Summary: Sigyn of Asgard is the Goddess of Victory and wife to Loki. Or so humans have mistakenly believed for a thousand years. In truth, she is a peasant living in the shadow of Asgard's palace with power she's yet to understand. After inadvertently gaining the affection of the God of Mischief over the course of a few decades, it's not long before she is forced to choose between her loyalty to Asgard and her love for Odin's traitorous son. Her journey in doing so will take her to Midgard, where her reputation as a hero won't save her from a prophecy that spells death for herself and half the universe. Events span from before the first Thor movie to past Endgame & the Loki series.
Part Four: Sakaar
Chapter One: Sister
First Prev
Soft burbling pulls Haldana from slumber. Her eyes drowsily blink open against the gentle light pushing through the curtains. She rouses fully when the mattress dips as Aerick climbs out of their bed. She peers through her lashes to watch him sluggishly trail across the room and pick up their daughter, who lifts her arms into the air as soon as he nears her.
“Good morning, dove,” he coos, pressing his nose into her sparse blonde hair. “Let’s go outside before we wake Mama.”
“Too late,” Haldana grouses fondly, pushing herself out of bed. She slips on a robe before treading over to her husband and child. “Come here,” she growls playfully as Aerick slips Sigyn into her arms. Holding her up in the air, Haldana smacks kisses all over her face as she squeals.
As Aerick begins to dress for the day, she steps out into the hall. Helga, Sigyn’s nursemaid, greets her there, taking Sigyn into her own arms. “Good morning, my lady,” says, curtsying respectfully. “Do you need the little one today?”
“Yes, I am breaking fast with the king this morn, and his favorite subject is invited.” She runs a finger along Sigyn’s cheek before dropping her voice an octave. “After that, she will spend the rest of the day with my parents.”
Helga’s eyes dart to the open doorway behind her. “Very well, my lady. I shall dress her up nicely for you.” After sparing Haldana another curtsy, she heads to the nursery, Sigyn peering over her shoulder as she goes.
Haldana returns to her bedroom with her chin up, ignoring her husband’s hard stare. “You did not inform me of your plans to send our daughter to your parents,” he accuses.
“I needn’t inform you of anything,” she returns, digging into her closet for a dress for the day. She settles on a knee-length dress, seeing as how she plans on a rigorous sparring session with Volstagg and Fandral in the afternoon. Getting back into shape after a pregnancy is no small feat.
She lays the dress on the bed as she beats a hasty retreat into the bathroom for a shower. She spends more time that she may need to under the warm spray of water, hoping that when she returns to the bedroom to dress, Aerick will have forgotten their brief spat.
No such luck. “You know I do not trust your father with her,” he rebuts, reviving their conversation whence Haldana had naively thought she had left it to die.
“You catastrophize,” she says dismissively, not wanting to wade into another blow-out on the topic. She drops the towel and pulls her dress on over her head. “My father has never harmed Sigyn.”
Been feeling a little insecure recently abt the extra weight I put on and all I want for Thor is hold me in his arms and tell me that he loves it cause I need some Thor lovin pls 🥺🤲
you stood in the mirror and just stared at your reflection, for a good 10 minutes. you nit-picked everything about yourself, making you feel even worse than you did before. your thoughts brought you to tears, and you quickly wiped them away when you heard thor walking up the stairs.
“what’re you doing in front of the mirror?” he asked as he finished his piece of toast. you shook your head and he knitted his eyebrows together, gently grabbing your chin and tilting your head to face him. “you’re crying, pretty girls like you shouldn’t cry”
“but i’m not pretty” you mumble and thor stops in his tracks, turning around to face you slowly. without a word, thor scooped you in his arms and took you to the bed. you laid on your back with thor on his side, tracing your body with his finger.
“you are the most beautiful woman i have ever seen, i can’t even describe it to you because you’re just a.. rare beauty. something you see in fairytales. like a mermaid, or a fairy” you laugh and he chuckles, and you scoot closer to him.
“thank you thor” you whisper, holding his face and rubbing your thumb over his beard. thor’s hand trailed from your waist up your back, back to your waist. “i’m just not.. pre-” you shrieked as you felt thor’s lightning shock your waist softly. “hey!”
“that’s gonna happen every time i hear you talking bad about yourself. because you..” thor pulled you closer and held your face, kissing you slowly. “you are beautiful, and the love of my life, and i promise to only hurt you a little when you say negative things about yourself” thor gave you a cheeky smile and you laughed.
“oh jeez, thanks babe” thor winked and you kissed him again, burying your face in his neck and he rubbed your back slowly. “i love you” you mumble in his neck and he held you closer to him, sighing deeply.
Story Summary: A retrospective into the relationship between Loki and Sigyn, his wife from Norse mythology, as if existent within the bounds and canons of the MCU, with a few twists of my own, naturally.
Part summary: The very beginning, how they meet.
A/N: Hello, hello! I’ve been working on this fanfiction for a while; it started out as merely a way to get a few prompts out of my system, but now I actually like the direction it’s taking, so I thought I’d share it with the Tumblr community! Let me know what you think ❤️
Had someone asked about the origins of their bond, each would have answered with a different moment when they thought it had started. In fact, it would have been rather impossible to pinpoint the very beginning of something in the making for so many years, something that the two people involved, in hindsight, had always seen coming, even though everyone else —with the sole exception of one person, perhaps— would have never in a thousand years guessed that a pair who quarreled as often as they did, who disagreed with each other as fervently as they did, could ever become romantically involved.
Sigyn never knew her father. Iwaldi was part of Odin's Guard, a fierce servant of Asgard and an extraordinary fighter— that was, at least, what her mother, Dagmar, had told her for all Sigyn knew for certain about him was that he had perished before Dagmar had even born her. He had met his wife at the Royal Palace of Valaskjalf, having been assigned to escort her to the Queen when she was sent from her home in Vanaheim to become her lady-in-waiting. Their daughter was born and raised in the same palace in which they had met and married. During the first years of her life, of which she remembered very little, Sigyn lived with her mother until an invasion of marauders struck Vanaheim just as Dagmar was there visiting relatives and the court lady was killed while she tried to defend her home.
After having learned that the only kin left alive that could take in the orphaned girl was an aunt barely old enough to become a mother herself, Frigga insisted that she remained in Asgard, where Sigyn was brought up by the court ladies that, while not related to her mother by blood, had somewhat become her family in bond in all the years they had coexisted while serving the Queen.
While thoroughly and actively grateful for Frigga's favor, being much aware of how blessed her childhood had been in spite of two specific moments of tragedy, Sigyn never considered herself a warden or a foster child of any kind. She had a privileged closeness to the Royal Family, so much was true, and she had indeed been brought up with luxuries and advantages that no ordinary subject of Asgard would normally receive; however, in terms of family, as the women who had helped raise her either retired or passed away from old age, Sigyn believed —though not melancholically— that she had none.
Many considered that having been raised in the midst of the Asgardian princes must have been an honor— to that, Sigyn usually replied that if they could have as much as a glance into her experience, they would not be as quick to congratulate her on that particular distinction.
Despite being considerably younger than the two boys, she had naturally fit into the role of peace-keeper, not because she had a calm demeanor or a talent for deescalating fights, but rather the opposite: if Thor and Loki were arguing over whose turn it was to wield a particular weapon during training, it was Sigyn who stepped in and snatched the weapon away from them so that neither could have it at all; if there was but one serving of ale left by the end of a banquet, which usually led to the two sons of Odin boastfully listing reasons why it was them who deserved it and not the other, Sigyn would drink the last serving herself.
Outside from playing that scolding almost maternal role whenever the boys quarreled, Sigyn's relationship to the God of Thunder was merely civil; they addressed each other respectfully —most of the times— but had never as much as stood in the same room together without other people present. The prince of Asgard with whom she had formed a much closer association was Loki.
The God of Mischief would forever gloat by claiming Sigyn had been infatuated with him since they were children, that the girl had always been visibly enamored with him. Sigyn would only respond to those comments with a scornful smirk, aware —and she knew he was as well— that if anything it had been the other way around. Admittedly, it had been Sigyn who had initiated their very first interaction, just the two of them, but only because she wished to put a theory to the test, a theory that suggested Loki would always adopt a nervous, almost bashful behavior whenever he addressed her, which he tried to conceal with indifference— there might have been a dash of wishful thinking involved, but Sigyn knew the dangers of letting Loki know he could be right, so she would never admit it.
One day out in the Palace's gardens, while Thor and his friends were vauntingly displaying their sword-fighting abilities, Loki sat in a remote corner, reading. Sigyn, being through with her lessons of the day and without anything better to do, took the liberty of approaching him, going as far as taking a seat right next to him.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
"Reading," answered the boy nonchalantly, eyes remaining on the page.
"Yes, I can see that."
"Then, why do you ask?"
"I meant, what are you reading?"
"A book," he replied, still not looking up from the page.
Sigyn rolled her eyes. "Which I hope, for your sake, is a book on making friends, you could certainly use it."
That comment caught Loki's attention at last; he glanced in front of him for a second and then turned his head to look at the girl who, quite pleased with her jibe, was smiling.
"It's a book of magic," he answered properly at last. "My mother is tutoring me in the art of Seidr, I figured I could do with some self-teaching of my own."
"I thought only women were able to practice Seidr."
Sigyn tilted her head in order to take a better look at the pages from which the boy was studying and, even though he sighed in the process, he lowered his book and turned it slightly towards her so they could read together.
"No. See, Seidr practitioners have always been mostly women. Since you cannot be born with these talents, only be taught them, it was far more likely that any man who possessed them had been instructed by a woman... which, I suppose, was seen as unmanly or something of the sort. Therefore, men often chose not to practice Seidr to avoid ridicule."
"That's idiotic."
Sigyn's abrupt and blunt honesty made the prince chuckle in spite of himself, which he tried to play off by clearing his throat, the tip of his finger beginning to toy with the corner of a page.
"Yes, I suppose it is."
"Have you learned to do any tricks yet?" wondered Sigyn out of sheer curiosity, apparently not concerned with the possibility that she might have been annoying the Prince. While they had exclusively interacted with one another in the presence of other people, Sigyn knew the boy enough to assume he would never turn down the opportunity of exhibiting his abilities, especially —although that detail in particular she would infer later in life— being a talent that his older brother did not possess.
"They're not tricks," protested the boy.
"What are they, then?" she asked with a cadence mockingly similar to his.
"It's the channeling of the spiritual realm and wielding its power in order to perform—"
"Tricks?"
Loki glared at her, all the while hoping he was successfully concealing the rebel half-smile he felt tugging at the corner of his lips.
"Illusions. Amongst other things."
"All right, well, in that case, have you learned to do any illusions yet?" She made particular emphasis on the term.
This time, the boy allowed himself to smile, however faintly, if only because he was rolling his eyes simultaneously. Straightening his back with purpose, he cleared his throat in preparation and held his hand out, palm facing the sky. From it emerged a single green spark, which shot up for just a few centimetres before dissolving in the air. Loki closed and withdrew his hand, visibly disappointed.
"I'm sorry," he said as he looked down at his book again, obviously looking for an excuse to avoid the girl's gaze. "That was supposed to be fireworks."
Sigyn, far from being unimpressed, was beaming. "I liked this better, actually," she commented to her companion's surprise. "Did you make it green on purpose?"
Still a little flustered, for he had been expecting mockery rather than genuine interest, Loki stammered momentarily before he answered.
"Oh, no. I'm not... exactly sure how it manifests, I suppose it would have to depend on who channels that energy or where in the spiritual realm it comes from."
"You are not still blabbering on about magic, brother, are you?" came Thor's taunting voice from afar. "Have you so little faith in your physical prowess you're turning to tricks in a feeble attempt to match mine?"
"Careful, brother," warned Loki as his eyes once again lowered to his book. "I've taught you the meaning behind most of those elegant words myself and, if I remember correctly, you've only got a few left, you might not want to compress so many of them in just the one sentence."
"Look at where all those elegant words have got you, Loki!" laughed his brother as he pointed towards him with his sword. "Isolated in a tedious library, having private lessons with Mother, instead of being out here becoming the warrior a Prince of Asgard ought to be!"
"Well, excuse me for finally giving Mother a son with the actual ability to read. Or is being an utter oaf another thing a Prince of Asgard ought to be?"
After that, it only took seconds for the confrontation to become physical; fortunately, by then, Sigyn had already left her seat and made her way towards the nearest guard whose attention she immediately brought to the altercation.
"Boys!" came the Queen's warning from above them and when the two Princes looked up, they found their mother looking down at them from her balcony.
Her presence alone was enough to put an end to the fight, although the boys did purposely shove each other a few more times as they pretended to lean upon each other for support while getting on their feet. Frigga demanded they met with her at once and, clearly foreseeing a reprimand, her sons sighed heavily, parting side by side to oblige.
"Well, last time she told on me, so this’d better be about you," muttered Loki under his breath, recalling that Sigyn had very recently used that strategy in order to punctuate another confrontation between the two brothers.
"You cannot honestly believe this is as bad as what you did last time."
"Oh, for goodness sake, brother, I thought it was I who was known for being theatrical..."
"You stabbed me!"
"What kind of a mighty warrior stumbles at the first superficial injury?"
The following interaction between Sigyn and Loki alone was, surprisingly enough, originated by him when he approached her to hand her the very book he had been reading that day. Having already studied it himself and since she had shown interest in the subject of magic, he offered to lend it to her. Far from being something that had resulted in giving them something in common, every time they discussed that book, or magic in general, the two only quarreled, disagreed on which magical ability had more merit, or on the ways in which said abilities should be used or to what purpose— Anyone would have argued that since they hardly ever saw eye to eye, they would have grown apart; however, each week that passed, it seemed like the pair spent longer and longer portions of their day simply arguing, eventually branching away from the topic that had brought them together in the first place, moving on to discuss countless other subjects.
Soon enough, Sigyn learned that bringing up magic in front of other people, more specifically Thor and his friends, was out of the question, for immediately they would have their conversation interrupted by a dozen, witless taunts, which only served to insult those administering them more than to hurt the other two's feelings... unfortunately for the latter, the former were too mindless to even know it. Needless to say, she did not mind. She much preferred to find moments of privacy when to safely exchange views, listening to Loki speak for hours before he, in return, listened to her for a few more while she explained in detail while his point of view was utter nonsense.
Words: 858
Pairing: None
Cast of Characters: Thor, Reader
Summary: Reader is tired of hiding who they are from the rest of the team but is afraid to out themselves to everyone at once. After some internal debating they decide to come out to the first person they meeting the hall, which leads to a surprising conversation with Thor.
You supposed you were going to have to tell them eventually. They were the closest thing you had to family. They loved you like family. They supported you in all the ways a real family would. So why did telling them feel so hard? It couldn’t be that you were afraid they wouldn’t accept you. Your found family consisted of a man who could transform into an eight-foot-tall rage monster and a man who was not organically a man at all. They knew that there are things that aren’t always in your control.
You weren’t even aware of biting your lip as you nervously paced your dorm. Telling them one by one would be less intimidating. Maybe you could start with Peter, he was only a few years younger than you. That might make him easiest to talk to. No, Peter’s no good. You reminded yourself that Peter Parker was a notorious blabber mouth. But Tony liked to be the first to know things, he might be glad you came to him first. You rolled your eyes. Tony also liked to rag on everyone, especially to fill awkward silences.
“You’ll never tell anyone if you go on like this.” You scolded yourself. You could think of a hundred reasons not to tell each of them. Yet you knew all the reasons not to didn’t matter. You’d always loved them for who they were, they all deserved a chance to do the same for you. Hardening your resolve, you decided you’d start to wander the halls. The first person you can in contact with, you’d ask for a minute of their time and you would tell them.
“Ok.” You shook out your limbs trying to loosen them up and shake away all the bad vibes. “Here goes nothing.” You whispered. You turned the knob of your dorm room door and stepped out into the hall.
The corridor in which your dorm sat was empty. You continued on your way, letting your feet be your guide. You thought for a second that your heart may stop when you saw Thor approaching your direction. You weren’t particularly close with Thor. He seemed to come and go from earth at random. This made it difficult but not impossible to build any sort of rapport with him.
“[Y/N]!” He smiled broadly and gave an excited wave when you were within five feet.
“Thor.” You managed to mumble with a polite nodded of recognition. Your right shoulder brushed his left as you passed each other in the hall. Coward. You thought to yourself. “Damn it.” You whispered.
“What’s was that?” Thor turned around, his impeccable hearing not missing a single syllable. You closed your eyes and breathed out a long breath before facing him.
“Can I talk to you about something?” You asked him.
“Anything!” He agreed instantly.
“Oh, ah, okay. I have decided, well, not really decided, it’s not something you decided it’s who I am…Who I’ve always been…” You fumbled.
“You seem distressed, [Y/N].” Thor frowned. “What is it that troubles you?”
“Right.” You began to wring your hands together uncomfortably. You inhaled another deep breath and exhaled. “I have come to the realization that I am attracted to…”
“Oh, [Y/N],” Thor interrupted you. “I am flattered but you see I don’t think that you and I…”
“What?” You shook your head. “No, no, no I’m not attracted to you! I was trying to tell you I am bisexual.”
“Oh, that’s all?” Thor asked with a booming laugh. Your eyes fell to the floor. “Do not miss understand me [Y/N].” He said, causing you to look back up. “I forgot how delicate this subject can be for Midgardians. You see on Asgard these matters are much less rigid. Love is love as they say. Humans are so afraid of being different that you forget it’s what makes you special. It’s very brave of you, to know yourself so well.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it brave.” You disagreed. “I could barely say it. You’re the first person I’ve told.”
“Ah, but you wanted to say it. That’s what counts.” He told you. “It’s never easy telling the world who you are. There will be some who will deny you and say that you’re not enough. Do not believe them, [Y/N]. You must always stand tall and proud, for there will never be another [Y/N] [Y/L/N]. You carve your own legacy.” Thor clapped you on the shoulder and smiled.
“Thank you, Thor.” You couldn’t help but smile back. His energy was infectious.
“You let me know once you’ve told the others. We’ll have a grand celebration in your honor, alright?” He said.
“Sure thing.” You nodded.
“I must go now, but [Y/N], please do not hesitate to ask if I can ever be of assistance.” With a confident wink, Thor moved down the hall, continuing whatever he’d been doing before you stopped him.
“That wasn’t so bad.” You thought to yourself. You decided to keep walking to see who you bumped into next. If you could come out to the God of Thunder, surely you could talk to anyone else more easily.
Story Summary: A retrospective into the relationship between Loki and Sigyn, his wife from Norse mythology, as if existent within the bounds and canons of the MCU, with a few twists of my own, naturally.
Part summary: Early stages; from acquaintances to more than that.
For the rest of their childhood and part of their youth, their relationship was limited to an intellectual rivalry, which consisted in disagreements involving witty sneers and taunts with the occasional genuine argument that would teach them both about each other's boundaries. In time, Sigyn learned that bringing up certain topics —chiefly Loki's relationship with his brother and father— was out of the question; Loki, in turn, learned that nothing displeased Sigyn more than having her thoughts and feelings assumed for her, as though she had no mind of her own. Despite having never formally agreed on it, they each had separately decided to respect those boundaries, avoiding at all costs mentioning them, never mind how heated their discussions.
Eventually, when they were both of age, the nature of their relationship made a subtle shift. Since the turning points in their bond were yet another topic on which Loki and Sigyn would never see eye-to-eye, they each had their own version of which had been the moment when the dynamic between them seemed to have changed, although these moments happened quite around the same time.
The first one occurred just after a visit to Nidavellir by the All Father, the very first visit outside of Asgard in which the King had brought both his sons along. Originally, the trip was meant to be merely diplomatic; however, as it usually did, the situation turned confrontational and a battle erupted. Before their departure, Sigyn had jokingly advised Loki to try and not get himself killed while in the other realm; after Loki had boastfully remarked that she appeared to be genuinely concerned about his well-being, the young woman had rolled her eyes, commenting that perhaps he should not try too hard, on second thought. With that in mind, upon hearing that the King and Princes had barely made it back to Asgard with their lives, within her rose the superstitious fear that having released that wish —however insincere— into the universe might have had something to do with that.
The moment she had overheard of their miraculous escape and return to their realm, Sigyn had dashed off in search for anyone who could provide her with further information, something or someone that could reassure her they were indeed back safe and sound, having only displeasing memories to lament at worst. Just as she was on the verge of making a turn on a corridor, she heard a roaring voice that stopped her in her tracks and Sigyn walked back a few steps to conceal herself behind a column.
It was Odin, lambasting his younger son who, from what Sigyn could hear, wasn't able to get a word in edgewise.
"Have you any sense of what you could have cost us?" yelled the King. "Have you any regard for the consequences of your actions and how they might affect the rest of us, or do you think only of yourself?"
"Father, I—"
"Enough!"
Even Sigyn flinched at the harshness of the command.
"Enough... Hiding behind excuses and blaming your brother for everything, that's a boy's reaction. A Prince worthy of the name would admit his faults, and what's more, take responsibility!"
Loki did not retort. Instead, he hardened his countenance, straightening his back to adopt a more dignified stance but still keeping his head respectfully bowed while linking his hands behind his back.
"Yes, Father."
There was a pause. Sigyn dared to poke her head out of her hiding spot ever so slightly just so she could catch a glimpse of the conversation.
"Not a word to your Mother. To hear of the wicked use you've given to the wonderful talents she's taught you... it would break her heart."
Odin walked away and even though Loki did not seem to have moved at all, the state in which that exchange had left him made Sigyn contemplate, if only for a second, approaching him. After second thought, she came back to her senses and decided the best to do was walk away instead.
"I expect you've enjoyed the show."
The suddenness with which the God of Mischief had addressed her made her gasp in startle, and when she turned on her heel, she found him turned towards her.
"Oh... I'm sorry. I was only—"
"Eavesdropping."
"No!" protested Sigyn in her defense. "No, I was merely looking for you, I wasn't trying to..."
"Looking for me?"
"I..." She paused for a beat, glancing away in thought. Visibly nervous, she began to stumble upon her own words, very rapidly changing her mind every time she made a statement and rapidly shaking her head as she corrected them. "No, not actively looking for you, I wasn't looking for you per se, I was only... I heard you were injured. Or could be injured. Or not... injured, precisely." She took a deep breath. "I just wanted to make sure you were all right. All of you, that is..."
Under different circumstances, perhaps, Loki would have actually enjoyed testing his counterpart's nerves, and Sigyn had to admit she was somewhat relieved he did not fixate on her agitation.
"Right," he simply answered, hands still linked behind his back as he turned to walk away.
"For what it's worth!" Sigyn called out before she could help herself and when the Prince turned back around, she began to tentatively approach him as she finished her idea. "I know I'm not the King or the All Father but... to be perfectly candid, I don't see what all the fuss is about."
Loki's brow furrowed. "You don't."
"By the sound of it, you've simply made a mistake."
He scoffed. "There was nothing simple about it, it almost cost us our lives."
"All right, granted, that's... less than ideal."
"I should hope so."
"But it didn't," Sigyn insisted with a faint shrug of her shoulders. "All there's left to do now is take responsibility and learn from it to make sure it never happens again."
"Oh, that's all, is it?"
Sigyn glanced sideways, hesitating for a moment before nodding her head. "Yes," she responded as-a-matter-of-factly. "If there is anything you're proficient in, that is learning— Compared to learning magic, learning from your own mistakes shouldn't prove to be much of a challenge."
Now that her restlessness had dissipated enough that she could look him in the eye again, she was pleased to see that he appeared to be no longer frowning, having adopted just a smidge of his usual cool demeanor.
"See, I cannot remember ever asking for your opinion," he teased.
"Oh, I'm aware. That's what I'm proficient in, you see, knowing when my opinion will be appreciated even when it hasn't been requested."
They both nodded their heads in feigned comprehension until Sigyn felt a smile betraying her, taking over her features despite her efforts to withhold it. Loki's gaze was anchored on hers, and while it took her a couple of attempts to hold it, she eventually gazed back.
"What?"
"Nothing," he replied.
"If there's something on your mind, by all means..."
"There's nothing on my mind," Loki insisted.
"There's nothing on your mind," she echoed amusedly. "Quite so, I agree."
"Hard to believe considering how two seconds ago you were praising my learning abilities."
"I was only trying to make you feel better, we are well past that by now."
"You know, I do wonder who it is you believe you're fooling with such frail arguments, you are in fact quite transparent..."
Sigyn rolled her eyes, with a hint of amusement still curling the corner of her mouth. "Apparently, nearness to death has rendered you by no means less obnoxious. Goodbye, your Highness."
"Off so soon?"
It was her turn to tease, turning her head to look back at him from over her shoulder as she walked away. "I must be misunderstanding because I could swear it sounds as if you'd like me to stay."
"You are indeed misunderstanding, I was merely taken aback you are in such a rush to leave after all the trouble you went through looking for me."
Sigyn rolled her eyes. "Goodbye, your Highness."
A few weeks went by before the second moment took place, the moment the other half of the pairing argued was the one which in fact marked the turning point in their dynamic. After a particularly energetic training session, at least on her part, during which Sigyn insisted on pushing her own limits, a blow to the face resulted in the skin right above her eyebrow splitting. She had retired to the armory, where she had taken a seat before a particularly shiny shield, making the most out of its curvature by placing herself in a way that her reflection was augmented precisely on her eyebrow. Using a cloth to occasionally dab away the blood, a needle and a piece of thread, she began tending to her own wound. After all, that was not an unusual sight to find within the armory.
"What... exactly are you doing?" came Loki's voice out of nowhere, the voice of someone who, apparently, did indeed find the sighting unusual.
"You don't startle someone while they've got a needle near their eye!" Sigyn barked at his reflection on the shield before resuming her task, hissing each time she poked at her own skin.
Loki handed his own weapons to a helpful servant who had rushed to assist him, so evidently used to being attended to that he did not even need to take his eyes off Sigyn as he surrendered his daggers.
"You do know you would be much better off visiting a healer..."
"I don't need a healer, it's barely a nick," she replied, her tone still rather irked. "It'll be healed in a matter of hours, I'm only looking to... accelerate the process."
"I see," remarked the Prince and upon seeing the reflection of his faint smirk on her improvised mirror, Sigyn turned her head to look at him over her shoulder.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
The God of Mischief raised his eyebrows, nonplussed by the maiden's very noticeable pique.
"I was only making an assumption," he argued in his favor, raising a hand as an unconscious gesture to prove he meant no harm. "Tonight's banquet? In honor of the Vanir visitors?"
"I'm not going," Sigyn stated, turning her head back to keep on tending to her wound.
"You're not going."
"That is what I said, is it not?"
Loki stood still for a few seconds as he debated internally whether it was wisest to offer some help or to simply make himself scarce, like Sigyn's attitude appeared to suggest. Having made up his mind, he sighed, moving to take a seat beside her to take over.
"Give me that."
"I'm doing just fine, thank you!"
"You're doing a ghastly job!" he disagreed. "Those stitches are awfully tight, so unless you want to spend eternity looking quizzical, please, allow me."
With a huff of resignation, Sigyn surrendered the needle and allowed her counterpart to undo the little work she had done herself so he could start over. Throughout the entire process, she kept her gaze fixed elsewhere, more specifically a faint stain on the opposite wall which was, of course, by no means interesting, but did serve the purpose of giving her something else to look at besides the man seated before her. Loki, meanwhile, worked in silence, every now and again holding his gaze to try to make her stare back, only to surrender and continue closing her injury.
"How are your hands so cold in this weather?" she complained, her voice coming out much closer to a whisper than she had intended.
"What can I say?" he replied. "I must be cold-blooded."
"It would explain a lot."
Loki laughed, momentarily pausing to take the cloth from her to clean away some of the blood off the cut, and Sigyn could have sworn the main reason behind his chuckling had not been amusement but merely the intention to antagonize her.
"What?"
"If you want an invitation to tonight's festivities, you could just say so."
"For your information, I have been invited," she asserted.
"Oh, is that right?" he challenged with a mocking smile.
"Yes. It is."
"Then, why, if I may ask, will you not be attending?"
"No, you may not ask, because it is none of your business." She snatched the needle away from him, determined on finishing the job herself rather than continuing to delay it any further. "Nevertheless, I suppose I should know better than to be surprised you are so fixated on tonight. Won't it be the perfect opportunity to rekindle your affair?"
Loki paused.
"If you are referring to Svend..."
"Oh, so he admits it," commented Sigyn cheerfully to a non-existent third party.
"I would not necessarily describe it as an affair..."
"How else would you describe a purely physical relationship with no feelings involved whatsoever?"
Again he paused, this time to smile delightfully, much to Sigyn's aversion.
"Is that the reason why?"
Sigyn finished tying a knot after having applied the last stitch over her eyebrow. "Seeing as I physically cannot roll my eyes at you at the moment, do me a favor and imagine it."
The Prince of Asgard picked up a knife stored away nearby and used it to cut the remaining end of the thread. Using the cloth still in his hand, he gently dabbed at the closed wound a few more times.
"Is that the reason why?" he wondered in a much serener tone, all traces of mirth washed away from his features.
"You must think I hold you in much higher a regard than I actually do," she replied, earning herself a sigh from her companion.
"Then, what is?"
"Why are you being so obsessive over this?" she complained, rushing to get on her feet so she could walk away.
"As a matter of fact, the question should be why are you being so evasive over this?," he retorted, rushing himself so he could cut her off by standing in front of her.
Sigyn crossed her arms over her chest and for several seconds two of the most stubborn people on Asgard stood their ground, both refusing to be the first one to break the silence. The longer the pause, the more annoyed she became that Loki was practically forcing the information out of her, for she realized he would not let the matter go until she had given him a remotely sincere response. Moreover, the fact that he could recognize when she was not being sincere only irritated her even further.
"A relative of mine will be there," she confessed at last, taking advantage of the other's surprise to finally push past him and walk away.
Truth of the matter was that her sole relative left alive, her aunt who had been too young to take her in as a child, would be present that evening for she had married into Vanir royalty. Back when Sigyn had first become of age, she contacted her relative in Vanaheim, inviting her to reconnect now that she could not be burdened with the responsibility of raising her. Despite having been reassured that her letters had made it into her hands, she never received a response.
"How is that not an incentive to attend?" Loki asked as he caught up behind her.
"How is that suddenly any of your business?"
"Sigyn—"
Having run out of patience at last, the maiden swiveled towards him abruptly. "What?" she snapped, positively fed up with his insistence. "What do you want me to say? Why would you, of all people, care?"
The Prince hesitated. "I—"
"No!" she punctuated him, holding up a hand in front of him. "Actually, that was rhetorical: You don't care. You still believe this is somehow related to you and to how you think I am besotted with you like all of those witless visitors you charm into your bed, but it's not! However shocking this might sound to you, not everything is about you. And this certainly is not."
She regretted her outburst the instant it had left her lips and when she turned to walk away again, she had to actively withhold tears, partly of anger, mostly for having allowed said anger to get the best of her, causing her to lash out at people who hadn't wronged her. Admittedly, however, she was relieved not to hear the Prince's steps behind her anymore —she suspected he had stayed behind or else walked away in the opposite direction— since the only rational solution she could think of at the moment for her harsh nature was to isolate herself until she had appeased.
For the rest of the afternoon, that was exactly what she did. She stayed in her chambers and tried to distract herself with books —which was hopeless, for she could not possibly concentrate on linking as much as two sentences together before her consciousness inadvertently diverted to other, much more unpleasant matters—, occasionally looking into a mirror to corroborate that Loki's work on her stitches had indeed been much tidier in comparison to the last few she had done herself.
All day she had been consumed by the one irksome detail that was keeping her from attending that night's event, and the rest of it had dragged by while she distressed herself remembering how she had lashed out at quite literally the only person who had realized something was the matter with her and had taken a genuine interest in her. Almost as if she had subconsciously summoned some confort to her dismay, there was a knock at her door, which Sigyn found curious; it wasn't the knock itself which had caught her attention, but rather the silence that followed, since usually it was the guards who knocked and they hardly ever waited for approval before they opened the door themselves. She, therefore, stepped in to answer and on the other side, she found the younger son of Odin, dressed in ceremonial attire, save for his helmet which he was currently cradling in one arm.
"If your vanity weren't so well-fed already, I might be tempted to comment that you look rather dashing," she commented, allowing herself a cheeky half-smile.
Caught by surprise by his own reaction, Loki slightly lowered his head in order to conceal his grin.
"How may I be of service, your Highness?" Sigyn went on, smiling warmly as she extended him some sense of protocol to hold onto and on which to base himself when trying to decide on how to address her.
"I, uh..." He cleared his throat. "I believe you're owed an apology."
The maiden raised her eyebrows, inviting him to go on.
"I've spoken with the Queen," he confessed, which was all Sigyn needed to correctly assume that he knew the reason behind her absence that evening. "In which case, I suppose that would make it two apologies you're owed. One for having pestered you earlier and a second for... further investigating the matter behind your back later on."
They exchanged a smile.
"Well, you are owed a few apologies yourself," she admitted. "I'm aware it's hardly an excuse, but I'm simply... not used to people taking an interest in me. Or rather... there are no people in my life to take an interest in me in the first place. Which, again, I realize it's no excuse..."
"I suppose," Loki punctuated her, still keeping his gaze down while he plucked up the courage to go on. "I could have been more evident about what my sincere intensions were."
"Which would be...?" Sigyn wondered and finally, the Prince found it in him to look up at her at last.
"That I do care," he declared. "You may not consider me your friend, but I consider you mine. Perhaps the only one I've got."
"I consider you mine as well," she reassured him with a gentle smile and Loki responded in kind.
"I don't suppose there's anything I could say to convince you to join us regardless," he endeavored after a few moments of silence. "Right," he whispered after the maiden had nodded her head. "And you do understand I rather have to attend..."
"You are relieved, your Highness," she replied with a bright, enlivened smile.
"I wish you a good evening," he answered just as elegantly before they exchanged playful curtsies.
"Do give Svend my best," she called out after him.
"Not before I give him mine," replied the Prince as he walked away.
"You're disgusting!" she protested even though she was still smiling.
"Now, now... that's no way to speak to your friend," he teased, dedicating her one last glance over his shoulder before disappearing into another hallway.
Summary: Sigyn of Asgard is the Goddess of Victory and wife to Loki. Or so humans have mistakenly believed for a thousand years. In truth, she is a peasant living in the shadow of Asgard's palace with power she's yet to understand. After inadvertently gaining the affection of the God of Mischief over the course of a few decades, it's not long before she is forced to choose between her loyalty to Asgard and her love for Odin's traitorous son. Her journey in doing so will take her to Midgard, where her reputation as a hero won't save her from a prophecy that spells death for herself and half the universe. Events span from before the first Thor movie to past Endgame & the Loki series.
Part Three: Earth
Chapter Four: Death
First Prev/Next
On their way home from the funeral, having decided after some debate to stay in her house for their last night in Asgard, Sigyn drags a heavy feeling of anguish along with her. For most of her life, she’d known that she would one day have to send her mother off to the next world. After learning of her prophecy, she’d been foolish enough to believe she’d gained respite from such an experience, but fate has dealt her yet more misfortune.
Eventually, she catches sight of Quimby’s house beside her own, and a recollection of the conversation she’d had with him earlier comes to her mind.
Quimby had led her into his bedroom, closing the door behind her after she’d stepped over its threshold. She’d given him an expectant look. “I’m assuming the news is bad?”
His face scrunching up, he had admitted, “It is not the greatest.” Unbothered, she’d gestured for him to get on with it. “The king already has all the soldiers he can spare out looking for you, and I took notice of them searching your house when I came in.”
She’d nodded, not surprised in the least. “What of the Lieutenant Arvid?” It had been her own lieutenant who Loki had chosen to impersonate, and she’d certainly wished no ill will upon him. He needn’t have been punished for her treason.
Quimby had laid her worries to rest. “No one suspects him. Everyone seems to have gathered that it was the Prince Loki in disguise helping you at the hospital.” Pleased, she’d nodded again. Quimby had continued, “To that end, people are reluctant to sell you out. They’re refusing to speak to the men the King Odin has out searching.”
Taken aback, she’d blinked in overt surprise. “Why?”
“Everyone in Asgard has a family member or friend in the military,” he’d explained, speaking as though the answer is obvious. “You saved the military hospital. I heard someone saying that over a hundred people—maybe more—would’ve perished had you not gotten there when you did.”
Sigyn had nodded, swallowing roughly. It smarts, she had thought, knowing that no matter how early she’d have gotten there, she couldn’t have saved the one person there who mattered most to her. It’d been too late the moment the ship had struck the building, and she’s never had a talent for clairvoyancy.
“There’s something else,” Quimby had commented, reclaiming her attention. He’d given her a level look, and she’d tried to prepare herself for the worst. “The Queen was another casualty in the attack.”
Her hands had come up to her chest, bunching up the fabric of her shirt and gripping it tightly. “What happened?”
He’d explained, “It was the leader of the attack, Malekith, who dealt the blow. Something to do with a mortal woman the Prince Thor brought here. The funeral is tonight.” His eyes had softened. “They’ve asked me to shoot the arrow for Walentyna. You’re welcome to go in my place.”
“Thank you,” she’d said, heartfelt in her conviction if not a tad distracted. She was going to have to tell Loki that his mother was dead, and she had very much doubted that he would take it well.
“One more thing,” he’d added, and she’d nodded. He’d taken a deep breath, as though bracing himself for something. “You don’t have to leave at the end of this.”
Fondly, she’d shaken her head. “Quimby, I broke him out of prison. I am dead if I stay.”
“You’re dead if you leave with him,” he’d blurted out. She’d stepped back, surprised. He’d tried again. “Sigyn, he is mad.”
“You don’t—” she had started, though she’d been unable to finish.
“No, I know you’re blinded by love, but please listen to me,” Quimby had implored, stepping closer to her. “He is insane and has fed you to the wolves before in his pursuit of power. You cannot allow him to do it again when you’re all alone with him.”
“What would you have me do, then,” she’d softly questioned, trying to quash down the bitterness rising in her. Quimby had only wanted what was best for her, she’d known.
“Take him back,” he’d urged, much to her shock and fury. He’d went on, “Turn him into the Allfather, beg for forgiveness—”
Voice rising, she’d refused, “Absolutely not!”
Still, he had not ceased in his pleading. “You can say that it was a moment of urgency—that you needed out of the dungeons to do something heroic, and that freeing the Prince Loki was the only way.”
“No,” she’d intoned, as firm as she had ever been. “I will not betray him.”
“He’s not shown you the same loyalty,” he’d reminded her, and she’d frowned before she could wince. What Quimby had been suggesting would have been a far more intimate betrayal than anything he’d done to her, she’d known. Turning him over to his father could have only spelled disaster, and she had not been sure that he would have forgiven her. Beyond that, however, she’d never had any plans of turning him in, only of leaving with him. She cannot be killed by anything Loki might do, she’d told herself, for she knew already the cause of her demise.
That last thought, morbidly comforting though it might have been to her, was one she couldn’t in good conscious have told Quimby. In an exercise in restraint, she’d told him, “Thank you for your advice.”
He’d made to say something else, but she’d no more patience for it. Without so much as a backwards glance, she had stormed from the room.
Now, Loki casts a glamor over them as they sidle up to her house, though the street is deserted as they enter it. She leaves the front door unlocked behind them, knowing that everything has to be left as it was when it was searched so as to not raise suspicion should anyone come looking for them here again. With that in mind, neither of them touches any of the open cabinets or overturned furniture as they silently make their way upstairs.
In the hall upstairs, away from any open windows, they drop their disguises, and Sigyn relishes shifting back into her own skin. It’d been strange strutting around in Quimby’s body, his stature shorter and the span of his shoulders broader than that to which she is accustomed. It had been especially difficult to shoot an arrow in such a state.
She vanishes the door to her bedroom as soon as they’re past it, leaving a blank wall in its place. If anyone decides to check up on them, they’ll see only a hallway with a dead end, and unless they’d been here before, it wouldn’t look out of the ordinary.
Breaking the silence between them, Loki says, “We can head out to Vanaheim in the morning. I have a contact there who’ll let us lay low long enough to find more permanent accommodations before he runs to Odin.”
Staring at the floor, Sigyn nods, though she doesn’t voice her assent. “I think we should go to Svartalfheim,” she quietly suggests.
Brow furrowing, he asks, “What?”
“The Dark Elf Malekith is the one who orchestrated today’s attack. I think we should meet him in Svartalfheim and kill him,” she explains, her voice replete with determination. She stares at him, daring him to question her.
He does. “You, Sigyn, want to kill someone?” He walks over to her, grinning wide. “How very unlike you.”
“It’s not everyday someone kills my mother. Exceptions are to be made,” she replies, feeling dangerous. Her mother had been right; it does feel as though her actions have very few consequences to them now.
“So they are,” he concurs. “Very well. Svartalfheim, then Vanaheim.”
She nods her approval, and he takes that as being the end to their conversation. He moves over to bed, pulling back the covers almost all the way before she stops him. “Hey, wait,” she says, and he draws up short. Looking over at her, he raises an eyebrow. She inquires, “What are you doing? Don’t get into my bed wearing your day dress.”
“I’ve worn these clothes day and night for over a year,” he responds, making no move to so much as morph said clothes into anything else. “Besides, what does it matter? You’ll never sleep in this bed again.”
At his words, the careful façade she’d constructed after leaving the funeral slips. She sighs, dropping her face into her hands and trying desperately not to cry again today. Since the moment they had stepped into her house, she’s been all too aware of the fact that it’s likely to be the last time she’ll ever be here. More than that, it’s already past time that she’ll ever live with her mother again. So much has changed so quickly, and she can’t allow herself to be overwhelmed before they’re clear of Asgard.
“I’m sorry,” Loki says, his voice gentle. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s fine,” she says, sighing once more. She rubs her hands roughly up and down her cheeks as she raises her head to look at him again. “We’ve both had a shit day.”
Nodding, he finally slips under the covers. Figuring she ought to join him so that they can get an early start in the morning, she vanishes what left she has on of her armor before removing her shirt and slacks. She’s left standing in her undergarments, unnoticed by Loki as he shifts around, trying to get cozy. Suddenly feeling overly self-conscious about going to bed in such a state, despite having done it thousands of times previous, she excuses herself and retreats to the bathroom.
She spends a few minutes by herself, washing away the grime of the day and changing into a nightgown. She tries to go for something with a little appeal, though nothing too scandalous, settling on a long gown that she’s owned for centuries. When she reemerges from the restroom, she leans against her dresser, trying to appear nonchalant as she tries to drum up the courage to slip into bed with someone over whom she’s pined for decades.
Having settled into a comfortable position, half-sitting up, Loki raises a brow as he looks her up and down. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
Summary: Sigyn of Asgard is the Goddess of Victory and wife to Loki. Or so humans have mistakenly believed for a thousand years. In truth, she is a peasant living in the shadow of Asgard's palace with power she's yet to understand. After inadvertently gaining the affection of the God of Mischief over the course of a few decades, it's not long before she is forced to choose between her loyalty to Asgard and her love for Odin's traitorous son. Her journey in doing so will take her to Midgard, where her reputation as a hero won't save her from a prophecy that spells death for herself and half the universe. Events span from before the first Thor movie to past Endgame.
Part Two: Homestead
Chapter Three: Bread Pudding
First Prev/Next
Sigyn stews in her house, despondent and miserable, for a week after Loki dies. The first three days, she dares not to leave the comfort of her room.
On the first day of her self-imposed house arrest, she limps home as the sun peers over the horizon, less than enthused for the new day and set with a heavy stone made of grief in the pit of her stomach. Upon arriving at her house and making it to her room, she chances a look in the mirror, finding something hauntingly familiar—an uneven mane of short, haphazardly-cut hair, a bruised nose from a hit not quite hard enough to break the bone there, and a face covered in drying blood. She looks exactly as she had the day she met him.
It’s nothing short of poetic, which only adds insult to injury—literally.
There had been no extravagant public funeral befitting of a prince’s demise, given the circumstances. If there had been any sort of private memorial, Sigyn hadn’t been invited.
She’d been fired, too. Well, not fired, per se. Rather, she’d been removed from her esteemed post on the Queen’s Guard and reassigned to her former unit. She’d received a promotion to the position of major, on which—according to Colborn—the Queen Frigga had insisted so as to not ruin Sigyn’s military career. Sigyn found it difficult to be anything close to grateful for this, considering it was also Frigga who had both torched Sigyn’s brain and had Sigyn removed from her detail because she didn’t want to be constantly reminded of her late son.
Sigyn doesn’t quite know how to feel about all that. She doesn’t quite know how to feel about anything right now, and for good reason.
For decades, she had been terrified over what might’ve happened if she let Loki talk her into any form of romantic relationship. Against what she’d thought was her better judgment, she’d finally relented in her refusals last week, and her fears had come to fruition almost immediately. Not only had her desperate struggle for a better social standing—centuries in the making—and her career been done in, but Loki had committed treason and died.
Summary: Sigyn of Asgard is the Goddess of Victory and wife to Loki. Or so humans have mistakenly believed for a thousand years. In truth, she is a peasant living in the shadow of Asgard's palace with power she's yet to understand. After inadvertently gaining the affection of the God of Mischief over the course of a few decades, it's not long before she is forced to choose between her loyalty to Asgard and her love for Odin's traitorous son. Her journey in doing so will take her to Midgard, where her reputation as a hero won't save her from a prophecy that spells death for herself and half the universe. Events span from before the first Thor movie to past Endgame.
Part Two: Homestead
Chapter Two: The Throne
First Prev/Next
The aftermath of the Jotun attack is madness. The coronation is cancelled, every soldier in the entirety of Asgard’s military is pulling double-shifts, and for whatever Borr-forsaken reason, the Crown Prince takes it upon himself to attack Jotunheim. Worst yet, he somehow convinces Loki and Haldana to join him, and they all barely make it out alive. Odin is so furious thereafter that he banishes Thor from the realm, effectively deeming Loki as next in line for the throne.
The King falls into the Odinsleep next.
Loki explains the minutiae of all of this to Sigyn, looking very put-upon and utterly worn-out. The two of them stand down the hall from his father’s room during Sigyn’s lunch break. She’s been on-duty for over forty consecutive hours, and after recovering from the Kvilla a mere five days ago, she’s fucking exhausted. Rubbing at her eyes, she suppresses a yawn as Loki continues.
“—Mother fears he won’t awaken given how long he put this off, not to mention the added stress of Thor’s banishment, the threat of a new war, and—” he cuts himself off, swallowing whatever he was about to say with a choked gasp.
“Hey,” she soothes, reaching out to run a hand down his arm. “Relax. Everything is going to be alright.”
Time stretches out as he stares down at her, lips pressed together in a tight, uncertain line. Abruptly, he turns away, striding into his rooms. With little hesitation, Sigyn follows after him, shifting her armor into day-clothes as she passes the threshold. She’s been in his chambers—physically, that is—only a handful of times, and each one, she was escorting his mother. Being here alone with him is likely frowned upon, so she tries to ignore the thrill that runs through her as best she can.
