into place and she smiled at the shivering magic that touched against her with it. Glancing around, she murmured, "Stop worrying, love, and do what you need to." The feel of his magic faded and left only the slight awareness that her own power was being mostly diverted elsewhere.
"Did you need something, Ms. Sigyn?" Jarvis queried and she tilted her head back to smile at him.
"No. I was just answering a question that my husband poised to me," she answered.
There was a moment of silence before Jarvis said, "I do not detect his presence anywhere within the building."
She caught the unspoken question, the undercurrent of concern that Loki had breathed the security of the Tower...again. "He wasn't here. We have our own methods of communication," she said and that was the end of it as she turned her gaze back to the small human. Rearranging the blankets, she folded the comforter around Darcy's shoulders and smoothed the wrinkles from the other woman's arm.
The light of the morning sun cast shadows into the room and over Darcy's jaw at such an angle that Sigyn paused and tilted her head to better study the human. Darcy, she decided, looked a little like Hela had when her daughter had been Darcy's age. It wasn't just superficial and in the length and color of the hair, but the slant of the eyes and the length of the cheek bones. Beyond that, though, Darcy's personal quirks and the animated way in which she spoke were her own. Hela had been the epitome of patience and gentle amusement. Still, it didn't stop her from seeing her daughter in the human.
In Asgard, the pair that had been captured were still bound back to back, gagged, and blindfolded. Despite their limited sight and hearing, Hogun had managed to work his wrists loose over the course of the night without betraying his movements to their captors. Slight sounds now and then told him where the Vanir that had been left to watch them. As the bindings fell loose, he felt the hilt of a small knife pressed into the palm of his hand by Sif. If he could have, he would have smiled. As it was, he was simply glad of the weapon since his had been stripped from him.
Then, he felt three fingers pressing against his skin and vanish one-by-one. The old signal. When the last finger vanished from his skin, he was up and moving. He ripped the blindfold from his eyes and slashed with the knife at their nearest captors. The Vanir had time for only a surprised grunt before the knife was embedded into his throat and the world dimmed before his eyes.
While Sif circled and danced around the other, avoiding the swift blades, Hogun stripped the corpse of useful weapons and tossed her the sword. She caught it and the battle was short lived. All he clearly saw was the flash of silver, the movement of bodies twining with the shadows and moonlight, and then he heard the grunt of pain that was distinctly male in voice and that was the end of it.
"Let's get back and see if we can be of use," Sif said, wiping the blood on the Vanir's ruined tunic. She dug through his pockets and produced only a few coins. Taking the second blade in hand, she inspected its edge and nodded before tossing it to Hogun. Together, they left the forest to enter their golden city.
Hours spent and wasted in trying to convince Odin of the danger, Heimdall had left his post and organized those that would listen to him into a small, swift moving band that concentrated on getting the noncombatants out of the city before the raid hit. Odin might skin him for it later, but ensuring safety of the citizens of Asgard came before even obedience to the throne.
Among those that had come to him were Fandral and Volstagg, understandably concerned for his sister and her companion. He had told them, in short phrases, what had happened and they had grimly agreed that he was right. They had left and returned with twenty warriors, fresh from the training fields and eager to test their strength and mettle in battle once again. Few might remember how they had once fought, but enough had honed muscle memory to the point of perfection that he was satisfied they would be more than able defend themselves. From the city, they pushed into the surroundings mountains and began to broach the caves they could find.
From a safe distance, Skurge observed the efforts of the Vanir to arrange themselves into something resembling a fighting force. Even from the distance that he was, he had to admit that Amor's plan had worked beautifully. Tipping the Vanir off as to the location and treatment of their prince had been a brilliant motivator for them to mass and march on Asgard. Really, though, it wouldn't have taken much to give them that push. Since the incident with the sacrificing of their people for the practice of dark arts, they had been looking for a chance to act on their hostility that "Sigyn" had inspired in them. Her disappearance had been…inconvenient, but not unprecedented with Odin's uncanny ability to know things.
Satisfied that he had seen all he needed to, he slipped from the scene and headed for the rendezvous point that Amora had established for them. War would once again rip the realms apart and flood the space between time and shadows with blood and death. Next was to put into action the plans for Midgard.
Whatever his intentions and the appearance of being deaf to the warnings that Heimdall had tried to impart on him, Odin knew that the Vanir were massing in the forests and crossing the borders between the realms. How he wasn't sure, but he understood what it meant. That did not, however, mean that he would unduly terrify those of his court that were less than able to wage a war when his warriors were able to quietly arm and armor themselves for a thorough defense. When the time came, he would lead the charge himself and leave the evacuation of the palace to his wife, but for the moment he left his nobles to enjoy themselves for the last few hours before what promised to be a long couple of days.
Shadows delved within the light of the city, flitted through the cracks in the stones, and swept through the eerily silent, golden streets. Bows were drawn taut, swords and blades unsheathed as they advanced. Those that remained, that had ignored the quiet evacuation, had their throats slit and their corpses left in a pool of congealing blood as the Vanir advanced. Unsurprisingly, they were met with no real resistance until they reached the palace.
What followed that night was remembered by the survivors as only snatches of sounds and colors. Red for the blood splashed across the walls, the screams of the dying, and the clash of swords. Bellowed cries of challenge cut short. Silver flashing and weaving against darkness and the dim light of hallways. Cloth ripped, armor wrent apart, captives were dragged from the field and taken back to the forest.
Heimdall watched from his point in the mountains as the attack unfolded and felt no satisfaction in being right. His gaze sought those that he knew and the royal family. Odin, for better or worse, survived the night.
At dawn, the Vanir had taken all those they deemed they were able to hold and withdrew with their dead and their hostages, leaving the warriors of Asgard to lick their wounds and tend to their own dead or wounded. And the question that echoed through them all was, How did they get so close?
No answer was given, but Odin gave his commands and the wounded were separated from the dead and their remaining warriors reorganized to more defensible positions. Shaken and angry at the attack on their homes, the Aseir gathered their numbers and followed their king's orders.
As the dawn stretched into true morning, no ransom demands came for the hostages and Odin gave them no leave to pursue the Vanir. From their backs, a number of warriors trickled in from the mountains to relay the news that most of the city's civilians were safely settled into the caves and caverns that would offer protection against surprise attacks. The knowledge that families and friends outside the palace were more or less safe offered the defenders some conciliation, but it did not quell the rising tide of unease and ill feeling they were beginning to feel towards their king the more he appeared to do nothing. As murmurs rose from their ranks, the second, true, attack began.